At the end of the hall, Rashid removed a key from his pocket and opened the door to a bedroom. Arrayed along two single beds were almost all of the items Harvath had requested.

Entering the room, he began going through the gear and inspecting it. Gallagher stepped in and took a look at it as well.

Once he had finished the inspection, Harvath asked Rashid, “What about the munitions?”

“The munitions you asked for are not easy to get.”

“We can’t do this without them.”

The inspector smiled. “You requested something highly specialized.”

Gallagher looked at Harvath and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

“How much to get the munitions?” asked Harvath.

“Let’s have some more tea,” replied Rashid.

Harvath turned toward the door and said to Gallagher, “We obviously made a mistake. Let’s go.”

Rashid put his hands up and inserted himself into the doorway. “Please, my friends,” he said. “I am here to help you.”

“Then I suggest you help us find those munitions.”

“Of course, of course. Anything is possible.”

“With the right amount of money, right?” replied Harvath.

“As I said, this particular item is not so easy to get.”

“But it is possible.”

“If he cannot locate any of the items on your list, we can,” stated Pamir.

Rashid smiled as if that settled everything and directed his guests back into the living room. Reluctantly, Harvath acquiesced.

After twenty more minutes of “tea,” they discussed terms. While the prices weren’t unreasonable, Harvath knew the Afghans expected to haggle and he was an exceptional negotiator. When they were finished, the cost had not been dramatically reduced, but Harvath had locked in a key insurance policy-Marjan and Pamir would join their team to help snatch Mustafa Khan.

Of course, the NDS operatives were not crazy about this idea at first, but the promise of a bonus of several times what each man made in a year sealed the deal.

They spent another hour talking, with Rashid, Marjan, and Pamir drinking the majority of the American tea in the pitcher.

When they said good-bye, the two Americans received long, whiskey-soaked hugs from their Afghan hosts.

Harvath removed several thick stacks of cash from his backpack and placed them under one of the cushions in the living room.

Out in the courtyard, Marjan and Pamir’s men loaded the equipment into the back of the Land Cruiser and covered it over with a couple of blankets.

Sliding his cell phone back into his pocket, Rashid walked over to the truck and gave Flower a new set of directions, which would allow them to avoid the most recently positioned mobile checkpoints.

After pulling into the road, Gallagher looked over his shoulder. As he watched the gates to the NDS safe house close behind them, he asked, “So what do you think?”

In the darkness of the backseat, Harvath remained silent. Rashid had turned out to be better than he had expected, and Marjan and Pamir looked poised to pick up where the police inspector’s expertise had left off, but in all honesty, Harvath knew they were still a long way from where they needed to be.

Their preoperational planning had been tossed out the window when Mustafa Khan had been moved from Policharki. They were starting from scratch now and Harvath didn’t like that. Nevertheless, they were moving forward. He only hoped that they were moving fast enough.

CHAPTER 20

EAST HAMPTON, NEW YORK

Elise Campbell stepped off her train and onto the East Hampton platform. The evening air was chilly and damp.

The Secret Service agent had caught a high-speed Acela Express from Washington to Penn Station and from there the Long Island Railroad via Jamaica Station out to the easternmost town on the South Shore of Long Island. Standing beneath the portico was Detective Rita Klees.

“Whatever you do,” said Rita as she greeted Elise with a hug and took her bag, “please tell me you didn’t eat any train food.”

“Rita, I’ve been on trains and in stations for over seven hours. So sue me, I broke down and had a sandwich.”

Klees made a face. “I refuse to eat that garbage they serve.” Nodding toward her car she said, “C’mon. We’ll get you a real dinner. And a drink.”

The detective threw Campbell’s overnight bag into the cargo area of her Mini Cooper and then slid into the driver’s seat. After starting the car, she picked up a pack of cigarettes and asked, “Do you mind?”

The car already smelled like an ashtray. “Go ahead,” said Campbell as she rolled down her window.

They chatted about Elise’s trip up from D.C. as Rita drove to a small restaurant called Thackers and parked her car. She grabbed her briefcase from the backseat and the two women made their way inside.

It was obvious by the attention Klees received from the hostess, as well as the piano player segueing out of the song he had been playing and launching into the Sinatra classic that closed every Yankee game, “New York, New York,” that she was a bit of a regular.

Rita waved and said hello to other patrons she knew as they were shown to a quiet leather booth in the corner. When the hostess presented the menus, Klees declined and asked Elise, “You’re a meat eater, right? Do you like short ribs?”

“I love short ribs,” replied Campbell.

“These are the best you’ll ever have,” she said and then looked back at the hostess. “Two orders of the short ribs, then, and I’ll have a Johnnie Green on the rocks.”

Elise ordered a glass of red wine and the hostess disappeared. Reaching into her briefcase, Rita removed a thick folder and set it on the table.

“Is that it?” asked Campbell.

Klees nodded.

Elise had spent the trip up from D.C. trying to figure out what to say to her friend. She knew she couldn’t lie to her, which left her with only one option-the truth. But how much of the truth should she reveal? “I need your word that none of what I’m about to tell you will go any further.”

“If we’re talking about a crime being committed-” began Klees, who stopped when a waiter appeared with their drinks.

Once he had gone, Elise said, “I don’t know for sure if a crime has been committed. That’s why I’m here. But, if I’m wrong and there’s nothing to this, then my career’s over.”

“So this has to do with the president?”

Campbell nodded.

“Can I assume he’s the one you were referring to when you said maybe somebody wasn’t completely truthful in their witness statement?”

Again, Campbell nodded.

“Okay. Did he have something to do with the accident?”

Elise looked at her friend. “I hope not.”

“Then where’s all of this coming from?”

“I may have overheard a conversation.”

Rita stirred the ice cubes in her drink. “Now I understand.”

“This puts me and the Secret Service in a very difficult position,” said Campbell. “If he didn’t do anything wrong and it gets out that I told people about the conversation, then the entire Secret Service not only looks bad, presidents will forever distance themselves from us, which will make it even harder to protect them.”

“But if he did do something, then he’s an idiot to have mentioned it in front of you.”

“He didn’t exactly know I was there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was standing guard in a wooded area. He couldn’t see me. He stopped within earshot and I heard his conversation.”

“Who was he talking with?”

“Do I have your word that this will stay just between us?” asked Elise.

Rita nodded.

“He was talking with Stephanie Gallo.”

“That’s who was having the fund-raiser for him here.”

“I know,” said Campbell.

“That’s also whose house he was staying at.”

“I know.”

“It’s also where Nikki Hale had been before she left and had her accident.”