Cole raised the microphone again.
"One final offer. Our company has forty-three vessels that need a better maintenance culture than the one we've demonstrated today. I want Russell to help us build it. The proposed five-year maintenance agreement will belong to a properly staffed, insured, licensed operation, and Russell will lead the diagnostic consulting work alongside experienced professionals. We'll help him build that team and learn the responsibilities. I am not going to pretend one young man should carry forty-three vessels on his shoulders because the audience liked what it saw."
The applause rose again. Russell heard the number forty-three, understood its weight more clearly than ten million, and wondered what Earl would say if anyone suggested they suddenly repair a fleet of that size. He could almost hear his grandfather's reply: one machine is a job, forty-three machines are a system, and a system can fail because of the man who assumes he is too important to check the work.
Professor Webb offered publicly to serve as an academic mentor without charge, should Russell want his help. Priya Shah approached after the cameras moved away and asked him about the unusual coolant line routing. Daniel Mercer shook his hand, admitted he had focused too long on the software, and asked whether Russell would send him the inspection notes after the investigation was complete. Russell answered as well as he could, his voice growing steadier whenever the conversation returned to machinery.
Thornton disappeared from the dock before the afternoon's final interviews. He walked away through the employee access gate without a security escort, still holding his phone and speaking to someone in the fleet office. Anyone watching could have mistaken his expression for irritation at an embarrassing public event. His concern was more specific. He knew the original maintenance records still existed somewhere, and he knew what they would reveal if Cole insisted on comparing the actual condition of the Sovereign against the inspections his department had reported as complete.
Naomi escorted Russell into a quiet room aboard the marina's administrative building so the prize could be explained away from the crowd. She brought bottled water, a clean towel, and a phone charger after noticing his battery was nearly dead. "You don't have to do another interview today," she told him. "There will be plenty of people wanting a piece of this. You can decide whom you speak to and when."
Russell stared at the water for a moment. "Can I call my granddad?"
"Of course."
He dialed the shop's landline because Earl still preferred it to the small mobile phone Denise had bought him. The line rang four times. Russell imagined his grandfather making the slow trip from the office chair to the wall, and the thought that he might have to explain ten million dollars while Earl was holding a phone with trembling fingers made him almost laugh.
"Yates Marine Repair," Earl answered. "If you're calling to sell me a warranty, save your breath."
"Granddad. It's me."
Earl's voice changed. "Russell? You all right? Captain Reeves said you stayed at Star Island after the delivery."