Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Deceit

Kelly dropped his head in anguish.

Nick fixated on the red numbers tumbling toward the inevitable.

When the number three flashed it appeared to stutter. Nick couldn’t be certain, but it seemed to take a moment before the number two hiccupped to life.

Steele gasped as the number two hung there, suspended in time. Three seconds had passed, four seconds, five seconds, and yet the number two remained frozen. Its neon edges crackled with an ominous foreshadow. Rutherford seemed paralyzed. He held the handful of wires against the batteries pole, his mouth pursed shut, his nostrils sucking in air.

Then, an eerie darkness fell over the room. The TV and the lamp on the desk became the only sources of light. The stream of headlights had extinguished in unison, leaving everyone in shadows. Nick stared at the dim number two for an exhaustive minute of pure agony until it too finally surrendered to the darkness, its neon tracing forever etched into Nick’s brain like a phantom pain.

“Two seconds,” someone mocked.

A nervous chuckle.

A stifled snicker.

Jennifer Steele giggled.

Nick would always remember Matt’s face still staring down at the impotent timer, not ready to pronounce it dead. When their eyes finally met, Matt had Steele tucked into his shoulder for a relief cry. He winked at Nick.

A smattering of applause began to bubble into a cheer. Starting as a whisper the Marines began to chant, “USA. . USA.” In only seconds the entire basement swelled into a cry that would make an Olympic Stadium jealous. “USA! USA!”

Carl Rutherford was a statue. His hand was still frozen to the battery like he had his finger in the hole of a dike.

Nick waved at Rutherford. “It’s okay, Carl,” he yelled over the din. “It’s over.”

Rutherford slid to the floor. His entire body sagged from the release of tension.

Suddenly, Nick felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He stepped into the adjacent room to escape the noise. A smile broadened his face as he anticipated President Merrick calling to congratulate him.

He pushed the button and put the phone to his ear, “Bracco.”

The voice that came back at him seared a hole in his gut as if he’d swallowed a capful of pure acid.

“Remember me?” Kemel Kharrazi said.

The cheering and excitement of the night spilled into the communications room where Nick stood alone, his right hand pressed to his ear, straining to hear the phone. Kharrazi must have heard the commotion.

“There is some reason for enthusiasm?” Kharrazi said.

There was a pause while Nick considered where Kharrazi was calling from. He heard the sound of a car engine, something large, like a pickup truck. Kharrazi was on the move as he spoke. He hadn’t heard the news about the detonator though and this little piece of knowledge gave Nick the slightest advantage.

“The guys are throwing a little party,” Nick said. “Why don’t you stop by and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“What is there to celebrate?”

“It’s Friday night.”

Kharrazi didn’t seem to appreciate the coyness. There was silence while they played cat and mouse. Nick relished the quiet, but every minute that passed put more distance between him and Kharrazi. He shut his eyes tight and listened carefully, using all of his skills to garner any clue as to Kharrazi’s location. He could hear the suspension of the vehicle jostle continuously, suggesting that Kharrazi was not driving on a paved road.

Kharrazi must have seen little benefit with the one-sided discussion. “I just called to say goodbye. I’m sorry I missed your little invasion.”

“The White House is still standing,” Nick said, trying to prolong the conversation.

There was a pause while Kharrazi dealt with the blow. “That is the reason for all the noise?”

“Yes.”

Kharrazi was quiet. He was probably calculating exactly how overdue the missiles were.

“We disarmed the detonater,” Nick informed him. “There will be no fireworks tonight.”

“Do not confuse this fact with success, Mr. Bracco. Americans will still die tonight. The attacks are not finished. And neither am I.”

“Uh huh.”

“We are still very much alive and well.”

“Who are you kidding, Kemel? Our count has your little group of terrorists down to sixteen. Tansu is dead and we have Hasan. What’s left are bottom of the barrel flunkies. Without you to guide them, their biggest accomplishment will include letting air out of tires and pouring sugar in gas tanks.”

“What makes you think I won’t be there to guide them?”

“Because I’m going to find you first.”

“Mr. Bracco, such bravado for a desperate man. You sound like another gentleman I met tonight. His name was Silk.”

Nick’s eyes popped open. With everything that had happened he’d lost track of Silk. If Kharrazi was still alive, that only meant one thing.

“He cried for mercy like a little baby,” Kharrazi beamed. “Groveled right up until his last breath. Of course I made certain he suffered greatly.”

Nick felt bile surge from his stomach. He swallowed several times to maintain control.

“I thought you would come yourself,” Kharrazi said, “but perhaps you don’t have the constitution for such a confrontation.”

Nick had sent Silk on a suicide mission and Kharrazi was going to layer the guilt like a third coat of paint. He’d exposed a nerve that Nick knew would always remain raw. Nick strangled the phone so tight, his fingers were cramping. “I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch.” Nick said. “I’m going to find you and rip your heart out of your chest.”

“There, there, Mr Bracco. I think you’re losing your temper.”

Nick’s throat was tightening up so much it was hard for him to take a normal breath.

Kharrazi’s voice came smiling over the airwaves, “This is just the beginning, Mr. Bracco. You and your family will never be safe again. I‘ll make it my eternal quest.”

And right there Nick knew he was right. Nick would either have to find him, or have Julie wrapped up in a safe house the rest of her life. His clenched jaw began to ache.

Suddenly, Matt was beside him holding the GPS monitor and pointing to the screen. Nick saw a green dot slowly blinking right to left across the LED display.

Nick tried to remember where he’d left the locater. The last time he’d seen it Silk had planted it on the Sheriff’s truck. He’d told Silk to remove the miniature locater, but he didn’t remember Silk giving it back to him.

“Are you there?” Kharrazi asked.

Nick barely heard him. His mind raced. He remembered Silk’s last comment. “I screw up, you gotta track this guy down and finish him off for me.” Silk must have kept the device so Nick could track him. Silk had known he wouldn’t come back, and in the deep recesses of his mind, so did Nick. He chewed on his lip and forced himself to keep it together. He needed to draw information from Kharrazi.

“Where is Silk now?” Nick forced out.

Nick sensed Matt go rigid with the question. Nick held up a hand to calm him.

“Precisely where I encountered him. His body is spread out a bit, though, a finger here, an ear there. I would not look with both eyes open unless you had to.”

Nick cringed. His stomach went through acute spasms. He learned something, however. Kharrazi didn’t have Silk with him, so it wasn’t Silk who was moving across the display. Nick examined the GPS screen again and suddenly realized who he was looking at. Somehow, Silk had managed to plant the device on Kharrazi. And Kharrazi wasn’t aware.

“Where are you going?” Nick asked, trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“I believe I’ll go visit another relative of yours. See how many pieces I can make with that corpse.”