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

"Coffee?"

She glanced across the table, bemused with Riyad's seemingly polite offer…until the man nodded toward the trio of white ceramic mugs turned upside down on the silver serving tray between them. The spook might've nodded toward the cups, but he was staring at her right arm.

"The coffee in the pot is hot, Agent Chase, and the cups are clean. Have at it."

Not an offer, then—but a dare.

Had the spook caught that fresh bout of tremors at the door?

The ones that were still quivering along her fingers. Fingers that were now firmly jammed into her lap.

Or was Riyad wondering if her hand was still shaking from last night?

Either way, John cut the agent off at the pass. He leaned forward and snagged a cup, deftly flipping it right-side up before he set it down on the table, directly in front of her. He extended that brawny arm again, this time for the pot. He filled her cup, leaving a good two inches of room lest the motion of the ship—or her hand—send the contents sloshing over the rim, then returned the pot to its slot on the tray.

"Agent Riyad?"

The spook was forced to shift his attention to the head of the table. "Yes, General?"

She took advantage of Riyad's distraction and whatever the general was saying to look directly into John's eyes. "Thank you."

Her quiet appreciation wasn't for the coffee, and they both knew it. She was referring to his predawn labors with her bloodstained boots and gear.

His answering nod was brief. The appearance of that slight, soul-warming slash, briefer still.

It was enough.

The tremors actually eased.

"Chief?" Palisade again. If he'd caught her exchange with John, much less had intentionally forced Riyad's attention away to allow for one, he didn't let on.

"Yes, sir?"

Palisade tipped his tight crop of silver toward the unknown male she now couldn't see at all. "My aide has an apology to make—to you. Captain Hoffman?"

His aide?

An apology?

She didn't know which surprised her more, the general's statement or that the captain had come to his feet. The latter was welcomed, however, since the captain had disappeared from her view the moment she'd sat down.

That titanic torso of John's was still blocking half the general's body and everything else at the far end the wardroom, too.

Hoffman cleared his throat as he focused on her. Flushed. "Yes, well, regarding those three orange hairs? Agent Chase, I'm the leak."

"Excuse me?"

The general's aide was the leak? According to the tab velcroed to the upper left sleeve of his ACUs, the man was Special Forces.

And he'd passed along classified information about a terror case? While the case was still open?

But the captain nodded. "During my previous tour, Captain McCord and I served together. He saved my hide a number of times. When I learned about those hairs, I believed I'd found a way to repay him. I just wanted to put his mind at ease. I shared the information with McCord when I was in Bagram on the general's behalf. I was wrong, and I apologize—to everyone involved in the investigation and especially to you. I understand that my lapse in judgement affected your interrogation with the captain, and could have affected the outcome of the case. I am sorry."

Wow.

Given the strength of that flush and the rigidity of his spine, she'd hate to have been in the room when Palisade had discovered that the leak had come from one of his own. She'd have lost a few inches of her own hide simply by being near the captain.

She offered Hoffman a clipped nod. Given her audience, there wasn't much else she could do. She was still pissed, but the information had solved at least one mystery on her list.

The captain resumed his seat and promptly disappeared behind John's bulk. She had a feeling it was intentional, too.

Palisade turned and murmured something to his aide. The captain came to his boots once more and swiftly departed the compartment, leaving her, John, the general and the spook behind. And then the general stood.

Regan assumed the purpose behind her attendance had been to listen to Hoffman's public mea culpa, and that with Palisade's looming stance, the meeting was now over…until the general caught her eye and nodded. To her utter surprise, Palisade was also blushing. Badly. "I'm your second leak, Chief."

"Sir?" Because if Hoffman had leaked the presence of those hairs, there was only one lapse of judgment left on the table. And this one was profoundly personal.

To her.

The general nodded again—and his flush darkened. "Your BI. When I tapped you to lead up both the cave investigation and the one into the SF deaths at Campbell, my decision met with some flak from the State Department contingent holed up here aboard the Griffith. There were…questions raised about your lineage. Some had also heard about your run-in with the major in Germany and, quite frankly, did not feel you were agent enough to support the weight of both investigations and our tenuous relationship with Pakistan. I disagreed. I'd already accessed your BI. Based on your background, I knew you were the perfect soldier for the job. I also knew you would not give up, and I needed State to know that. So I passed your BI along to certain folks."

Certain folks?

Hope began to trickle in. Which folks in particular?

Diplomats?

Because a diplomat who'd turned against his or her country would also qualify to be branded as a traitor…

Adrenaline joined the hope, surging along with the latest roll of the Griffith. She reached out to prevent her cup and the coffee within from surging out with it. She didn't care that Riyad watched, or that he saw her fingers quiver. Because certain folks would also make up a certain list. And the US Army general standing in front of her, humbling himself on her behalf, would know every single name on that list.

Every single suspect.

She smiled. "Thank you, sir—for the apology and the leak."

What was the humiliation of yet another public, town-square lashing compared to