Page 63 of Lucky Charm

Past the sharp rock stand, the ground was dirt littered with small, broken pebbles. He made the five yards in a mere minute and stood over the dead man. Carter arrived at his side and squatted, feeling for a pulse.

“Looks dead, feels dead, is dead,” Carter uttered dryly. “Looks like one of the villagers. May have fallen. Not Reid. Body build is wrong.”

“Let’s turn him over.” Hunt still couldn’t shake a sense of something. He moved to the dead man’s side and helped Carter turn the hefty man over.

They both stared at him.

Bullet hole, mid-forehead.

Dead before he’d been thrown in this cairn.

“It’s Haquiri,” Carter said quietly, not in respect but in surprise.

“What the hell?” Hunt went on his haunches opposite Carter. “Check him for other injuries.”

“Bullet was the cause of death.” Carter shifted clothing, lifted legs and arms, studying the body.

Hunt ran through options and scenarios like a fast-processing computer. “We’re going to have to take the body. We’re going to have to know the weapon and the bullet to help figure out who. It’s not our determination to make. Afghan National Police will want this. He was a warlord, and they’ll want to bury him properly.”

Carter examined the crevice face. “That’ll be a bitch of a lift but walking back with him slung over a shoulder is dead weight disaster.”

Like a pronounced prayer from above, Hernandez popped into the frame of the smaller crevice. “Need help?” His eyes bugged. “Is that Haquiri?”

“Yep,” Hunt answered.

“Who’d he piss off?”

“Good question. Too many options. Get pictures. Both of you.” Hunt rose to his feet and took a step back. He clicked his mic. “Doog.”

“Yeah.”

“Bring the vehicles. Come to us. We’re going to have to take this body with us.”

“Any particulars?”

“It’s Haquiri.”

“Well, hell. On our way.”

Carter rose and moved around to snap more photographs of the body. “That’s all we need.” He looked at Hernandez. “You done?”

“Yeah, let me get one of him alone without you two in the frame.”

They moved as he asked.

Arms crossed, Hunt stayed in place until the man finished. “We have rope, right?”

Hernandez lowered the device. “Yeah, we do.”

“We’ll be pulling him up then.” Hunt studied the sky to gauge the light then checked his watch. Speaking into his mic, “Tommy, grab my gear and head back.”

“Copy.”

A half hour later, the job was done with a bunch of swear words and sweat. Nothing nastier than a dead body in Hunt’s honest opinion. Hernandez and Doogie raised the body with Hunt and Carter shoving on the other end. “Find a tarp and let’s get him wrapped,” he called up. Carter used the rope and went ahead of him. Hunt pulled the rope to him and went up in rapid steps as soon as Carter made the ledge. Doogie and Baxter hadbacked the SUVs to the crevice and parked them side by side.

“Do we have to put him in the vehicle? He’s going to smell like ripe ass,” Hernandez complained.

Hunt went to answer and froze at Bax’s voice.