Page 42 of A Perfect Disaster

“Bus three is full and verified,” Nico announces, breathing a sigh of relief.

Maika nods, crossing the names off her tablet.

“Excellent. Good work, Nico.” Then she fixes her eyes on me again. “Forty-eight out of forty-eight. See? Totally under control.”

“Then you can all go now.”

Maika turns toward the bus doors and raises her voice just enough to cut through the noise of the engines.

“All right, group three. Have your cards ready in your hands and follow Nico to the steps. Rome has been standing for two thousand years, so it’s not going anywhere; we don’t need to run or disrupt the order of the line.”

Several tourists laugh, relieved. The rest obey the order without complaint. The line of passengers begins to move toward the bus with astonishing fluidity, allowing me to breathe a little easier, though the tension still pulses strongly through me.

Gonzalo comes over to my side as soon as the bus closes its doors.

“Admit it already, Müller,” he says with a hint of amusement.

“No,” I reply without taking my eyes off the pier.

“I haven’t even told you what it is.”

“I don’t care. My answer is still no.”

“That woman knows what she’s doing.”

I look ahead, watching as bus number three begins to move toward the exit of the port of Civitavecchia. Maika waves from the passenger-side window with an insulting calm.

“I can see that,” I admit reluctantly.

“Wow… coming from you, that’s almost like a marriage proposal,” Gonzalo jokes.

“Gonzalo, you’re one comment away from me sending you out to check the lifeboats on the promenade deck under the sun,” I warn him.

“Okay, okay. No humor allowed today. Although, technically, that fell into the category of sociological analysis.”

“Well, shove it up your ass,” I reply.

He smiles, but his face takes on an unusual seriousness a second later.

Throughout my entire career, I’ve worked by the same rule: if a goal matters, you have to carry it on your own shoulders. If something can go wrong, check it until your eyes bleed. If the crew hesitates, show them you’re made of iron. If the inspectors underestimate you, work twice as hard. If you miss a promotion, it’s entirely your fault for not having foreseen the storm. The last time I missed out on a promotion, I knew the blame was shared, but a part of me still carries that as an unforgivable personal failure.

That’s why today I need everything to go smoothly.

16

Maika

The visit to Rome is off to a better start than expected. And coming from me, that’s saying a lot. Because a part of my brain always reserves an empty seat for disaster. I’ve never been a pessimist, but unloading over a hundred people, coordinating buses, tight schedules, local guides, suffocating heat, and passengers who interpret “just five minutes” as “half an hour in a souvenir shop” always causes a stir.

But this time, the day seems to be giving us a break. The passengers get off the buses with their phones at the ready and their eyes wide open, like children in front of a storefront full of candy.

For the first few hours, we move like a well-rehearsed parade, while we report what’s happening in the team chat:

“Group three split up. First subgroup en route to St. Peter’s Square. Everything in order.”

I don’t know if Helen is reading my messages from the ship’s security office. I picture her on board, standing tall in her uniform, checking every announcement, every hour of the itinerary, even keeping an eye on the deck clock. Although I hate to admit it, knowing that she’s making sure everything goes smoothly puts my mind at ease.

“Maika, can we go take some pictures over here?” a passenger asks me, pointing to a beautiful view of the square.