Page 101 of Backtrack

“My ex-wife,” Cutter said. “It’s a long story.”

Ajit closed the black credential case and tapped it in his open hand for a moment before finally handing it back to Cutter with a wan half-smile. “I look forward to hearing this story.”

Seemingly satisfied they were who they said they were, Ajit shook their hands and formally welcomed them aboard the ship.

“Please,” he said. “We will be more comfortable in the security offices. Ms. Cutter, please join us. I need to get some information for my report before—”

“Are you kicking me off the ship?”

Ajit grimaced as if he’d been slapped. “Should I?” he asked. “Have you done something to warrant that?”

“No,” she said. “I just thought …”

“I need a report,” the security officer said. “After that you’re free to enjoy the remainder of your cruise.”

Ajit had a long stride, and he knew where he was going. The others had to hustle to keep up. Dozens of cruisers were reboarding, crowding the elevators. Rather than wait, Ajit bounded up three sets of stairs, crossed through an opulent lounge area toward the forward part of the ship, where a few dozen guests were playing a trivia game, and then ducked through a door markedCREW ONLY. Miami deputies often served federal warrants or civil papers aboard cruise ships, but somehow, Cutter had escaped that duty. This was his first time on one of the giants.

Ajit turned up what looked like the hallway of an expensive hotel. They passed several housekeeping trollies propping open doors as they cleaned. It made sense that ship’s officers would have cabins close to the control center.

Ajit narrated in clipped sentences as they went, noting that the plaques on each cabin showed the rank of its occupant rose the farther forward they went. The captain needed to be close to the bridge.

Cutter’s time in the Ranger Regiment gave him a nose for others who’d served in the military. As it turned out, Ajit spent fifteen years in the Indian Navy, doing something physical, judging from the way he carried himself.

“I worked with some Indian Navy guys,” Cutter said. “Out of Mumbai.”

Ajit kept walking but gave a slight nod. “I myself was based in Mumbai for much of my career.”

“Abhimanyu?”

The security officer stopped midstride in the passageway and turned around.

“You’re familiar with Abhimanyu?”

“The guys I worked with were stationed there.”

“I was stationed at Abhimanyu.”

“Small world,” Cutter said, knowing what Ajit meant. “The guys I worked with were MARCOS—Dadhiwala Fauj. Pretty high speed. Maybe you knew some of them.”

“I am quite sure I knew many,” Ajit said and left it at that.

Dadhiwala Faujmeant the Bearded Army, the nickname of the India’s Marine Commando Force, or MARCOS.

“75th Ranger Regiment,” Cutter said. They shook hands again—this time on an entirely different level—a brotherhood of fighting men.

It was as if Cutter had found Ajit’s On switch.

The security officer’s favorite movie turned out to beTrue Grit(there were outstanding portions in each version, he said) and he’d watched every episode ofJustifiedwith Timothy Olyphant, committing the most iconic lines to memory. Whatever Cutter and Teariki were up to, Ajit Gupta was more than happy to assist.

Lola fished a silver US Marshals badge lapel pin out of her vest pocket and gave it to him. “We need to check out Bart Preston’s cabin,” Lola said.

Ajit held the miniature badge in his fist in a salute of thanks and then pinned it to the ID lanyard around his neck. “And you’re welcome to,” he said. “But I will warn you now, someone has cleaned it out. There’s nothing there.”

Cutter glanced at Joellen, who grimaced at the news. “I assume you have video surveillance of the passageways.”

“We do.” Ajit took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, the cameras on deck 10 went out of service for fifteen minutes approximately two and a half hours ago.”

Lola cursed. “Not long after we arrested Bart Preston. That clinchesit. He’s working with someone. He hasn’t had a chance to make any calls.”