Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Deceit

“I dunno. Maybe somebody told him. Stop being a cop for a second and listen.”

Nick folded his arms.

“Well, anyway, I meet him and get the info he wants me to use on the license. I usually ask some questions to see what I’m getting myself into, but this guy cuts me off before I can even start. I never been eye-fucked like that before.”

Seville took another drag of his cigarette and pointed to Matt. “Is he like your trained monkey or what?”

Nick stretched out his arm and held Matt back as he came out of his seat, then he admonished Ray with a stare that forced his attention back to the floorboards.

Ray’s cigarette slowly shrank between his index and middle finger. “Shit, the guy was talking to me like I was a moron, telling me over and over where to make the drop. How long to wait. I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?”

Nick let that one go.

“He asked me everything under the sun, except if I know how to make a good dupe. I mean shit, the guy didn’t even haggle with my rate.” Ray dropped the cigarette stub to the floor and twisted it with his shoe. He blew out a lungful of smoke and seemed to be looking at something off in the distance. “He’s not from around here, I’d know. He’s a foreigner. He’s got some kind of accent, like one of those Iraqis you used to see interviewed on the news during the war. You know, one of those guys you always knew was lying just by his accent.”

Nick massaged his forehead. He could feel his arteries begin to constrict. “Let me get this straight,” Nick said. “You called for a meeting with the FBI because you forged a fake ID for someone with a Middle-Eastern accent? Is that right?”

Ray seemed to absorb what had just happened. “When you say it like that it makes me sound like I’m wasting your time or something.”

Nick waited and watched Ray shift around on the sofa. Finally, Nick said, “What are you not telling me?”

Ray looked up at Nick with a wrinkled forehead. It seemed as if he was trying to decipher the genetic code to the double helix.

“Isn’t that enough?” Ray said. “I mean, I already told you he’s a foreigner with an illegal drivers license. Shit, what else does a guy have to do to get arrested?”

Nick tried to figure out why someone like Ray would rat on anyone without motivation.

“You’re just being a good citizen, is that it?” Nick said.

“That too hard to believe?”

“Look, Ray, do you know why you’re a lousy poker player?”

“Huh?”

“Because you have a tell. Every time you’re bluffing you look to your right.” Nick pointed over his shoulder, “The guys inside don’t know why you do it, they just know it’s a tell. You look to your right, you’re bluffing. Me, I know why you do it. It’s because you’re using the right side of your brain to think. The creative side. Like right now you’re looking over my left shoulder. You’re getting creative with your memory. Don’t do it, Ray. For once in your life, tell me the truth.”

Ray stared blankly at Nick. “Are you shittin’ me? All this time I got a tell and nobody says nothing?”

“Are you going to tell me what really happened, Ray?”

Nick waited while Ray grappled with the chore ahead of him. Possibly dealing with the truth. Ray nodded to himself. With his head still hung low, he said, “I lent my car to my buddy Skeeter yesterday. It was the last time I saw him.”

“He’s missing?”

Ray shook his head. “Gone.”

“Gone?”

“He was blown to smithereens trying to start my car.”

Nick and Matt exchanged glances.

“The guy warned me about following him and I didn’t exactly listen. I was curious. I thought maybe I could scam some juice from him if I told him I knew who he was.”

Nick let out a breath. “Now we’re getting to it, aren’t we? You tried to shakedown someone out of your league and you want us to save your greedy ass.”

Ray looked bewildered. “No, no, it’s not like that.”

Nick slid a hand over his face and squeezed his eyelids until he saw stars, then he focused on the wiry mess sitting in front of him. “All right, Ray, who is he?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know exactly.”

“But you were going to try and extort money from him.”

“Now you got it,” Ray said. “Guy like that’s got to have a big identity.” He looked around the room for support, back and forth between stone-faced Matt and Nick. “Doesn’t he?” Ray finished.

The room was silent for a moment, allowing the slower brain cells to catch up. Finally, Nick said, “All right, Ray. Why don’t we start with what he looks like.”

“Pretty average I’d say.”

Nick blinked. “Ray.”

“All right, all right. He was a little taller than me, about five-eleven, dark hair. . shit, what am I doing?” Ray shoved his bony fingers into his jeans pockets and yanked out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Nick. “There he is. I made a copy of the photo before I gave it back to him.”

Nick slowly unfolded the paper, hoping for a lucky break. He didn’t get one.

Nick tossed the paper into Matt’s lap and watched his partner’s eyes go dark with anger.

“Who is it?” Ray said.

Nick said nothing. He had too many neurons firing all at once. The last time he saw Rashid Baser was eight months ago in a small village just outside of Istanbul. Rashid was lying on the ground with his hand pressed to his ear to stop the bleeding. Matt had fired a remarkable shot from 150 yards, allowing them to escape one of Rashid’s ambushes.

It was Nick’s job to expect the unexpected, but Rashid Baser in Baltimore was pushing the limits. Even for someone as brash as Rashid.

Nick looked down at Ray and thought he saw fear in his ignorant eyes. “How did he get in touch with you?”

“I told you, he called me.”

“Where? At home?”

“No, on my cell.”

“How did he get the number?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” Ray said, “I couldn’t get the guy to tell me nothing, man.” Ray looked up at Nick again and said, “Who is he?”

Nick let out a deep breath. “His name is Rashid Baser.”

Ray sank lower into the couch, getting swallowed up by the worn out cushions. In a small voice, he said, “He dangerous?”

Nick frowned. He thought about telling Ray that Rashid was the world’s greatest explosives expert. That he could turn a wristwatch into a bomb with little more than what you’d find in a typical shed. That he was an assassin. Maybe the purest human hunter on the planet. Instead, he said, “Yes, Ray, he dangerous.”

“He. .uh. .Al-Qaeda?” Ray asked.

Nick rolled his eyes. He wished he was a mindless Al Qaeda pawn. Someone who was just smart enough to take orders and just dumb enough to follow them. No, this was a real, shrewd threat. A bonafide hands-on terrorist who would manage to slip a snake into your pants pocket and then ask you for change.

“No,” Nick said. “He’s Kurdish. He’s not one of these guys that hides out in a cave and draws plans in the dirt. He does everything himself. And he’s good at what he does. Maybe the best.”

“What does he do?”

Nick was deep in thought. Rashid Baser. What would Rashid be doing here? He looked over at Matt and saw the same question going across his face.

“You think he came all the way here just for revenge?” Matt asked.

Nick shook his head. Partly because he didn’t believe it. Partly because he didn’t want to believe it.

“You said he’s the best,” Ray said. “The best what?”

“He kills people,” Nick said. “He’s good with a gun, but prefers to work with blades.”

“Blades?”

“Yes, blades.”

Ray involuntarily rubbed his neck.