Page 100 of Poison Evidence

Luke and Ian lifted one side of the large float, and Ivy peered underneath. “Sonofabitch. That’s fricking TNT.”

As one, they all tilted their heads to look under the raised corroded metal. Sure enough, there was a pile of World War II explosives pressed into the earth. The molded bricks looked like square candles—three inches long, an inch thick, and an inch wide, with a hole in the middle—he’d seen photos of similar finds and this resembled a cache that had been found by archaeologists several years before.

Old TNT would explode on contact with open flame. After seventy years, a spark could still set it off.

“It’s well-documented that there’s a lot of unexploded ordnance in these woods,” Ivy said. “We knew this was possible.” She met Dimitri’s gaze. “What do we do?”

“We use it. The AUUV is already packed with C-4. TNT will just make a bigger statement.” He collected two dozen explosive bricks from the pile and carefully set them aside.

Together, he and Palea positioned the AUUV under the float, resting it on top of the remaining TNT. Then he took the bricks he’d set aside and placed them around and in front of the Russian device. He stepped back and nodded to Luke and Ian, who lowered the float, fully hiding the modern spy equipment and explosives under rusted aluminum.

Ivy replaced torn moss and draped vines over the top. In minutes, it looked one with the jungle again, as if it hadn’t been disturbed in years.

They hiked back to the beach, single file, ever careful to leave no trace. When they reached the shore, they pulled out the inflatable boat they’d hidden in the jungle and rowed out to the south, away from their anchored boat, which was in a hidden cove in the Rock Islands. The inflatable was small, so Ivy tucked herself in Dimitri’s arms, and he was content to let the others row while he held her.

Voices carried across the water, so the crossing was silent until they were far enough from Peleliu to lower the engine and head toward the larger boat that had been Dimitri and Ivy’s home the last few days.

In sixteen hours, one way or another, this would all be over.

When they reached the boat, Ian asked, “Who’s up for a round of poker?” He tapped the supply box that was his seat. “I’ve got the beer.”

Dimitri doubted Ian Boyd did anything without an agenda, but in that moment, he didn’t give a damn. Beer and poker the night before his life started or ended sounded damn good. “I’m in.”

Ivy, it turned out, was good at calculating the odds in Texas Hold’em but had zero poker face when she had a good hand and was terrible at bluffing when she didn’t have the cards she wanted. The result was when she won, it was a small pot because everyone else folded, but she was always so damn pleased to win, her exuberance was infectious.

Boyd played like a spy. It wasn’t about winning or losing, it was about understanding the player across the table, and Dimitri knewhewas the one being studied. If Ian were playing to win, Dimitri suspected he’d take every hand.

Luke was the competitive player, in it for the win but not for the stakes. He took his losses in stride and enjoyed the game aspect. Once the hand was played out, he focused on the next hand, not the results of the previous one. He bet low, and true to form, he stopped drinking at one beer.

Kaha’i—and by the third hand, they were all using first names—was like Ivy and into the numbers aspect, calculating odds based on his hole cards and what came up on the flop, turn, and river, but unlike Ivy, he had a solid poker face. Between that and his dry wit, he won just as often bluffing as he did with the cards he was dealt. Watching Kaha’i go up against Ian in a true contest would be interesting.

Deep into the night, Ivy was cleaned out of chips. She sat across from him and leaned back against the cushioned bench at the galley table and finished the last of her beer, then held Dimitri’s gaze. Her bare foot stretched out under the table and found his crotch. She grinned.

“Whoa, wrong man, Ivy,” Luke, who sat next to Dimitri, said.

Her eyes widened, and she jolted back, but Dimitri grabbed her foot—elbowing Luke in the process—before she could retreat. “He’s messing with you, Ive.” He stroked the arch of her foot with his thumbs.

Ivy’s face reddened, but then she relaxed when Dimitri began massaging her foot in earnest.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” Luke said, then stood and stretched. “Time to pack it in. We need to be back at the hotel before Fredrickson wakes and notices we’re missing.”

“I told you we should’ve drugged him,” Ian said.

Kaha’i shook his head. “And I told you Dominick will have my ass if we can’t prosecute because the evidence against him was obtained illegally.”

Ian grinned. “Raptor’s always looking for good operatives. There’s even a compound on Oahu.”

The Hawaiian FBI agent rolled his eyes. “I happen tolikemy job.”

“Even though you have to do everything the hard way, by the book? When I was CIA, I broke the law ten times before breakfast.” He cleared his throat and flashed a grin. “Outside the US, of course.”

“Of course,” Kaha’i repeated.

The CIA wasn’t allowed to conduct operations on US soil, so Ian Boyd’s lawbreaking was all done in foreign lands and condoned by the US government. Dimitri, however, had been a spy for Russia, operating in the United States. There was an outstanding warrant for his arrest, and Kaha’i had the authority to serve it—even in Palau. Curt Dominick had stayed the warrant thanks to the deal they’d struck, but Dimitri’s future was uncertain even if everything went off without a hitch in the coming hours.

Given all he’d done, he probably shouldn’t trust these people not to turn on him in the end, yet he did. Perhaps team building had been Ian’s goal with this poker game, even more than to gauge Dimitri’s character.

Ian stood and slapped the fed on the shoulder. “Sometimes you’ve gotta break a few laws for the greater good.” He winked at Ivy. “Or damage historic garbage.”

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