The laughs and general uproar drown out the actual answer, and I can only guess at what it is.
By now Drummer’s back at the bar and banging the glass again, once, then twice more. When the room finally quiets, he says, “Moving on. I’ve been asked to hand over to Pip right now.” His mouth twists in distaste as he turns to face our ex-prez. “What have you got to say for yourself?”
Pip stands and starts to pace. He doesn’t look as sure of himself as he usually does. “Last night,” he begins, rubbing his hands through his hair, “we questioned our prisoner, Gun.” He turns to me. “I’m sorry, Stormy. I, er—”
“It was too important to get answers,” Snatcher interrupts without remorse. “At the time, Stormy was just a prospect.”
The old me would have been irate. The new me remembers waking up with Cat. I wave it off knowing which I’d prefer. “What did you get out of him?”
“A fuckin’ lot.” Swift smirks. “He thought he could resist seeing that he was a former SEAL.”
I grin. He’d clearly met his match with a woman who qualified for the British SAS.
Pip’s glances at Swift, then back to myself. “What we learned is that I fucked up, Brother. I made mistakes.”
He’s got my attention, and everyone else’s. His eyes now alight on Drummer. “I was arrogant. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken over the club. Maybe I should have helped Snatcher out of his mess with the mafia, then stepped back. But I saw a use for the men, and a way to use the chapter. I changed my name, changed my appearance, but in order to obtain contracts, I had to maintain some contacts. One of those was with Admiral Hillier.”
As Drummer growls at Pip’s admission, I shake my head. “Hillier’s straight,” I say. Nothing would convince me otherwise.
“Damn right he is,” Pip confirms. “But there are leaks everywhere. You asked me once, Stormy, why the insurgents in Afghanistan wanted to maintain a US presence. Why when it seemed we were preparing to pull troops out, something always happened which led to our soldiers staying there?”
“I thought we’d come up with the reason. The drug trade.” That had made some sort of sense.
“And we weren’t wrong. Drugs, yes. Women too.” Pip inclines his chin toward Swift. “Once the enforcer started to ply the tricks of her trade, Gun gave everything up. A fuckin’ tale of intrigue and betrayal.”
“Spit it out,” Drummer growls.
“Equipment.” Pip lets the word hang in the air for a moment. “Arming insurgents by taking in extra weaponry and selling it to them.”
I stiffen. That’s worse than running drugs or women. That’s… “Treason.”
“Exactly. And I didn’t fuckin’ consider it. I thought of things coming out, but not going in. And, at first, I considered someone like Jeffrey Morgan, Gun as you know him, running it. It took me a while to realise it went higher than him, and that there was only one person it could be Smythe. Sure, Smythe’s in it up to his neck. And Gun wasn’t the only man working for him.”
That doesn’t make sense. “Smythe doesn’t know how to find his asshole,” I scoff. “He’s no mastermind.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s not a combat man, but put him in charge of logistics, and he’s a fuckin’ genius. So what did I do? I put two and two together, and ended up with a negative number. I got him Stateside and into a desk job, which provided him with everything he needed to keep his scam going. Gun was one of his men on the ground, making sure, even at the expense of sacrificing his team, that the US maintained a base in the area.”
Smythe?
“They got rid of the team?” Fuck, Tailor, Buster, Slice and the new team members, they hadn’t deserved that. Dying a hero in a foreign land is accepted, being culled by your own side because you were inconvenient. Fuck that. “Gun dead?” I snarl, hoping he isn’t. Hoping I’d have my chance with him.
“I made sure he died screaming.” Swift raises her head. The coldness in her eyes shows she’s telling me the truth.
But fuck it. That was my kill. I push my rage back down, proud that my voice sounds calm when I get back to questioning Pip. “Does it stop with Smythe, or does it go higher?” Just how big is this nest of vipers?
“Smythe. And you might like to know something else.” Pip turns to Honor, who passes him a photograph. He hands it to me. “This is Smythe’s wife.”
Automatically I take the picture and stare at it. There’s something familiar about it. She’s very young, not Caucasian, her skin is darker, her eyes almost black. Her lips, her cheeks, something about the shape of her nose… it looks familiar. I narrow my eyes. Nah, unfortunately people of the same race tend to look the similar, and people of colour would say that about white people. That must be what it is, but it’s almost like I’m looking at a younger Nazia.
“It can’t be Nazia,” I tell him. “She’s dead.”
He raises an eyebrow. Suddenly dots fall into place. “Marjan?” At his nod, I swear loudly. “Fuck that. She’s only, what, sixteen?”
“They’ve been married four years. He went out on one of his visits—about the time you were last there, Stormy. That’s why Nazia did what she did, to try to save Marjan. That’s why she was killed before she could be questioned. She needed to do something, and hoped she’d get your attention. She wanted to speak to you, thought you might help.”
“Why the fuck would Smythe want an underage kid for a wife?” Except for the obvious, that he’s twisted, it makes no fucking sense.
Pip grimaces. “It’s a convoluted story. Nazia and Marjan were daughters of an influential Afghan leader, one who hadn’t been on our radar, a powerful man who’d stayed behind the scenes. He even acted a part as a member of our friendly forces. Smythe’s original plan was to kill them to ensure a major escalation in hostilities. Instead, you saved them. Smythe, proving he was clever, took the credit for them being alive. Working behind the scenes, Gun discovered the girls’ father was responsible for distributing the weapons they were supplying. To say Smythe isn’t a trusting man is an understatement. He needed something to hold over the father, something that if he was captured, would keep him quiet. So, he took his daughter. To make it legit, he married her.”
“She was, is, just a kid.” I say horrified. No wonder Nazia did something to try to get attention.
“I’m sorry, Stormy. I put Smythe in the position that allowed him to do all this. I should have looked deeper. But like you, I saw a man who couldn’t hack it at the front line so removed him, then forgot about him.”
“He’s dead,” I say, coldly. I’m going to make it my life’s mission to find him, kill him, and give Marjan back her life. I hadn’t been able to save Nazia, but I could save her sister.
“He will be.” Pip states in a voice full of promise. He stops pacing and retakes his chair.
His hand waves toward Swift as though giving her permission to speak. She takes advantage. “Pip asked why Gun orchestrated my kidnapping. We all know it was to bring Pip out into the open, but not why.” She throws what can be interpreted as a look of disgust at the man who so recently we all called Prez.