“My aspirations don’t run that high. I’m just dreading the havoc a billionaire will wreak on the criminal justice system.”

As he stepped toward the door, Jameson called out to him once more.

“Right will win out eventually.”

The commissioner kept on walking, knowing it wasn’t always the case.

Chapter 43

43

THE EXPOSED PORTION OF TREVOR’S BOAT WAS still smoldering when a lift barge borrowed from the aluminum smelter moored alongside and hoisted the wrecked vessel aboard. Chugging to a nearby boatyard, the barge deposited the waterlogged hulk onto a cement pad, where it would await investigation by the police and an insurance claims adjuster. His cuts bandaged and his report to the police completed, Trevor poked through the charred hull, then made his way back over to the NUMA research boat. Dirk waved him aboard, inquiring about the police response.

“The chief isn’t ready to concede that it was a planted explosion until his arson investigator can have a look,” Trevor said.

“Boats just don’t blow up, certainly not in that fashion,” Dirk replied.

“He asked if I had any suspicions, but I told him no.”

“You don’t think he can help?” Summer asked.

“Not yet. There’s just not enough evidence to be able to point fingers.”

“We all know someone from the sequestration plant is behind it.”

“Then we need to find out what the mystery is all about,” Trevor replied. He looked at Dirk and Summer steadfastly. “I know you’re short on time, but can you still oblige me with a search off Gil Island before you have to leave?”

“Our boat is loaded, and we’re more than ready,” Dirk replied. “Man the lines and we’ll be on our way.”

The ride down Douglas Channel was made in relative silence, with each wondering what sort of danger they had stumbled into. As they passed the sequestration facility, Dirk took note that the LNG tanker had departed the covered dock. He nudged the throttle to its stops, anxious to get on-site and see what lay beneath the waters off Gil Island.

They were nearly to the sound when Summer stood and pointed out the windshield. The black LNG tanker loomed up around the next bend, steaming slowly down the channel.

“Look how low she’s sitting,” Dirk said, noting that the tanker rode near her waterline.

“You were right, Summer,” Trevor said. “She was in fact taking on liquid CO2 at the plant. It doesn’t make any sense.”

The NUMA vessel charged past the tanker, quickly reaching the open strait. Dirk steered to the southern end of the strait, stopping the boat when he was even with the tip of Gil Island. He moved to the stern and lowered a sonar fish over the rail while Summer programmed a search grid into the navigation system. Within a few minutes they were under way again, moving back and forth across the strait, with the sonar fish tailing behind.