Monk (K19 Security Solutions 7)

“The Islamic fundamentalists in Buenaventura, Columbia, have done a good job covering their tracks to this point. There is no history of money transfers. However, today I found out why.”

Mercer pointed to several of the transactions on the printouts. “Without monitoring the activity every day, we would’ve missed these. The transactions are purged at the close of business.”

Striker shook his head. “There’s no end to what Ghafor could do with this kind of money.”

Mercer looked directly at Striker. “We have to stop him. I don’t think we can afford to wait any longer.”

“I agree,” said Monk, even though no one had asked his opinion.

“Do we act before or after Bogotá?” Razor again directed the question at Striker.

“After. It’s likely the last chance we’ll have to find out who’s running the show in Buenaventura.”

“Roger that,” said Razor, returning to the monitors with Monk. “An

y leads yet?” he asked Mercer.

“Not yet, but catching the money was the first step. Now that I have, I can start tracing it.”

“Got a minute?” Striker asked Monk.

Monk nodded. What the fuck else did he have to do that was more important than this?

“It can’t be as simple as the Colombian fundamentalists supplying the Islamic State leader with the kind of money Mercer’s talking about. They’d never be able to raise as much cash as has been transferred today, not to mention how many other days similar amounts have been moved.”

Monk agreed. More likely, the money was coming from someone with much deeper pockets. There were two possibilities. First, one of the drug cartels was supplying the money. Second, any country that considered the United States an enemy, and there were too many of those to count. It could be anywhere from Venezuela to Russia.

“Who’s going with you to Bogotá?” Mercer came into the hallway and asked.

“Ranger and Diesel, along with Onyx and Corazón in the cockpit.”

“Get in and out as quickly as you can,” said Mercer. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“FUCK,” said Razor, ending a call on his phone. “Juan Carlos is dead.”

The Cuban Striker was on his way to meet with. “Any other intel?” Monk asked.

Razor shook his head. “Jimenéz told him personally.”

“Did they meet?”

“They are now. He’s got Ranger and Diesel with him to do reconnaissance.”

“What about Onyx and Corazón?”

“Still with the plane.”

Monk turned back to the monitors. There was something about Corazón that didn’t sit right with him. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with her when he stayed on the plane with her and Onyx, but it didn’t take a lot of time to get a bad feeling about someone.

Monk turned back around to face Razor, glad no one else was downstairs with them. “How well do you know Descanso?”

“Not well.”

“She vetted okay?”

Razor walked over and sat beside him. “Talk to me, Monk.”

He told Razor his opinion of her. “I can’t say it’s anything specific.”