Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Revenge

“I’m fine, Sir.”

“Well, I have Hearns, Fisk and Himes with me today. We’re discussing strategy over here.”

Nick sat back in his chair and watched Matt swipe half of his sandwich and stare down at the map.

“How can I help?” Nick asked.

“Budarry has deployed fighter pilots over the western edge of Kurdistan.”

“Near Karliova?”

“Exactly. There’s also a tank and a covered truck on the way there right now. You see what’s going on?”

“I can guess.”

“Good. That’s what I need to know. If the KSF headquarters is threatened by a severe attack, maybe even Barzani’s family, would that be enough to dissuade Barzani from detonating a bomb here in the states?”

Nick sighed. “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, Sir. But Temir Barzani has just murdered every single KSF soldier in his crew, including his longtime personal security guard. The man has no soul. Threats to the KSF or his family are futile.”

There was no reply. Some distorted voices in the background muttered sounds of discontent.

“Well, Nick, that’s pretty straightforward. That leads me to my next question. How close are we to finding Barzani?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s had six months to prepare for this moment,” Nick said. “That’s the part that bothers me.”

“What are we missing?”

“We’ve got every available law enforcement officer on the street. I’m getting information emailed to me every five or ten minutes. We’ll figure it out, Sir. I just need enough time.”

“How does two hours and fifteen minutes sound?”

Nick looked up at the clock on the wall. That’s when the President’s speech was scheduled. “That sounds just fine, Mr. President.”

“Nick, you’ve saved my bacon once before. Am I going to the well one too many times to ask you to do it again?”

Nick suddenly found himself sitting upright. “No, Sir, of course not.”

“You understand I need to do what’s best for the country, not necessarily what’s best for Arizona.”

Nick didn’t need to respond to that. He understood the reference.

“You have my private cell number, right?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Good. Then use it, the minute you have Barzani.”

“Will do, Sir.”

“Oh, and Nick, do me a favor will you?” There was a smile in the President’s voice. “Don’t wait until the last minute, okay? My heart isn’t what it used to be.”

“Neither is mine, Sir.”

Matt was downing his third cup of coffee when he hung up the phone with Walt Jackson. Nick was barely keeping his eyes open, so Matt told him to take a ten minute cat nap on the couch. He’d let Nick go twenty since he was snoring in less than two minutes. Now, he went over and gave him a gentle kick.

Nick woke startled. His head jerked up, immediately grabbed his shoulder and winced from the unexpected jolt.

“Sorry,” Matt said. “We have less than an hour.”

Nick got up and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Matt heard the water running. A minute later, Nick returned with his hair sopping wet while rubbing it with a cloth towel.

“Where were we?” Nick asked with a yawn.

Matt was already on a knee organizing his duffle bag with the gear he needed. “I just got off the phone with Walt,” Matt said. “One of Ken’s goons just did a number on Semir and got him to admit their plan involved a giant flood.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Matt got up and pretended he was about to slap Nick’s face. “Wake up. I just got off the phone with Walt ten seconds before I kicked you. There’s a helicopter waiting for us at the hospital to take us to Hoover Dam. We can still make it before Merrick’s speech.”

Nick threw his towel onto the couch, grabbed his cell phone from his desk and said, “Let’s go.”

As they made it out the front door, a Salt River Project truck was idling next to the sheriff’s car, side-by-side, the driver’s side doors lining up. The SRP worker was leaning out his window and talking to Stevie Gilpin who was already behind the driver’s seat of the sheriff’s car with a giant box next to him in the passenger seat.

Matt opened the back door to the sheriff’s car for Nick to get in.

Nick went up to the SRP driver and said over the noise of the loud diesel engine, “You’re a little late for the party. We’ve already got things figured out. There may be a terrorist trying to bomb Hoover Dam. You might want to warn any employees up there to stay above the water line.”

The man said nothing. He did nothing. He simply rubbed his bald head and stared, like he was in deep thought.

Nick was almost in the car when he turned back and saw the man remaining still.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nick asked.

The man shut off his engine and the world became quiet.

“Are you telling me there’s a nuclear weapon near Hoover Dam?” the man said.

“No, it’s not nuclear.”

The man nodded, but stayed completely unfazed.

“What’s wrong?” Nick said.

“I’m the head engineer at SRP. And pardon my frankness, Sheriff, but I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

That’s when Nick’s expression changed, like a hunting dog with his ears perked up. Matt had only seen the expression a couple of times in his career. He’d never questioned its genesis, but he knew enough to let it play out. He slammed the back door shut and joined Nick between the two vehicles.

Nick cocked his head. “What do you know about Hoover Dam?”

“A lot,” the man said. “I know more about Arizona’s dams than anyone in the country.”

“Nick, we’ve got to go,” Stevie said, urgently.

Nick waved him off. “Go ahead and go,” he said. “I’m staying here.”

Stevie looked at Matt and saw him nod his approval.

“All right, guys,” Stevie said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

The car spit up gravel as it took off for the hospital.

The man got out of his car and shook hands with both agents. He was trim and clean-cut, with jeans and blue collared shirt. “Chase Benton,” he said.

“Nick Bracco.”

“Matt McColm.”

“Now,” Nick said, “tell me why I don’t know what I’m talking about when I say Hoover Dam is about to be bombed.”

“Well, it’s just that Hoover Dam is over six-hundred feet thick. Made of the most durable concrete ever produced. What type of material do you suspect this terrorist is using?”

“Semtex.”

Benton shook his head. “There isn’t enough Semtex in the world capable of taking down Hoover Dam.”

“How can you be so sure?” Matt asked.

“Because,” Benton smiled broadly, “I did a thesis on the possibility of such an attack in grad school. It was right after September 11 thand the next terrorist target was on everyone’s mind back then. My theory concluded that nothing less than a nuclear weapon could cause it to crack.”

The man’s demeanor oozed experience. He spoke as if he were a professor addressing his students.

Matt felt a sense of anticipation building. He looked down at his cell phone. There was less than thirty minutes before the President’s speech and Barzani’s direct response.

Nick took the lead. “We found samples in the shoes of some of these terrorists which were compatible with water found around dammed water. Chlorine and a certain type of moisture which gave us the conclusion it was Hoover Dam.”

Benton nodded. “That sounds plausible, but you may have the wrong dam.”

“Here’s the thing,” Matt said. “We know this terrorist very well. Temir Barzani. He’s not exactly going to bring down a dam just to cause long term hardship on a community or even a state. Now, we did some research on this, and Hoover Dam would cause more destruction and loss of life than any other target. It’s not even close.”