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“Yeah, I did. All I could see was Carly’s face. I’m not sure I can do this. I’d rather kill those fucks than give them the treasure.”

Knuckles, who’d felt the pain of Carly’s death more than anyone, got me refocused on the mission. He said, “This isn’t the timefor revenge. We can’t bring Carly back, but we can save those people in space. It’s what she would have wanted. We killed the assholes in Tajikistan. Let it go.”

The phone rang again, and I answered, saying, “Do you want the instructions, or do you want to rant some more?”

Shakor said, “Give them to me.”

I did, telling him the location and the time. I’d made it at dawn to prevent him from doing any sort of reconnaissance of the area—something we’d already done—and because we were running out of time. He agreed, saying, “No weapons.”

I said, “Yes. No weapons. You bring Branko, and I’ll bring the treasure.”

Chapter61

The entrance to the site was a wooden bridge across a stream, accessed from a blacktop road that dead-ended at a farmhouse. The bridge provided a natural choke point for surveillance, which I had positioned in depth. At 0615 Veep called to say the Afghans had arrived and were studying the map at the entrance. At 0621 Knuckles called to say they’d moved past the café and into the park.

Jennifer and I left the old shed we were in and reentered the grassy area out front. I called Brett, saying, “You have them?”

He said, “I got ’em. Branko and three Afghans. I have them stone cold.”

I said, “Don’t fire unless we’re threatened. If I want some lead, I’ll call.”

“Roger all.”

I waited in the rain, Jennifer by my side, and they came across the little wooden bridge separating the old water mill from our area. They marched across three abreast with Branko in front of them. We just waited.

They came within ten feet of us and stopped. The one on the right glowered at me like he wanted to gut me. He looked positively evil, and I was sure he had some American blood on his hands. One day, I’d love to wipe that snarl off his face with my fist, but that wouldn’t be today.

The one in the middle, behind Branko, said, “We’re here. Where’s the treasure?”

I said, “Shakor, I presume?”

He nodded, and I tossed him a ring I’d brought from the Pelican case. I said, “Just to prove I wasn’t lying.”

He studied it, then said, “You don’t have the treasure here?”

I said, “I do.”

I tossed him a key fob to one of our Land Rovers, saying, “It’s in the trunk of that car. Now let Branko go.”

He said, “How do I know you aren’t tricking me?”

“Where would I go if I was? There is no reason for me to trick you. If I’d wanted the treasure, I could have just flown home with it. I want Branko.”

He said, “The treasure is in this car?”

“Yes.”

He pushed Branko forward, and the man on the right had some sort of mental breakdown, snatching Branko by the collar and pulling out a pistol. He shoved Branko to his knees and screamed something in Pashto. I held out my hands, saying, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Shakor shouted back at the man with the weapon, and they had a heated discussion. I saw the face of the man holding Branko and knew he wanted to kill him. Wanted to kill all of us. I knew it, because I felt the same way about them.

The man looked at me with hatred and, in English, snarled, “We have our treasure now, you American dog. Watch your treasure die.”

He jammed the pistol into Branko’s temple, and I said, “Take the shot.”

There was a crack, and the man’s head exploded all over Branko. The body collapsed on the ground. Shakor looked at the bloodycorpse in shock, then at me, saying, “You said no weapons. You said this was a pure exchange.”

“Are you shitting me? After your guy just pulled out a weapon? If either one of you moves your hands, you’re dead. Stand still.”