The rough, coarse voice continuously resonating in his ear was quite a mood-killer.
The doctor repeatedly assured him, "Young Master, rest assured. I will cure the maniac's throat as soon as possible."
After hanging up the telephone, Thomas Shannon tossed the mobile phone to Charlie River beside him.
Charlie River lowered his binoculars and said, "Young Master, Claude is coming."
On the sea, another yacht appeared, approaching at high speed.
Thomas Shannon leisurely reeled in his fishing rod; a decent-sized tuna was visibly hanging from the fishhook.
He handed the fishing rod to a nearby man in black, who promptly pulled the tuna onto the yacht and placed it into a water tank.
As the two yachts gradually drew parallel, Claude stood on deck, facing the sea breeze. He took off his sunglasses with one hand and laughed heartily, "Young Master Shannon, long time no see."
"Long time no see, Claude." Thomas Shannon grinned.
