Page 25 of Surge

“Why are we in such a hurry?”

“Theyare in a hurry,” he corrected. “Per intel, the chems fly out of Southeast Asia on Wednesday. We don’t know exactly from where or to where, but we do know their attack is planned around the six-month anniversary of the death of Hakim’s father in Djibouti.”

“Who’s Hakim?”

Man, she had a thousand questions, but it just made him aware how little she really knew. He prayed it wasn’t a mistake bringing her. “Hakim Ansari is the leader of the Sachaai terrorists. Their poisoned food will hit US streets next week if we don’t stop them. Hundreds of thousands of dead Americans are what they want.”

Her voice croaked. “Hundreds of thousands . . .”

“So, am I coming with you on this undercover?” Zim asked.

This team was full of questions. “Negative. You’ll cover Thompson and wait with her and the dog out of sight around the corner.” He pulled out his phone, and on the ABA screen, he threw up a picture of the Singapore corner where he’d meet the seller in front of the legal building. Another spot marked with an X where Zim would wait with Surge and Thompson.

Zim leaned back in his chair. “But if Hakim, for whatever reason, shows up at the meet, you need some backup, Boss.”

Right, and get ghosted by Heath? “You know how this works, Zim. This is the plan. We’re not making changes if we don’t have to.” He nodded to the spook. “Caldwell, there’s a security cam in the area, right? You’ll have overwatch.”

Caldwell’s computer keys went crazy for a minute. “Yep.”

“Okay, next.” Garrett pulled up the picture of Hakim, the Pakistani man in a black T-shirt and black jeans, with black eyes under angled eyebrows, perfectly tidy black beard and long hair. Full lips nearly in a smile. “Hakim Ansari despises America for corrupting Pakistan. And he blames us for killing Fahmi—his father.”

Thompson frowned. “We killed his father?”

Garrett locked eyes with hers. “Fahmi died when he killed Sam and Tsunami.”

Her hand settled on Surge, who sat at her side. “Djibouti.”

He nodded. “Hakim is hellbent on vengeance.”

“We have a truck for the chem stash once Surge leads us to it?” Zim asked.

He looked over at Caldwell, who nodded.

“Already set.”

“Other questions?”

No one said anything.

“Okay then. Get home, get some rest. The C-130 is a red-eye.”

Zim snickered and Caldwell rolled his eyes as everyone gathered their things.

But Garrett stopped Thompson. “Just a minute, please.” If he was going to be her leader, she couldn’t be a maverick. Okay. Rogue. She couldn’t be a rogue. Time for that stiff chat.

“Sure.” She took a step toward the entry table and grabbed a bottle of water, popped it open, then sat back down.

“I need to know that you’re okay for this mission.”

She hesitated. “Oookaaaaay.” One eyebrow rose.

He scrolled through his mind about what to say. How to say it. But there was only one answer. “Maverick.”

“Heath’s nickname for me?”

“I mean you’re a maverick,” he growled. “Surge’s nose for these lipids or not . . . I need someone who can work as part of a team.”

She shrugged. “I need someone who knows how to lead a team. Sam told me about you, your anger.”

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