by Gary Ponzo
Steele fished her hand into Matt’s pocket and pulled out his phone, then went outside for the call.
Nick pointed to Walt. “You need to get to L.A.”
Walt cocked his head in apparent confusion.
“Because,” Nick said, “if I’m wrong about LAX, they’ll crucify you. And right now I can’t afford to have anyone else I care about get hurt.”
Walt didn’t argue. He had a family to feed as well.
“Besides,” Nick added, “you go over there and cause a big ruckus, it might give Barzani a false sense of security. Like we’ve lost their scent.”
Sirens blared nearby.
Nick adjusted his arm sling. He looked down at Luke with a tight chin. “Walt,” he said, “before you go, get Stevie Gilpin on the red eye. Have him bring his bag of toys with him.”
Walt crossed his arms. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Nick squinted.
“You’re the Sherriff of Gila County, Arizona. I can’t exactly be giving you access to all this confidential FBI stuff.”
Nick’s eyes roamed around the room as if searching for something. “Then reinstate me,” he said.
From his inside jacket pocket, Walt pulled out a worn leather badge case. He handed it to Nick with a sad smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 14
Julie Bracco packed the last of her things and dropped her bag on the living room floor. She looked at Matt and Jennifer Steele cuddled up on the couch watching the evening news.
“Anything else on?” she said, pulling her hair back into a tight bun. A local Payson reporter stood a distance away from the abandoned KSF safe house. The news crew had illuminated the scene for the viewers and offered Nick’s written statement announcing the terrorists’ escape, the death of Deputy Luke Fletcher, and the possibility of Kurdish militants still operating in the vicinity. Nick had given the news media FBI’s hotline number to report any suspicious behavior. Meanwhile, he had the Baltimore Field Office e-mail over pictures of Temir Barzani and a couple of his known soldiers.
Matt sat with his hand on his forehead seemingly in complete disgust with the report, as if being forced to relive the day was too much for him. He pushed the remote and found a college basketball game on ESPN.
Steele yawned. “Well, I’m about ready for bed.” She looked at Matt with raised eyebrows and held out her hand.
“You need real sleep,” Walt called from the kitchen with his paternal voice. He was scraping up the remains of a salad Julie had made for dinner.
Matt grinned mischievously and took her hand. He looked at Walt and said, “Yes, Dad.” Then he followed Steele into the guest bedroom.
Julie frowned. Even though her house had bloodstains and a bullet hole through her bedroom window, she was sad to leave. The front door opened and Nick came in with shoulders slumped. He’d just met with Luke Fletcher’s family.
Nick came over and brushed a loose hair from Julie’s face.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said.
“You take your meds, understand? Dr. Morgan said you can regress if you miss any dosages. I have them all laid out on the bathroom counter,” she said. “And I already have the coffee machine set to go at six. Make sure you—”
Nick placed his index finger on her lips. “Shh. I know that’s your way of telling me you love me.”
Julie looked surprised. “You’ve been reading that book I gave you, haven’t you?”
“Every word.”
“Then you know how important it is to listen to your wife when she’s giving you instructions.”
Nick leaned over and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said.
Walt washed his salad plate in the kitchen sink, then took a circuitous route to the front door and lingered there, obviously waiting for Julie.
“I really need to leave?’ she asked.
Nick nodded. “I just don’t have enough people to keep you safe, sweetie. I had to beg for a couple of deputies from Globe to watch the office while we figured out what to do with Semir.”
She wrapped her arms around her husband and whispered, “Please be careful, baby.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got it under control.”
She pulled back, looked at his bandaged shoulder and almost said something.
Tommy’s voice came over a radio sitting on the counter between the kitchen and living room. “We have visitors.”
Nick and Walt immediately pulled out their pistols as Matt flew out of the bedroom, shirt off, gun ready.
“Relax,” Tommy said. “They’re friendly.”
It was Tommy’s turn to watch the perimeter of the house. A chorus of engines could be heard coming up the driveway. Walt opened the door and smiled.
“You’ll want to see this,” he said.
Nick and Julie walked over to the doorway. Idling in the semicircle gravel driveway were three camouflage Humvees. Their headlights pierced through the night with intimidation as dust from their tires floated over their beams. A thin, wiry soldier jumped from the passenger seat, pulled off his cap and saluted the trio in the doorway.
“Major Flynn, Special Forces, Fort Benson, Arizona,” he said, dropping his hand after the salute. “I’m looking for Nick Bracco.”
Nick walked out onto the porch and stepped down the two steps to shake the major’s hand. “I’m Nick,” he said.
The three Humvees sat motionless, their engines simmering with power, like a heard of rhinos waiting to charge.
“Mr. Bracco, sir,” Major Flynn said. “I have orders from the Commander-in-Chief to make our squadron available to you for any duty necessary.”
Nick turned to Julie and smiled. “Well, honey, it looks like you’ll be staying.”
• • •
It was almost midnight when Ed Tolliver finally rolled into bed. After getting the news about Carl and Katherine Rutherford, he’d had a hard time getting to sleep. Even with a team of agents protecting his home, he still felt uneasy. He’d been briefed about the Russian assassin and knew how dangerous the man could be, but he refused to go to a safe house across town, so they brought the protection to him. His cell phone chirped in the kitchen and he peeked over at his wife to make certain she didn’t wake. He hopped out of bed and scrambled down the hallway to get to the phone before it woke the kids.
FBI agent Rolley Chandler was already standing at the counter with Ed’s phone in his hand. Chandler studied the display for a moment, then frowned and handed it to Tolliver.
“Private caller,” Chandler said, looking disappointed.
Tolliver took the phone and headed into the guest bedroom on the opposite side of the house from his family’s bedrooms. He didn’t mind his fellow agents protecting him, but he didn’t like certain areas of his life intruded upon. Under any circumstance.
“This is Ed,” Tolliver said in a near whisper.
“Hi,” came the female voice.
Tolliver froze. He immediately glanced out into the hallway, then closed the bedroom door and sat on the guest bed.
“What are you doing?” he said in a hushed tone.
Vicki Peters sounded nervous. “I uh … needed to talk.”
“Are you crazy?” he said. “Don’t you know what time it is?”
“Yes, I know.”
Tolliver’s head began to pound. He rubbed his temple. “Listen,” he said, “now’s not the time for this. Don’t ever do this to me again.”
There was a pause, then, “It’s over Ed,” she said. Her voice was shaky and seemed genuinely upset.
“What?” Tolliver’s voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “What do you mean? I thought we agreed,” he said, groping for the right words. “The twins are gone in two months. That’s just sixty days. You mean you can’t wait sixty days?”
“No, Ed, I can’t wait sixty minutes,” she said with a little ugliness to her tone.
Tolliver couldn’t believe this was happe
ning. He moved even farther away from the door and placed a pillow to his cheek covering up his phone and drowning out his voice from eavesdroppers. “C’mon now, Vicki, what’s going on? Why now?”
“Because,” she said, “I’ve met someone else.”
Now Tolliver’s heart began to thump irregularly. “What? Are you kidding? When?”
“A few weeks ago,” she said. “I just can’t wait any longer, Ed. I’ve done it for too long.”
“But … but,” Tolliver didn’t know what to say. He had been completely blindsided. “Let’s talk about this, okay?”
“Sorry,” she said, “when you say let’s talk about it, you mean next week or tomorrow. My tomorrows are going to belong to someone else. Someone who deserves my tomorrows.”
“Oh, come on, you sound like you’ve been reading a Maya Angelo novel.” Tolliver glanced at the door. He was pretty sure agent Chandler would have his back if the wife suddenly woke up. “Let’s get together for lunch and—”
“No,” she said. “No more. I’m going to go now.”
“Wait.” Tolliver stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Wait, baby, please. I’ll meet you …” he noticed the clock on the nightstand. It was 11:47. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“In thirty one minutes you’ll be too late.”
Tolliver put the phone down from his ear and stood there in the dark. His life was falling apart. Someone wanted him dead and his lover wanted to leave him. His foot tapped involuntarily; he was thinking about how to work it out.
• • •
Vicki Peters pushed the end button, then handed her phone to the man next to her. She was trembling. The man had already sliced open her beagle, Josie, leaving her on the dining room table with her guts heaped in a pile next to her. The man had forced her to look at Josie during the entire phone conversation. Blood had begun to spread across the table and drip over the side onto the tile floor. Vicki had already vomited twice and was about to purge again. She gripped her stomach in agony.
“Good girl,” the man said. “You did exactly as I asked you.”
“Please,” she begged, her eyes filling with tears. “Please let me go now. You promised.”
He looked down with a serious expression, as if considering his options. When his head came up, the knife came with it. She didn’t even have time to scream.
Chapter 15
Nick woke to a jab in his side. He moved and grimaced from the sudden pain in his shoulder. He looked up to a familiar shadow over him.
“Let’s go,” Matt said.
Nick wiped his eyes, then saw the time. 5:19 A.M..
Matt left, leaving the door open and the living room light beaming into the bedroom. Nick forced his weight forward and pushed off with his good arm. When his legs were planted on the floor, he glanced over to check on Julie. She was still in a deep sleep. He threw on a pair of sweatpants and tee shirt before heading into the other room, quietly closing the door behind him.
Matt waited for him in the living room, standing in front of the television.
“Look at this shit,” Matt said with his arms folded and nodding at the television.
A local male news reporter stood in front of the charred remnants of a house. Smoke drifted over the embers while a firefighter’s hose maintained a steady stream of water. The only thing left standing was the rock chimney. It was still an hour before sunrise so tiny flickers of flame stood out in the dark.
The man was scanning his notes on a sheet of paper while reporting the facts of the story.
“At 4:05 this morning there was an explosion here at twelve-fifteen Fallen Rock Road, the home of Maggie and Devon Grabowski.”
Nick felt his throat tighten as a picture of an elderly couple filled the screen. The reporter spoke over the image. “We don’t have any confirmation yet, but all indications are the Grabowski’s were inside their home when the explosion occurred. Firefighters said they were able to maintain the integrity of the tree line around the building and prevent the spread of a forest fire.”
Matt grumbled something.
Nick said, “They were the first couple to welcome us to Payson when we bought this place,” as bile pushed its way up into his esophagus.
“Apparently a neighbor heard the blast,” the reporter said, “and ran outside to see what had happened.” The reporter came into view again as a small woman with a pink sweatshirt came into the picture, still appearing startled.
The reporter stuck the microphone in front of the woman and said, “Can you tell us what you saw?”
“Well,” the woman said, “I heard the explosion and it was so close I thought it was our house that got hit. Then I went outside I saw the Grabowski’s place in flames.” She looked up. “They were up over the tops of those trees,” she said. “It’s a miracle the whole street didn’t catch fire.”
“And did you see anyone or hear anything when you first came outside?”
“No, I didn’t see a thing. Just …” the woman seemed to realize what had just occurred and she appeared to be struggling to gather herself. Of course the reporter went in for the kill.
“Did you know the Grabowski’s very well?”
The woman put her hand over her mouth and looked back at the crumbled ruins behind them. “Yes,” her voice cracked through her fingers.
The reporter must’ve realized the line he’d just crossed and looked genuinely concerned. He gazed back at the camera as a cue to phase out the grieving woman.
“Well, there’s certainly a lot of pain being felt by the community here in Payson.” The reporter’s face now filled the screen. “Authorities are hesitant to say the exact …”
The report went on but Nick’s stomach wasn’t up for it. He reached down to get the remote and Matt grabbed his hand.
“No,” he said. “You have to see this.”
Now the reporter’s head was down again looking at the sheet of paper. “The Kurdish Security Force have taken responsibility for the brutal attack on this sleepy mountainside community. Temir Barzani is a high ranking member of the terrorist organization. In a statement sent exclusively to Channel 5 News, Barzani claims to have made this attack because Gila County Sheriff Nick Bracco failed to abide by the constitutional rules which govern the United States, thereby causing the deaths of innocent civilians. He goes on to say that a new family will die each night until Bracco turns himself over to the KSF to pay for his crimes.”
The reporter looked up at the camera. “So far no word from the Sheriff about this demand. Back to you in the studio, Mary.”
Julie came into the room wearing a tan robe, yawning and playing with her hair. “What are you guys doing up so early?” she asked, walking around them to the kitchen.
Nick shut off the TV. “The Grabowski’s have been murdered.” He got it out quick, as if pulling a Band-Aid off in one motion.
Julie stopped. She looked back and forth between Matt and Nick. “Barzani?”
Nick nodded. “They bombed their house.”
First Julie appeared in deep thought, then Nick could see her backing up. She leaned against the counter between the kitchen and living room. “It’s the same thing Kharrazi did,” she said in a stupor. “He blew up all those homes to get the President to remove troops from Turkey. Now this Barzani is starting it all over again.”
Nick stepped toward his wife, careful as he approached. “It’s not the same,” he said.
She looked up. “No?”
“No,” he said. “The KSF doesn’t have the manpower anymore, so Barzani is just attacking homes in Payson.”
“And what does he want?”
“Me.”
“I don’t understand.” Her voice cracked.
“He wants me to turn myself in to the KSF or he’s threatening to destroy a home each night I don’t.”
Julie gazed at her feet and cupped a hand over her eyes.
Nick was closer now, bending forward to see her face. “Honey?”
Julie d
idn’t move.
“Jule?” Nick said. “I’m going to find him.”
Julie looked up. “Then what?”
“Then we’re done,” he said. “There are no reinforcements. Once we get Barzani, it’s over.”
Julie held her stomach, her eyes pleading with him. “But what about … us? We’ll still be targets.”
Nick didn’t have an answer for that. He couldn’t guarantee someone new wouldn’t come after him, even if he did believe it. Which he didn’t. He wanted to say, “One thing at a time, please,” but she deserved hope.
“We won’t.” Matt stepped in.
Nick glanced at him with an expectant expression.
Matt approached Julie and put a hand on her shoulder. He looked at her with compassion. “We know how the KSF operates. They don’t have anyone approaching Barzani’s political acumen. He and Kharrazi both had Political Science degrees from Georgetown. They were the two great hopes of the KSF. Once Barzani’s gone, there is no one else.”
Julie seemed to take it in. She nodded absently. “How are you going to get him?”
“We have a plan,” Matt said. Nick hoped Julie didn’t call him on it.
Maybe because she believed him, or maybe because she wanted so desperately to believe him, she didn’t challenge the statement.
Nick was grateful to see a faint smile come across her face.
There was a tap on the front porch.
He pulled open the door and saw a weary-eyed man carrying a large green duffle bag over his shoulder. A soldier stood behind him as an escort.
Nick smiled. “Stevie Gilpin,” he said. “Just who I was hoping to see.”
The two men shook hands.
The soldier saw the exchange and left to return to his position.
“Been flying and driving all night,” Stevie said. He wore khaki pants and a blue long-sleeve shirt, creased and expensive-looking. His eyes were framed with lightweight glasses which were completely transparent from any angle.
As he stepped into the cabin, Matt bumped fists with the high tech analyst.
“Still stylin’, I see,” Matt said.
Julie pulled her robe closed and waved. “Hi, Stevie.” Then she scampered back to the bedroom.