Better Off Dead. Meryl Sawyer

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СКАЧАТЬ He was still in touch with most of the Delta Force guys who’d served with him in Desert Storm. Some were still in the military, while others, like him, had opted for a so-called normal life.

      “I know you’re an underwater forensic expert.” Danson’s tone was clipped, a sure sign he was pissed. Like lots of military types, Danson was big on respect. He didn’t appreciate a former subordinate giving him a ration of grief. Of course, Chad didn’t give a rat’s ass what Danson thought.

      “Underwater forensics means—”

      “I know. You’re Sherlock Holmes with a scuba tank. You contract out to police departments that don’t have an underwater expert, but most of your work is for insurance companies who balk at paying certain claims. Like Townsend.”

      Chad gazed at Danson, not surprised to learn the man knew exactly what he was doing down here.

      “Look, we’re prepared to pay you a bundle to test for us.”

      “Why not use one of your own boys?” Chad would be damned before he’d act curious, but he was. DARPA usually tested its own inventions. Why didn’t they want to test this?

      “Good question.” Danson fiddled with the shades perched on top of his balding head. “We don’t want word to leak out on this one. Too sensitive. You still have your SAP/SAR.”

      Why hadn’t the military terminated his top secret clearance? Special Access Program/Special Access Required—SAP/SAR—was damn tough to get. The light dawned. DARPA had kept his SAP/SAR active in case they needed him.

      “You could do this, Chad, make some easy dough, and still snoop around under water all you want.”

      “What is it that you want me to test?”

      “I can’t tell you until you agree to test and sign the mandatory confidentiality document.”

      “Then count me out until I know what it is. How else can I decide if I’ll have the time or interest?”

      “Christ, Langston, you’re pressing your luck.”

      “Damn straight. You need me more than I need you or you wouldn’t have flown all the way down here.”

      Danson stared at a knockout blonde in a hot-pink butt floss bikini who wandered past. Chad knew Danson wouldn’t tell him a thing until the woman was too far away to hear them.

      The first time Chad met Danson was when Chad joined Delta Force. They were being trained to be dropped behind enemy lines. Danson outfitted each member of the team with a portable multiband scanner that was supposed to scan for any available uplink to the Department of Defense satellite.

      Damn things never worked reliably, but they didn’t find that out until they were behind enemy lines in Desert Storm and couldn’t contact the DOD satellite. Chad had taken his apart and tinkered with the mechanism and finally got it going. After the war, Danson used Chad’s modifications to make a smaller—and totally reliable—scanner.

      Chad had spent his last year in the service testing military devices for DARPA. He’d loved the work, but when his father died unexpectedly, Chad returned to Honolulu.

      “Okay, off the record,” Danson said with a huff of disgust. “We’ve developed a handheld infrared device that can distinguish between thermal signatures.”

      Chad knew all living creatures, plants and machinery gave off heat. Sophisticated infrared sensors could detect the heat and know where something was located. But what was the object?

      Chad let out a low whistle. “You mean it can tell the difference between a car and a man?”

      “You bet. It’ll tell the difference between a gorilla and a person.”

      Chad was more than impressed. Satellite surveillance relied on telescopic photography during the day, and it was damn good. You could hit the magnify button and look at a drop of dew on a leaf, but at night surveillance went to infrared. Every living thing had a thermal signature that showed up as red on the screen.

      Objects such as cars in use gave off enough heat to be confused with people when viewed on the screen. In populated areas, all that could be seen at night was a big red blob. Essentially satellite surveillance after dark sucked.

      “Sounds promising.” Chad deliberately kept his tone noncommittal. “So why isn’t the military testing it?”

      “It’s top secret. I mean double classified. Most of the world thinks we can’t track them if they move at night. We’d like to keep it that way.”

      Chad would bet his life there was more to it, but he was smart enough to accept what Danson told him without comment.

      “You in?” Danson asked.

      Chad hesitated, thinking of everything he had going on in his life. The insurance investigations, his dive boats—most of all, his family. Five years ago, his father had died and soon after, his mother. Being the only son with three sisters and a slew of nieces and nephews meant he became head of the family. He liked it, but their activities took up a lot of his time.

      “I’ll test it for you, if I can do it in Honolulu.”

      “Not a problem.”

      “You know I’m going to look for every flaw and report it.”

      “Just what we want. When you report, call me at this number.” He pulled a card out of the pocket of his swimming trunks. “Use a pay phone, not a cell phone. No IMing. No e-mails.”

      Chad nodded. Now he knew the problem. Somewhere, the brass had a leak.

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT HAD BEEN SUCH A BUSY morning that Lindsey hadn’t taken time to phone in her usual order for a turkey sandwich from The Basket Lady who delivered lunch to businesses. It was hard to believe she was hawking jewelry to tourists instead of working in finance. She loved numbers and always had. She had an MBA in statistics. When would she be able to work in her field again?

      Until last year, what she’d known about crime, she’d learned watching DeNiro and Pacino. Hul-lo! Welcome to the real world. White collar criminals were just as deadly as the Mafia.

      Looking up, she saw a couple from the Midwest pass her shop. They were slurping soda from huge plastic cups. They didn’t even glance at the jewelry in the window.

      She’d selected this shop not only for its historic beauty, but because it gave her a good view up the street and there was a back way out. Two, actually, if you counted the back door to Romero’s gallery.

      Ever-vigilant, she’d learned to memorize people’s faces. If someone was following her, she would know it. At least that’s what she told herself. With so many tourists swarming through the city now that summer had arrived, it was impossible to truly memorize every face.

      Still, she continued to try.

      She squinted against the early-afternoon sunlight at the dark-haired man striding toward the gallery. He was a head taller than most men, but even if he hadn’t been, Lindsey would have been able to pick out Derek СКАЧАТЬ