Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

“Nope,” Chizek said. “This is strictly the administrative wing of the building.”

“I see,” Nick said, following the tracks to the massive door and shining the light outside. “What’s the loading dock for then?”

Chizek hesitated before answering that.

Nick looked at him.

“We throw parties sometimes,” Chizek shrugged. “We need a wide access for our deliveries. Sometimes we’ll have a band play for the Christmas party.”

“Now who’s the fiction writer?” Nick said.

Chizek’s face became even wider, showing Nick a mouthful of teeth.

Stevie was back at the microscope, eyeing the remote again. “I think I know what’s going on,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s a four digit number, but the first three are the same, that’s why they’re so worn. The fourth number is different for each command.”

Chizek’s smile vanished.

“Go on,” Nick said. “I’m listening.”

“Well, if I’m right about this,” Stevie said, taking the remote and holding it out in front of him. “I simply need to find the correct sequence for the first three digits, then keep trying a different fourth until I come up with a match.”

Chizek lost his enthusiasm altogether. He seemed to be checking out an exit strategy, but Matt was paying close attention.

Stevie played with the remote, pressing a sequence of numbers, then glancing around the room for activity.

Nothing.

“You look worried,” Nick said to Chizek.

The man stood there like a trapped squirrel.

Stevie tried a new sequence.

Nothing.

Nick pointed to Chizek and said to Matt, “Get him wrapped up, so we don’t waste any time.”

“You’re playing with fire, Agent Bracco,” Chizek said, taking a step back.

Chizek’s henchman also seemed concerned, but kept still.

“You need to work on your threats,” Nick answered, examining the room for movement every time Stevie tried a new sequence.

Matt secured the large man to a stool, wrapping his legs around the legs of the stool, then needing both arms to drag his bulk along the cement floor until he reached the refrigerator. He handcuffed the man to the handle of the fridge, then followed Stevie’s attempts.

Stevie held out his arm each time he imputed a new series of numbers. Now, he held it out and said, “Shhh.”

“What?” Nick asked.

“I hear something.”

Stevie repeated the sequence into the remote, then stood still. There was a distant creaking noise. Chizek pulled at his bindings, making noise as he rubbed the handcuffs against the refrigerator door.

Matt pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Chizek with an angry glare.

Chizek stopped.

Stevie did it again.

Again a scraping sound.

Finally, Matt pointed out the window. “There.”

The front gate was opening.

Stevie smiled.

Nick’s heart raced. He knew they were onto something. He pulled out his pistol and checked out his surroundings. He felt like they were being watched.

“Okay, Stevie,” Nick said. “Next number.”

Matt was on his toes now, prowling around the room with his Glock ready to go.

This time there was a single click coming from the entrance of the building.

Stevie pressed the buttons again and the same click. Matt went over toward the front door and gestured for Stevie to hit it again.

Click.

“It’s the lock on the front door,” Matt said from the darkness. “Try the next one.”

Stevie held out the remote and pressed the buttons.

The balls on the pool table began to tremble, then roll to the north side of the table. The floor seemed to move beneath their feet. The table itself began to shake and quiver as it rose from the cement, the hydraulic lift churning beneath it to move the massive piece of slate and wood.

Nick felt his pocket to see if he had any pills left. None. He could feel his head throb as the lift reached the pinnacle of it journey. The pool table stopped and exposed a giant opening in the earth below.

Nick crept up to the opening with wobbly steps, his gun out, his eyes peeled for the slightest movement. Matt was there instantly. He shined his flashlight down and said, “Oh my.”

There was a fairly wide tunnel in complete darkness, with an electric lift at the bottom and a metal ladder running down the side. Nick added his light to the mix, finding a pallet full of packages. His head pounded with needle-sharp pain when he spotted the Zutons’ wolf face logo wrapped around each package.

“See that?” he said.

“I see it,” Matt said. He reached back into Stevie’s bag and tossed a pair of night vision goggles to Nick, then slipped on his own pair. Before Nick could figure out a plan, his partner was climbing down the metal stairs, his gun out.

Nick grabbed Matt’s arm and was shaken off with lightning speed, like trying to hold back a hungry lion with a string-thin leash.

“Matt, wait,” Nick said.

“Wait, my ass.” Matt scowled at him. “I’ve waited too long already.”

Nick knew this was coming. Matt was below ground before he could react.

“Shit,” Nick said, slipping on night vision goggles and heading down the ladder. Just before he went below, he said to Stevie. “You stay here and watch these guys. Don’t come down no matter what.”

“Do I call Walt?” Stevie asked.

Nick was three steps down the ladder, then came back up and said, “Yeah, call Walt.”

Matt was down in just seconds, Nick close behind, wanting to stop him, but realizing now their biggest commodity was silence. They had obviously found Garza’s conduit to the United States and needed stealth to survive the discovery. He glanced quickly at the pallet of packages. Cocaine. Maybe half a ton.

Matt crept up against the wall and Nick mirrored his pace against the opposite side. As they moved away from the opening, the night vision goggles kicked into gear. Through the lenses, the green image showed a highly sophisticated passageway with wooden floors and a rail system to transport drugs into the country.

They took slow steps as they advanced down the tunnel. The air was musty and cool. The passage was wide and tall enough to move without crouching. As they moved deeper into the tunnel, the light began to dissipate. Even the night vision goggles were needing more illumination. Matt gently snapped his fingers and pointed to his headset. Nick understood. He turned on his infrared illuminator to intensify their ability to see.

In the middle of the rail, an object came into view. Matt was a few steps ahead of him and he was pointing furiously at the object. After a couple of steps, Nick saw that it was a cart. Inside the cart sat an object the size of a large guitar case. Except it was wrapped in black tape.

The bomb.

For a moment, Nick thought they should get the bomb out of there and finish their mission. But the moment passed as Matt’s silhouette faded into the darkness. As much as his partner was blinded by revenge, he couldn’t leave him down here by himself.

Nick kept his head on a swivel, keeping his eyes as far ahead as the lenses would allow, but watching the wall as well, looking for an ambush. Matt’s pace began to quicken and Nick felt they were being lured somehow, as if Garza knew they would be coming eventually.

The tunnel was deadly quiet. Their footsteps creaked slightly with each step. Something up ahead moved. Matt held up his hand and Nick stopped. The noise was coming toward them. Nick squinted, but saw nothing. Getting closer now, Nick squeezed the handle of his gun, ready to fire.

The movement came at him quickly, low, at his feet. He nearly fired his gun, before capturing the image of a rat scampering along the side of the wall, bristling against his pant leg as it scurried between his feet. Matt had already tracked the rat with his pistol and shook his head as Nick tried to get his breathing under control. He looked back and saw how far they’d gone from the opening, realizing they would be passing over the border soon.