Page 107 of Rising Tiger

With a laugh, Harvath headed downstairs and over to the café. He was reading the menu, written on a large chalkboard behind the counter, when his phone rang. It was Asha.

“What’s up?” he asked, activating the call.

“Amit just left the building,” she replied.

“Which direction is he headed?”

“Toward you.”

“Okay,” Harvath replied, turning around and looking out the window, trying to catch sight of the man. “How far away is he?”

“About twenty meters.”

“May I help you, sir?” the barista asked, interrupting.

“Yes,” he replied, turning back to the counter. “Two coffees. To go. Both black, please.”

“I think he may be headed to the café,” Asha said on the phone. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I’ve got this. Just keep your eyes peeled for Durrani.”

“Will do,” she responded. “By the way, he’s almost at the door. Good luck.”

Harvath disconnected the call and returned his phone to his pocket. When he heard Amit Paswan enter, he didn’t turn around. Instead, he stood facing the counter, waiting for his coffees.

Once they were ready, he paid and left a small tip, thanking the staff.

On his way out, he walked right past Amit, then stopped and backed up. They locked eyes.

“Universal Relief Initiative, right?” Harvath asked.

Amit nodded, trying to place the stranger’s face. “Yes. Do we know each other?”

With two coffees, Harvath wasn’t able to shake hands, but he offered the man an elbow in greeting. “Joe Sampson. CARE International.”

While his name was a lie, the organization was legit. Harvath knew the director and had conducted an operation on their behalf.

“To be honest, I don’t remember us meeting, but I’ve never been good with faces to begin with. Amit Paswan,” the man said, returning the elbow bump.

“Kashmir. Bangladesh. Afghanistan. Who knows, right?”

“Are you meeting someone?” Amit asked, looking at the two coffees.

“Actually, I was taking these back to my room. I’m staying nearby. I have a report I’m supposed to write and my brain doesn’t really kick in until the second cup. I figured this was more efficient than just coming back in twenty minutes to buy another. How about you? Do you have time to sit and chat?”

Amit looked at his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes. Let me place my order.”

“Terrific,” said Harvath. “I’ll grab us a table.”

Sitting down in the corner, away from the rest of the customers, he shot Asha a quick text, letting her know what he was up to.

The table was a two-top. In a move that was uncharacteristic for him, Harvath sat with his back to the café and left Amit the chair with its back to the wall. A few moments later, the man appeared with his cappuccino and sat down.

“What brings you to New Delhi?” he asked.

“You’re never going to believe this,” said Harvath. “In fact, I don’t even believe this. I’m here hunting a killer.”

For a moment, the man appeared at a loss for words. Finally, he found a few. “As in a pathogen like cholera or Ebola?”