Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Revenge

“They may be residents of Turkey, Mr. President, but I assure you they are not representing our nation in any way.”

“But you have the ability to do something about them.”

“Sir, I promise you we have done-”

“Do more.”

“Mr. President, you must understand, these are not reasonable people. They will not adhere to any agreement.”

Merrick came to his feet and began a slow pace behind his desk. “I’m going to tell you something Mr. Ciller. I can relate to the Kurds here. These people deserve a place to call home. A territory of their own.” He turned in time to see the ambassador’s face cringe.

“And I have come to an important decision,” Merrick continued his methodical pace back and forth, hands in his pockets. “I’m considering the withdrawal of our peacekeeping troops in Turkey at the first of the year.”

This had the ambassador on his toes, leaning forward in his chair, almost ashen.

Merrick paused, arching an eyebrow. “Does that concern you?”

“Mr. President, please. This is such a radical move. Don’t you think you should consult with the Prime Minister before making such a bold decision?”

Merrick stopped to look outside the bulletproof window. From his vantage point he could see over the south lawn to the Rose Garden. The view helped to calm him. Nick Bracco was the FBI agent who stopped the last session of terrorist attacks on American soil and Merrick was in no mood to allow the KSF another chance to murder him. Before he even knew what he was doing Merrick was rolling up his sleeves, involuntarily, his temper rising with the thought of his best terrorist agents becoming targets.

Merrick turned and saw the concern on the ambassador’s face.

“The United States could be a very good friend to have, Mr. Ciller.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“And good friends tend to be there when you need them.”

“Yes,” came the anxious voice.

“Well, Mr. Ciller, should Turkey decide they need America to be it’s close ally, they need to act like it.”

The ambassador nodded.

“Because you don’t want America to become that friend who merely sends you a Christmas card each year detailing what their family has done over the past twelve months.”

The ambassador shook his head.

Merrick leaned over his desk, fists on the wooden structure, jaw tight, the American flag over his right shoulder. “Temir Barzani is in our country killing our government agents. I need you to tell the Prime Minister that I’ve run out of patience. You either sign a peace agreement with the Kurds, or find a way to diffuse Barzani’s power here in the states.”

“Mr. President …” the ambassador stopped when he saw Merrick tilt his head in a disapproving manner. He seemed to know he’d spoken too soon.

“Or I will remove our troops and put you on our Christmas card list,” Merrick said in a low controlled voice.

The ambassador said nothing “Go Mr. Ciller. Go tell the Prime Minister about our meeting here.”

Ciller got to his feet. He seemed to question whether to shake Merrick’s hand, then decided not to. As he backed away from the President, he seemed appropriately shaken up.

Merrick raised his eyebrows. “It’s time to get creative, Mr. Ambassador.”

The ambassador nodded and appeared to understand what the President was suggesting.

“Yes, Mr. President.”

When the ambassador turned to leave, he kept nodding, with an expression of comprehension on his face. Merrick was glad to see that because he had no idea what he himself meant by the comment. He’d only hoped Mr. Ciller was frightened enough to translate effectively.

• • •

Matt allowed the Iron Mountain team to interrogate Semir Jetake, which he knew would do nothing but buy him time to strategize. Buck Martin and two of his commandos had Semir handcuffed and on his knees in a subservient position, while they grilled him for information. Matt and Tommy stood twenty yards away and watched the proceedings with disgusted expressions while Jennifer Steele and Luke Fletcher checked their cell phones for messages.

“He really thinks that guy is gonna squeal on his terrorist buddies?” Tommy asked.

Matt grimaced as Buck backhanded Semir’s face. “He’s stuck in his ways. Nothing I say is going to change his mind.”

“Well, someone better,” Tommy said. “Or that kid’s gonna get killed for nothing.”

The two of them watched Buck spit into Semir’s face.

Matt shook his head. “He’s making it worse. We need to shake these guys before they start using loudspeakers to announce their intentions.”

Tommy waved his hand at the soldiers surrounding Buck. “You gonna pick a fight with those guys?”

Matt was outnumbered, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch them murder the young Kurd just because Buck’s team had immunity. He looked around at the faces of Buck’s men and realized who they were. They’d all joined the service for the right reasons and Matt hoped those reasons still lurked beneath the surface.

He approached the interrogation and briskly yanked Semir to his feet. “Let me take a crack at this,” he said.

“Do your best, Agent McColm,” Buck sneered.

Matt pulled Semir away from the circle, dragging him into the nearby woods and shoving him up against a tree. With a menacing expression he whispered, “You have a question you haven’t asked yet.”

Blood trickled down the side of Semir’s face while his eyes roamed wildly.

Matt showed him clenched teeth and gripped the kid’s shirt with both hands. He pulled Semir close, inches from his face. In a threatening hush, he murmured, “Don’t you want to speak with an attorney?”

Semir seemed disoriented. He simply shook his head, appearing leery of Matt’s intention.

Matt would’ve rolled his eyes if he didn’t have to look so intimidating.

“Semir,” Matt whispered, “I’m trying to help you here. If you ask for an attorney I can take you away from this maniac.”

The young soldier took rapid breaths and looked into Matt’s eyes as if the answer might be right there for him.

“This is not a trick question, Semir. If you want I’ll give you back to the old man and let him finish you off. Otherwise, you ask me for an attorney and I’ll take you into custody. You get to live. Maybe even see your two little boys again.” Matt lowered his head and winked.

Semir swallowed hard. He looked over at Buck and watched the guy standing there with his thick arms crossed, examining every move. With the slightest of voices, he said, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

He looked back and forth between Buck and Matt as if gauging his options. He was clearly under duress and not thinking properly.

He managed to whisper, “I would like an attorney.”

Matt jumped back and slapped his hands together in disgust. “Shit.”

“What?” Buck asked.

Matt looked over at the group with rage on his face, then pointed to Semir. “Tell them what you just said.”

Sweat saturated the boy’s temple as he danced in place, his hands still tight behind his back. “I would like an attorney?” he asked with complete uncertainty.

Buck placed his hands on his hips and glared at Matt. “Oh really? That just came to him?”

“Hey,” Matt said, grabbing Semir by the back of his shirt and heading down a path toward their car. “He’s got rights. I’ll take him in and get a statement.”

“Hold it,” Buck barked.

Matt didn’t hesitate. He threw Semir to the ground, then marched over to Buck, sensing the machine guns coming into a ready position around him.

“I trained at Fort Bragg,” Matt said looking around at the commandos, letting them know he’s one of them. Special Forces. A brotherhood that didn’t wash off even after you were discharged. Then he took in Buck’s glare. He gestured toward Semir on his knees. “He’s coming with us. We’re going to question him using the techniques allowed under the Constitution.” He looked around again at the soldiers. “You remember the Constitution, right? Remember that oath you all took to defend it? Because I remember it. It was our creed. So if you’re going to shoot me go ahead. I’m not afraid of dying. Just try living the rest of your lives with cold-blooded murder on your conscience.”