I had the feeling Morton didn’t want to talk about his dilemma in front of Zia. I also felt she wasn’t his maid, but something closer.
“Very well.” I opened the small notebook with my sketches of the factory.
“How …?”
I smiled. “The plans are public record. As to how I found the building, that shall be my secret.”
Morton said nothing.
“There is a door round back, which goes to the worker’s areas: washrooms, lockers, equipment, and so on. Past that is a stair down to the basement. The boy is likely held there.”
Morton frowned, which made me nervous. “Very well. I promised to help you, and I shall, for as long as I can.”
Morton and I untied the thick golden ropes which bound us to the dock.
Once we cast off, Morton gestured for me to approach him where he stood near the wheel. He han
