Free THE HUNT FOR KOHINOOR BOOK 2 OF THE THRILLER SERIES FEATURING MEHRUNISA by Manreet Sodhi Someshwar Page B

the intel. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the dull grey noon light outside. In a couple of hours it would be pitch dark.
    The General turned from the window and walked the length of his room. It helped him think. The open window that let in a cold draft was another aid. McCormick paced up and down, hands interlaced behind his back, head bowed in contemplation of the carpeted floor.
    The recent leak of war logs in a prominent British daily had generated an outcry across the world media: the US-led war in Afghanistan was resulting in too many civilian casualties. Even the Afghan President had gone on record that the US was treating Afghan lives as ‘cheap’. It did not help that a recent operation in Paktika province, based on intel provided by his team, had been a spectacular failure.
    In a night raid, US forces had attacked a home suspected of harbouring a prominent Taliban commander. In the shooting that ensued, all twenty-five people inside were killed. But the intel was flawed – it turned out to be a gathering for the naming ceremony of a newborn. Amongst the dead were musicians, pregnant women and children. Aside from media opprobrium, censure had come directly from US and NATO high commands. The pressure on McCormick was immense: he had to tread carefully in the use of paramilitary.
    A cold fact of the business was that while intel forfeited lives, it saved more. Yet, one case of poor intelligence could obscure all the preceding benefits... At the window he paused. The bearded eagle was circling overhead – likely it had sighted prey.
    Nevertheless, this present intel could not be ignored – the source was credible. And he had indicated that the Kohinoor comprised several documents, the General’s ‘lifelines’, one for each of the parties he dealt with, India, the US, even the Taliban. In which case, one of those documents might lead them to Babur the Butcher... On that thought McCormick swallowed down bitter bile that surged within him.
    Three years back a US soldier had gone over to the other side. He had gathered quite a following and, though a lone wolf, was thick with the Taliban on both sides of the AfPak border. Much like the one-eyed Mullah Omar who had galvanized them in the ‘90s, Babur Khan was riding the wave of popular sentiment against the invaders – them, and the Poppy Pashas, the Afghan businessmen who’d prospered on drug and arms trafficking. The Afghans had taken to calling him Badshah Khan – king of Khans. In the US army, he was infamous as Babur the Butcher.
    Six months back a US sergeant had gone missing. Apparently he was flayed alive by Babur and his skin was crafted into a drum. The report had never been verified but everyone believed it. The Commander had issued a gag order and thus far media had not got wind of it. The missing sergeant’s family had been told that the boy had vaporised in a bomb attack.
    McCormick exhaled loudly. The intel had to be acted upon, if only to gauge Babur’s involvement. What the General needed was someone who could track the Indian agents as they went on their quest.
    It was imperative to prevent another terror attack on India by the Taliban. It would escalate tensions between India and Pakistan, and the US needed Pakistan’s attention focused on assisting its war on terror in Afghanistan. And if, as the mole had indicated, the Kohinoor included documents pertaining to the US operation in AfPak, then McCormick wanted those. His mouth clenched in a firm line.
    Two months back a man had approached a CIA operative with the promise of information on Babur Khan that would lead to his capture and avert a planned attack. After he was checked out and found clean, a meeting was arranged with the CIA station chief at the Forward Operating Base in Khost. Scarcely had the team assembled when the man started muttering to himself in Pashto, reached inside his coat, and detonated a bomb that killed the station chief along with six other CIA officers.
    The