Joe finally spoke up. “Gasoline fire,” he said somberly. “And we can’t find either of the five-gallon tanks they had listed on the manifest.”
Kurt’s mind put the facts together quickly. “The crew set the fire.”
Joe nodded. “That’s our guess.”
Gamay turned toward Leilani as if to make sure she was okay. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” Leilani replied. “I’m okay.”
“Why would anyone light a fire on their own boat?” Kurt asked.
“Only two reasons we can come up with,” Gamay said. “Either it was an accident or something on the boat seemed more dangerous than setting a fire.”
“The residue,” Kurt guessed, “and whatever’s inside it. You guys think they were fighting that?”
“I’m not really sure what to think,” Gamay insisted. “I honestly don’t see how it could have presented such a danger, but Paul and I have an appointment with a professor at the university here in an hour to get a better look at whatever’s in this sample. Maybe that’ll tell us more.”
“All right,” Kurt said. He looked to his wrist to check the time and then remembered his watch was in hock.
“What time you got?”
“Four-thirty,” Gamay said.
“Okay,” he said, “Joe and I will take Leilani back to the hotel. We’ll check in with Dirk and wait for you guys. Go see your professor, but be careful.”
CHAPTER 9
PAUL AND GAMAY TOOK A BUS FROM THE WATERFRONT TO the Maldives National University. It pulled to a halt at Billabong Station, and the two Americans stepped off the bus with a group of students as if they were attending night school.
“Ever want to go back to the university?” Gamay asked.
“Only if you go with me and let me carry your books,” he replied.
She smiled. “Might have to consider that.”
They made their way inside. The National University courses ran the gamut from traditional Sharia law to engineering, construction and health care. Its maritime engineering curriculum was widely known to be excellent, perhaps spurred on by the low-lying nation’s desire to prevent the rising seas from drowning it.
; A colleague at the maritime school, who was familiar with NUMA, received Paul and Gamay. He introduced them to a female faculty member in a purple sari, Dr. Alyiha Ibrahim, a member of the sciences department.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Gamay said.
She took Gamay’s hand in both of hers. “In the ocean, like in the desert, travelers in need are not turned away,” she said. “And if there is a danger to Malé in what you have found, I would not only be selfish to ignore you, I would be a fool.”
“We don’t know if there’s any danger,” Gamay insisted, “just that something has gone wrong, and this may help us determine the cause.”
Dr. Ibrahim smiled, the mauve color of her wrapping highlighting the green tone in her eyes. “Then let’s not waste any time.”
She led them to a laboratory room. The scanning microscope was set up and ready to operate. A panel showed all systems green.
“May I?” Dr. Ibrahim asked.
Gamay handed her the vial and she drew out a sample. With great precision she placed it on a special tray and slid it into the scanning compartment.
A few minutes later the first photos came up on the screen.
The image was so strange, it caused each of them to pause. Gamay squinted, Paul stood with his mouth slightly open, and Dr. Ibrahim adjusted her glasses and leaned closer.