“I know. Dante is bringing us the shipment of Papaver laciniatum. We can’t allow that shipment to be intercepted. The team needs to burn the villa and everyone in or around it.”

“It will be taken care of,” Dickerson said.

“It had better be.”

“Trust me, boss. You’ll have it within thirty-six hours, guaranteed.”

“That means Whitman needs to be neutralized.”

“Believe me,” Dickerson said, “he’s the first thing I’ll take care of.”

Chapter 36

36

“What about the dog tags?” Whitman said.

“They’re phonies,” Charlie answered, her eyes alight.

Flix sat up straighter. “How d’you know that?”

“This one here.” Charlie laid one out in her palm. “It belongs to Sergeant Jeffrey Grant.”

Flix’s forehead creased. “So?”

“So I knew Jeff Grant.” Her eyes flicked over Whitman’s face for a moment. “I went out with him for a couple of weeks last year before he shipped out on his last assignment.”

“Last?” Whitman said.

Charlie nodded. “He was killed in Afghanistan nine months ago.” She let the other dog tags drop into her palm. “I’m willing to bet that all of these tags are from deceased soldiers. The men you killed, Flix, they aren’t Marines. In fact, they may not even be Americans.”

“Hey, wait,” Flix said, “that’s gotta be a stretch.”

Charlie shook her head. “Not at all. I checked the mouths of two of the corpses. You can be sure their cavities weren’t filled in America.” A small smile played across her lips. “I know shit Russian dental work when I see it.”

“Damn, this changes everything, right, compadre?”

“Mercs,” Whitman said. Meaning mercenaries. “Probably recruited from all over.”

“Where does that leave us?” Flix asked. His relief was enormous; it was written all over his face.

“With Seiran,” Whitman said, “and the information he’s given us.”

“There’s at least one more piece to the puzzle.” Charlie gestured. “Let’s get inside. It’ll be dark soon.”

They found Seiran el-Habib where they had left him. He’d soiled himself, several times.

“At least, let me take a shower,” he said. “I feel like an old man.”

Ignoring him, Whitman turned to Charlie. “You were saying? What piece of the puzzle?”

“Blue eyes,” Charlie said. “The recruiter Alice and Beth knew as Dante. Supposedly, he’ll be here tomorrow morning.” She turned to face their prisoner. “Isn’t that right, Saudi?”

“I have a name,” el-Habib said, clearly offended.

“Not to me, you don’t,” she said. “So how about it? Were you and Alice telling the truth? Will Dante be here tomorrow?”

“Did I say that?”

“You did.”

He looked up at them. “Then it must be true.”

“That’s not an answer.” Charlie grabbed the back of his chair, tilted it, and started to drag him down the hall toward the kitchen, where Alice’s body still lay.