Cooks Overboard Read Online Free PDF Page A

to her plate. “I let the boys assigned to KP do it. I had real work to do. Anyway, she doesn’t look like a cook to me. Too skinny.”
    “I think Miss Amalfi looks just right,” Olafson announced with a self-satisfied smile, as if pleased over his charming ways with women. “And you, Mr. Smith. Do you work?”
    He caught Paavo in the middle of a yawn.
    “Paavo’s a hom—”
    He squeezed her hand—tightly—stopping her words. “I work for city government,” he said with a smile. “Just a bureaucrat.”
    Angie stared at him. He’d been practically comatose since the meal started, and now awoke to call himself a bureaucrat? And to smile about it? Was this the new Paavo?
    “I don’t believe he’s telling the truth, either,” Ruby announced.
    Paavo gawked at her.
    “He looks too tired to be one of those people,” she said. “They just sleep on the job. Right, Harold?” She prodded her husband.
    “Huh?” he said.
    “Harold used to work for the Department of Education,” she said, then shouted. “Know all their tricks, don’t we, Harold?”
    Captain Olafson chuckled. “Ah! No wonder Mr. Smith wanted to ride on our big boat. The bureaucrat’s life is very dull, ja ?”
    Paavo nodded and smiled.
    Angie gave up trying to talk to any of them. Including Paavo.
    As soon as Marvin finished his last bite of dessert, he announced it was his bedtime, although it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.
    “Oh, my, this has all been so fascinating,” Nellie cried as she stood up. “It’s all so very…cosmopolitan. Good night, dearies,” she said to Angie and Paavo. Then she turned to Marvin and added, “Young love is so sweet!”
    Angie’s eyes jumped to Paavo, expecting to see him cringe.
    To her amazement, not only was he nodding and smiling that smile she was growing really sick of, but he was wishing them pleasant dreams as well.

6
    Professor Von Mueller looked at the big clock over his desk. Eight o’clock. He really should be thinking about going home. But what did home offer him? He thought of the small, sterile apartment. Nothing. Soon, though…
    A villa along the Riviera would be nice. He’d always wanted one. Or maybe something smaller, like an apartment in Venice. On the Grand Canal.
    He got up, put his flat brown cap on his head, took his cane in hand, and hobbled toward the door. He was about to shut off the light and leave when his eye caught his unopened mail. It couldn’t be anything that would interest a man soon to possess five million dollars, but nonetheless, he had some curiosity about it.
    He took off the hat and sat down at his desk, listening to the creaking of his joints as he did so. Adjusting his glasses, he picked up the largeenvelope from his colleague and studied the address once more. He hadn’t heard from Professor Luftenberg in years. In fact, it seemed he’d been told the man had died. Obviously, his memory was faulty in that area.
    Not in all areas, though. Not where it mattered. He thought once more about his discovery. About his formula.
    He tried yanking the envelope open, but it was one of those self-stick Tyrek packets. He soon gave up and grabbed a pair of scissors. This was truly a wonder product. How something so light and simple could be so airtight and strong was quite amazing. He almost wished he’d invented it, but then dismissed the idea.
    A man who had come up with the discovery that would revolutionize the world, would change the future of mankind, had no business wasting his time with packaging material.
    Whistling tunelessly, he cut the envelope. When he pulled it open, a puff of powder billowed out at him, tickling his nose. He sneezed, then drew in his breath and sneezed again. As the powder settled into his mouth and lungs from his deep inhale, he began to feel a tingling sensation, then nothing.
    His mouth, his nose, his tongue turned numb, then grew paralyzed. Panicking, he opened his mouth, trying to speak, to cry out for help. No sound came. His