Peter spent quite some time on the phone, first with MacCollum, then with Jack Baker. He was to travel to Palermo via Marge's father's boat. He agreed, his reservations in the hundreds. He then picked up the phone to call Marge and tell her the plan.
"Hello, Marge, it's Peter."
Marge's voice became very quiet and contrite.
"Hi, Peter."
"Were you informed of the plan?"
"Yes. We leave first thing tomorrow morning. Uh...Peter?"
"Yes, Marge?"
"I was an idiot. I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine, Marge," intoned Peter in a way that indicated it was anything but "fine". "I'll meet you at the docks at dawn."
"Peter, can't we talk about this?"
"I'd rather not right now. Sorry. Good night."
Peter hung up the phone abruptly and then lit himself a cigarette. The trap was set. Peter just needed to coax Tom to fall into it. He felt disgusted with himself for agreeing to do such a thing. He looked out the window and saw another overcast day. The sun hardly ever seemed to shine anymore; everything was cast in a malevolent grey, much like his life. When he later lay in bed, he didn't even try sleeping. He just stared at the ceiling for hours until his body was ready to move again. He checked his alarm clock and saw that it was 6:30 am. The sun would be up soon.
This is your last chance to back out, he thought, but he knew, at this point, he was optionless. He had to do this. He greeted Marge politely yet tepidly and the two sailed mostly in silence. Every once in a while Marge would catch a glimpse of Peter staring out into the horizon with a look of complete melancholy, and knew that the melancholy wasn't helped by her big mouth. She walked up to Peter who was standing at the bow with his arms crossed.
"Peter, when are we going to talk about this?"
"Marge, right now I have only one thing on my mind: get through this. Once we do, then we might be able to have a proper conversation."
Marge bristled at Peter's avoidance and walked away. With all that he was instructed to do, he could not let his own personal emotions interfere. Not when so much was at stake. He was bait. Now he just needed to allow himself to be caught.