Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Deceit

“Nicky?” Silk said. “You don’t trust me?”

Nick stared at Silk. “He’s too dangerous. I can’t let you do it.”

Silk narrowed his eyes. “I’m not exactly chopped liver over here.”

Nick looked at his watch and thought about the ability to stop the detonator and get Kharrazi at the same time. Silk was an unbelievable asset to leave on the sidelines. He brought Silk into a corner of the communications room and smoothed out a copy of the satellite photos on a wooden end table. He looked at the man he had grown up with in the streets of Baltimore and sighed. “He’s crafty, Silk, and without the usual thug mentality. He’ll surprise you.”

“Enough already.”

Nick nodded. “Just do me a favor. Don’t play with him. Put him down hard and fast. Capisce?”

Silk smiled at Nick’s perfect Sicilian dialect.

Nick showed Silk where he would find Kharrazi on the photo. He pointed out the glint from the mirror that he suspected was from a car or truck covered by branches. Nick gave him a compass and one last warning. “Be careful. He’s probably waiting until he’s certain he’s alone before he approaches the area.”

Silk patted Nick’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Boobala. Old Silk has a few tricks of his own. Besides, he started this whole thing by having the Capellis killed. Not to mention what he done to your family.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Listen, Nicky, you gotta promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“I screw up, you gotta track this guy down and finish him off for me.”

Nick didn’t say anything. He’d never heard Silk be anything but cocky.

Silk gently punched Nick’s shoulder, then left with a strut in his step.

But something gnawed at Nick deep inside. For the first time since he’d known Silk, he was actually concerned for his safety.

Kemel Kharrazi was seething. His greatest moment as the KSF leader and he would be forced to hear about President Merrick’s withdrawal speech after the fact. He had hoped to be in his private quarters enjoying cheese and grapes while Merrick bowed to his political prowess in front of a worldwide audience.

Nick Bracco had been clever and was probably the best the FBI had to offer, but he was always one step behind. It didn’t prevent Kharrazi from grasping a handful of dirt and slowly grinding it around in his fist.

Kharrazi threw the dirt to the ground and pushed a button on his watch, which illuminated the dial in the dark. In twenty minutes the White House would explode. Merrick wouldn’t dare change his mind about the troops, because the next threat Kharrazi made would be so severe the American public wouldn’t even allow the words to leave their lips. Nuclear bomb. Those two words were all he need use and America would hand over the deed to their nation.

Kharrazi sat up, his back against the base of a hill, surrounded by a thicket of bushes. He scrutinized the landscape under the nearly full moon. Patience. Time was on his side now. The vehicle he’d hidden was in perfect position to escape, yet he would take no chances. He could afford to wait until he was certain of his solitude.

Kharrazi had spent many hours familiarizing himself with the countryside. He’d walked every inch of the landscape and even spent time maneuvering with a blindfold. He was ready for anything and had no less than three escape plans prepared for the occasion.

Kharrazi thought he saw movement in the shadows. He used his field glasses to sweep the area, then kept his focus trained on a specific point in the woods and hoped he had guessed the spot correctly. His patience paid off.

Through his field glasses he saw a figure glide from behind a tree and disappear behind a larger tree trunk. He came from the west so Kharrazi could hear him much easier than if he’d traveled from downwind. He also crept through the low spots of the terrain assuring himself of trekking through water, mud and debris. A city dweller, Kharrazi thought, not considering the advantage of higher ground. Still, the man carried himself with a self-assured swagger as he meandered through the trees.

Kharrazi silently trained his Beretta on the man as he crept left to right across Kharrazi’s position. It took a few minutes, but Kharrazi could see the man’s face now; he was disappointed that it wasn’t Bracco. This man was tall and athletic and his head moved smoothly from side to side. Kharrazi slowly screwed the silencer onto his Beretta. He’d lose accuracy with the silencer, but the man was heading close enough where it wouldn’t matter.

The man snapped a twig with his foot and he instinctually froze. Kharrazi used the opportunity to fire a shot into his leg. The bullet spit from the Beretta and immediately the man dropped to the ground. Kharrazi leapt from the bush like a leopard and quickly seized the man’s fallen gun before he could retrieve it from a bed of pine needles. He stood over his prey and watched with great pleasure as the man writhed in pain from the gunshot wound to his thigh.

The moon was over Kharrazi’s shoulder and he could see the man’s face clearly, fighting to maintain his composure.

“How did you find me?” Kharrazi said.

The man either didn’t want to give Kharrazi the satisfaction of seeing him squirm or he was a tough foe. He ignored his leg and struggled to get to his feet. Kharrazi shoved him back down with his foot and heard the thud as the man was obviously caught off guard. This didn’t deter the man and he made another attempt to get to this feet. This time Kharrazi allowed him.

When he reached his full height, the man brushed himself off and said, “You’re a short little fuck, aren’t you?”

The comment baffled Kharrazi. This man was certainly not an FBI agent.

“Who are you?” Kharrazi asked.

The man smiled through the pain of his gunshot wound. “I’m Silk. I’m here to kill you.”

“Who sent you?”

The man gestured with his hands as he spoke. “A fella by the name of Nick Bracco. Apparently you two have some history.”

“Are you alone?”

“What, I look like I need help here?”

Kharrazi looked around to see if there was anyone else. “You are friends with Mr. Bracco?”

“Since we was thirteen. I run around with his cousin, Tommy.”

Kharrazi put the names together in his head. Suddenly, he recognized the man from the camera he’d used to spy on the sheriff’s office. This man was truly a friend of Nick Bracco. “Good,” Kharrazi smiled. He was finally going to exact revenge for Rashid’s death.

“But I got other reasons to be here.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Apparently, some of your thugs whacked a family that I was very close to.”

“That’s too bad,” Kharrazi said, flatly.

“Yeah, well I could tell it really chokes you up.”

“They deserved to die.”

“How you figure that?”

“According to the polls, seventy-eight per cent of Americans supported the use of troops in Turkey. I’m going to have to assume they fit into this category.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “The fuck’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?”

“I only wish I had the time to explain,” Kharrazi said, lifting his Beretta.

The man shrugged, “So, how do you want to do this? You’re gonna put the gun down aren’t you? You know, fight like a man.”

Kharrazi wondered what kind of idiot he was dealing with. “You came out here by yourself to try and kill me?”

“That was the plan. You think I should have thought things through a little better? I mean you being so difficult about the gun and all.”

Kharrazi’s patience wore thin. “You are a very stupid man.”

“Yeah, I know. So how do you want me to kill you?”