“From Iowa?” Marshall shook his head. “I have spoken about the death of my son to one person. A trusted ally.”
“Ally?” Grace asked. “He’s not an American?”
“No. He’s Afghani, assigned by the Afghan government to liaise with us. I’ve known him for two years. His intel has been responsible for saving a lot of lives. I wouldn’t hesitate to have him at my back.”
“Why would you talk about losing your son to him?” Grace asked.
“He lost his own family three years ago in an Islamic State attack in Syria.” Marshall stopped talking for a moment to clear his throat.
“His name?” Stone demanded.
“Mohammad Asil Akbar.”
“I want everything you have on him, including the man himself, brought here to me right now,” General Stone ordered.
“Here, as in this building?” the general’s aide asked, eyeing the piles of stuff littering the corners.
“Here. If we do have an infiltrator among us, this is not where he’d expect to be questioned.”
“Yes, sir.” The aide and a couple of other soldiers hurried off to carry out his orders.
Marshall walked over to talk to the general softly, and Grace found herself wilting under an exhaustion that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Her head pounded in time with her pulse.
Sharp was watching her, and when she made eye contact with him, he walked over. “What’s up?”
“I need some water.”
He handed her a bottle of water from his pack.
She took it, downed a few swallows, then took an antibiotic with a few more swallows.
The general’s aide came in at a run. “Sir, Akbar is gone.” The soldier held out an envelope with Marshall’s name on it. “This was left in his quarters.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Stone reached out totake the envelope, and Sharp sucked in a breath to stop him, but Grace hollered first.