AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“When?” Striker asked Razor.
“As soon as you can make arrangements to leave.”
If there were ever an indication of fate intervening in his life, it was now. Instead of having to spend the weekend holed up in his room on Moonstone Beach in order to avoid seeing Aine with the plumber, he’d be on a mission in South America.
“Where’s Onyx?”
“On standby.”
Striker called the K19 pilot, and they agreed to meet at the airfield at eighteen hundred hours.
“The Harmony house is on your way, but go ahead if you need to leave now,” said Razor when Striker told him the plan he’d made.
“I’m not staying there. I got a room on Moonstone Beach.” He’d planned to see if he could rent a house, but he’d settled into the inn and decided not to move.
Razor nodded. “Like I said, do what you have to do.”
His first inclination was to find Aine and tell her he was leaving, but should he? Would she wonder why he sought her out when, per his request, they were nothing more than friends? Or would she be hurt and angry if he left without saying goodbye?
“Got a minute?” asked Mercer, laying out several documents on the table in front of them.
“What have you pieced together?”
Mercer had been working on the forensic accounting for the last few days,
some of which were productive, and some of which were frustrating. Striker hoped he had something worthwhile to share with him.
“The Islamics in Benaventura have done a good job covering their tracks to this point. There is no history of money transfers. However, today I found out why.”
Mercer pointed to several of the transactions on the printouts. “Without monitoring the activity every day, we would’ve missed these. The transactions are purged at the close of business.”
Striker mentally added the totals; the final figure was in the millions, and that was only for one day. “Jesus,” he murmured. “There’s no end to what Ghafor could do with this kind of money.”
“We have to stop him,” said Mercer, looking Striker in the eye. “I don’t think we can afford to wait any longer.”
Until now, Striker had believed that Ghafor was limping along the same way he had for the last two years. That was no longer the case. There was too much money, which translated into weapons and payoffs. “I agree.”
“Do we act before or after Bogotá?” asked Razor.
“After. It’s likely the last chance we’ll have to find out who’s running the show in Buenaventura.”
“Roger that,” said Razor, going back to the monitors.
“Any leads yet?” he asked Mercer.
“Not yet, but catching the money was the first step. Now that I have, I can start tracing it.”
Something nagged at Striker. It couldn’t be as simple as the Colombian fundamentalists supplying the Islamic State leader with that kind of money They’d never be able to raise as much cash as had been transferred today, not to mention how many other days similar amounts had been moved.
More likely, the money was coming from someone with much deeper pockets. There were two possibilities. First, one of the drug cartels was supplying the money. Second, any country that considered the United States an enemy, and there were too many of those to count. It could be anywhere from Venezuela to Russia.
“Who’s going with you to Bogotá?” Mercer asked.
“Ranger and Diesel, along with Onyx and Corazón.”
“Get in and out as quickly as you can,” said Mercer.
Striker nodded. “I hear you,” he said, packing up his laptop.
