Backblast Candace Irving (classic novels to read .txt) 📖

too, feeding her that obfuscating story while they'd been on their way to the Shifa—and she and her instincts had been distracted by the city's jockeying traffic and the dark.

And there'd been that clever, seemingly innocuous comment regarding Jeffers' previous stint as Embassy Islamabad's political officer and, hence, Jeffers presupposed use of and familiarity with that desk.

Plus, "I called Jeffers' wife. That was a nice touch, by the way. Accusing him of adultery—and implying the rest. Especially since you knew Bethany was already on her way out of Pakistan to visit her folks in the States."

She could hear Jeffers spluttering behind her. "You called my wife?"

She glanced back to see those meaty lips puckering down and white with fury. "Be grateful. The woman alibied you." God knew why, but Bethany Jeffers also appeared to genuinely love and admire the asshole.

It took all sorts, didn't it?

Bethany had also confessed that Warren Jeffers had bragged to anyone who'd listen about the hidden bottom in that drawer during his stint in the political office.

Meaning Webber probably knew about the drawer.

At the very least, Scott had.

"I thought you hadn't had a chance to dust the envelope for prints."

She hadn't. Nor would she. While she doubted she'd find any prints on it, much less on the papers within—despite their thumbed through appearance—it was probably best to box them up and ship them off to Forensic Documents at the CID lab at Fort Gillem. Given the critical nature of this mission—and the classified content of those pages—she'd prefer that the document experts at the lab did the honors. They'd have a much better shot than she would at culling any available clues from within.

Of course, that was going to take time.

Meanwhile, she'd head back to the embassy tomorrow to dust Crier's Glock for prints and wrap up everything else related to the case, including her growing stack of pending reports.

"Damn it, Agent Chase. I will not just stand here and—"

"Oh, but you will." This time, she spun all the way around to stare the DCM down. "Make no mistake, Mr. Jeffers. One more word out of your mouth, and I'll arrest you too." Alibi or not. "So do just stand there—and shut up."

She ignored the flare of pure hatred she received in response and turned back to Scott. To the query he'd made regarding that envelope.

It was telling.

Scott wouldn't have had a lot of time to prepare those papers once he'd been tasked with picking her up at the airport—and realized why she was in Islamabad. Given the fear he'd let slip, there was an excellent chance Scott had screwed up and left his prints behind…or someone else's.

Webber's.

All the more reason to let the experts at Gillem take first crack.

Either way, "That's not where I got my confirmation. I lied earlier, Scott. I didn't just go back an hour on the video. I went back a lot further. I found you, going in and out of Crier's office, twice. Roughly twenty minutes before Jeffers arrived and, again, earlier in the day just after you brought me to the embassy and while Crier was still across town in his marathon meeting with locals." And during that first foray in the hours before, Scott'd had an envelope in hand. One that looked exactly like the one she'd pulled out of that hidden compartment in Crier's desk. "You really should've shoved that damning little Easter egg in a briefcase."

Scott just shrugged those wiry, pinstriped shoulders. "Hindsight's always twenty-twenty."

That, it was.

She could only assume Scott had intended to compromise the surveillance archive—and his suspicious appearances therein—later tonight while everyone was supposed to have been distracted by what he'd clearly hoped would be a full-blown Pakistani coup.

"That second foray into Crier's office?" The one Crier had actually attended. "You told the man the hospital called, didn't you? And that his son, Danyal, was dead." A death Scott had fully expected to occur within the next few days anyway, since he'd been the one to infect the boy simply to complete the frame he'd perpetuated on Crier.

"Yeah. But I added on the sweet piece he'd been screwing. I told him Inaya was so grief stricken that she threw herself out of the window before they could stop her. It was the best way to ensure he blew his brains out."

That would do it.

And, of course, Scott had known about Crier's 9mm since he'd been in there to plant that envelope. That said, Scott had only been at the embassy for two months. That wasn't long enough to have gathered all the intel he'd had on Tom Crier and put his plans into place. And there was Sergeant Brandt and his secrets. Not to mention obtaining the chimera, those crime scene photos and the McCord DNA report that had been leaked.

Scott had definitely had help.

Someone else had to have conducted the advanced reconnaissance. Especially since Scott had been at his desk at the embassy for the past two months, studiously working away on that human trafficking case that she now suspected he'd not only tipped the authorities off to, but had then volunteered to work. Whoever had done the recon had also been the one to go to Al Dhafra to pass off the strychnine to Brandt and infect the Marine with the chimera, thus preserving Scott's cover.

Hell, a tainted needle and a hearty smack on the back would've done the trick.

Again, Webber.

The rogue SEAL had attempted to stain John's loyalties back at Fort Bragg. He'd clearly succeeded with Scott. How many others had been targeted by Webber?

How many had he already turned?

And where around the world—or inside the United States—were they placed?

But first, she needed confirmation on this placement. "How long have you been working with Zakaria Webber?"

Her old friend pushed forth another wiry shrug. It didn't matter. His micro-expressions had given him away.

This was definitely Webber's party.

And that scared the shit out of her. Given that the man had been sighted at the airport hours ago—and that she'd yet to hear