Page 5 of Near Miss

Lachlan suppressed the exasperated huff in his chest and gave a curt nod, staring at Burkette’s broad back as he sauntered out of the room. He’d sack the man tomorrow if he thought Landry would allow it. There was something off about the former soldier.

Ryder stuck his head in the door. “Gilly’s arrived. Meet in here or the canteen?”

“The canteen,” said a voice from the hall. A wiry ginger-haired man with blue eyes poked his head around Ryder to peer in at Lachlan. “Least you could do is buy me a proper meal, ya bloody Rupert.” The words tumbled out end over end in a South Yorkshire accent.

Lachlan grinned, setting aside his concern about Burkette to shake hands with Squadron Sergeant Major Michael Gill. “Gilly, how are ya, pal?”

“Eh, not so bad. You know how it is.” Gilly wore a short-sleeved, collared black shirt and khaki trousers rather than his MTP combat uniform. He scratched an ear as he contemplated Lachlan. “Looks like you’ve done all right. Landed on your feet. Working for the Yanks now, are you?” He gestured toward Ryder. “Both of you. Better pay, I’d expect.”

“Come on.” Lachlan slapped Gilly on the back. “Let me buy you an alcohol-free beer.”

Gilly snorted. “I’d rather drink piss.”

“Aye,” Lachlan agreed with a laugh. He led the way across the compound’s open courtyard to an orange-painted shipping container modified into a kitchen serving authentic Afghan street food to the compound’s Western inhabitants. After receiving their trays, the men stepped into another shipping container that served as indoor seating when it was too cold to eat at the picnic tables outside.

Once they were all seated with their meals in a quiet corner away from other diners, Lachlan got to why he’d asked Gilly for a meeting. “What’s the word on Khan?”

Gilly took a bite of his chicken sandwich, eyeing Lachlan thoughtfully. “It’s not your fight anymore, mate.”

Lachlan bristled. “It will always be my fight. I owe it to Thom and Fitzy. And the others.” He held Gilly’s stare until the other man pinched the bridge of his nose with a resigned sigh.

“There’s been some chatter about a recent raid the SEALs and Afghans executed on an ISIS stronghold in the Nangarhar Province,” Gilly said. “Got into a firefight and leveled the place, but word is, they got photographs of some of the weapons and equipment at the compound before they blew it.”

Gilly dropped his forearms on the table and leaned closer to Lachlan, speaking in a hushed tone. “They found M16 and M4 rifles, Glock pistols, tactical gear, NVGs, and drones—them fucking lightweight, small surveillance drones. All new equipment, mind you, not Afghan Army issue.”

Jesus.

Lachlan’s lunch dropped from his nerveless fingers, bits of lamb, cucumber, and onion escaping the confines of the naan bread. The Taliban were an ever-present threat, and now ISIS was growing its presence in Afghanistan. Insurgents kitted out with the same high-tech weapons and equipment his teams used was a security nightmare.

“There’s more,” Gilly added. “Rumor is Khan is holding a private weapons auction sometime in the next few weeks, and he’s not choosy about his buyers. We already know he maintains ties to the Taliban, and I wouldn’t put it past the cagey bastard to also have ISIS connections.”

Lachlan frowned. “Where are these weapons coming from?”

“Some of his inventory undoubtedly comes from corrupt Afghan military leaders and soldiers looking to make some coin given their dismal salaries,” Gilly replied, “but the Afghans we’re training say Khan may have a source in the US. Can you bloody believe it? You know those weapons will be used against Coalition troops and our Afghan counterparts.”

Gilly’s last bit of information had Lachlan’s heart thumping against his chest like a war drum, the adrenaline surge drowning out extraneous background noise. “If we could prove Khan’s bringing weapons and materiel into the country illegally and selling them, it might be enough to pressure the Afghan government into sanctioning action against him.”

Gilly shrugged. “Maybe. More bloody likely they’ll overlook this auction like they do his opium business if it isn’t enough to destabilize the national government. But you can be sure if the rumors are true, the Americans are tapping into their resources to track down his supplier.”

Lachlan massaged the ache in his thigh, a souvenir from that day in Hell, and cursed the cold moisture sweeping through Kabul. “The US government won’t move fast enough to stop the auction if it’s happening so soon.”

If it was true, and some bastard in the States was funneling weapons to Khan, Lachlan would track down the traitor personally. He purchased and shipped weapons and equipment to Afghanistan for his security teams and knew the suppliers, the shippers, and the other companies engaged in the same business.

Then he’d find a way to use the information to bring down Khan.

He whipped out his mobile and opened his airline app.

“What are you planning?” Ryder asked.

Lachlan caught the hint of wariness in Ryder’s tone. “Talk to the other security teams here in Kabul, see if anyone else has heard these rumors and has information or is acting cagey about it. I’m heading back to the States to find Khan’s supplier.”

Chapter Four

Theearlyspringmorningbrought a chill that Sophia shook off as she made her way through the glass and marble lobby of her new office building to the bank of elevators. When the electronic ding announced the next car’s arrival, she let the other people waiting board first, then stepped in and gingerly pressed the button for the eighth floor with the hand holding her travel coffee mug. Her other hand clutched the leather handles of her new briefcase.

She gave her reflection in the shiny brass doors an approving nod. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, small gold hoops adorned her ears, and her khaki trench coat, paired with a lavender cashmere scarf, covered a suitably conservative navy suit, the skirt ending a couple of inches above her knees. Matching navy pumps with four-inch heels lent stature to her five-foot-two frame.

“I am so ready.”

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