Page 1 of Stand Fast

Chapter One

DEA Special Agent Jaliya Rabani rushed down the hallway of one of the many buildings that made up Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan, her insides a flurry of excitement and anticipation.

She’d waited months for this chance, and was chuffed that it was finally happening.

A door opened at the end of the hall and Supervisory Special Agent Jared Taggart, commander of the DEA’s Foreign Advisory and Support Team Bravo, emerged. “He’s here?” he asked her, his blue-green eyes locked on her as he stepped out of the room. A tall, intimidating man who commanded respect with his presence alone.

“Yes.” And about damn time, too. After all the previous trouble with getting her informant to commit, she’d been afraid he would no-show again. “He’s waiting in one of the interrogation rooms now. Got in about ten minutes ago.”

The overhead lights caught on his dark blond hair and the slightly darker stubble on his face as he nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She fell in step with him and together they hurried through the building and outside into the late morning sunshine. An icy blast of late December wind cut through her jacket. She wrapped her arms around herself and tucked the bottom of her hijab into her jacket to keep it from flapping around. Though she’d grown up wearing one, she’d stopped doing so in ninth grade, but over here she always wore it when dealing with locals.

The familiar sounds of the base surrounded her as she walked: aircraft engines and trucks passing by, troops out for their daily PT. Agent Taggart followed her into another building on the other side of the base. Armed guards were posted at the door and there were no windows on its exterior.

He and Jaliya showed their agency IDs. The guards let them in and immediately locked the doors behind them.

“Down here,” she said to him, leading the way down the long center hallway past the various cells, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the cinder block walls.

Even with the bright overhead lights glaring off the white-painted walls, this place had a creepy vibe. Behind each steel door they passed lining the hallway, terrorists were locked away to await their fate at the hands of the U.S. judicial system for crimes committed against American troops and interests.

A member of her team from the Foreign Cooperative Investigations unit was waiting for them outside the second-to-last room at the end of the hall. “I couldn’t get an interpreter here in time,” her colleague told her as she approached.

“It’s fine. I’ll do the translating.” She was twenty-eight years old with a Master’s degree in political science, and had recently gained enough trust from her boss for him to allow her more operational latitude within her investigations. These days he pretty much let her run her own show, and in turn she reported back to him to keep him apprised of what was going on.

“I’ll watch from out here,” her colleague said. The large window in the wall beside them allowed them to look in while those inside the room couldn’t see out.

“That’s fine.” She mentally squared her shoulders, more than ready for this.Show time.

Ignoring how fast her pulse raced in her throat, she opened the door and walked into the room, with Taggart right behind her.

At the rectangular table set in the center of the room sat a young man in his late teens. He wore traditional garb of loose white pants and a tunic topped with a vest. His short dark hair was covered by apakol, and a thin, dark beard obscured the lower half of his face. His deep-set, dark eyes locked on her the moment she crossed the threshold, wary and distrustful.

“Barakat. It’s good to meet you in person finally,” she said in Dari, taking off her jacket and draping it over the back of the chair opposite him.

His eyes widened for a moment in astonishment, then chilled before he focused on Taggart. Dismissing her.

Annoyance bubbled up inside her. She’d seen that look way too often from local men during her time over here, and it never failed to piss her off.Nuh-uh. You’re here to talk to me, not him.

“I gather you received the medicine and supplies I arranged for you at the hospital earlier?” she asked, ignoring his attitude as she nodded to the knapsack lying next to him on the floor. The guards and her coworker waiting out in the hall would have already searched it for weapons before putting him in here, so he was no threat to her. And definitely not with a man like Taggart standing behind her.

Barakat’s gaze slid back to her, flicking over her with clear distaste.

Jaliya folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, prepared to wait him out. “Well?”

“Yes,” he finally muttered and looked away again.

Fine with her. She didn’t care whether he looked at her or not while they had this conversation. “Good. Well, let’s not drag this out and waste any more of my time than necessary. What can you tell me about The Jackal?”

He stiffened at the name, and this time when he looked at her, there was pure contempt on his face. “You have no right to ask me this.” His tone was even more contemptuous than his expression.

“Oh, but I do. You already owe me for the supplies you’ve been given. And if you want the money you’ve been offered, you’ll tell me what I want to know.” She and her taskforce had been trying to identify the man known as The Jackal for almost five months now, and all their efforts thus far had proven futile.

No one claimed to know his identity, but he routinely smuggled large shipments of opium and weapons through the Hindu Kush either to southern Afghanistan or over the border into Pakistan. And then on to America with the heavy involvement of theVenenocartel operating out of Mexico.

Barakat’s upper lip curled into something close to a sneer and he hunched down in his chair, his body language telegraphing his disrespect and defiance.

“There a problem?” Taggart asked from behind her in English. “My Dari isn’t awesome, but I’m getting the sense he’s being uncooperative.”

---