Undercover Accomplice. Carol Ericson
Chapter Seventeen
He ducked into the cave and swept the beam from the weak flashlight around the small space. Releasing a frosty breath, he slid down the wall of the cave into a crouch and faced the entrance, balancing his weapon on his knees.
After he’d helped Rafi and the others fight off the intruders who’d attacked their village, he took off for the hills—but not before he’d arranged another meeting with Pazir.
The last time he’d tried to meet with Pazir, it had led to the death of an army ranger, the possible death of one of his Delta Force team members and his own decision to go AWOL. He hoped for a better result this time.
A bush outside the cave rustled and he coiled his thigh muscles, getting ready to spring. His trigger finger twitched.
A harsh whisper echoed in the darkness. “Denver? Major Denver?”
He rose slowly, his jacket scraping the wall of the cave, the light from his flashlight illuminating a figure on hands and knees at the cave’s entrance. “If you have any weapons, toss them in first. If you’re not alone…you soon will be.”
Pazir sat back on his heels and tossed a small pistol onto the dirt floor. He rummaged through the clothes on his body and flicked a knife through the air. It landed point down on the ground.
“That’s all I have.” Pazir continued forward on his knees, his hands in the air. “I had nothing to do with the ambush at our previous meeting. I barely got out of there with my life.”
“The other Delta Force soldier? Asher Knight? Do you know what happened to him?”
“He survived.”
Denver almost sank to the dirt again as relief coursed through his rigid muscles. “You know that for sure?”
“I know that he and the others are challenging the story that’s out there about you.”
“They are?” Denver’s spine stiffened, and he lined it up against the cave wall again.
“Your men are loyal to you, Denver.”
“But they haven’t cleared me yet?”
“They’re getting close. My sources tell me there’s a battle raging about your guilt in the highest levels of government.”
“You have good sources, Pazir.” Denver gestured with his weapon. “Sit. What else have they told you? What do you know about those weapons at the embassy outpost in Nigeria? What do you know about the car bomb at the Syrian refugee camp?”
“Al Tariq.”
Denver cleared his throat and spit. “Too small. I know that group and there’s no way they could pull off what they’re doing.”
“They’re the front group in the region. They’re being used to do some of the grunt work. They’re being used to track you down.”
“By whom? Who’s behind this and what do they want?”
“As far as I know, it’s an international group, moles from different government agencies working together. They want weapons, and they’re close to getting their hands on a nuclear device.”
Denver swore, finally loosening the grip on his weapon. “That’s what I was afraid of, and now you’ve just confirmed it.”
“Has to be more than a rumor, Denver.”
“I wanna know who’s at the top. It’s not good enough to finger Al Tariq.”
Pazir scratched his beard and squatted across from Denver. “I know Al Tariq wasn’t responsible for kidnapping that CIA agent.”
“That female?”
“She was getting too close to the truth—just like you.”
“They released her.”
“She escaped.”
“And you think the people who kidnapped Agent Chandler are the same ones pulling the strings for Al Tariq and trying to get their hands on this nuclear device?”
“I know it, Denver. Don’t ask me how.”
“Then I need to figure out who kidnapped Chandler.”
“From here?” Pazir threw out one arm.
“I have to stay in hiding. You don’t.”
Pazir snorted. “I can’t exactly run around the globe and travel to Washington, either.”
“No, but you can get a message out for me, can’t you?”
“Yes.” Pazir reached into his pouch and pulled out a piece of flatbread. He ripped it in half and thrust one piece at Denver. “You want me to try to send a message to Agent Chandler?”
“I want you to send a message to one of my Delta Force team members. Hunter Mancini worked with Chandler on a covert mission once, and they got…close. You get a message to Mancini, and he can contact Chandler. Maybe she has some insight into who held her and what she was working on, but she’s afraid to say anything.”
“I can do that.” Pazir pulled a pencil and pad of paper from his bag. “Give me the details.”
As Denver chewed through the rough bread, he rattled off instructions to Pazir for contacting Mancini. “I don’t have to tell you not to let this fall into the wrong hands.”
“I give up nothing.”
“Shh.” Denver sidled along the wall of the cave and peered out the entrance. “We’re not alone.”
Pazir lunged for his weapon. “We’ll fight them off together.”
“You go.” Denver grabbed a handful of Pazir’s jacket. “I’ll distract them. Get that message to Mancini if it’s the last thing you do.”
Sue slipped the burner phone from the inside pocket of her purse. She swiped a trickle of sweat from her temple as she reread the text and ducked into the last stall in the airport bathroom. Her heart fluttered in her chest just like it always did before she made a call to The Falcon.
He answered after one ring. “Seven, one, six, six, nine.”
The numbers clicked in her brain and she responded. “Ten, five, seven, two, eight.”
“Are you secure?”
The altered voice grated against her ear as she peeked through the gap between the stall door and its frame at several women washing their hands, scolding children, and wheeling their bags in and out of the bathroom, too concerned with their own lives to worry about someone reciting numbers on a cell phone.
Their nice, normal lives.
“Yeah.”
“You got the name of the barbershop wrong. There’s no Walid there.”
“That’s not possible.”
“You misheard