Crude Carrier Read Online Free

businesslike, the farewell dinner at Barolo’s had been subdued. Though they both accepted the dangers of investigating people who did not want to be noticed, their talk kept drifting from the items she would cover in his absence to silences that hinted at the risks Raiford could face. The appeal of danger, Raiford had once told his daughter, was one of the reasons for creating Touchstone Agency. It had brought him out of a dark period in his life.
    Five years ago, Raiford had found his thoughts still dominated by memories of his dead wife as he stared at the snowy mountains beyond the window. The contract he was supposed to be drafting lay on his desk, and the feeling that he was deeply tired of practicing law, tired of paperwork, tired of doing what he had been doing while his wife gradually weakened and finally died in sedated numbness from pain, emanated from it. So tired, in fact, that he had been careless in drafting the contract and his client had suffered damages. Raiford had been given his choice of retiring from practice or being fired and embarrassing himself and, more importantly, the firm. He quit and spent a month immersing himself in search of some work that might take his mind off the past and focus his days and thoughts on the present. What he found took him back to his interest before law school: electronics and their use in industrial security. The Touchstone Agency was born and Raiford’s new career brought him back to life. In time, it also offered focus for his daughter, whose marriage and newspaper job had both failed in the turbulent collapse of the economy.
    This sea adventure, however, was a new and large step—isolating Raiford among potential enemies—and despite efforts at lightheartedness as Raiford and Julie dined, their conversation kept turning to the murder of Bert Herberling and to grim stories told by other detectives who had lost friends.
    No such sentiment had pervaded Raiford’s meeting with Herberling’s partner, Stanley Mack. “I’ve told the chief executive of Marine Carriers what we want to do, Mr. Raiford. He does not want any ties between you and Marine.” Mack, a short, nondescript man with thinning mousy hair, asked, “You all right with that?”
    Raiford assured Mack that was the case.
    â€œOkay. There’s nothing unusual in undercover work aboard ship. In fact, a lot of owners hire a spy among the officers to report back on how a captain runs their vessel. So don’t be surprised if people are a bit suspicious of you. You’ll be a fifteen-day replacement for the electronics officer, a third mate by the name of Reginald Pierce.” He laid out papers to be signed. “Here’s your contract.”
    Some paperwork that was only slightly shifty, a crimp—a recruiting agent—who, surprise, surprise, was willing to take an extra fee for a discreet service, and Raiford became the temporary employee of convenience. The first contract authorized a hefty percentage of Raiford’s pay to be deducted from his first, and only, paycheck for something called Insurance and Personnel Investment Costs. The second was almost identical with the one signed by Rossi, except that none of the paragraphs had been lined out. Apparently, electronics personnel rated more TLC than the navigation ranks. Raiford was named supernumerary with a rank equivalent to third officer (Electronics), and appointed on a fifteen-day contract.
    Mack explained that Raiford would not be required to sign the Ship’s Articles; cadets and supernumeraries were excused from that ritual because of the special nature of their duties. The Ship’s Articles, which superseded a seaman’s general contract, only applied to regular hands. They spelled out what a crewman’s workload would be, the watches he would stand, the deductions for clothing, special services, and commissary items to be drawn from his pay. The use of Ship’s Articles was,