Page 65 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier

After checking in at the security desk, Raven and MacD were directed to the second floor and the door markedCol. Mattia Piccinini. Training Officer.

The colonel was cast straight out of a Fellini film—a well-built, handsome Italian man with a cleft chin, wavy dark hair, and dark brown, mischievous eyes. He greeted Raven with a warm smile that melted into an even warmer hug.

“It’s been so long!” the colonel began. “I was so happy when I got your email.”

“How are Sofia and the kids?”

“My wife is more beautiful than ever and the twins are both in college now. Thank you for asking.”

While the two of them were reacquainting, MacD took in the colonel’s office. One wood-paneled wall featured a large topographical map of Kosovo as well as a geographical map of the region including the surrounding countries of Albania, Montenegro, Serbia, and North Macedonia.

A second, “ego” wall was covered with framed photos of Piccinini saluting or shaking hands with flag officers and dignitaries from around the world. There were also unit and personal commendations along with his professional and weapons certifications.

An impressive career, MacD thought.

“Colonel Piccinini, this is my partner MacD.” Raven had already explained to him in an email she and MacD worked for a private contracting firm.

The two men recognized the warrior in each other and shook hands firmly.

“Piacere di conoscerti,” MacD said. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Piccinini was impressed with the formal address. He responded in kind. “Il piacere è mio.” The pleasure is mine.

He added, “Your Italian is excellent.”

“Uncle Google taught me everything I know, and that ain’t much.”

The colonel chuckled. “Has Raven told you of her service here in Kosovo?”

“No, as a matter of fact.”

“She was an excellent young officer. We were her first assignment as a military investigator. The Albanian mafia was running a drug-smuggling ring into NATO bases in Europe. She helped break it up. Unfortunately, she also broke the hearts of a few of my men.”

Raven fought back a blush.

Piccinini waved them both into chairs before he sat behind his desk. “Please, be seated. How may I be of service?”

“First of all, we read the brief about the attack on your men above Mitrovica,” Raven said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The cheerful Italian’s mood darkened. “Thank you. It was a bad day, and a rushed operation. No one killed, thank God, though many were wounded and a young lieutenant blinded.”

“If I read the report correctly, the weapons cache wasn’t found and no arrests were made.”

“Unfortunately, that is correct. One bandit was confirmed killed.”

“What weapon did he carry?”

“A Chinese-made RPG launcher.”

“The report stated that some of your men thought that NATO-standard weapons were used. M4 carbines, especially.”

“Also correct. Why is that of interest to you?”

“It’s actually the reason why we’re here. We think we know who’s supplying those weapons to the Salafists.”

“Excellent. Who is it?”

“He goes by the name of ‘the Vendor.’ Have you heard of him?”