Chapter 332: Wednesday. Nour Delivery Service, Damascus, Syria.

RAFAT NOUR DIDN'T BELIEVE in coincidences.

He stroked his chin and stared out the window onto his domain.

This had never been his goal in life. He'd taken over the family shop selling rugs in his teens, expanded their store, opened others and had built a nice business before the conflict began. His business had died then, but not his means to make money. Smuggling had become a way of life. He worked with the government and military to move goods they couldn't get through normal channels, not with so many sanctions on their country. Rafat did good work.

But this business had an expiration date on it. In the future, the very hand of the government that allowed him to work freely would crush him in the name of honest commerce. Which was why Rafat had plans in place.

Plans that were now slipping through his fingers.

"Sir?" A man hovered in the doorway leading to Rafat's office.

"The soldiers didn't find anything?" Calling them in had been a calculated move on his part.

"No, sir."