Rising Tiger: A Thriller (88)

“I’ll trade you for the dossier,” she offered. “My boss is going to want to see everything you’ve got on this guy. So will I.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Harvath responded. “But first things first. I don’t think Sayed has much more to offer either of us. That doesn’t mean Vijay can’t squeeze some more out of him that might help the IPS regarding various criminal activities. But the bottom line is that we can’t cut him loose, not right away. If we do, he’s going to find a way to warn our ISI operative. We also can’t keep him here. We need someplace else.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“To be honest,” said Harvath, “I don’t really care. A broom closet would work, provided it was secure and nobody knew where we were holding him. Do you have any suggestions?”

Asha smiled. “Actually, I have the perfect location.”





CHAPTER 57


Harvath had to give Onkar Raj major credit. Hiding a black operation beneath a school for the blind was beyond brilliant.

And what was ironic was that Harvath was staying at the hotel right next door, and he’d had no idea any of it was there.

By moving Sayed out of the abandoned building in Paharganj and stashing him at the Blind Relief Association, they not only improved their security posture, but were able to establish shifts where someone would always be watching him. Harvath had laughed out loud when Gupta offered up an actual broom closet to keep him in.

Gentleman that he was, and knowing that it might still be dangerous for her to return to her apartment, he offered Asha private use of his hotel suite in case she wanted some downtime and a chance to clean up. She thanked him but said that before she did anything, she wanted to see the dossier on the ISI operative they were after.

Lawlor had signed off on sharing the dossier, provided that Harvath didn’t reveal how the United States had come into possession of it.

In exchange, Raj had provided a copy of the video footage believed to show the downing of General Mehra’s helicopter over Coonoor.

Once Harvath transmitted the footage to Lawlor so that he could forward it on to the CIA and DARPA, he sat down with the group and watched as Raj projected the contents of the dossier onto a screen at the front of the eclectically furnished war room.

Ever the thorough spymaster, Raj combed through every piece of information and examined each in meticulous detail, starting with reports of the boy traveling with his family from diplomatic outpost to diplomatic outpost, all the way to the most current information the Afghans had assembled on him.

When he had gone through it once, Gupta asked him to start over from the beginning, but to go slower this time.

Harvath could feel his stomach grumbling. Dinner had been hours ago. He had seen all he needed to see. What he needed now was a bite before bed and maybe a drink before turning in.

He asked Asha if she wanted to avail herself of his shower while he got something to eat down in the hotel bar. He was still being a gentleman, but he also wanted to do a little old-fashioned tradecraft—build rapport, learn more about her organization, and tease out further information on where India stood on the proposed military alliance. Asha agreed… to using his shower.

Saying good night to Raj, Gupta, and Vijay, they exited the Blind Relief Association from the rear and walked through the woods over to the Oberoi.

The doorman smiled warmly as they walked up and welcomed them back to the hotel.

“He thinks we’re together,” she said with a smirk as they entered the lobby.

“Why does he think that?”

Asha smiled at him. “He’s Indian. I’m Indian. And you’re a white guy. They look at you different in a situation like that.”

“A,” Harvath clarified, “we could be work colleagues, which technically we kind of are. And B, I find ‘white guy’ highly inappropriate.”

Concerned that she may have offended him, she stopped walking. Turning to him, she apologized. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you,” Harvath replied, trying but failing to keep the grin off his face. “I prefer you use the proper term when speaking about me.”

She didn’t know where this was going, but being possessed of a pretty good sense of humor herself, she was willing to play along. “And exactly what would that term be?”

“I’m offended to even be asked. But if you must, the appropriate term is Gora.”

Asha burst out laughing. “Vijay taught you that, didn’t he?”

“Not really. He served more as my translator on it.”

Her eyes widened. “Someone called you Gora? To your face?”

“Yep. It really hurt my feelings.”

“I doubt that,” she said, smiling. “Is this person still breathing? That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been called much worse.”

“Have you? Like what?”

He thought for a moment. “Smart-ass. Pretty boy. Gym junkie. People can be incredibly cruel.”

“How terrible for you.”

He sighed and shook his head. Then, removing a keycard, his room number written on its paper sleeve, he handed it to her. Pointing toward the lobby bar he said, “I’ll be in there, burying my pain and insecurity with food. Take all the time you need.”