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She said, “Maybe that’s who they wanted, the commander of the RAW.”

“Maybe. They’re in Delhi right now, and that’s where the RAW headquarters is, but it doesn’t explain why they attacked when thecommander of the RAW wasn’t on the resort grounds. If someone from RAW was helping them, you’d at least think they’d get that right.”

The SUV pulled into a circular drive, and he quit talking. The pavement turned to brick, and Knuckles saw a line of people waiting on them, reminding him of the oldFantasy IslandTV show. Each had some trinket or drink to hand to them, all with huge smiles on their faces. They exited and he went to the rear to get their luggage, but was told not to worry about it, that by the time they arrived at their room, it would be there.

He leaned into Nadia and whispered, “Am I supposed to tip someone?”

She shook her head and said, “They’ll be well taken care of. Don’t worry about it.”

A Ricardo Montalban look-alike with an iPad asked for their passports, and then Knuckles was ushered through the line, receiving a glass of champagne, then a mala garland of flowers. The final person had him lean toward her and she put a dot on his forehead, saying it was for good health and luck.

He accepted it and waited on Nadia to finish. Eventually, the Ricardo Montalban look-alike asked them to follow, and he half-expected a midget to jump out shouting, “The plane! The plane!”

He leaned into Nadia and said, “I thought the dot was only for women.”

She smiled and said, “It’s called a tilaka, and it’s a greeting for you, welcoming you into their home. You’re thinking of a bindi, which is what women here wear, but it’s usually much more ornate.”

They were led through the massive doors of the entrance, passing by the front desk, through a breakfast area, then past an oak-paneled English bar, their guide explaining the amenities as they walked. They exited onto an outdoor seating area for a restaurant and kept walking,causing Knuckles to wonder where the elevators were. How far did they have to go to get to their room?

They crossed a stone bridge over a moat, the water blanketed in floating flowers, then continued on a gravel path. To their left was a large swimming pool, with fountains spraying into the water. To their right was a small temple of some sort, with a sign stating that all faiths were welcome to attend ceremonies. The grounds spilled out for acres, with brilliantly colored peacocks roaming about like a fantastical petting zoo, and Knuckles began to understand why the place had been chosen for the party.

There ended up being no tower of rooms. Instead, the rooms were all villas spread throughout the landscape. Wannabe Ricardo Montalban led them down one path, then another, ending in a circle of small buildings with a fountain in the center. He crossed a small pond and said, “This is your room.”

On the stoop was the word “Welcome,” spelled out in rose petals. Wearing his usual blue jeans and 5.11 shirt, Knuckles began to think he was underdressed for checking in.

The man led them into the room and he saw a large king-sized bed with a faux mosquito net, a plate of fruit accompanied by more champagne, their luggage on separate stands, and a garden outside beyond the French doors. The man began a perfunctory explanation of the amenities, and Nadia cut him off, saying, “I think we can figure it out. Thank you.”

Ricardo Montalban smiled, had Nadia sign something on the iPad, and left them.

Knuckles said, “I can’t believe I’m getting paid to spend the night here.”

Nadia laughed and said, “Well, it pays to be a spy when you know me.”

Wanting to be professional, and honestly confused by the conflictof being here with her while conducting a mission, he threw his backpack on the bed and said, “I should probably check and see if Pike’s done anything with that hard drive.”

She put the backpack on the floor and said, “I’m pretty sure Pike hasn’t done anything with that hard drive yet. And we’ve already made it past the entryway.”

Chapter34

I heard my phone start bleating and wanted to just turn it off, but it was a special tone, meaning it was from the Taskforce. I groaned, looked at the clock, and saw it was just before five in the morning. We’d made it back to the Imperial Hotel in New Delhi a little late, and I wanted my beauty sleep. Jennifer rolled over in our bed and climbed across me, snatching it up and saying, “Did you think it would stop if you ignored it?”

I said, “Well, yes, it would. Let it go to voice mail.”

She put it to her ear and said, “Hello?”

I saw her nod, then nod again, and I knew it wasn’t going to be good. She hung up and said, “That was Creed. They did a deep dive on our mirror of the drive and apparently whoever set it up put in some trap doors. Brett was right. We should have cracked it in the safe house.”

I leaned up on an elbow and said, “So they got nothing?”

She said, “No. They got something, but it wasn’t a smoking gun. He’s sending the data.”

I said nothing, rolling over and burrowing into my pillow. This sort of crap just aggravated me. You never knew when you’d get to sleep next, and I was getting mine.

She set the phone back onto my bedside table, her arm draped across my body, and leaned over me, saying, “So you don’t want to know what he said?”

I said, “Does it matter? Can I do anything about it right now?”

“No. Not immediately, anyway.”