Page 71 of High Treason
Who killed him?
No one’s talking.
Where?
Near his village.
Have u informed the FBI?
Yes. Will update u later.
Monica leaned back against the pillow. Wide-awake. She hadn’t met Nasim, just knew he was a valuable informant who desperately wanted to get to the US with his family. He’d infiltrated many areas of the Middle East to keep the world safe. And he was Kord’s friend.
Liam had stalked her sleeping hours, and terrorists plagued her waking ones. Now another victim. She texted Kord with the news and closed her eyes while waiting for his reply. He called instead.
“Another honorable man down,” Kord said.
“How did you meet him?”
“He tried to take me out while I was on a manhunt. He thought I meant him harm. Convinced him to work for the good guys.”
“I’m sorry.” Kord had lost two friends in less than three days.
“His father lives in Seattle. They were looking forward to a reunion. I want whoever’s behind this prosecuted.”
She’d been on a similar mission like this in Tanzania ... with Liam. “We need to find them alive.”
“It’s set for tomorrow at two thirty.”
“Anything you can do for Nasim?”
“Need to call his father and relay the tragedy.”
“I’m sorry.” She said good-bye and laid her phone on the nightstand. She prayed for Nasim’s daughter in hopes she escaped her kidnappers alive.
But what if she and Kord were wrong? What if the cell phone virus was an incorrect hunch? All they had was an internal plot against Prince Omar, one in which the Iranians were involved. Nasim had proven himself many times before his death, and she believed he’d died for learning the truth.
FRIDAY AFTERNOONMonica took her place inside Morton’s steak house as a hostess. CIA operatives and FBI agents, dressed as staff, monitored their posts. She walked to the glass door. Snipers were in position across the street at her 10:00 and at her 3:00. The parking lot held a mix of law enforcement, and the city’s cameras had every foot covered. Soon Kord would arrive in the limo. Ali insisted upon being part of the operation, as well as Saad and Wasi.
She prayed to be alert and filled with wisdom. Kord had put himself in far too much danger. She’d do the same thing. But in a few short days, Kord had touched a part of her that she hadn’t believed possible. Neither was she sure she wanted, needed, or deserved that.
At 2:29 p.m., the Mercedes limo stopped in front of the restaurant. The bodyguards, dressed in suits, emerged and scanned the area before Ali opened the door for Kord, disguised as Prince Omar. Two agents in the hostess area opened the restaurant doors to greetthe arrivals. Monica held her breath as Kord left the limo. Zain had been killed by a sniper in a similar situation.
The small group walked inside with all the flair of royalty and no incidents.
Two operatives escorted the entourage to a private dining area. The restaurant doors remained unlocked. How easy could this be for the killer?
Now the wait.
The prince, like others in his country, supported moving beyond a dependence on oil. Those goals and ambitions for a country to stay afloat in a yacht instead of a rowboat meant acquiring allies to make it all happen. A worthy project, and she commended Prince Omar for his dedication. He simply needed to live through whatever was planned against him.
She’d gained respect for the prince.
A couple entered the restaurant, and she explained they were closed for a private party. They made reservations for dinner.
Two men in business attire requested the bar, and she repeated the same. Their disappointment came through in language she preferred not to hear.
An impeccably dressed man entered, Hispanic, three-piece gray suit, conservative silk tie, and jet-black hair worn above his collar. Slender. An attitude and expensive shades. He smiled at her and she returned the gesture.
