Free Dead Zero by Stephen Hunter Page A

Dutch made an investigation, but I’ve seen it, it was poorly done, and they were clearly uncomfortable outside their protected compound. It’s wild and woolly out there. Maybe the blast was legit, we don’t know. Things explode in tribal Afghanistan all the time.”
    “And this Ray, he was blown up.”
    “That would seem to be the case.”
    “What a waste. Remind me again what we get out of this thing?”
    “No politics. Only cop stuff. And here’s where it gets interesting,” said Nick. “The blast seems to have seriously shaken the target, a fellow named Ibrahim Zarzi, also known as the Beheader. He left the city—Qalat—and moved to Kabul. He’s hereditary aristocracy, well educated, cosmopolitan, he’s got money, lots of it, don’t ask why or where it comes from. Anyhow, about this time, conditions in Zabul province improve, no more ambushes, no more bombings, and Second Recon makes it home with no more battle deaths. Everybody gets a promotion.”
    “And this guy Zarzi,” said Susan, “he suddenly becomes an aggressively pro-American player in Kabul. He makes overtures to State, they ask us to look into it, and we vet him up one side and down theother. Supposedly, he’s now clean, he’s broken all his old associations, walked away from the sources of his fortune.”
    “Drugs?”
    “He was dirty. Now he’s clean. We had him at a safe house in Kabul for a week, at his insistence, and polygraphed him, drugged him, interviewed him in English and in Pashto, Agency, FBI, DEA, State, everyone, did the full nine yards’ dance on him, and he comes up clean. Very attractive guy, he may be emerging as a candidate for president in the upcoming elections. We view that possibility as very encouraging and are working discreetly to make it happen.”
    “You can’t trust ’em,” said Bob.
    “People do change. It happens. We worked this bird hard and we believe he’s genuine. I don’t know how he could fake something like that and get it through all the vetting we laid on him. So our new policy is: you
can
trust them. The future depends on it.”
    “Maybe you’re seeing what you want to see.”
    “Fear of that remote possibility shouldn’t preclude our making full use of this development,” she replied. “The trust has to start somewhere or your daughter Miko will be serving in Kabul.”
    Bob grunted, signifying that he didn’t quite buy it. But then he moved on.
    “So what does all this have to do with me?”
    “As part of State’s initiative to upgrade Zarzi’s profile before the fall elections, he’s coming to DC in a couple of weeks. You might call it a sort of further test, see how he stands up to that kind of DC pressure. Lots of things have been laid on. Debriefings both at State and at the Agency, news conferences, speeches before the foreign policy Council, a big national talking heads broadcast, and finally a medal ceremony at the White House, where all the biggies will be in attendance. He’ll announce his candidacy for the presidency, and a big Mad Avenue firm will take over the election. He’s our man in Kabul.”
    “And?”
    “And Ray Cruz isn’t dead. He’s alive. He’s back. He’s all snipered up. And Ray Cruz has said he will finish his job. He will hit his target and complete Whiskey Two-Two’s mission. He’ll take Zarzi down.”
    “How do you know all this?”
    “He told us.”

UNIDENTIFIED CONTRACTOR TEAM
    RITZ HOTEL POOL DECK
    MIAMI BEACH
    1600 HOURS
    Pablo trundled discreetly around the pool with a wireless telephone on his tray. He wore a tropical shirt, white shorts, and sunglasses. He was a good find. He’d also connected Mick with several high-end hookers, a very nice supply of blow, and every third drink off the hotel’s books. Behind him, the glass, turquoise, and alabaster crescent of the building itself formed a bulwark against the offshore Atlantic breezes, so that even the palms were still. The sun sparkled off the pool’s glossy blue waters. Many