Page 53 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

I heard a knock on the door and opened it, letting in Kerry Bostwick. He was carrying a laptop and looking a little harried.

He said, “Oversight Council meeting in a couple of hours. The president is attending. Where’s the ethernet port?”

Knuckles led him to a desk and he plugged in the laptop, then went through a bazillion different protocols to ensure he was

encrypted. I said, “I guess you didn’t get to fly home today like you planned.”

He chuckled and said, “You guessed right. The people who took the hostages are Sikh separatists. They just put out a manifesto

on the web.”

Knuckles said, “Sikh separatists? That’s who took them? Not some ISIS offshoot?”

“Nope, but they want what every crazy ISIS guy does. They want their own homeland. They’re demanding the government free a

bunch of Sikh prisoners and grant them land and autonomy. But first they want an actual government official to read the manifesto

on the air—from a government building.”

Knuckles said, “That’ll never happen.”

Kerry said, “No shit. Absolute nonstarter.”

I said, “This makes no sense. What’s that got to do with China? What’s their play here?”

“I don’t know, but it is what it is, and now we’re about to find out if we have a mission here.”

I said, “We both know we have a mission. The only question is whether they approve it or not.”

Kerry looked at Knuckles pacing the room and lowered his voice, saying, “Pike, I can’t vouch for a mission here. Thakkar is

alive and well, and he’s willing to continue our arrangement. The rest of this is just collateral damage.”

I looked at him like he’d sprung a horn out of his head. I said, “Are you serious here? They took the daughter. They slaughtered

a slew of people.”

“I hear you, but this is an Indian problem, not a U.S. one. They’re not going to let us in on this, and I don’t blame them.

Riva Thakkar is on a blood hunt. Even he doesn’t care about his own daughter.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I just left a meeting with him and the RAW. He wants the men who did this dead. He feels like he has egg all over his face

and he’s pissed. The government is listening to him, because they have a Hindu majority and fear the Sikhs. They want blood

as well. Sikh separatism has a long history here. Thakkar’s a power broker, and whoever took them is going to pay. Probably

anyone near them is going to pay whether they’re guilty or not.”

Knuckles spoke up, saying, “So they’re going to use a sledgehammer when we could be the scalpel?”

Kerry turned to him and said, “Yes, that’s about right. I’m sorry, but like I said, we don’t have any standing here.”

Jennifer said, “That’s bullshit. They took an American, Sledge. That gives us standing to at least be in the room for some

sanity.”

Kerry looked at her, then me, saying, “Who the hell is Sledge?”

I said, “Seriously? You’ve never heard of Sledge?”

Jennifer started humming an old rock song, and he said, “That’s Sledge?”

She said, “Yeah, that’s him. And he’s a U.S. citizen.”

Kerry took that in, and Knuckles said, “That’s what we take to the Oversight Council.”

Kerry said, “I get your interest in this. I understand it, but we can’t just go running amok here because you’ve become emotionally

involved with one of the hostages.”

Knuckles started to advance on him and I pushed him back, saying, “Whoa, whoa. That’s not helping things.”

Kerry stood up, saying, “What the hell was that? Have you lost your mind?”

Knuckles balled his fists and said, “You’re giving up here. And I’m going after Nadia with or without your vaunted Oversight

Council.”

Kerry said, “You keep that up, and I’ll have you on the first plane out of here.”

Jennifer stepped in and said, “Hey, come on now. Stop this. We’re all on the same team.”

Knuckles said, “Are we?”

Kerry looked at me, and I said, “That’s a good question. Are we on the same team here? You keep saying we don’t have any standing in India, but China is pulling the chain for this entire

mess. Surely we care about that.”

Kerry softly nodded, then said, “I believe you, but we don’t have any proof of that.”

“The guy Knuckles captured is the proof. What’s he saying?”

“He’s saying he’s just a bodyguard and had no idea what the head of security was up to. He’s claiming he did what he was supposed

to do to protect his asset.”

Knuckles said, “He fucking shot the groom in the head.”

“He’s denying shooting anyone. He’s saying he was getting Thakkar out of the line of fire, full stop.”

I said, “Who’s he talked to? Has he spent any time with the RAW guys?”

“Not yet. Just local police.”

Jennifer was looking out the French doors of the villa. She had a clear field of view to the temple in the center of the estate.

It was a tourist attraction opposite the pool but had been turned into an interrogation center. Knuckles, as the man on the

ground, had been through it, getting questioned by the police like everyone else.

She said, “He’s going in now. I’m assuming he’s facing the RAW this time?”

We all crowded around the doors, watching the poor bastard getting frog-marched across the grass to the temple. Kerry said,

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be him. They’re going to apply pressure this time.”

I said, “He deserves it. We should hold off on the Oversight Council meeting until he’s done. I’m sure he’s going to spill

his guts, and it’ll involve China.”

Kerry said, “I can’t dictate the POTUS schedule. It’s not something I control.”

I saw the fear on the bodyguard’s face and said, “Maybe this one time we should try to delay. He’s going to start talking.

I can see it in his expression. He’s done.”

Kerry watched him walking to the temple and said, “Yeah, you might have a point.”

The bodyguard’s pace was lethargic, as if he wanted to stall what was to come. He had two men behind him poking him in the

back and one walking in front. He reached the pool area, the temple to his left, and a crack split the air.

I saw his head snap back in a spray of red, and he crumpled to the ground. I jerked open the doors and began running, Jennifer and Knuckles right behind me. We had to cover seventy meters of ground, and by the time we arrived, his body was surrounded by what seemed like a hundred government officials, all of them screaming.

I saw his twisted corpse on the ground, his head shattered, but also saw something poking out of his pocket. It was a cell

phone.

How on earth does he still have his phone? What kind of clown fest are these guys running?

Jennifer came up behind me as I was being manhandled away. She grabbed my arm, yelling at the guard to back off. They started

to tussle, and I leaned into her ear, saying, “Let them take me to the ground. He’s still got his phone. Get the phone.”

The guard shoved her and she fell away, then another one grabbed me, both of them forcing me back. One hooked a leg underneath

my calf and flipped me on my back. I hit the ground hard, seeing Jennifer dart into the body, nobody noticing her in the chaos.

She snatched the phone and then was assaulted just like me, the officials forcing her back, but nobody realizing what she’d

done.

Ten minutes later Kerry was negotiating with his counterpart in the RAW, telling them to let us go. With the dead body on

the ground, we were the least of their concerns, and they did so. We went back to the villa, him looking at his watch and

saying, “We missed the damn meeting. I have no idea what they decided.”

Jennifer pulled the phone out of her pocket and said, “Let me get Creed on the line. Whatever decision they came to, it’s

been made with bad information.”