“Her name is Kaamisha Dawari,” Webb answered Van’s question. “She’s a thirty-four-year-old grad student-turned-terrorist.”
Back then, females were still allowed to pursue a higher education. Today, not so much.
“She’sa terrorist?” Chase blinked in surprise.
He knew as well as anyone that there wasn’t a cut-and-paste look for those who possessed a hateful thirst for blood. Butdamn.Going after a terrorist as pretty as the woman in Webb’s picture would definitely be a team first.
Archer’s doubt was more than a little obvious as he continued staring at the woman’s picture. “You really think she’s the one who tortured and killed your asset?”
“Akimi may not have died directly by her hands, but we have every reason to believe Dawari is the one responsible. We’re exhausting every measure to confirm this, of course. But at the very least, we know for a fact she was present at the time of his death.”
Van’s tone was still as gruff as ever when he finally spoke up once again. “How do you know ‘for a fact’ that this woman was there?”
“DNA.” Webb didn’t so much as hesitate in his response. He pressed the remote again, bringing up a second, smaller image overlaying the top right corner of the screen.
Chase squinted a bit in an attempt to make out what he was seeing. “Is that…a hair?”
Sure looked like it. Long. Black. Specs of what appeared to be blood on several areas along the single strand.
“Not just any hair.” Webb pointed a meaty finger at the woman in the picture. “It’s Kaamisha Dawari’s, and it was found partially embedded in one of Akimi’s wounds. Only way that happens is if?—”
“She was there.” Archer nodded slowly. “Of course, she also could have found him right after. Maybe she found his body and attempted medical aid.”
“Trust me.” Webb was already shaking his head. “Dawari’s up to her eyebrows in this shit.”
“Hang on.” Logan returned the conversation all the way back to the beginning. “Say you’re right, and Kaamisha Dawariisthe killer. Why would someone like her want a CIA asset dead?”
“Pretty sure you just answered your own question.” Lucky scoffed. “The guy was a U.S. sanctioned spy, after all.”
“Lucky isn’t wrong,” Webb interjected. “The running theory is that Dawari somehow found out Akimi was working as a CIA asset, and she tortured him for information before green-lighting his execution.”
“Information on what?” Van tore his attention away from the screen, letting it land on Webb.
“On you.”
The entire room grew silent as Webb pressed the remote once more. Dawari’s face, along with the evidentiary image of her hair, vanished. Another picture in its place.
Like many from Chase’s SEAL Team days, this particular image was already cemented deep within his memories. The aftermath of a senseless feud that ended in destruction and death.
It was a place and time every member of Eagle’s Nest Securities recognized instantly. And though it had been three years since they’d stepped foot in Afghanistan, one look at that picture and it felt like fucking yesterday.
“Kandahar, Afghanistan,” Webb announced unnecessarily. “As I’m sure you all remember, this was taken by your team three years ago during your first mission to confirm Jamal Hassan Muhammad’s whereabouts.”
Oh, yeah. They remembered.
It was two weeks before their return trip to the same region. Two weeks before Hunter was killed.
At the time, Muhammad had been the Taliban’s top division commander. The U.S. had been after him for years, so when word came through the wire that Muhammad was in Kandahar, the plan to confirm the murdering asshole’s whereabouts was quickly put into place.
As members of the now-disbanded Black Squadron One—the classified Tier 1 team of operators for the Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU—they’d been tasked with going in, snapping a few pictures of Muhammad, and getting the hell out.
So Chase and the others went to Kandahar as ordered. When the time came, they settled in along the street near the restaurant where the Taliban leader’s meeting with another terrorist higher-up was to take place. And then…they waited.
But Muhammad never showed.
Instead, he sent three of his well-known associates to take his place. Ten minutes later, the two groups of terrorist assholes exited the restaurant before getting into an argument that resulted in guns being drawn and bullets flying.
Chase and his team had immediately taken cover, unable to return fire without risking the innocent civilians in the area. A few short minutes later, the shooting was over, and the downtown street of Kandahar was littered with bodies.