Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Deceit

Nick shook his head. “We’re an hour from Phoenix, there’s no time.”

Nick dialed the number and let his thumb rest on the send button while he put his thoughts together. Who would be on the other end of this phone number? Kemel Kharrazi? What if it was Kharrazi? What information could he get from Kharrazi without him knowing about it? And if it wasn’t Kharrazi, how could he parlay the call into information leading to the terrorist?

Nick felt Matt staring at him as he took in a deep breath.

“Oh, for crying out loud, do it already,” Matt blasted.

Nick positioned his legal pad on the table in front of him and flipped to an empty page. As his thumb flexed to push the send button, he realized that his hand was shaking. He pushed the button. It rang once, then twice. “Yes,” a man’s voice said.

“Sarock?”

“Ye-” the man stopped. “Who is this?”

Nick scribbled the word ‘Sarock’ on his legal pad and circled it several times with nervous energy. Nick could feel Matt staring at him, knowing exactly whom he was talking to. Matt leaned up against Nick’s ear and eavesdropped on the conversation. “I think you know,” Nick said.

“Really?”

“It’s the man who’s chasing you. Now do you know who this is?”

“Yes, I think I do. How is your wife? I understand she had a terrible accident.” Kharrazi’s voice sounded guarded, but confident. It was as if a professor was asking a student to show his work.

Nick gritted his teeth. “You’re not trying to weasel out of the country, are you?”

“Because you have to be careful these days,” Kharrazi continued. “You never know when tragedy could strike.”

“I doubt an incompetent crew such as yours will be able to pull off any White House bombing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Kharrazi finally acknowledged Nick. “Do you know why I’m so confident of this?”

Nick didn’t respond, so Kharrazi answered his own question. “Because the detonator was designed and created by the great Rashid Baser. The finest bomb expert the world’s ever seen.”

There it was, Nick thought. The Rashid factor.

Both men were silent. Two chess players thinking three moves ahead.

Finally, Kharrazi said, “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to you. Can you see me?”

“How do you know where I am?”

“I’m good at my job.”

“It sounds like you’re in an airplane. Are you?”

“Yes,” Nick admitted.

“It’s too late, Kharrazi sneered, arrogantly. “You can’t stop the White House from exploding tonight.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“But I have, Mr. Bracco. I’ve wagered the lives of my family, and my friend’s families, and every Kurd back in Kurdistan. If I fail, their lives are through. With America’s support, the Turkish Security Force will perform the vilest form of genocide on my people.”

Kharrazi let it sit there, while Nick absorbed the message. “But I will not fail,” he said, resolutely. “Whether I am dead or alive, the White House will disintegrate at midnight tonight. That is not a threat, simply a fact. Even if you found the detonator in time, you couldn’t do a thing about it. Rashid’s legacy will endure. When you wake up tomorrow, you will be living in a very different country.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.”

Nick considered what he had just read in Kharrazi’s file. The sick, twisted mind of the worlds leading terrorist had fertile ground to grow up in. It was time to find out who he was dealing with. “It must have been awful,” Nick said, softly.

“What?”

“When your own father raped you. The man you trusted more than anyone.”

There was a stillness across the airwaves. Matt jerked away from the phone and looked at Nick with wide eyes.

“You weren’t even ten years old,” Nick prodded.

More silence.

“Now I understand why I’m the target. Everything you see in me, the honesty, the integrity-all things you wish your father was, but wasn’t. By killing me, you erase his sins. Without me you can continue to rationalize that everyone is the same all over the world, but I fly in the face of that theory.”

A long pause hung there, then finally Kharrazi began a low guttural laugh. “Are you trying to save me, Mr. Bracco?”

“It’s a form of transference,” Nick continued, “I’m seeing a specialist who helps me with certain issues. You could keep his schedule full all by yourself.”

The laughter continued. “A specialist, eh?”

“And your mother was simply a tool.”

The laughter abruptly ended.

Nick waited this time. He was trying to understand his adversary. Was Kharrazi a cold-blooded killer with demented motives, or was he a calculated leader without the restraints of morals or ethics to get in his way?

“You think you know something-what is it?” Kharrazi snapped.

Like a clever tactician, Kharrazi wasn’t giving anything away. But it was too late. Nick had already struck the chord he was looking for.

“You held your mother at knifepoint in the middle of your village. As the crowd multiplied, you explained that she had given information about your combat plans to the Turkish government. You were going the make an example of her in front of hundreds of people. Kemel Kharrazi, the man who decapitated his own mother for squealing on him. The word spread throughout Kurdistan and you became an instant folklore legend. No one would ever cross the great Kemel Kharrazi. Only problem is, your mother never gave you up, did she?”

Nick could hear Kharrazi breathing.

“No, of course not,” Nick churned forward. “You used her like a tool. Once your father died, you plotted for years, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get back at her. Your mother, the woman who stood there and watched as little Kemel was repeatedly molested by his father. Doing nothing to stop him. She was going to pay for her complicity.”

Nick looked up and saw a stunned expression on his partner’s face. Nick felt his heart racing while he fought the urge to go any further. He doodled furiously on the legal pad, making jagged lines around the word ‘Sarock.’

“You never answered my question,” Kharrazi finally said. “How is your wife?”

Nick strangled his pen with the palm of his hand. “She’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“When I tell you she’s fine, you can trust that it’s true. Now Nihad Tansu on the other hand isn’t doing so well.”

There was a pause. “Is that so?”

“He’s dead, you twisted fuck. He couldn’t even finish off my wife like you commanded. That’s why I’m telling you, your plan won’t work. Too many incompetents under your rule.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What don’t you believe, that you’re a twisted fuck, or that Tansu’s dead?”

“Tansu didn’t die without completing his mission.”

“Oh, really. Then how do you think I got this phone number-directory assistance?”

There was silence while Kharrazi put it together. In a stern, but restrained voice, he said, “We should meet, you and I.”

“I agree.”

“Face to face.”

“Absolutely. Tell me when.”

“I’ll surprise you.”

“I hate surprises. Tell me when and I’ll have coffee made.”

Kharrazi forced a laugh. “I must go, Mr. Bracco. I’d be walking with one eye over your shoulder if I were you.”

Nick looked at Matt. “I have someone covering my back. Do you?”

“You’d be surprised what protection I command. Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll phone you when it’s time to meet.”

Nick hesitated, then decided there was nothing Kharrazi could do with the number but call him.