But something gnawed at Nick deep inside. For the first time since he’d known Silk, he was actually concerned for his safety.
Chapter 38
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?”
Kharrazi pointed the Beretta at Silk’s chest, “You’re already beginning to bore me to death.”
The man laughed. “Hey, that’s a good one, Shorty.” Then, he seemed to turn serious. “Of course someone your height, I guess a gun is mandatory, isn’t it?”
Kharrazi hesitated at the insult and was startled to see the man use the moment to rush toward him with a look of determination on his face. Kharrazi actually backpedaled as he quickly fired shots with his automatic, including one in the neck and one to the head. Still the man kept coming into the onslaught until his bullet-ridden body limply wrapped itself around Kharrazi’s frame like a drowning man.
As his life rapidly slipped away, the man seemed to be frisking Kharrazi’s body; he groped Kharrazi’s torso until one hand weakly found the knife tucked inside his ankle holster. Fighting until the bitter end, Kharrazi thought.
Kharrazi held the Beretta inches above the man’s head, but didn’t feel the need to waste another bullet.
It sounded like the man said, “See you soon,” as he slipped down Kharrazi’s legs and crumpled to the ground by his feet.
Kharrazi stood there in the still night air amazed at the man’s tenacity. He checked the man’s hands to find them empty. He felt for a pulse and found none. Kharrazi grinned at the corpse. “You were a brave soldier, Mr. Silk. Almost as brave as Rashid Baser.”
The tension inside of the four cement walls was palpable. The timer ruthlessly beamed its diminishing red numbers, unfazed by the frenzy of Marines and FBI agents running up and down the cracked stairs with wires dangling from every appendage.
Kelly stripped the insulation from the tip of the wires and handed them individually to Rutherford at a rate of two a minute. Carl Rutherford was drenched with sweat even though the cool autumn night fed steady breezes through the open basement doors. He quivered slightly as he wrapped each wire around the positive pole protruding from the top of the small battery. A chorus of headlights poured into the basement from the parked cars just outside of Kharrazi’s private quarters. Each time Rutherford attached a wire, a new set of headlights came to life along with a hesitant flicker from the rest of the group.