Page 108 of Rising Tiger

“Nope. I’m looking for a human killer.”

The color drained from his face. “This meeting isn’t an accident, is it?”

“Actually, it is. I was across the street watching as you arrived at work this morning. I’m technically on break right now. I had no idea we’d end up in the same café. This does, however, make my job much easier.”

“I’m not comfortable with this conversation,” said Amit, trying to stand.

Harvath shoved the table into him, pinning him against the wall. “I’m not here to talk about your sister. And if I were, I’d tell you that I think you did the right thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap, Amit. All of your alibis were from people who were not only sympathetic to your situation, but who took vicarious satisfaction in you avenging your sister. But like I said, that’s not why I’m here.”

He relaxed his posture and Harvath eased the table back enough for him to sit down.

“Then why are you here? Why are you bothering me?”

“I think you may have information that might be valuable to me.”

“About a killer?”

Harvath nodded.

“You don’t work for CARE International, do you?”

“No, I do not.”

“How would I know anything about a killer?”

“You work with him.”

The shock on Amit’s face was instant. “At URI?” he asked, using the NGO’s acronym.

Once again, Harvath nodded.

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Amit caught the not-so-subtle meaning of his remark and rephrased his question: “What specific information is it that you want?”

Sliding his phone from his pocket, Harvath pulled up Durrani’s photo and showed it to him. “I want to know everything you know about this man.”

“You want to know about Wasim? Wasim Younis? He’s the killer you’re looking for?”

“First of all, yes. And secondly, his name isn’t Wasim, it’s Basheer Durrani. He’s a Pakistani intelligence agent and he is very dangerous.”

“But he’s a good man,” Amit protested. “I have been in the field with him. We’ve been on countless relief missions together. He really cares about people.”

“It might have appeared that way,” said Harvath. “But that’s part of his job—making people believe what he wants them to believe. URI is nothing more than a means to an end for him, a cover organization that allows him to avoid suspicion as he moves through various countries doing the ISI’s bidding.”

“And why do you care? You’re American. It might make sense if I was speaking to someone from one of the Indian intelligence services about this.”

“Mr. Durrani is responsible for the death of an old friend of mine. An American.”

“So this is about revenge?” asked Amit.

“If it were, would that be a difficult concept for you to grasp, Mr. Paswan?”