Page 1 of Poison Evidence

Chapter One

Babeldaob Island, Republic of Palau

April

Age: early thirties. Accent: American, Boston—Southie, not Harvard, and trying to hide it. Looks: handsome but forgettable. Attitude: smug. The man fixed Ivy MacLeod with what he must believe was a charming smile, when in fact everything about him spoke of condescension. “If you find the Palauan president intimidating, just remember that the country only has a population of twenty thousand. He’s more like the mayor of a small suburb.”

Ivy didn’t let her party smile slip as she glanced over his shoulder, scanning the packed ballroom for an escape. Mark Frost seemed to think he was clever, when in fact he was merely smarmy, and she would bet her next paycheck that he hadn’t crossed the packed ballroom because he wanted to give her unsolicited advice on how best to deal with Palauan politicians.

He canted his head. “But then, look who I’m talking to. Your cousin is a US senator and your husband is…was…” His voice trailed off, then he cleared his throat as if embarrassed.

That confirmed it. He’d cornered her at the edge of the room because he wanted the ugly details of Patrick’s upcoming trial.

“Ex-husband,” she said, her jaw tight, then berated herself for responding at all. She took a sip of the drink she’d just gotten from the open bar and looked longingly toward the open door to the garden, which she’d been heading toward when Frost pinned her.

Ivy felt some relief when the governor of Melekeok nudged Frost to the side and held out a hand to indicate the Asian man at his side. “Ms. MacLeod, I wish to introduce you to Shiro Kimura, from the Japanese embassy.”

She flashed a smile as she extended her right hand. “Mr. Kimura, it’s good to meet you.” She knew her effort to appear unfazed fell short. It was a shame it was necessary here, but three days ago, that damn news article had outed her. Half a world away in a tiny country in Micronesia, and her ex-husband’s infamy had followed her thanks to the Internet. “I understand you have questions about my mapping of Peleliu and whether there will be any disturbance to the World War II battle site that holds wreckage and remains from both our countries.”

Frost jumped into the conversation before Kimura had a chance to answer. “Tonight is for celebrating. Save the work talk for later.”

She frowned at the man. He was wrong about the purpose for the evening. While the gala event was a celebration of another milestone achieved by the Compact of Free Association between the US and Palau, it was work for Ivy, her chance to connect with government officials, ease concerns, and stroke egos. And even though, as Frost had pointed out, the country was tiny, the largest employer in the Micronesian island nation was the government. Everyone who was anyone in Palau politics was in the ballroom.

She didn’t doubt that they all wanted to know the sordid details of her ex-husband’s arrest and upcoming trial. But that was just too damn bad. She didn’t speak about Patrick to anyone except the US attorney who was personally handling his prosecution.

Kimura cast a glare at Frost before facing Ivy. His handshake had been stiff, and while he was clearly irritated with Frost, she wouldn’t be surprised if some of his hostility was directed at her. Most people greeted her with hostility once they learned her ex had been an arms trafficker who bought weapons from Russian mafiosi and sold them to Islamist terrorist groups.

She could see the accusatory question in Shiro Kimura’s eyes:How could you not have known what your husband was?But all he said was, “How long will it take you to map the site, Ms. MacLeod?”

She took a sip of her sweet tropical drink. Passion fruit. Guava. Probably three types of rum, at least one of them coconut. Not bad. She’d have to ask the bartender what it was called again. She smiled warmly at Kimura. Or at least hoped it came out warm. Easy-breezy just like the drink. “The battle site is vast, but data collection is going well so far. I expect another week to ten days until I’ve mapped both the land and water wreckage.”

Even now she was itching to be back in the seaplane. She was a beauty, an old de Havilland Beaver, piloted by a Palauan who never made snide comments when they were in the air. When flying with Ulai at the controls, Ivy could get lost in her work. Data points and markers. Infrared readings layered with Lidar. The colors, lines, and numbers that filled her computer screen were even more beautiful than the incredible tropical landscape they flew over. This first field test of CAM’s abilities was exceeding her wildest dreams.

“I do have concerns, Ms. MacLeod,” Kimura said. “I find it hard to believe you can map the ocean bottom from the air.”

The damn article that mentioned her disastrous marriage had ostensibly been about the Lidar-radar interface others had theorized but she’d managed to create. Maybe Kimura hadn’t read the exposé.

“I won’t bore you with the technical details, Mr. Kimura. Suffice to say I’ve developed a system that is capable of seeing through both jungle canopy and water.”

The official gave her a tight smile. “Won’t bore me? Or is that a way of covering that it wasn’t your invention and you don’t really know how it works?” His English was very good—on par with her Spanish and better than her Japanese—but he’d had enough to drink that it showed at the edges of his speech, and now he was saying things she had to wonder if he’d utter when completely sober. Not that he wouldn’t think them, just that he wouldn’t say them.

It was clear he’d read the article about CAM after all, but he believed her job at MacLeod-Hill had been a token gesture, in deference to her family tree and marriage to Patrick. She’d heard the rumors: she’d claimed invention credit to keep the patent out of government hands.

In truth, she’d spent five years developing CAM at the MacLeod-Hill Exploration Institute, the organization her Grandpa Cam had founded decades prior. Her father may have had the poor judgment to invite Patrick Hill to join the institute, but she was the fool who’d married the bastard.

When Patrick was arrested for treason and the government dismantled the institute she’d been born to run, she’d dusted herself off and brought her technological baby to Mara Garrett at Naval History and Heritage Command. So the argument that she’d lied to keep her patent out of government hands was ridiculous.

“Do you have great interest in learning about how lasers can be used to transport radio signals through water?” she asked. “Because I’m more than happy to get technical. Because light waves are packed more tightly, they outperform radio waves in their ability to transmit information. They’re faster, can carry more data, and even have stronger signal. For this reason, several labs have been attempting to embed radio wavesintolight waves, and with CAM, I have succeeded—are you following, or should I switch to Japanese?” She then repeated herself in his native language, to prove that she could. But instead of feeling satisfaction, she was irked with herself for rising to his bait. Kimura had been drinking too much, and she clearly hadn’t been drinking enough.

Next to him, Mark Frost grinned, and his eyes lit with respect. Maybe Frost wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

She took another sip. Coconut rum. Really, she should buy a bottle for an after-work cocktail now and then. Even snide comments were more tolerable when served with coconut.

“Dr. Patrick Hill is as likely to have developed CAM as you, Shiro,” a man behind her said. “And you still get lost in Koror with GPS.”

Kimura’s face reddened, yet he hadn’t flushed at Ivy’s take down.

She turned to see who’d managed that feat, and a frisson of recognition ran through her. She didn’t know him, but she’d seen him at the marina where Ulai and his floatplane lived. This man lived aboard a big yacht moored two slips away from Ulai’s hangar and living quarters.

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