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

Regan peeled off her gloves, surgical mask and shield, and deposited them into the same biowaste container where Riyad had dumped his gloves. "What about port calls? Has the Griffith pulled in anywhere since the translator and the doc reached the ship? Even briefly?"

"No." From the certainty in that frown, the spook had already considered that possibility as well, remote though it also was. The man might have the beginnings of a decent investigator, after all.

Though, at the moment, she'd prefer positive momentum in their case rather than in Riyad's professional skills. All they had perpetrator-wise were the Marine guards and the Super Stallion's crew—and a painfully narrow, three-hour window.

Hell, even she didn't qualify.

While General Palisade had informed her that Durrani and Hachemi were at the other end of her journey, her movements failed the clock test. Even if she'd brought the strychnine to the ship, based on the information Tarrington had relayed regarding the average, two-hour poison-onset window, Hachemi had ingested the compound long before she'd stepped off that chopper. That same two-hour onset window also excluded the CH-53E's pilot and crew.

And, according to Riyad, there'd been no other physical contact between the ship and the rest of the world. Unless the spook had missed something.

"What about mail? How do sailors get care packages while they're at sea?" Because according to Chief Yrle, the underway replenishment from that morning had included—

"Yes, the Griffith receives letters and packages, along with its fuel. But this morning's mail call was the only one the ship's had since I've been aboard."

And it had occurred after the translator's death.

Shit. They needed answers and now. A viable suspect. Before—

"What?"

Her deepening frustration must've shown. It definitely permeated her sigh. "At the moment how that poison got aboard is less important than who brought it…and does he or she have more?"

Confusion marred the man's pretty-boy brow.

"Durrani. Think about it, Agent Riyad. There's an excellent chance that whoever poisoned the translator is now targeting the doc." Despite Hachemi's initial dangling of a potential traitor's name, the doc was far more critical to their terror investigation than Hachemi had ever been. Because Durrani had two names in his possession.

And, now, she was seeking a third.

The unidentified woman from that cave, an unnamed traitor…and Tamir Hachemi's killer. At least two of those names were connected.

Why not all three?

If so, uncovering one of the names might well lead to both of the others.

The non-mother in the cave. She'd start with that unidentified Pakistani woman and move out from there.

Regan tipped her head toward the microTLC at Riyad's boots. "We need to get that to the Griffith and get the bait testing out of the way, so I can move on to the dregs of the coffee Hachemi tossed at Major Garrison in that conference room this morning. As soon as the dregs come up clean, we can have Garrison released from custody."

The scowl returned.

She ignored it. She didn't have time for the spook's bizarre suspicions regarding John. Not if she hoped to negotiate the name of that final victim from the doc before it was too late. Because there was an outstanding chance that whoever had murdered Hachemi was already hard at work, putting the final touches on his plans for Durrani.

The clock was ticking, and in more ways than one.

The spook's scowl intensified. "No."

"Damn it, I need him." At the moment that need was also not only profound, but utterly professional—whether Riyad believed it or not. "Back in Charikar, Dr. Durrani was obsessed with Major Garrison and Staff Sergeant Tulle's immunity to that blasted psycho-toxin he shot into us. The doc wanted answers. So much so, I was able to use that obsession of his to buy time to free myself so I could take him down. With Garrison at my side, I can abuse that obsession again. Distract Durrani with it. And just maybe, I'll be able to get the name of the final victim from the cave—and, from there, the identity of the traitor as well as the name of Hachemi's killer."

Riyad shook his head. "Garrison stays in his quarters."

Unlike the scowl, that she couldn't ignore. "Are you telling me you honestly still believe the major did it? You were in that autopsy with me, while Tarrington logged his findings. You saw the initial tox results on the microTLC's screen."

Riyad didn't respond. He didn't need to. His answer was in that filthy scowl, just as it had been earlier in the OR.

Good Lord. Had the man slept through his entire investigator's course? "You do realize that you've managed to ascribe two separate modi operandi to the major in as many hours? Not only do they conflict, they suggest two distinct levels of intent on the part of our suspect."

"So?"

So, it didn't make sense. "If Garrison had poisoned Hachemi—and is thus guilty of first-degree, cool-and-calculated premeditated murder—why on earth would the major then opt for a second-degree, spur-of-the-moment utterly emotional killing by deliberately bashing the translator's face into that bulkhead less than two hours later?"

"Because the major was leaving the ship. Perhaps Garrison wanted it done by the time he disembarked so there would be no remaining risk to him should Hachemi survive the poison and give him up."

Jesus, the spook was stubborn. And with instincts so far off base it wasn't funny.

Not only were poison and bludgeoning a hundred eighty degrees out from each other, the timing was off—completely. "I told you this morning that Garrison was in the hospital with me in the ICU when he got that call from General Palisade. The major's flight to the UAE went wheels up twenty-five minutes later. He didn't even have a clean uniform on him. Garrison's XO had to head to the man's apartment, grab his "go" bag and bring it to the major's departing flight. You can contact Fort Campbell and check with Captain Ingle. How the hell was Garrison supposed to have obtained the strychnine in time to bring it aboard the ship?"

"You've already suggested the answer."