Chapter 785:
Brad leaned closer, his mouth tipping into the shadow of a smile, though his stare was hard. “It tells us the Everswell had already been gutted by an internal blast before any torpedo ever touched it.”
Rylie lifted her head, her eyes glinting with realization. “That explains why Everswell’s signals grew erratic before vanishing. It wasn’t the storm alone; an internal explosion crippled their power and antenna systems. And tell me, Brad, do you really think it was a coincidence that East Islet’s submarine just happened to lock onto it and label it a ‘spy ship’?”
Brad didn’t falter, sliding seamlessly into her line of thought. “Before Everswell went under, it had already lost much of its strength and drifted aimlessly. To the sonar and scopes of the rival submarine, a disabled ship moving unpredictably in a tense sector appeared no different from one conducting surveillance or staging a provocation. From their viewpoint, firing on it seemed entirely warranted.”
And if their roles had been reversed, he admitted silently that his judgment would have been no different.
Rylie’s lips curved faintly, a sense of ease settling over her at the rare comfort of speaking with someone who could follow her line of thought.
“So the explosives were planted on the fishing vessel in advance,” she mused softly, “but the question is, by whose hand?”
Brad leaned back against the sofa, his posture unhurried though his fingers tapped a steady rhythm on his thigh. His gaze darkened with contemplation.
Rylie mirrored him, resting her chin in one palm as she turned the thought over. After a lingering silence, their eyes found one another, and she asked quietly, “At the meeting with the victims’ families, who was the one that cried out the loudest?”
Brad answered, “Dunn Barker, brother to Everswell’s first mate, from Driftwharf in Thalora. His mother suffers from kidney failure, but a charitable foundation recently arranged for her to receive treatment overseas.”
Rylie’s lashes lowered, the faintest glint of amusement in her gaze. “How convenient.”
м๏гє υρ∂คтєร คт gคlภ๏שєlร.ς๏๓
Brad inclined his head, continuing, “That foundation isn’t random. It’s directed by Kailee, daughter of the Investigation Bureau’s chief, Juan Shaw, and Carter’s niece—the same Carter who sits as Minister of Defense.”
Rylie lifted a brow, the faintest curve of irony touching her lips. “The Animal Welfare Ambassador in Eshea. Quite the impressive set of ties.”
Brad leaned back, watching her with ease. “If I recall, she once turned up at your homecoming party.”
The image came back instantly, Kailee slipping through the glittering hall with a cat cradled in her arms, bypassing the crowd to approach Rylie alone, pleading for help with a sick relative.
Rylie let the memory fade as her thoughts sharpened. “What we’ve uncovered is more than enough for the investigators to piece together. But tell me, Brad, do you honestly believe they’ll write it truthfully?”
He tipped back his wine, emptying the glass before loosening his collar. “Carter parades himself as honorable, yet his agenda bends toward conflict. The question is, where does Juan stand in all of this?”
Rylie already understood. Her tone was low, decisive. “They mean to ride the arms dealers’ ambitions into war and, in the process, drive you out?”
A soft laugh escaped him, touched with cynicism. “That’s right. The entire cabinet is already whispering about the day I’ll be cast aside. I’m standing at the cliff’s edge of dismissal.”
.
.
.