"Hey, Rolan, are the Pluton blueprints really here?" Crocodile asked, staring at the bustling glory of Water 7.
The city was filled with merchant ships, Marine vessels, pirate crews, and even ships belonging to the World Government. With activity this heavy, Crocodile found it impossible to believe that something as important as the Pluton blueprints would be hidden in such a crowded, exposed place.
Leaving the blueprints here seemed reckless at best and suicidal at worst.
Rolan noticed Crocodile's agitation and said calmly, "The most dangerous place is usually the safest. Since you think the blueprints wouldn't be here, the people searching for them will think the same."
Enel, who had been listening with growing impatience, frowned. "Hey, what are you two mumbling about? And what is this Pluton thing anyway?"
Crocodile took a slow drag from his cigar. "Pluton is an ancient weapon capable of erasing an entire island with a single shot."
Enel raised a brow in disdain. "Destroying an island with one strike? That's supposed to be impressive? I can do that too."
Crocodile shot him a contemptuous glance. "You? If you had that kind of power, I would've seen it already. Don't talk big if you can't back it up."
The air crackled with hostility as the two glared at each other, seconds away from fighting.
Rolan cut in before fists or lightning flew. "Enough. Put on your masks. We're going straight to the Mayor."
Enel and Crocodile locked eyes one more time, then looked away with irritated snorts.
Everyone pulled on their masks and headed toward the shipyard. Rolan had already stored their ship away, avoiding unnecessary attention. With how notorious the Ion Tempest crew had become, boldness had to give way to strategy.
Nami's eyes sparkled as the massive structures came into view. "Wow! What a magnificent shipyard! Look at the size of that crane!"
Even Rolan, stoic as always, couldn't deny the scale of the place. The gate of the dry dock soared nearly fifty meters high, and the cranes towered over forty meters, each constructed with intimidating precision.
They passed through the busy dry dock and arrived at the Galley-La Company headquarters.
At the entrance, a guard called out, "Hey! Who are you? What's your business here?"
Seeing four masked strangers approaching the most important building on the island would make anyone wary.
Rolan gave a polite nod. His voice was calm and steady. "Please inform Mayor Iceburg that Rolan has come to speak with him."
Even though he couldn't see Rolan's face, the guard sensed no hostility and nodded. "Please wait here. I'll notify him."
Enel muttered, irritated. "Was that really necessary? Wouldn't it be faster to just walk in?"
Nami shot him a glare. "What do you know? This is called being polite."
A few moments later, the guard returned. "The Mayor will see you. Please come in."
…
Inside Iceburg's office, the group removed their masks. The only people present were Rolan, Crocodile, Enel, Nami, Iceburg, and his secretary—Kalifa.
Rolan's gaze briefly shifted to Kalifa. Her soft golden hair fell perfectly along her back, the glasses on her face gave her an intelligent charm, and her long legs wrapped in black fishnet stockings were difficult not to notice.
"I'm guessing you're Mayor Iceburg's secretary, Kalifa, well, you got beautiful legs," Rolan said.
Kalifa pushed up her glasses with a cool expression. "Rolan-san may be handsome, but what you just said counts as harassment."
Crocodile burst into laughter. "Serves you right, Rolan."
Meanwhile, Nami's fingers pinched Rolan's waist with precision born of practice.
Rolan didn't respond. Instead, he addressed Iceburg. "Mr. Mayor, what I'm about to discuss isn't something outsiders should hear."
Iceburg looked at Kalifa. Clearly, Rolan meant her. "Kalifa is my secretary. She's not an outsider."
Rolan's eyes sharpened. "What about Franky?"
Iceburg blinked, confused. "Franky? That troublemaker from the backstreets? He has nothing to do with this. Speak."
Rolan could appreciate Iceburg's vigilance. Without that alertness, the Pluton blueprints would have been lost long ago.
He silently mouthed a name behind Kalifa's back: Cutty Flam.
Iceburg's pupils contracted. "Kalifa, wait outside for a moment."
Kalifa hesitated, shooting Rolan one last curious look before she nodded and stepped out.
With a flick of his hand, Rolan created an electromagnetic barrier around the room.
"Mr. Iceburg," he said, "I'm here to talk about the Pluton blueprints."
Iceburg's heart jolted, though he kept his reaction subtle. "Pluton? I don't know what you're talking about."
Rolan knew Iceburg wouldn't easily admit anything. If he were the type to confess immediately, CP9 would have already succeeded long ago.
"I'm not here to steal the blueprints," Rolan said. "I don't care about ancient weapons. If I wanted them, I'd just take them from Franky."
Iceburg's calm façade wavered for a moment, but he maintained his composure. "I don't know any Franky."
"Franky, as you know is Cutty Flam" Rolan continued. "The apprentice of the great shipwright Tom."
As Rolan explained everything, Iceburg's eyes slowly widened with shock.
"You… how do you know all this? What's your purpose?"
Rolan sighed. "My purpose is simple. I want you to destroy the blueprints."
Iceburg immediately shook his head. "I can't. Tom-san protected them with his life. I have no right to destroy them."
Rolan exhaled softly. It seemed that everyone who guarded something precious carried the same ironclad conviction: Iceburg, the Shandians, Cobra… all of them.
"Then let me make something clear," Rolan said. "Do you know why I asked your secretary to leave? Because you're not entirely at ease with her, are you?"
Iceburg froze.
"She's a World Government agent," Rolan said. "Just like your shipwrights Lucci and Kaku, and the barman Blueno."
Iceburg's face drained of color.
"Nani…?"
The room fell dead silent.
_____
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