Phantom Prospect - Alex Archer [36]
“I’ve met a few of your fellow comrades over the years. They told me something about what you guys go through to wear the Budweiser.”
Dave smiled. “Less than four hours of sleep over the course of the entire week. You know what sleep deprivation can do to you?”
“It’s not pretty,” Annja said. “I take it you passed?”
“Everyone in my boat crew did. None of us would have quit if you’d put a gun to our heads. We just weren’t wired that way.”
“What happened after you graduated?”
“I saw action abroad. Not really sure I can talk about any of it.”
Annja nodded. “When’d you graduate?”
“In 1996.”
Annja counted back in her head and came up with a half dozen possible overseas assignments that Dave could have reasonably been expected to participate in. “When’d you get out?”
“After Afghanistan, 2002. Before they sent us into Iraq. I went back home and kicked around there awhile. People find out you were a SEAL they want to live vicariously through you. Tell you how they did something almost as tough as what you went through. But there’s really nothing I’ve heard of that even comes close. Kinda sad, really.”
Annja smiled at him. “Did you sabotage the boat?”
Dave chuckled. “If I wanted to sabotage this boat, it wouldn’t be floating. I know at least three dozen ways to blow this thing in two and send her right to the bottom.”
“I’ll bet you do.” Annja looked at Hunter and shook her head.
“All right, Dave, you’re secure. Thanks for your time.”
“No sweat. You find out who’s doing this, I hope you’ll let me have a crack at them. I don’t like traitors.”
He left. Hunter looked at Annja. “You sure about that?”
Annja shrugged. “Just didn’t get that vibe from him. He seems very switched on, and the fact that he was a SEAL—”
“Unless he was lying,” Cole said.
Annja shook her head. “Doubt it. Anyone who goes through Hell Week never forgets their class number. They’ll rattle it off without a second’s thought. I think he’s legit and he’d certainly know how to blow this ship up if he wanted.”
“All right,” Cole said. “Let’s keep it moving.”
Hunter picked up the next résumé. “Yeah, okay, let’s see what Sheila has to say. I was on the fence about her when I hired her.”
“Why’s that?” Annja asked.
“Said she specialized in antiques from the early nineteenth century. But something didn’t seem right about her.”
Cole looked at Annja. “You any good with that era?”
“Nope. I’m better with ancient civilizations, to be honest, and medieval stuff is my specialty. Don’t know I could even fake it if I tried, but we’ll see where the conversation goes.”
Hunter paged Sheila to his quarters and she showed up a few minutes later, suddenly standing in the open doorway without any fanfare. “Yes?”
Hunter smiled at her. “Come on in.”
Annja watched the way she moved. There was a litheness to her movements. Sheila fairly slid into the room like cream flowing out of a cup. There was no wasted movement. And Annja felt herself tensing slightly as she recognized someone who was very at ease in her own body.
“Just a few questions,” Hunter said.
“About the fire.”
Cole sighed. “Is that what everyone’s saying? That it was a fire?”
“All that smoke,” Sheila said. “Sure seemed like a fire to those of us not down there with you guys.”
“Just a badly burned screw,” Cole said. “Nothing more. Where were you earlier?”
“Why?”
“Because we want to know.”
Sheila frowned. “You think I did it? You think I sabotaged the boat’s engines? Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Annja asked.
Sheila turned and fixed her stare on Annja. “Sorry, who exactly are you again? And why would I answer to you?”
Annja smiled and got ready to respond when Cole cut her off. “Do you know who I am, Sheila?”
“Yeah, you’re the nut who swims with sharks.”
Cole frowned and looked at Hunter. “Thanks.”
Hunter shook his head. “Your reputation precedes you, bro. I had nothing to do with that one.”
Cole looked at Sheila. “It’s my money that’s backing this venture. You understand what that means?”
“You’re the one in charge.”
“Hunter’s heading the crew but who stays and who goes is up to