A Touch of Revenge nb-2

by Gary Ponzo

  That’s when Nick’s expression changed, like a hunting dog with his ears perked up. Matt had only seen the expression a couple of times in his career. He’d never questioned its genesis, but he knew enough to let it play out. He slammed the back door shut and joined Nick between the two vehicles.

  Nick cocked his head. “What do you know about Hoover Dam?”

  “A lot,” the man said. “I know more about Arizona’s dams than anyone in the country.”

  “Nick, we’ve got to go,” Stevie said, urgently.

  Nick waved him off. “Go ahead and go,” he said. “I’m staying here.”

  Stevie looked at Matt and saw him nod his approval.

  “All right, guys,” Stevie said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  The car spit up gravel as it took off for the hospital.

  The man got out of his car and shook hands with both agents. He was trim and clean-cut, with jeans and blue collared shirt. “Chase Benton,” he said.

  “Nick Bracco.”

  “Matt McColm.”

  “Now,” Nick said, “tell me why I don’t know what I’m talking about when I say Hoover Dam is about to be bombed.”

  “Well, it’s just that Hoover Dam is over six-hundred feet thick. Made of the most durable concrete ever produced. What type of material do you suspect this terrorist is using?”

  “Semtex.”

  Benton shook his head. “There isn’t enough Semtex in the world capable of taking down Hoover Dam.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Matt asked.

  “Because,” Benton smiled broadly, “I did a thesis on the possibility of such an attack in grad school. It was right after September 11th and the next terrorist target was on everyone’s mind back then. My theory concluded that nothing less than a nuclear weapon could cause it to crack.”

  The man’s demeanor oozed experience. He spoke as if he were a professor addressing his students.

  Matt felt a sense of anticipation building. He looked down at his cell phone. There was less than thirty minutes before the President’s speech and Barzani’s direct response.

  Nick took the lead. “We found samples in the shoes of some of these terrorists which were compatible with water found around dammed water. Chlorine and a certain type of moisture which gave us the conclusion it was Hoover Dam.”

  Benton nodded. “That sounds plausible, but you may have the wrong dam.”

  “Here’s the thing,” Matt said. “We know this terrorist very well. Temir Barzani. He’s not exactly going to bring down a dam just to cause long term hardship on a community or even a state. Now, we did some research on this, and Hoover Dam would cause more destruction and loss of life than any other target. It’s not even close.”

  Benton rubbed the back of his neck and looked up into the twilight. The sun was going down, both literally and figuratively.

  “Let me ask you a question,” Benton said. “Did you find any traces of copper in those shoe samples?”

  Nick and Matt both looked at each other with wide eyes.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Benton said.

  “We didn’t know what it meant,” Nick said. “You do?”

  The engineer grinned. “I have an idea. There’s an active copper mine about forty miles from here and the water runoff tracks right by Roosevelt Dam. If someone were to walk anywhere near there, they would certainly pickup copper on their shoes.”

  Matt nodded. “But we looked at that and Roosevelt Dam didn’t carry enough water to do enough damage.”

  “Yes, but what you didn’t look at was what’s below the dam. If that dam were to be compromised, it would create an overflow of water too great for the next dam in Apache Lake to hold, so that dam would also be compromised and so on. Like dominos they would go down one by one.”

  “And?” Nick asked.

  “And a cascade of water would rush down the Salt River with the force of a giant tsunami.” Benton looked at both of the agents. “Are either of you familiar with Phoenix and its topography?”

  Matt looked at Nick who gave him a sheepish shrug.

  “Well, it’s called the Valley of the Sun for a reason. It’s a valley. We’ve done studies on this exact scenario. If Roosevelt Dam were ever ruptured, within four hours Phoenix would be under sixteen feet of water. We’ve estimated the loss of life to exceed three hundred thousand people. And that was a couple of years back when the population wasn’t as large.”

  Nick looked at Matt. “Do we have anyone down there?”

  “We sent everyone up north.”

  “Shit,” Nick muttered. He pulled the hair on the back of his head. “We’re screwed. We’ll never get there in time.”

  “What if we get the helicopter to bring down some agents from up north?” Matt asked.

  “What’s the problem?” Benton asked.

  Matt glanced at his cell phone. “The problem is we’re on a time crunch. When the President announces he has no intention of removing troops from Kurdistan, our terrorist friend is going to detonate a bomb somewhere in the state. If it’s Roosevelt Dam, that’s almost an hour’s drive. Nick’s right. We’re screwed.”

  “What time is the speech?” Benton asked.

  “Less than twenty-five minutes,” Matt said.

  “Well,” Benton said, pointing to the woods behind the office. “I know a back road which could get us to the dam in less than twenty minutes from this very spot.”

  Nick ran into the office without saying a word, then came out a moment later holding up a set of keys and pointing to a dark green sheriff SUV.

  “We’re taking the beast.” Nick handed the keys to Benton and said, “They’ll be no speeding tickets today, so get us there as fast as possible.”

  President Merrick sat in a barber’s chair with a cloth sheet tucked into his collar to protect his suit jacket. He stared into a large mirror while his makeup artist, Camille, dabbed his face with cotton balls. The room was empty but for Camille and Samuel Fisk. It was a small side room, well lit and just steps away from the podium where he was about to address the American people. Fisk sat cross-legged in a barber’s chair next to him.

  “Eight minutes,” Fisk said.

  “Any news?” Merrick asked for the third time already.

  Fisk sighed. He looked down at his phone and scrolled his thumb across the screen. “Yes,” Fisk said, staring at his phone. “Good news. Barzani decided to give himself up. It seems he’s afraid Santa won’t give him any presents this year.” Fisk looked up at Merrick. “Well, that’s a good break, huh?”

  Merrick made eye contact with Camille through the mirror. “See what I have to deal with all day?”

  Camille smiled and kept busy wiping gauze across Merrick’s forehead to even out the powder. “Yes, Mr. President.”

  Merrick ran situations through his mind like a chess player considering his next twelve moves and his opponent’s reaction.

  “Hey, Sam,” Merrick said. “What if I announce a troop withdrawal from Turkey, but never actually act on it? I could buy Nick another twenty-four, maybe forty-eight hours.”

  Sam’s face went sour with disgust. “The next time you begin a sentence with, ‘What if,’ I’m moving to Moscow.”

  “I’m just suggesting alternatives to our dilemma. There’s no reason to get condescending with me.”

  “Yes there is. You’re quite eager to sell your integrity. I thought that was the one thing you’d always leave intact no matter how broken our system had become.”

  “Yes, but is that any different than saying I won’t cut taxes, then cutting taxes once the budget is presented?”

  “No, that’s why you haven’t done that either.”

  Merrick tugged on his cloth sheet and ripped it from his collar. He quickly stood up, leaving Camille with a handful of brown cotton and a shocked expression.

  “Listen,” Merrick said, coming around his chair now and facing Fisk head on. “I’m looking at this thing from every angle, okay? Occasionally I need to ver
balize it and hear the words coming from my mouth before I decide what action to take. And when I do that, sometimes I just need you to listen.”

  Fisk sat perfectly still with no expression.

  “Can you do that for me, Sam?”

  Fisk said nothing.

  Merrick turned to look in the mirror and twisted his head from side to side. “I think we’re done here,” he said.

  No one spoke as he headed out the door.

  They were rushing down the dirt road way too fast. Benton seemed to know the way and several times made quick, hairpin turns to avoid smacking into trees. The SUV bounced and skidded while branches kept slapping the windshield so hard, Matt actually flinched a couple of times from the passenger seat. Nick was on the phone in the back seat, trying to find the closest available backup.

  When Nick got off his cell, Matt looked over his shoulder at him. “How long?”

  “Thirty minutes is the best they can do.”

  “We’re only five minutes from the east entrance,” Benton said, keeping his eyes peeled to the narrow strip of dirt, while yanking the steering wheel back and forth.

  Matt turned on the radio and found the all-news channel. They were discussing the President’s speech, making wild assumptions which were sure to boost the ratings. The announcer gave vivid descriptions of who was in attendance and estimated the President’s arrival to be less than three minutes.

  “All right,” Matt said to Benton. “Tell us everything you know about this dam and where we might be able to spot Barzani.”

  “Well,” Benton said, his eyes shifting ahead of him, “it was finished in 1911 and in 1996 we raised its height by seventy feet. In order to add to the original construction, a series of tunnels were built to give the workers access to the interior of the original design.”

  At the word ‘tunnels’ both Matt and Nick perked up.

  “Those tunnels are still intact,” Benson continued. “The main opening begins behind a maintenance door tucked behind a cascade of oleanders. You’d have to be pretty well-informed to even know about the tunnels or their entrance. But if you knew what you were doing, there are a couple of spots where the old and the new parts of the dam converge … and …” Benton glanced over at Matt seemingly measuring whether Roosevelt Dam might truly be in danger of a terrorist attack.

  “Go ahead.” Matt nodded, not wanting the engineer to lose his train of thought by bogging him down with a heavy dose of Barzani’s skills with explosives.

  “Well, if someone knew what they were doing, that’s where the dam would be the most vulnerable.”

  “Okay,” Matt said, “you take us straight there.”

  “That’ll be easy. This road ends directly in front of those oleanders.” Benton fished out a set of keys from his pocket while handling the steering wheel with one hand. He handed the keys to Matt, holding one key in particular between his thumb and index finger. “Here’s the key to get in that maintenance door. Take the tunnel straight for about fifty feet, then veer left when you come to a fork.”

  Matt took the keys. He looked back at Nick and saw him texting on his phone.

  “Anything?” Matt asked.

  Nick shrugged.

  While looking back, Matt spotted something out the back window which caused him to glower. In the distance, a tiny puff of dirt seemed to drift up between the trees behind them. The wisp of dirt seemed to move with a consistent motion. It only took a few moments for Matt to realize what was happening.

  “We have company,” Matt said, nodding out the back window.

  Nick struggled to turn freely with his shoulder wrapped. “Shit,” he said.

  The cloud of dirt came from a set of tires charging up the road behind them. The vehicle was probably less than a half a mile away. Maybe forty seconds on the winding path they were traveling on.

  “Could it be one of ours?” Matt asked.

  “No,” Nick said. “The helicopter was going to be the quickest to arrive.”

  Benton glanced at his rear view mirror. “It could be hunters,” he said. “They’re about the only ones who use this road anymore.”

  Matt and Nick both knew it wasn’t any hunter. They also knew it wasn’t Barzani either. The terrorist was ahead waiting for them. So that left one obvious answer to the question.

  “Here’s what we do,” Matt said, unfastening his seat belt and pulling the Glock from his holster. “Slow down enough for me to jump out into the trees and I’ll take care of this.”

  “No,” Nick said. “Too dangerous. He’s a pro.”

  “Who’s a pro?” Benton asked.

  “How close are we?” Matt asked.

  “It’s just around this next turn, maybe a hundred yards,” Benton said. “Who’s a pro?” he repeated.

  Those were the last words spoken before the explosion lifted the speeding SUV and drove them into the trees. The velocity of the vehicle and the power of the bomb combined to lift the car into a rolling mass of dead weight. Like a meteor breaking through the atmosphere, momentum and gravity both conspired to stop its flight with a deafening collision.

  Chapter 29

  Matt felt his face first. A sharp pain. Then another. When he finally opened his eyes Nick was over him, slapping him hard. Matt drew enough strength to grab Nick’s hand.

  “Stop,” he said, his vision swirling with blurred images of tree limbs.

  “You with me?” Nick said.

  Matt tried to move and that’s when he felt his left leg. “Ah!” Matt let out a sharp cry. He looked down and saw an image which didn’t make sense. His leg went in a direction it wasn’t meant to go. His tibia shot out from his skin sideways, the bone was exposed and glistening with cartilage and blood.

  “Shit,” Matt grunted, leaning his head back down and trying to gather himself.

  “Stay put,” Nick said.

  Matt forced his head upright and saw the vehicle mangled into a stand of trees, smoke drifting from its frame.

  “Benton’s dead,” Nick said. His voice was soft and urgent. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait,” Matt said, taking in Nick for the first time since the explosion. Nick’s forehead was bleeding, his shirt ripped, his arm sling gone. “What are you doing?”

  “I need to find Barzani while there’s still time.”

  “You can’t, I need to come,” Matt said.

  “Don’t be an idiot. Help is on the way.”

  “You can’t,” Matt gasped, but wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. What he wanted to say was, ‘You need me,’ but one more look at his leg and he realized he was worthless.

  Matt nodded. “Okay.” He searched the ground around him. “My gun?”

  “There’s no time. Stay still.” Nick raised his eyebrows. Matt understood. Whoever was following them was still back there. Matt needed to stay tucked under the cover of the woods and maybe he’d be overlooked. He wondered if he’d actually landed this far from the vehicle or if Nick had pulled him into the forest. Either way, he needed to let Nick go and allow him the slim chance of finding Barzani in time.

  “Get going,” Matt ordered with as much force as he could muster.

  When Nick hobbled away, he looked like a peg-legged pirate stumbling between trees and finally following the road. They’d both known an IED was a possibility, but there was no time for caution. Nick was in the same position now and Matt thought he might never see his partner ever again. Haste was an FBI agent's worst enemy.

  Matt leaned his head back down and tried to think of some way he could help. He felt completely helpless and his adrenalin kicked in giving him the strength to get to his elbows. Nick was out of sight and the forest was devoid of sound. Matt wondered whether his hearing was damaged from the blast or the aftermath had scared the animals into a stunned silence.

  As these thoughts ran through his mind, a man crept out from the woods and into a clearing just ten yards away. He looked like an ordinary citizen without any striking characteristics, but for the gun in his left han
d and the casualness in which he carried it. He looked down at Matt and seemed to regard him with a hint of pity.

  “Today is just not your day, Agent McColm,” the man said with a thick Russian accent.

  • • •

  Nick hurt everywhere. His neck and his legs throbbed, but his left shoulder was flashing a pain so harsh, he had to lean over and force himself to breathe. He was a worthless wretch with limited mobility about to enter a terrorist’s lair which had been set up months ago.

  Somewhere nearby Nick could hear the Salt River flowing. Roosevelt Dam was on the other side of a huge hill and out of sight, but he could smell the lake. He spotted the stand of oleanders up against the side of the hill and immediately knew what he’d find behind them. The maintenance door.

  When he squeezed behind the bushes, he saw the door ajar. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Like the spider offering the fly an open invitation. With his pistol out, he stood against the wall next to the door and pushed it open with the muzzle of his gun.

  He waited. Nothing happened, so he got to his knees and peeked inside. It was dark, but the sunlight allowed him to see the brown corridor extending into the hillside. He was aware of the time and felt an unhealthy sense of duty nudge him into the tunnel.

  Nick slowly shut the door behind him and allowed his eyes to adjust. The tunnel was large, maybe ten feet wide and seven feet high. It was lit with dim amber lights hanging along the wall which allowed him to see down the winding corridor. The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees. There was a noise ahead of him echoing into the body of the tunnel. It was a man’s voice. As his words reverberated off the walls, Nick recognized who was speaking. It was President Merrick. Somewhere, there was a radio broadcasting the President’s speech.

  Nick crept down the dirt path; a deep musty aroma forced him to breathe through his mouth. He followed the President’s voice taking careful steps, heel to toe, his gun out in front of him.

  Stiff-legged and panting from pain, Nick saw the tunnel split in two. The radio broadcast was coming from the left tunnel, the same direction Benton had told him to take. He inched his way down the dirt shaft until he saw an opening on his left. It appeared to be an intersecting tunnel, but as he got closer, the President’s voice seemed to amplify. The opening was more illuminated than the other parts of the tunnel and as Nick approached, he understood why. The opening was a room of sorts. A small cave with no outlet.