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“We’ve confirmed he’s in Pakistan and that he’s stockpiling weapons,” said Razor.
“What about soldiers?” Doc asked.
“That’s the thing. There’s very little sign of feet on the ground.”
“Weapons mean money,” said Monk.
“Shit,” said Razor, clutching his chest. “Raise your damn hand or something when you do that.”
“What?”
“Talk.”
Monk flipped him off.
“Striker? Fill us in,” said Doc, sitting down next to Merrigan. “Where’s the money coming from?”
“I’d say that’s obvious.”
Doc motioned for Striker to stand.
“Look, it’s no secret that I vehemently disagreed with the CIA’s decision to exile Ghafor to Colombia. I have little doubt that the money is coming directly from the Islamic fundamentalists who have taken a stronghold in Buenaventura.”
“Led by whom?” asked Merrigan.
“They’re doing a damn good job keeping that a secret.”
Razor had his laptop open and was scratching his chin. “Let’s reopen dialogue with the Cuban.”
Monk saw Striker nod.
From what Monk could remember, sometime last year, a Cuban national had been arrested in Bogotá for an alleged “terror plot” to kill American diplomats on behalf of Islamic State extremists. The plan had been for the man to blow himself up inside a restaurant popular with US Embassy staff and other foreigners in the Zona Rosa region of the city. K19 had played an integral role in neutralizing him before he could put his plan in action.
“Is he still alive?” asked Razor, still staring at his computer screen.
“To the best of my knowledge, although I doubt for long. Colombian officials amassed a trove of evidence against him,” answered Striker.
“It’s your mission, Ellis. What do you do?” asked Doc.
“Hypothetically?”
“Not necessarily.”
Striker put his hands on the table in front of him. “What I’d want to do is assassinate the bastard. However, in doing so, I’d lose the money trail along with his connections to the terror plot in Bogotá, as well as the lesser-knowns.”
“First phase, then?” asked Razor.
“We watch. Concurrently, we get someone on the money.”
“Eighty-eight is damn good at tracking financials,” Razor told him. Mercer, or Eighty-eight as Razor had called him, was renown for his forensic accounting abilities.
“You mentioned at the beginning of this meeting that Mercer would join us for phase two of the mission we would be discussing. Is this the mission?”
“Affirmative,” answered Doc.
“What’s phase one?” Striker asked.
“That’s up to you, to a certain extent anyway. Let’s nail down the basics. While Razor has a badass new setup here, the logistics of keeping everyone in Oregon are a nightmare. Therefore, I propose we work out of what is quickly becoming K19’s Central Coast headquarters.”
