Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Deceit

The room remained silent for a few dreary moments. Grown men looking at each other with sorrowful eyes. Suddenly, the unethical cloud that hung over the assortment of criminals and policemen seemed to lift. Opposite sides of the law began to merge like in-laws for a family crisis. Nick made eye contact with Don Silkari and the both of them shook their heads at each other in disbelief of what was happening to them. To their country. Their homes.

Finally, Sal Demenci broke the silence. He cemented the accord with a sentiment that connected every man in the room. “Kids,” he said, with a mouthful of disdain. “The bastards are killing our kids.”

Louis Dutton’s mobile chirped. He answered, spoke a couple of brief words and hung up. “We’ve got a lead,” he said. He looked at Sal with something approaching a grin and said, “Let’s go do something with it.”

Julie looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty and the rain was slapping the windshield so hard visibility was a chore. She’d made little conversation with Agent Ford. This seemed to suit the man since he made no attempt at small talk. Julie spent her time gazing out of her window as residential streets turned into tree-lined corridors. She’d lived in Maryland all of her life, but wasn’t familiar with the roads she’d seen tonight.

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “where exactly are we going?”

Agent Ford kept his attention on the obscure dash in the middle of the road. “Someplace where you will be safe.”

“How far away is it?”

Agent Ford sighed. “Not much longer,” he said.

He was evasive, which was typical for an FBI agent, but he seemed to get edgier with every question she asked. The deeper into the wilderness they got, the less cordial he became.

There was a faint knock from under her seat. It sounded like a tire had flung a rock into the undercarriage of the car. She listened intently for a few minutes, but there was nothing more.

There were very few cars on the road and it disquieted her, although she wasn’t sure why. The car slowed as Agent Ford appeared to be searching for a marker of some sort, peering back and forth as if he’d become lost.

“Can I help you find something?” she asked.

Agent Ford ignored her, maintaining a hyperactive inspection of his surroundings.

Then, the knock again. This time it seemed to come from behind her.

“Did you hear that noise?” she asked.

Agent Ford sounded annoyed. “No, I don’t hear anything.”

Again a thump sounded, only louder this time. “That noise,” she said. “You can’t hear it?”

Agent Ford made eye contact with her through the rear view mirror. It was a look that forced her into a quick breath.

Another loud thump sent her nerves into overdrive. It wasn’t the thump that unnerved her as much as the reaction from the FBI Agent driving the car. He seemed annoyed, as if Julie was causing the noise.

“Certainly you heard that,” she insisted.

“Yes,” Agent Ford said with a perfunctory nod.

“What do you think it is?”

“I know what it is,” he said. But he stopped there. Why was he being so coy?

It dawned on her that she was locked in the back seat of an FBI vehicle. Which meant she was locked inside the car without any means of escape. The man was leering at her now through the mirror. This was not the way an agent treated another agent’s wife. Something was very wrong.

There was one way to find out if her worst fears were being realized. “Listen,” she said, “I. . uh, what was your first name again?”

A hesitation, then, “Wesley.”

“Wesley,” she continued, casually, as if she hadn’t caught the misnomer, “is there something wrong with the car?”

He mumbled something about a wheel bearing, but she didn’t hear a word. Instead, she heard her husband’s voice telling her the Agent’s real name. William. Her world seemed to stop. She thought about Nick, about how they would never get to have a child together. How she’d never be a mother and watch her husband push their kids on the swing in the backyard, as promised. Nick was going to leave the Bureau and they would be safe, and everything was going to be all right. But not anymore and she knew it.

When her eyes met the stranger’s again in the rear view mirror, she thought she saw uncertainty. He wasn’t sure whether she had made him or not. She remembered something that Nick had told her years ago, when they were still dating. He was worried about her teaching in a public school in a rough section of the city. If she was ever in a situation where she was about to become a victim, strike the first blow. An attacker is never prepared for a woman to be aggressive. It sets them back. She thought it was peculiar advice from a law enforcer. She’d always read the best method of survival was to acquiesce.

But Nick was used to dealing with a different type of criminal, and she had a feeling it was exactly the sort of assailant she was dealing with now.

She stealthily removed her belt and re-looped it in front of her, low and out of sight. She slid her cell phone from her purse and glimpsed down at it just long enough to see where the redial button was, then quickly returned her attention to her driver. She knew Nick was the last person she had called and she was sufficiently frightened enough to call him back.

When her thumb pressed down on the redial button, the tiniest of beeps sounded. The man swiveled his head, saw the device in her hand, and snatched it from her with adroit swiftness. He rolled down the window, tossed it out, and shut the window.

“You’re not supposed to be using that thing. It could be traced.” The man said, searching her face for a reaction.

The banging became louder. Before she could think about what she was saying, she asked, “What in the world is that noise, really?”

He heaved a reluctant sigh. She thought she saw relief on his face. “It’s Agent Ford. He’s locked in the trunk.” The man shrugged, “I guess he’s no longer unconscious.”

Julie tensed. Her stomach began to cramp up. The thumping was constant and had developed a desperate cadence. The car was on the shoulder now, spitting up gravel. The man masquerading as Agent Ford, searched for an opening in the trees. With the rain pounding the hood, Julie couldn’t tell if there was a dirt road ahead, or just a path in the woods.

The man’s eye’s briefly smiled back at her through the narrow slit of the reflection. This time she could detect a slight accent. “You’re going to be our hostage, Mrs. Bracco. Stay calm and you won’t be hurt. Do something stupid, and I’ll cause you pain that you couldn’t imagine in your wildest nightmare.”

Julie knew she had to act now or become a casualty. His threat was meant to buy him time. He expected her to be paralyzed with fear and she knew the minute the car was away from the road, she was a casualty.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The man paid no attention. She could see the opening he was searching for a mere fifty yards in front of them. A pair of headlights peaked over the horizon, blurring the view of the road ahead of them. Julie took a deep breath, slipped the belt over the man’s head and pulled it tight around his neck. One hand held it taut to his skin, the other pulled the excess strap with every ounce her hundred and twenty pound frame could muster. The car skidded sideways while the man dug his fingers at the restraint around his neck. They found themselves fishtailing in the middle of the road, the man frantically turning into the skid with his knees.

The approaching car swerved dramatically to miss them, the horn wailing as it passed the out-of-control vehicle. Julie didn’t relent. The car made a full circle and Julie hung onto the belt as the momentum flung her back and forth between the headrests.