Stand Fast (DEA FAST Series Book 3) Page 2

Whoever he was, the drug runner was a big player in the opium trade that was now streaming from here into Mexico, courtesy of the Venenos, to make fentanyl and other goodies to lace their coke and heroin with. Not only that, the money from selling that shit funded terrorist groups, gangs and other criminal entities that posed a security threat to innocent people all over the world.

  That’s why Zaid and his teammates were here—to act as the sharp point of the spear in the war to destroy them.

  When Agent Rabani finished summing things up, he nodded once. “Got it.” He glanced at the closed door, then back to her. “Ready?”

  “Yes, but I’ll feed you questions in English if I need more. And Agent Taggart and I will be in the room the entire time, and hard cheese if our reluctant informant doesn’t like it.”

  Zaid fought back a smile, loving the hard edge to her voice. Over here, she would have to fight for basic respect from the locals a lot of the time. He admired that she was up for the challenge, but it didn’t surprise him. She was affectionately known around here as the British Bulldog while involved with an investigation, relentless in her pursuit of anything that would help them find a high value target. “Understood.”

  “His name is Barakat. Anything that might be useful would be a big help.”

  “Roger that.”

  She studied him for a moment, her dark gaze darting over him in a way that was subtle enough to call curious, yet it heated his blood anyway. She turned to the door. “Let’s go.”

  Zaid followed her into the room with Taggart. Barakat was seated on the opposite side of a table set in the center of the cinder block room, his arms folded in a defiant posture, his expression bored until his gaze landed on Agent Rabani. Then his face hardened.

  Zaid felt for her. She and the others on the taskforce had been working overtime to find The Jackal, and woman-hating assholes like Barakat gave her no time or respect whatsoever, making her job even harder.

  “Barakat,” he said, immediately taking the chair opposite him and pulling up to the table. He leaned back in it, his hands resting on his thighs in a deceptively casual pose. Open body language made for a higher chance of building a fragile thread of trust.

  The kid focused on him, but flicked another cold look over at Agent Rabani in the corner.

  “I understand you can help us find The Jackal,” Zaid said in Dari, wanting to take the kid’s attention off her so they could get things moving.

  “Why is she still here?” Barakat demanded as he stared at Agent Rabani.

  “Because she’s in charge of this investigation. So if you have a problem with her being here, that’s too bad. Because she’s staying.”

  Barakat’s expression turned sullen as he looked back at Zaid, like a child who’d just been scolded. But he didn’t argue. Progress.

  Zaid cocked his head a little. “So. We doing this, or not?”

  The kid stared at Zaid’s chest rather than looking at his face. “I don’t know who he is.”

  “So then what do you know? Maybe you’ve heard where he is? Where he’s going? Or maybe you know something about a shipment. You have to give me something.”

  He flicked a fulminating look at Rabani again. “Maybe I know something.”

  Part of Zaid itched to reach across the table and grab this rude little fuck by the throat. But since he wasn’t authorized for that sort of interrogation, he’d have to play it cool and save the choking bit as something to fantasize about while he sat here.

  “Look,” Zaid said, bringing that black gaze back to him. “You know there’s no money unless you give us something we can use. And you wouldn’t have come all the way to Bagram, risking someone seeing you enter the base unless you had something to tell us. Something you didn’t want to say over the phone.”

  The kid lowered his gaze. “I did hear something. Last night. But I’m not sure how reliable it is.”

  Finally they were getting somewhere. Zaid crossed his arms casually over his chest. “Let’s hear it.”

  Barakat hesitated for a long moment before answering. “Supposedly he’s getting ready to move a shipment. From Kabul to a village in the foothills to the east.” He named it.

  Zaid had never heard of it, even after all the time he’d spent deployed over here. Must be small and remote. “Go on.”

  “I heard it’s going to be moved over the border into Pakistan within the next few days.”

  Well, it was something. And at least the kid didn’t appear to be preoccupied by Rabani anymore. “What kind of shipment?”

  “Opium.”

  Of course.

  “And weapons. Lots of weapons. I don’t know what else.”

  Money. A shitload of money, likely U.S. greenbacks. “And The Jackal ordered it?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if he’ll be there in person though.”

  One could only hope. Zaid and his team would love to help capture that son of a bitch before this tour was over. “Who did you hear this from?”

  “An elder in my village. I overheard him talking to some of the men at a council meeting last night.”

  Jaliya crossed to the table and spread a map down in front of Barakat. “Show us where the village he’s moving the shipment to is.”

  Without looking at her, Barakat placed a fingertip on the map, right in the foothills of the central Hindu Kush.

  Zaid watched her, taking in the sweep of her thick lashes, the strong lines of her profile as she studied the map for a moment, then stepped back. Even without knowing her well, Zaid could tell that having to hand over the reins to him for this was hard for her. “You need anything else?” he asked her quietly in English.

  Those bittersweet chocolate eyes cut to him, sharp and direct. He could almost hear the gears turning in her head, analyzing all the data Barakat had just given them.

  “Not right now.” She transferred her gaze back to their informant, and spoke to him in Dari. She spoke it perfectly, without so much as a trace of an accent. She must have been raised speaking it since she was a child. “You’ll be paid what we agreed on. If what you told us is true, you’ll get a bonus. I’ll be in touch.”

  Not bothering to wait for a response, she nodded at Zaid and headed for the door. He pushed out of his chair and followed out behind Taggart, leaving one of Rabani’s team members to finish up with Barakat. Probably handing out the dough and maybe arranging a ride for him back to his village.

  Outside the room with the door closed, Zaid waited a discreet distance away while Rabani conferred with Hamilton and two others from the taskforce. Taggart offered him a nod, his piercing aqua eyes warming a fraction as he half-smiled. “Thanks for helping out.”

  “No problem.”

  His commander clapped him on the shoulder once. “See you at the briefing this afternoon.”

  “You bet.” Zaid stood where he was as Taggart strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets while Agent Rabani finished up with her team members. She glanced over at him, her eyes locking with his.

  She stared at him for a heartbeat, then put on a stiff smile. “Thank you for your help.”

  “My pleasure.” Except the real pleasure would be getting to know her better, because she intrigued him. There were so many things he wanted to know about her. Where she was from, why she’d joined the DEA and chosen to be stationed here. Afghanistan wasn’t for everyone. He’d wanted to talk with her socially over the past few weeks, but hadn’t yet had the opportunity. He’d have to think up an excuse.

  “Well. I’ll see you later.”

  He nodded and watched her walk away in her combat boots, her rounded hips swaying with each confident stride she took. Strong, yet feminine. Sexy, but professional. The woman was a mass of contradictions, a puzzle he wanted to figure out. But she was also a fellow special agent, and pursuing her was a big professional no-no.

  Damn shame he’d sworn off the whole dating thing, because she was the first woman who’d sparked his interest in a damn long time.

  Chapter Two


  Outside the office window, sheets of gray clouds obscuring the distant mountain peaks promised more snow as The Jackal finished up a call on his personal, encrypted cell phone.

  In mid-conversation, he waved a signed document at his assistant, who was flipping through a stack of folders in the doorway. The younger man took it and hurried from the room as The Jackal grunted a terse reply to the person on the other end of the phone and ended the call.

  He set the phone down on the desk to get more work done. Just as he picked up the pen, his phone rang again, showing the number of one of his most trusted sources.

  As trusted as a source could be, that is.

  “Speak,” he said.

  “Is your end secure?”

  “Of course.” He personally swept for electronic devices each morning whenever he came here, and he changed personal phones every few days to keep anyone from tracking him.

  Only a handful of people knew his true identity. The ones who did would keep his secret until their dying breath. That ultimate sort of loyalty was easy enough to buy in this country, where so much of the population lived in abject poverty. Having money made so many things easier.

  “What have you got?” he asked his source.

  “I’ve just been told that the DEA has offered a bribe to someone from one of our villages.”

  He stilled. “Have they,” he murmured. He was well versed in the dealings of the DEA. Very little went on pertaining to the opium trade in this country that he didn’t know about before it happened. He made it his business to know.

  “Yes.” His man named a village they had used to smuggle shipments in and out of a few weeks ago.

  “Who is it?”

  “I haven’t found out yet.”

  He scratched his beard. “They want him as an informant?”

  “Yes. He went to Bagram to meet with the Americans about it.”

  Ah. Interesting. He must be extremely motivated to risk such a thing. Either poverty or revenge. “And did he agree to work for them?” The Americans must consider him important if they’d asked him to meet at Bagram.

  “No one knows.”

  The news didn’t alarm him. This sort of thing wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, although it was rare that his network wasn’t able to find out the informant’s identity. “Keep a close eye on it. Find out who he is, and inform me right away.” Either The Jackal had a possible ally or an enemy, and both could prove useful under the right circumstances.

  “Yes, sir. But…”

  “But what? Find out who the informant is, and then we will know how to best deal with him.” He hung up before the man could answer. He didn’t kill people if he could use them first.

  His gaze caught on the framed pictures on his desk. He paused, staring at one in particular of his family. This was the reason he was willing to risk so much. Hope. Life. Things that were nearly impossible to have in this war torn country.

  All his life, and for generations before him, the only things his family had known were war and suffering. The only way to secure a stable future for the ones he loved was with money. Lots of it—more than he could ever hope to make in ten lifetimes at his public job. Influence was gained through power, and he’d learned that power came through fear.

  He’d become an expert at administering fear over the past few months.

  Staring at the beloved faces in the frame on his desk, a fresh surge of resolve swept through him. No matter who he had to kill or betray, no matter how high the cost, he would do whatever it took to make things right.

  ****

  She still had a ton of work to do, but since Jaliya was so hungry she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d decided to run over to the mess hall for a bite to eat. Holding her full dinner tray in both hands, she glanced around the crowded space, searching for a familiar face.

  The large building was packed full of tables lined with benches and chairs, a constant buzz of conversation and the clinking of silverware filling the air. Since it was only a few days before Christmas, someone on base had made the effort to make things look a little festive in here with some garland wrapped around the posts and Santa pictures hung here and there. A few people were even sporting fuzzy Santa hats with their uniforms.

  The mood was light considering that everyone was far away from their families at this time of year, and surprising since the security on base had been heightened over the past week. On high alert in case any attackers wanted to make a statement during one of the most important dates in the Christian calendar.

  Over in the far left corner, one of her team members spotted her and waved her over. Smiling, she started toward the group of DEA agents seated at the table, but her steps faltered when she realized who else was there with them.

  The members of FAST Bravo.

  They weren’t at Bagram for long stretches of time, usually staying at one FOB or another to be closer to their mission targets out in the countryside. Unless it was a briefing or important meeting of some sort, she didn’t see them. And when they were here, the FAST guys tended to keep to themselves in the SOF area of the base, so her path rarely crossed with theirs.

  Almost against her will, her gaze was drawn to the broad-shouldered, bronze-skinned man sitting in the middle of his teammates with his back to her. She was still a bit embarrassed that he’d had to be brought in to translate this morning, and annoyed that it had been necessary.

  As if on cue, Agent Zaid Khan turned his head to look behind him and his hazel gaze zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. The instant it did, a funny fluttery sensation tickled low in her belly and her heart did a weird little skip.

  He shot her a friendly smile and turned back to his teammates, and somehow that unfroze her. Refusing to acknowledge the way her endocrine system seemed to swoon at the sight of him, she strode for the table and took the only empty spot, next to one of the FAST guys and across from Khan.

  She set her tray down and picked up her fork without looking at him. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to and curious about him. From what she’d seen and heard over the past several weeks, he was easy-going, with a good sense of humor.

  Though he wasn’t the leader or senior member of the team, he seemed to be the hub of it. She’d seen him hanging out with various members, not just one or two in particular, and from her observations she got the sense that Khan was sort of like the team big brother, who everyone went to for advice.

  He was attractive, likeable, smart, and knowing he could handle himself in the face of danger was definitely sexy. The trouble was, she was suspicious that he might be the same guy she’d met via an online dating site a few months ago. How many Zaids around his age could there be, living in D.C. and working for the U.S. government? The odds of that being a coincidence were slim to none.

  They’d clicked immediately. She’d been really into him, and after chatting online every day for a few weeks she’d felt close enough to him, safe enough that she had even agreed to set up a date when she was scheduled to come into D.C. next.

  But then something he’d said had changed her mind. Little comments here and there, pretty benign on the surface of things, but they sounded too much like something one of the “good Muslim men” her father used to shove at her would say—the ones who disapproved of her views and wanted her to conform to a more subservient and obedient role in the relationship.

  They’d been trying to agree on where to meet for the date. He’d named a place, and when she’d asked why he thought he got to call the shots for their first meeting, he typed the kiss of death: I’m a take charge kind of guy. And I believe the man should wear the pants in a relationship.

  Yeah, no thanks.

  She’d received the response while waiting to pick up her luggage at Dulles. The comment had smacked of that same kind of male domineering attitude that made her all ragey. Also, if he talked like that early on when he was supposed to be winning her over, what would he be like later on? She’d backed out of the date the
night before it was supposed to happen and cut contact with him, because life was too short to waste time on someone who looked like they might be an asshole.

  Jaliya didn’t do subservient, and she sure as hell didn’t do obedient. Not unless it pertained to following orders from one of her superiors. And even then, not every time. Unlike her two sisters who were happy to be with men their father had picked for them, Jaliya wanted to go her own way, make her own choices without her father interfering. Especially when it came to her career and love life.

  “So, big night tonight, huh?” one of her male colleagues said next to her, shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  “Yes, sure is.” She forked up a bite of salad—she liked to get that part out of the way so she could enjoy the real food on her tray, which included a slice of chocolate cheesecake she richly deserved—her mind already on the coming op that would happen in a few hours. She’d worked all of her contacts for this one after the meeting with Barakat this morning. If the intel was good, tonight they might finally hit The Jackal and his network where it hurt.

  “Love to know what you’re thinking about right now.”

  At the sound of that deep voice shaded by a New Jersey accent, she looked up to find Agent Khan looking at her over the rim of a coffee mug, his hazel gaze so intent it brought back that fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. He’d buzzed his almost black hair short, and he had the start of a thick, dark beard now. He was rugged. Sexy. And he radiated an alert kind of confidence she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

  Was he the same guy she’d met online? He wouldn’t know it was her, because they’d never posted photos of each other and she’d used only her middle name for her profile.

  She swallowed her mouthful of chicken before answering. “Mentally getting everything organized for tonight.”

  “Ah. So, overkill then.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Well, you’ve always seemed to have things well in hand before, so I doubt you need to review anything.”

  A compliment? She hadn’t expected that, or for him to be this friendly after she’d kept their interactions limited to strictly professional dealings. “It’s my job.”