Rising Tiger: A Thriller (91)

He did, however, offer to walk her back to the Blind Relief Association. She thanked him for the drinks, politely passed on the escort back, and told him that she’d be in the lobby at six a.m. The plan was to grab a quick breakfast and then head out to the target.

Upstairs in his room, as the storm that had been forecasted blew in, he transmitted a SITREP to Lawlor. Once it had been received, he asked for an update on Nicholas, Nina, and the baby.

Lawlor didn’t bother texting a response. It was too much to put into writing. What’s more, Harvath needed to hear every detail and be able to ask as many questions as he wanted. He suggested they do a call.

Harvath agreed and as the rain lashed his windows and lightning lit up the New Delhi sky, the pair spoke for more than an hour.

He didn’t know how to react. He was angered by the attack, outraged at the injuries and loss of life. He was also incredibly proud of how Davis and Hauptmann had comported themselves, not to mention Nicholas. Had he arrived a few minutes earlier or a few minutes later, things could have turned out much worse. It was the epitome of right place, right time.

The fact that the baby had not yet improved also troubled him. After all that Nicholas had been through in his life, he deserved a happily ever after. Harvath could only hope that the next update would bring better news.

Getting into bed, he was so wiped out that he was asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow. Had he not set the alarm on his phone, he would have slept right through meeting Asha in the lobby.

After a shower and a shave, he was downstairs waiting for her. She strode into the hotel promptly at six a.m.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“Actually, I—”

“I was joking,” she said, interrupting him. “I slept on an army cot with a wool blanket that had to have been from World War One. You slept on a mattress that easily cost over thirty thousand rupees and sheets with a thread count so high, it gives me a nosebleed just thinking about it.”

Harvath smiled. “Breakfast?”

“Coffee first,” she replied, leading the way toward the restaurant. “Then breakfast.”

The hostess offered them a beautiful table with a gorgeous view near one of the windows, but Harvath and Asha simultaneously pointed to a booth in the corner, close to the entrance of the kitchen, and asked for it. They were both cut from the same cloth. Though she thought it an unusual request, the hostess smiled and obliged.

“Any updates from overnight?” he asked as they waited for their waiter to bring them coffee.

Asha removed a folder from her backpack and handed it to him. “A list of everyone who works at the Universal Relief Initiative with Durrani.”

“Photos and bios as well,” said Harvath. “Nice job.”

“Open-source intel for the most part. NGOs put a lot of information about their people on their websites. It helps them tell their story and raise money.”

“Or, in Durrani’s case, it can also help backstop a cover.”

“Agreed.”

“What are these?” Harvath asked, holding up two profiles that had extra pages attached.

“We ran all of the employees, looking for anything unusual that we might be able to leverage.”

“And?”

“The first one you have there is Jaya Devi. She is the organization’s director of finance. While there haven’t been any allegations of impropriety with regard to the Universal Relief Initiative’s books, her home is in foreclosure and she is behind on her car payments.”

“Interesting,” said Harvath, studying the grandmotherly-looking woman. “What about the second?

“The second is Amit Paswan. He’s from a small village in West Bengal. He was studying chemistry at the Indian Institute of Engineering, Science, and Technology in Kolkata when his twin sister was brutally attacked by a group of men who sexually assaulted and murdered her. The trial was a shambles. All five of the men went free. Over the next eighteen months, all of them wound up dead.”

“Did this Amit Paswan kill them?” he asked, staring at the photo of a geeky, bespectacled man in his thirties.

“He was investigated, but always had an alibi from someone at school. He was never charged.”

“So, then why’d you include this information on him?” asked Harvath.

“Because unlike the investigators in West Bengal, I kept digging. Each of his alibis came from someone who had been the victim of sexual assault or had an immediate family member who was.”

“Jesus.”

“He also never finished his degree. After the last man accused of murdering his sister was killed, he dropped out of school. He only had one term remaining. He never went to work in the field of chemistry. All of his employment has been in service organizations; NGOs and the like.”

“Because he’s doing penance,” said Harvath. “That’s the person we want.”

“We also have this,” said Asha, removing another folder and handing it to him.

Harvath opened it. There were high-tech schematics and 3-D renderings of the Universal Relief Initiative’s offices as well as other buildings and businesses up and down the street.

“Impressive,” he remarked. “You, Raj, and Gupta do good work.”

“We had a little help with the surveillance. There’s a very unique company that has been trying to get Raj’s attention. They put this together overnight.”