The Sirena Quest Read Online Free PDF Page A

and a bowl of roasted nuts. Although she was at least sixty years old and sixty pounds overweight, neither fact deterred Ray, the consummate waitress-schmoozer. He promptly got her into an animated discussion over the racetrack across the river.
    As Lou watched them banter, he thought back to his first encounter with Ray—all the way back to that morning after his rainy night in the dorm room. Ray had been the first of the others to arrive. Lou had been expecting preppies. He hadn’t been expecting a hood, which is what they called guys like Ray back in high school. Close-cropped black hair, long sideburns, an Iron City Beer T-shirt with a pack of Camels rolled up in one of the short sleeves. Sears-label dungarees, black wraparound sunglasses, paint-splattered construction boots. An army duffel bag in one hand, a leather bowling ball bag in the other.
    After they’d introduced themselves, Ray set the bowling ball bag onto one of the desks and unzipped it. “Check it out, man.”
    He pulled out the bleached white skull of an adult gorilla.
    Two decades later, Lou noted, Ray had gone upscale in the clothing department. He wore a khaki safari shirt, navy-blue pleated chinos, a braided leather belt, and penny loafers sans socks. Brandi, or perhaps a clothing consultant from one of his upmarket shopping centers, must have steered Ray away from Sears and toward Lands’ End.
    He’d also put on at least twenty pounds since college, and there were touches of gray in his black hair. But the weight and the gray looked good on him. Ray had never been Hollywood handsome. Not even close. More like a nightclub bouncer or junkyard owner. He’d had plenty of rough edges back in college, and plenty of fistfights to back them up—in crowded bars, on the intramural football fields, and once at a candlepin bowling alley in Belchertown. But the extra weight and sprinkling of gray hair helped smooth some of those rough edges.
    Made him almost look contented.
    Almost.
    Ray Gorman was the youngest of six sons of a Pittsburgh steelworker and the only one to go to college. Although his brain landed him at a prestigious liberal arts college in New England, he didn’t concede an inch his freshman year. Went candlepin bowling on the weekends, chewed Red Man, and tacked above his desk posters of his two heroes: John Wayne and Joe Frazier. To celebrate Joe Frazier’s pummeling of Muhammad Ali that year, Ray put on a keg for the floor. Schaefer’s, of course.
    When the waitress left, Lou asked, “So when’s your meeting on the refinancing?”
    â€œTomorrow morning at nine.” He gave a dismissive wave. “A couple of jarheads from Mercantile Bank. The whole thing’ll last less than an hour.” He leaned forward with a grin. “We got more important stuff to do in this town. You’re on board, right?”
    Lou gave him a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be boarding.”
    â€œThe Sirena Express, dude.”
    â€œYou really think you have a lead?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œMaybe?”
    Ray raised his eyebrows. “Enough of a maybe to get in a goddamned plane and fly out to this shit-ass town.”
    â€œWhat about the others?”
    Ray took a sip of beer. “I tried to reach Gordie yesterday, but he was out of the office. I’ll try him again tomorrow.”
    â€œAnd Billy?”
    â€œI reached Bronco. Told him I was meeting you today. Told him we’d check it out down here. Told him if it panned out, he and Gordie better be ready to shit and split.”
    â€œCan Billy get away?”
    â€œHard to say.” Ray shook his head. “Poor guy. You ever met Dorothy?”
    â€œShe’s a tough woman.”
    â€œA beast,” Ray said. “Runs some sort of New Age nursery school—one of those cult outfits where the kids can only play with wooden toys and can’t watch TV and can only wear