Peanut chose that moment to join them. He hopped onto one of the chairs, then foisted his rotund self onto the table. Stalking to the center, he circled once before flopping down and reclining back like a fat, furry sultan, surveying his domain through drowsy, yellow eyes.
“I guess that just leaves one question,” Samantha said. Emily could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. “How the hell did all you supersecret spy types find each other?”
Like a tire with a slow leak, the pressure gradually eased. Christian shrugged. “Ever hear the saying ‘It’s a small world’?” Samantha nodded. “Well, the world of special operations is absolutely minuscule.”
“Rrrright,” Samantha said skeptically. But she didn’t push it.
Emily respected the hell out of her for that. Maybe Ozzie was right. Maybe she could be trusted.
“So now that that’s out of the way,” Ozzie put in, “let’s hear about Albu Bali.”
Emily nodded. “So you guys probably don’t remember the Haditha massacre of 2005.”
“I do,” Samantha said. “When the story finally broke, it topped the news cycle for weeks. A group of U.S. Marines killed a bunch of civilians in Haditha, including women and children. It was in retaliation for…” She stopped and screwed up her face, searching her memory. “For an attack on one of their convoys, right?”
“Right.” Emily dipped her chin. “Good memory. But what you may not remember, because it wasn’t much publicized, is that even though eight Marines were charged and tried, none of them were ever convicted. It didn’t create much of a buzz here in the United States. But as you can imagine, there was a huge international outcry.”
“I’m sorry.” Christian frowned at her. “But what’s that got to do with the Basilisks or Albu Bali?”
Emily kicked him under the table. Since she wore soft, fuzzy socks, the blow wasn’t very effective. “Patience, man. It’s a virtue, you know.”
He leaned down to rub his shin, scowling even harder. He was never so handsome as when he was scowling. Just one more reason she delighted in abusing him.
“Anyway, around the time all the shit about Haditha was hitting the fan, a squad of U.S. Army infantrymen and their trusty translator carried out a similar attack in Albu Bali. Difference there being the reason for the massacre was good ol’-fashioned bloodlust and greed. Rumors had swirled that some families in Albu Bali were sitting on a stash of Saddam’s gold. But like most rumors, those turned out to be false. There was nothing in Albu Bali but thirty-four innocent civilians who died brutally at the hands of American soldiers.”
Ozzie and Christian’s faces registered their disgust. Neither man was a stranger to killing. But both men lived with a code. It was a simple one: ending a life was a last resort. To guys like the Black Knights, men who killed for greed or glory—or worse, pleasure—were the bacteria that feasted on the scum that lived at the bottom of a bog.
“Considering Haditha was in the news,” Emily continued, “the powers that be inside the Intelligence community decided that Albu Bali needed to be covered up. According to them, the conflict was at a tipping point, and America couldn’t withstand another punch that might shove it over the edge. My boss at the CIA was the one overseeing the agents who went in to do the cleanup. Albu Bali was neatly swept under the rug and the infantrymen quietly discharged for medical reasons.” She made quote marks with her fingers. “Which I guess makes sense, since they were nothing but batshit crazy thugs. And that, as they say, was that.”
“Which explains why their files were redacted,” Ozzie concluded. “The DOD would be super anal about these two men, blacking out anything and everything for fear something might prompt questions about Albu Bali. Unfortunately, knowing why their files were lined out doesn’t get us any closer to the who or how or where of the Basilisks’ gunrunning business—or to pinning them down for Marcel Monroe’s murder.”
“Follow the money!” A voice from the first floor echoed up the stairs. It was quickly followed by the sound of dog claws on the metal treads. Three seconds later, Fido appeared on the landing, tongue lolling, red bandana knocked askew and sticking up over his left ear. Delilah followed him, motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm. She took a quick glance around the room before grabbing a seat.
Fido made a loop around the table, accepting ear scratches from those willing to give them. Christian was particularly enthusiastic. Kids and dogs. They were his Achilles’s heel and the only creatures Emily had ever seen crack through his tough outer shell. Finally, the dog plopped down next to Delilah’s seat, curling himself around her biker boots.
“So,” Emily prompted, blinking at the new arrival. “Follow the money? Care to explain?”
“If you want to find out who the Basilisks are getting their weapons from,” Delilah said, fluffing out her auburn hair, “all you have to do is follow the money. They have to be paying someone.”
“Sure.” Samantha nodded. “But following the money would require not only knowing the businesses the Basilisks are running but also gaining access to their accounts. The first might not be too difficult. I think the CPD could probably provide us with a list of the Basilisks’ various enterprises. But the second thing, access to their accounts, would mean getting a court order. And according to Chief Washington and Detective Carver, that isn’t going to happen without more evidence of malfeasance.”
“Well, the first has already been taken care of,” Ozzie said, tugging on his earlobe.
Samantha’s dark eyebrows formed a perfect V. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I asked Washington to email me a list of the Basilisks’ holdings. He sent it earlier this evening. Thought I’d do some snooping on my own.”
The V of Samantha’s eyebrows deepened. “What do you mean?” she asked again. “Snooping how?”
Ozzie opened his mouth but seemed to hesitate.
“Bloody hell, man,” Christian blurted. “She already knows SEAL, SAS, and CIA.” He shot a finger gun first at Ozzie, then himself, and finally Emily. “May as well tell her you’re a world-class hacker to boot, yeah?”
“Wait a minute.” Delilah sat up straighter, frowning. “She knows about—”
Emily kicked her under the table. Apparently she was in a kicky mood tonight. “She knows about our pasts.” She subtly emphasized the last word. “And she understands that she has to keep that information to herself.”
“Well, pour me some top-shelf tequila and color me speechless.” Delilah nodded her understanding. “Okay then.”
“Can we circle back to the world-class hacker part of this conversation?” Samantha asked.
“My mate here has mad skills.” Christian gave Ozzie a tip of his chin. “Did you never wonder how he came about his nickname?”
Ooooh, that accent. It did crazy things to Emily’s pulse.
Samantha looked taken aback. “Uh, no. I guess I never thought about it. He’s just…he’s just Ozzie.”
“Go on then,” Christian demanded. “Tell her.”