Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) by Brad Magnarella (ereader with android .txt) 📕

It did, in fact. I had never trusted Zarbat.

But instead of saying that, I turned to Segundo. “Take Elam into custody.”

“With pleasure,” he said, his Colombian-born machismo coming through.

I covered the room while Segundo lifted the Mujahideen leader roughly to his feet, patted him down, and then placed him in flex cuffs. Elam protested in bursts of Pashto as Segundo dragged him from the room.

“This will all get sorted out,” Zarbat said calmly, refilling his tea cup. “You will see.”

I looked at Parker, who besides being our cultural affairs officer was also our interpreter. “Ask him,” I said.

Parker turned to the young man seated to Zarbat’s right—his second in command—and posed the question in Pashto: “Are you ready to lead?”

Despite his small build, the young man had the bearing of a prince. His penetrating brown eyes moved from Parker to me. “Yes,” he said in accented English.

“What’s this?” Zarbat said, alarm entering his voice for the first time. “You’re replacing me?”

“Uncle Sam thanks you for your service,” I said.

My M4 coughed twice. The shots slammed Zarbat against the wall, the tea he’d just poured splashing across his lap. My superiors hadn’t considered him an intelligence asset. The Mujahideen leader would prove more valuable in that department.

I lowered the rifle as Zarbat’s body slumped to a rest and motioned the young man, Mehtar, over.

He stood, adjusted his turban, and stepped toward us. While the three seated men—local officials—wrung their hands and murmured worriedly, Mehtar remained stoic. Though he had no ties to the U.S., he was a natural leader and, from my estimation of having worked with him, someone we could trust.

I angled my mouth toward Parker. “Tell him that the declaration will be that Zarbat was killed by a Mujahideen leader, who is now in custody. He will use the tragedy to rally support around himself. The U.S. will provide him with whatever resources he needs. A security detail is arriving as we speak, and an advisor will be along shortly. Top officials will meet with him in the capital this weekend.”

When Parker completed the translation, Mehtar took my hand. For an uncomfortable moment, I thought he was going to kiss it. Instead, he bowed low and said, “This is great honor for me.” He then turned to the seated men and spoke rapidly.

“He’s having them prepare Zarbat’s body for a procession tomorrow,” Parker explained.

I nodded—we’d promoted the right man—and checked my watch. Sixteen minutes since touch down. Not bad. I spoke into my headset: “Mission complete. Prepare to roll out.”

As we filed from the house and into the courtyard, Parker hustled up beside me.

“I still think the burqa was unnecessary, sir,” he shouted above the noise of the generator. “But I am going to miss you.”

I snorted out a laugh, then stopped as the reality of his words sunk in. I had just completed my fifty-second and final Special Ops mission. After ten years of service, the last four consisting of solid deployments, I was going home to Daniela.

For the first time that night, my heart began to speed up.

Blue Curse (Blue Wolf Book 1)

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