Page 39 of Dangerous Target


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She wanted her lips on Boone’s but was very aware that the conference room, surrounded by others, was not the time nor place for that.

“I missed you, too.”

Cole walked into the room.

“Have a seat, everyone.” Cole walked into the room last and set his phone on the table in front of him.

Chairs were rolled back, and leather groaned as they all settled in.

Cole sat at the head of the table.

“Before we start, I was wondering if we have any news about Eddie.” Calliope glanced around the table.

He was probably sitting in his mother’s house in San Benito, Texas. Luna didn’t have any other details. And the only reason she knew even that much was because she’d made the travel arrangements for him.

“He’s tending to some family issues.” Cole’s tone discouraged further inquiries. “Go ahead, Luna.”

Everyone exchanged looks of curiosity and concern but didn’t say a word.

“Thanks.” She gave him a quick nod. “Yesterday, while listening to some of the satellite feeds, I came across some chatter I thought you all should hear.”

She tapped the track pad on her laptop twice to open the audio file.

“I apologize in advance for the quality. I did the best I could to clean it up, but it’s still a little scratchy and cuts out a few times. But I believe there’s enough there for us to be concerned about.” She tapped a key on her keyboard, and it began to play on the speakers sitting on each end of the table.

“How many girls—” a man with an accent said before it cut out.

Luna turned the volume up a little.

“My goal is—” The second man spoke. Boone scowled, rested his forearms on the table, and leaned closer. “… the US border”—he sounded like an American—“locked down.”

The man with the accent spoke again. “You will never be able—”

The voices became scratchy, cut out for a minute and seven seconds, then the American’s voice was suddenly clear.

“Don’t tell me how to run my fuckin’ business!”

“Son of a bitch.” Boone thumped the butt of his fist on the table, and his hands slid off as he sat back. “I knew I recognized that voice.”

“Which one?” Cole asked.

“The American.” He turned to Luna. “Can you play that last part back?”

“Sure.” She rewound a few seconds and pressedenter.

He closed his eyes and listened to the playback.

“Don’t tell me how to run my fuckin’ business!”

“I was right. Unless I’m imagining things”—he pointed at the speaker—“the American on that recording is Aaron Udall.”

“You sure?” Cole sat forward.

“Pretty damn sure.” He nodded. “Were you able to determine where this conversation took place?”

“I narrowed it down to an area northwest of Islamabad.” Luna grabbed the remote, clicked a button, and the overhead lights dimmed as a large flat screen on the wall flashed on. She tapped a few keys on her laptop, and a map of Pakistan appeared on the screen. “This area, right here, in the Hunza Valley.” She zoomed in and placed a red circle around an area just north of the Hunza River. “Those peaks are really high, so that’s why the audio is sketchy.”

“How the hell did he get to Pakistan?” Lucas asked.