DIRTY BOP TO BLIGHTYFBI Special Agent Dawna Shepherd leaned on the railing of the Queen of Scandinavia’s topmost deck and glared at the Norwegian coast. July sun glinted off saltwater and sea gulls argued over the thrum of four engines as the ferry plowed between a long, windswept island and the scenic shore. Morose, Dawna inhaled coconut-scented suntan oil overlaid by diesel exhaust fumes and tried to relax her taut shoulder muscles. Why was she feeling so twitchy?
She was supposed to be herding eighteen East European police officers through an onboard conference, but she’d left them congregated at the open-air Sky Bar where most were enjoying a late afternoon smoke break. She’d climbed one deck higher to avoid conversation while she tried to pinpoint what was setting off her bullshit de
