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“So,” said Gordon, over the sound of breaking waves, “You want to tell me what’s going on?” They were out in the middle Lake Michigan now, Gordon having tied a load of scrip to the doors of the motorboat rental office while the sugar cube broke the encryption on one of the speedier models, and were following a course that Invisible Rockmore dictated, making slight course corrections along the way.

“A supposition, Gordon,” said Invisible Rockmore, not needing to shout.

“That’s like a hunch, right?”

“Correct.”