Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Deceit

The bookends chuckled while Sal drew a finger across his throat, “I mean literally.”

Sal twirled long strands of pasta into a spoon, the image of headless Fred Wilson unable to slow his appetite. “Anyhow, our friend gets to thinking maybe this Arab has something to do with the bombings. You know, that whole one house in every state thing.”

Sal looked Tommy in the eye, as if to say “You see what I’m getting at here?”

Tommy nodded.

Sal waved his fork between Tommy and Silk. “You two get down there and find out what our friend knows. I want this rat bastard to pay for what he did to the Capelli’s. Capisce?”

Tommy stood and waited for his final instructions. Sal wiped his mouth. “I trust you, Thomas. I don’t need nothing from you but your word. Don’t come home until the Arab is dead.”

Tommy winked at Sal, then followed Silk out the door. It was standard procedure for Sal to request a finger or an ear as evidence that the hit was completed. But Sal had awarded Tommy with the ultimate show of respect. Trust.

Rashid’s patience was reaching its limit. Both the hardware store and Target were out of the batteries he needed and he was on his way to Wal-Mart to continue the search. Something about the stores made him uneasy. They both had plenty of AA and D batteries, but no C batteries. They were conspicuous in their absence. Rashid became suspicious of everyone he saw. Every movement in the corner of his eye became a concern. There was no way anyone could recognize him in a place like Payson, Arizona, even if they knew what to look for. He’d shaved his mustache and changed the color of his hair from dark to blond. Besides, if the government knew where to look, he’d be back in custody already. He had to control his emotions and get through this last chore before the next series of bombs could be transported. He’d hoped to avoid attention by spreading out the purchases among several stores, but he was running out of options. He parked the van in an empty row of parking spaces and decided to buy only twenty batteries this trip. He would come back tonight after the employees changed shifts and purchase the remaining thirty.

He was relieved to see a full shelf of C batteries and got up the nerve to purchase twenty-five of them. When he exited the store he spotted a thin, dark-haired man wearing a navy blue blazer, brand new blue jeans and shiny black boots. The man was just three or four steps behind him and he made no pretense to be ignoring Rashid. The man smiled at him as if he was about to begin a conversation. Rashid picked up his pace and when he reached the van he noticed the man had stopped in the middle of the parking lot and was scanning the grounds for onlookers. Rashid was so mesmerized by the man’s actions he didn’t notice the second man approaching from his blind spot. The man waited for Rashid to open the door and sit down before he jabbed him in his side with the long barrel of a silencer and said, “Get in the back.”

Rashid froze. He knew time was critical in these situations. The element of surprise was with his attacker for a few moments, but any sudden reversal of aggression would be just as surprising to the attacker. Something in the way the man held the pistol made him hesitate. The man was maneuvering a purple toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. While Rashid contemplated his counterattack, the man glanced around the near-empty parking lot, raised the gun an inch and said, “Goodbye, Rashid. Nice knowing you.”

“Okay,” Rashid blurted. He jumped off the drivers seat and scuttled into the windowless rear of the van. There were no seats, just a loose fitting carpet that slid under the quick moves of the two men entering the space. Rashid sat with his back to one wall and the man sat directly across from him, pointing the gun at him as if it were part of his hand. The passenger door opened and the other man sat in the passenger seat and began reading a newspaper like he was alone.

Rashid’s knife was taped to his back and he began to creep his right hand toward the weapon.

The man across from him inspected the austere interior of the van and said, “I like what you’ve done to the place, Rashid.”

The man reached into his pocket with his free hand, unfolded an eight-by-ten photo and held it in front of him. He switched his gaze between Rashid and the photo a few times then stuffed it back into his pocket.

“It looks like you a little, but you must’ve got fancy with the hair, eh?” the man said.

Rashid had no intention of speaking. The man could guess all he wanted, but Rashid wasn’t about to give him any answers. His mind raced, working out the escape plan. His knife would take too long to retrieve, he needed another option.

The man said, “Hey, relax. My name’s Tommy and that’s Silk.” Silk waved the back of his hand without ever looking up from his newspaper.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Tommy said. “I’m just here to give you a message. If I kill you then the message doesn’t get sent and I’ve wasted a lot of my time. Shit, a five-hour flight with headwinds and all. Just don’t give me a reason to do put you down.”

Something about Tommy’s mannerism had Rashid believing him, but it didn’t prevent Rashid from running through a plan of attack. The man in the front seat wasn’t even an issue, it was down to one-on-one and Rashid liked those odds, even without a weapon.

Tommy removed the purple toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at Rashid. “You Middle-Easterners think you’re real bad, don’t ya? Well, I’m not here to judge your methods. Shit, I don’t even give a crap what you’re all pissed off about. All I know is you guys killed a family in Maryland who was very dear to me and my friends. The name was Capelli and you morons killed them while they were sleeping. Cowardly, really. Anyway, I’m here to tell ya-don’t let it happen again. Don’t let any of those missile thingy’s find their way into any more Sicilian homes. Capisce?”

Rashid had read about the Capelli family and how they were considered one of the largest crime families on the east coast. It was a random pick, but Rashid had no regrets. Maybe that’s how these Sicilians operated? Maybe they sent messengers to protect their interests. He definitely wasn’t with the police or FBI, or Rashid would be on his way back to prison. And if he was there to kill him-why would he wait?

Something gnawed at Rashid. If these guys could find him, then someone else could too, and that would be devastating. As if Tommy could read his mind, he said, “Want to know how I found you?”

Rashid’s curiosity got the best of him, but he resisted the urge to nod. Even though Tommy kept calling him by his name, the man might still be guessing.

“Ever hear of something called tendencies?”

Rashid stayed motionless.

Tommy appeared amused. “Didn’t think so. You see my cousin is in law enforcement and recently I had a conversation with him about this situation. At first he gave me this long speech and told me not to be a vigilante and all that jazz, but he did tell me a lot about these things called tendencies. You won’t believe this, but you know when you go to the can when you first enter the joint, the FBI actually gets a fucking stool sample from you without you even knowing it. Wanna know why? They find out what kind of eating tendencies you have. Wanna know what they discovered?” Tommy waved a finger at him. “You have a sweet tooth, my friend. Chocolate to be exact. With nuts.”

Rashid winced as if Tommy had revealed some deep, dark secret. He noticed the gangster lower the gun into a more casual position in his lap. It was almost as if Tommy was daring him to make a move.

“Anyway,” Tommy continued, “another, more important tendency you have is your pattern for making bombs. Apparently you have a habit of using C batteries for your detonator devices. This isn’t that uncommon except you tend to purchase them shortly before you set the bombs. Maybe you like using fresh batteries, maybe you’re superstitious. I don’t know. So Silk here got the idea-see Silk, I’m giving you credit for that one.”