Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

“Your other cell phone,” Nick explained. “The one you kept in your pocket when I asked for your cell phones.”

Chapin hesitated too long. It seemed he was trying to decide how Nick could’ve known about the phone, or how much it mattered that he withheld the device. He looked at Matt who sat stone-faced, chewing on a piece of gum.

“What makes you think I have another cell phone?” Chapin asked, being somewhat evasive and putting the burden of proof on Nick.

Nick wasn’t in the mood for playing games. Not now. He leaned forward and glared at the agent. “Put the damn phone on my desk or I’ll have my partner rip your clothes off.”

Chapin turned to see Matt cross his legs. He offered a menacing grin.

Chapin reluctantly pulled a cell phone from the inside of his jacket pocket and placed it on the desk.

Nick grabbed the phone and tossed it to Stevie, who began to play with it.

Chapin paid too much attention to Stevie which added to Nick’s suspicions.

“Why the extra phone?” Nick asked.

“I don’t want my government to hear every conversation I have with my family,” Chapin said with a rehearsed tone.

Nick nodded. “I see.” He looked at Matt. “How many phones do you have?”

Matt held up his index finger.

“Stevie,” Nick said, “how many phones do you have?”

“One,” Stevie said, examining Chapin’s cell.

Nick returned his attention to Matt again. “Who tends to have more than one phone?”

“Drug dealers.”

“Who else?”

“Anyone who’s trying to hide something.”

Stevie came around the desk and handed the phone to Nick and pointed to something on the screen. Nick nodded while Stevie returned to the back of the room.

While examining the screen, Nick said, “Where does your family live, Mr. Chapin?”

The Border Patrol agent seemed to be thinking of the best answer to use in this situation. It certainly wasn’t going to be the truth, because the truth didn’t take that much time to consider.

Finally Chapin said, “Phoenix.”

“Then why is there only one phone number in your contact list and the number is a San Diego area code?”

Chapin gave it a few moments to mull over. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “It’s nothing sinister.”

“I’m listening,” Nick said.

Chapin bent over, groaned in pain, then came up with his gun, his eyes wild with fear. He pushed away from his chair and stood with the pistol trained on Nick.

“I’m getting out,” Chapin said.

“No you’re not,” Nick assured him.

“You can’t stop me,” Chapin said, a crazy delirium planted on his face. He whirled around and pointed the gun at Stevie.

Even though he knew it was coming, Nick winced as the gunshot rang out in the small room. Chapin howled, while clutching his bare hand. The same hand which held a gun moments earlier. Stevie quickly picked up Chapin’s gun from the floor.

By the time Nick came around the desk, Matt had already holstered his Glock. He was the quickest draw in the Bureau and possibly the nation. Nick examined the Border Patrol agent’s hand. It was red and scraped up, but nothing permanent. It was only Matt’s pinpoint accuracy which saved him.

Resigned to his fate, Chapin fell to his knees, grasped his damaged hand and began to sob. He curled up on the floor as the anguish oozed from his body in the form of tears and moans and undecipherable words.

Nick didn’t feel the least bit compassion for the man. He was certain Chapin was the reason Ricky and Jim were dead. The reason Nick had to call Nicole Hernandez and explain why he hadn’t kept his promise.

The office door opened and Decker stood there with two armed agents. He stared at Chapin as the agent moaned, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“We’ve got it under control,” Nick said, then slammed the door shut.

Matt opened the door and stuck his head out to say a few words, then pulled his head back and shut the door again.

“You stupid bastard?” Nick spat, standing over Chapin, every muscle taut and ready to unleash a fury of kicks. “How much did Garza pay to have my friends killed?”

“No,” Chapin uttered, his arms covering his head ready to be assaulted.

Nick got down to a knee and burrowed into the man’s face. “How much!”

“No,” Chapin murmured again. “She’s going to die.”

Nick looked at Matt who stood beside him with a quizzical expression.

“What did you say?” Nick asked.

Chapin found the strength to shove Nick and sit up against the wall. “My daughter,” he said staring at the ceiling. His breathing was labored and his head flopped to the side. A look of pure despair showed in his eyes. “Garza kidnapped her two weeks ago. He’s going to kill her if I don’t tell him everything.” He looked up at the three FBI agents. “She’s thirteen.”

“Shit,” Matt muttered.

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Nick said. “You’re a government agent. We would’ve brought our best people to handle it.”

Chapin rolled his eyes deliriously. “Yeah, right.” He pointed his thumb to the closed door. “Half the damn staff is on Garza’s payroll. He already knows you’re here.” Chapin covered his eyes. “She could be dead already.”

The agent was near catatonic. He was of no value to Nick in his current condition. Nick was certain Chapin was overstating Garza’s reach, but he understood the paranoia.

“You have no idea what you’re up against,” Chapin’s voice was weak and shallow. “He has connections everywhere.” With this, Chapin looked straight up at Nick with swollen eyes. “I’m serious. The guy has informants on both sides of the border. He’s unreachable. You can’t get to him. You have rules and regulations to follow. He doesn’t.”

Nick and Matt exchanges glances.

“He’s right,” Matt said, raising his eyebrows. “We need help outside of the agency.”

Nick understood the connotation. “I know. Walt suggested the same thing.”

“Then why not call him?”

Nick stuck his finger into the bullet hole Matt left in the drywall. “I tried. He’s out of the country. I’m not sure he has cell coverage.”

Matt shrugged. “All he’d have to do is make a few calls. He could get us information.”

Nick looked at the expression on Matt’s and Stevie’s faces, wanting him to contact his cousin Tommy like it was a call to Batman.

“Relax,” Nick said. “He’s in Africa somewhere. I’ll find a way to get him a message. In the meantime, let’s find another way to get Garza.”

In the corner of his eye, Nick could see Chapin wordlessly shaking his head, as if to himself. “You have no idea,” he whispered.

Nick looked up at Matt. “Have Decker call in three random agents.”

Matt cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because if there really are any other moles I want to know about it,” Nick said. Then he looked at the mess of flesh sitting quietly on the floor. The man who had Ricky and Jim killed. “Besides, if there are others, they’ll report to Garza that the entire building was interviewed and it won’t arouse any suspicion toward this asshole.”

“What do we do with him?” Matt asked.

Nick came to his feet and patted Matt’s shoulder. “First, we get his daughter back.”

The basement of the FBI’s Baltimore field office housed the most sophisticated War Room in the nation, which required an iris scan and a short elevator ride to gain access. The FBI’s information technicians worked long hours, so to avoid disorientation the walls were dotted with recessed TV monitors in the shape and position where windows would normally be placed. The monitors displayed the security images from the perimeter of the building with such clarity it felt like you were looking directly outside. Even the ceiling portrayed images of the actual sky above so the brain was fooled into believing it was in a ground floor office instead of fifty feet underground.