Thrilling Thirteen

by Ponzo, Gary

  Jackson passed a laser pointer over the medley of terrorists. “Langley has reported these soldiers missing from Kurdistan. More importantly, three of them have been sighted illegally entering the country. One was detained in a Miami airport. One was spotted departing a cruise ship in San Diego. Plus, we already know about Rashid and Kharrazi. I suspect the cockroach theory might be applicable here. For every one we know about there are probably twenty more that have evaded our intelligence.”

  Jackson clicked off the projector and turned on the lights. He sat down and kept a careful eye on Nick.

  “I’m okay,” Nick said, clenching every muscle that was undetectable. “I need to know everything. Don’t skip a comma.”

  Jackson hesitated, then lowered his tired eyes. “The CIA had an agent infiltrate the KSF in Kurdistan a couple of months back. Ten days ago he arrived in Toronto with two groups of soldiers, including Kharrazi. He was with the lead group as they were about to enter the United States on horseback. Somewhere in the Canadian Rockies. The agent was with them up until 2 AM Tuesday morning. At that time they were five miles from the border. That’s when Langley lost communications. Kharrazi had discovered the plant.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because Thursday morning the agent’s family received a package. The agent’s six-year-old daughter anxiously opened the box she thought was a present from her daddy in Turkey.”

  Nick held up his hand to prevent Jackson from finishing the story. He already knew the ending.

  Jackson nodded. “That’s right. The agent’s severed head stared back at his little girl.”

  Nick covered his face with his hands and took deep breaths. He imagined the look on his niece’s face as his brother’s head was delivered to their home.

  “I’ve been going to too many funerals, Walt.”

  “Let’s not bury Phil just yet. There’s still reason for hope.”

  Nick looked up to catch Jackson’s expression. It was sincere, without pity.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Jackson said, “we’ve got explicit directions. There are timetables to be met and corroborating evidence of his health included in the demands. Kharrazi wouldn’t throw those in if he were going to bluff us into believing Phil’s alive.”

  “Okay,” Nick said. “Now tell me why we’re just hearing about this plant. Kemel Kharrazi is in Canada with a couple of dozen KSF soldiers—the best trained infantry in the world, and Langley waits until they’ve breached our border before we’re notified?”

  Jackson leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “That’s the big question isn’t it? Apparently, Langley felt they deserved an opportunity to bag Kharrazi as he crossed over the border. It’s a gigantic political mess that I’m not willing to navigate right now. Suffice it to say, they gambled and lost. They knew where he was with five miles to go, but Kharrazi is shrewd. He must have taken a more circuitous route. They simply waited too long. Morris admitted as much to me just before you came in. That’s who I was on the phone with.”

  “You’re kidding. That asshole actually admitted he was wrong about something?”

  Jackson grinned. “You know, I thought the same thing myself.” Then the smile faded and his eyes locked on Nick. “What do you want to do about Phil?”

  Nick took a breath and let it out slowly. “Where are they?”

  “We don’t know for sure. Surveillance shows them leaving by way of a limousine. Phil seemed to be going under his own will. I’m sure Kharrazi knew just what to offer him. We’ve leaned on every limo company in the city and came up empty.”

  “Kharrazi is worth what? Ten billion? He’s got plenty of hush money to spread around.”

  Jackson nodded. “Still, we have every runway, train station and interstate covered. The analysts say they’re still in Vegas somewhere.”

  “What’s our timetable?”

  “Nine AM Eastern time. Rashid needs to be completely free. No tails. No bugs.”

  Nick didn’t need to ask what happened if Rashid wasn’t let out. He lowered his head and massaged his temple with his fingertips. It seemed like he’d been chasing terrorists forever. Now it felt different. It wasn’t a job anymore. It was personal.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” Jackson said. “What do you want to do about Phil?”

  Nick looked up. “What about regulations?”

  Jackson grimaced. “I’m going to sit here and tell you the details of Phil’s capture, then preclude you from getting involved because of regulations?” He leaned back and folded his arms across his large chest. “I can take the heat. It’s what I do. But I need to know if you’re prepared to deal with what you might find.”

  Nick understood. Identifying Phil’s body would not be easy. He nodded. “I have to try and get him back, Walt.”

  Jackson reached into a desk drawer and came out with a pair of airline tickets. He slid them across the desk. “The flight leaves at seven. Take Matt with you. I have every available agent in Nevada waiting for you. Meanwhile, the rest of the Team will stay here and browbeat every informant we have. Something’s happening out there. Something bigger than Phil and Rashid.”

  Nick reached for the tickets and stood to leave.

  “Keep in mind,” Jackson said. “There’s a possibility that this is a—”

  “Trap?” Nick said. “Yes, I know. Kharrazi’s too sharp to think we’ll release Rashid. He wants me. That’s what the glare into the camera was all about. Phil is just bait. Kharrazi intends to honor Rashid’s threat.”

  A modest grin tightened the corner of Jackson’s mouth. He had the satisfied look of a teacher appraising his star pupil.

  Nick put the tickets in his jacket pocket and turned toward the door.

  “One other thing,” Jackson said behind him.

  Nick turned.

  Jackson’s grin mutated into something wicked. “Tell Matt, if he gets a clear shot at Kharrazi . . . make it a head shot.”

  Nick could already see the smile on Matt’s face, and he hadn’t even left the room.

  Chapter 5

  In the heavily-wooded suburb of Hampden, Maryland, Nick opened the front door of his two-story house expecting to see his wife’s easy smile. Julie had a knack for seeming excited to see him even when he was precisely on schedule. That surprised expression she first showed off when he knelt down to propose and continued to shine at him every time he came home. As if the mere act of finding his way back home was an accomplishment to admire. How he loved that expression. If only he could find a way to verbalize those thoughts, those emotions that remained hidden deep inside. She had to know, yet the words somehow escaped him.

  Nick circled back through the kitchen, then the den. “Honey,” he called.

  When he returned to the front foyer, a sound came from upstairs. He leaned over the banister and heard someone sobbing. Nick ran up the stairs two at a time. As he moved toward the master bedroom, he slid the gun from his holster. He could hear Julie whimpering now. His heart jumped as a loose thought ran through his mind. Kemel Kharrazi.

  With his gun drawn, he crept up to the doorway of his bedroom and peeked inside. His heart sank. Julie sat on the floor with her back against the side of the bed. Her knees were pulled up into her chest while she wiped away tears with an overused ball of tissue. Without looking up she said, “I just got off the phone with Lynn.”

  Nick holstered his gun and sighed. She had just spoken with his brother’s wife. She knew about Phil.

  He watched her sniffle with bloodshot eyes and streaks of moisture blotching her face. Her short, brown hair was twisted into sharp angles. Yet, as distraught as she appeared, all he could think about was how striking she was. Even at her very worst, in her most awkward moment, he adored her. He couldn’t imagine anyone or anything more beautiful. He wanted to tell her right there, right then. But he didn’t.

  He sat next to her and gathered her into his arms. He listened while Julie blurted out her sorrowful thoughts
in small dosages. “Poor Lynn,” she sobbed. “The kids don’t know yet.” More sobs. “They think he’s just away on business.” Her firm body wilted in his arms.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  “I’m so sorry, Nick.” She looked up at him with big Bambi eyes. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Nick pulled her closer and she dug her wet face into his chest. He caressed her cheek with his fingertips. It was strange to see her so distressed, she had such a strong personality and so few low points.

  “Who is it?” she asked. “Who has Phil?”

  Nick chewed on his lower lip. He could feel her stiffen in the silence.

  “Nick?”

  His reluctance was only making it worse. He whispered, “Kemel Kharrazi.”

  She gasped. “In America? How could that be?” She twisted in his arms and looked up at him. “Nick, what’s going on? Tell me right now.”

  Amazing, Nick thought. She saw the big picture immediately. She was always right there with him. Never a step behind. For an investigator like Nick, it was rare too be followed so closely.

  “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

  “You know something, though.”

  An open-ended question. Just like a good interrogator. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook, so she sat and waited for his response.

  Nick took a breath. “Kharrazi is in America with a squad of soldiers.”

  When he stopped there, she said, “Well he certainly didn’t go through the trouble of sneaking into the country with a platoon of followers just to kidnap Phil Bracco.”

  Nick shrugged. “He’s not your typical terrorist. He’s a Georgetown graduate, extremely bright. Maybe too bright. You know what they say about people with skyrocket IQs,” he said, looping his index finger around his right ear.

  She just stared.

  “All right,” he said. “Kharrazi wants us to release Rashid Baser in exchange for Phil.”

  She pulled back and examined Nick’s face. “You’re serious?”

  Nick nodded.

  “He can’t be that naive?”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “Then what’s it all about?”

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  Julie suddenly looked horrified. “You’re going to Vegas?”

  Nick didn’t respond. He wanted to soften the blow, but she was too quick for him.

  Julie wiped her eyes, then stood up and brushed off her lap, as if to wipe away her vulnerability.

  “Nick,” she said, “look at me. I’m thirty-six going on eighty. There’s only so much I can handle before . . .” she looked away.

  “Before?”

  She wiped the side of her nose with the tissue ball and seemed preoccupied.

  “What are you trying to say, Jule?”

  She turned her back for a moment, took a step away, then turned back around to face him. “Please don’t go. Please. I don’t know how else to say it? It’s just too much for me to handle. First Phil is taken, then you tell me about Kharrazi . . .” She pulled back the hair from her face and tried to maintain control. “I dread answering the phone because I just know one day I’m going to hear Walt Jackson’s voice say, ‘I’m sorry, Julie.’”

  Her eyes welled up and her lower lip trembled. She leaned forward and Nick was there to collect her once again. She embraced him like he was a soldier leaving for war. He wasn’t sure she would ever let go of him. He could feel her tiny frame shudder in his arms.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “Not Kemel Kharrazi. Not him.”

  Nick waited for her breathing to settle into a rhythm before he said, “He’s my brother, Hon. He’s the only one I’ve got.”

  “What about me?” she said with short gasping words. “What about our family? The kids?”

  Nick almost said, “What kids?” but he knew what she meant. It seemed their plans for having children and a normal family life was always put on hold because of his career. With him they were always one year away before they could slow down and make time for their marriage.

  She maintained her death grip around his torso. “I know it’s tougher for me in the summer, Nick. I mean, without the students to look after, I have all this time to reflect. But you don’t need to be chasing the most dangerous terrorists in the world. Can’t you just . . .” she didn’t finish and Nick didn’t know if it was because she ran out of ideas, or because they’d had this discussion so often that Nick could finish it on his own.

  She pulled back and locked eyes with him. “Nick, I love you. I just know you’re going to be a terrific father. You don’t do anything halfway, and I can already see you giving our kids horseback rides and splashing water at them in the tub.”

  Nick smiled. It was his dream to have children, but he never even allowed himself the privilege of imagining what it would be like to hold something that precious. To be that important to another human being.

  He cupped her tiny face in his hands, “I’ll tell you what . . . we won’t be having this conversation a year from now. I promise.”

  Julie forced a meager smile and sniffled.

  Nick pulled a couple of tissues from a box on top of the dresser and handed them to her.

  She blew her nose and said, “I almost forgot. How did it go with Dr. Morgan?”

  Nick took advantage of the shift in conversation to search for a garment bag in the walk-in closet. “Good.”

  Julie brushed past him and pulled the bag from a high shelf, unzipped it, and threw it open on the bed. She opened a dresser drawer and retrieved a single pair of socks and underwear and threw them into the garment bag.

  “Just overnight, right?” she said, more a statement than a question.

  It was no time to haggle. Nick would stay as long as it took to find his brother, but he also knew that Phil would never live past Kharrazi’s deadline. “Yes,” he said. “Just overnight.”

  Julie nodded, then began the process of putting together a shirt and pants combo that worked. As she browsed the long line of clothes in the closet, she said, “You liked him?”

  “Who?”

  “Dr. Morgan.”

  “Oh, yes. I thought he was . . . uh, insightful.”

  That stopped her. “What exactly did he say?”

  “He thinks I should find a less stressful way to make a living.”

  Julie’s eyes perked. “And?”

  “And,” he took the shirt from her hand and laid it in the garment bag, “I think he’s right.”

  Julie followed him around the room. “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  “Then what do you plan to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure.” He looked at her face brimming with hope. He chose his words carefully, “I’m going to continue to see him. Besides that, I’m just not sure . . .”

  “Nick, you realize you’re outnumbered, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “I know you want to save the world—”

  “Stop it now. I’m not trying to save the world, I’m only trying to save this country. Maybe even just this city.” His face softened. “Oh, honey, I’m just a pawn. I know that. I’d just like you to be able go to the store without the store blowing up while you’re inside.”

  “Please try to think about us. Maybe we could find a small town in the mountains, somewhere in Wyoming, or Montana, somewhere. I don’t know Nick, is that such a crazy idea?”

  Nick dropped onto the bed, leaned back onto a pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe there’s something to that. Maybe if I didn’t know as much as I do about terrorists and all of the plots we’ve thwarted. Some by dumb luck.” He sighed. “Maybe ignorance is bliss.”

  Julie curled next to him and nuzzled up to the side of his face. “Come on over to the ignorant side, Sweetie. We could use a good man like you.”

  His mouth grinned, but he was already thinking about his next move. Phil may have been somewhat of a drunk and loose with his
lips, but he was his brother. After their parents died, Nick became almost a surrogate father to his younger sibling. Phil needed him.

  “Hello in there,” Julie said, knocking on Nick’s forehead. “Anybody home?”

  Nick pulled her down on top of him and gazed into the deep blue of her eyes. “Look here, Miss, I’m leaving town. But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you every minute I’m gone.”

  He rolled off the bed and finished packing. He zipped the garment bag, threw it over his shoulder and bent down to kiss her. “I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow.”

  “Is Matt going with you?”

  “Of course.”

  She smiled.

  “You think he’s my guardian angel, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she said. “I always feel better when he’s with you. I don’t know why. Intuition maybe.”

  He looked at his watch. “Well, I’m meeting him at the airport at seven.”

  “It’s only three-thirty. What’s the hurry?”

  “I’m stopping at Pimlico on the way.”

  “The horse track? You have an itch to bet a few races?”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve got to see Tommy. He hasn’t missed the feature race in fifteen years.”

  “Tommy? Your cousin Tommy? Why, do you need him to leave a horse’s head in someone’s bed?”

  Nick laughed. “Just because he’s connected doesn’t mean he’s not family.”

  “Oh, he’s family all right.” She pressed her nose to the side and gave her best mobster face.