Just before contact, Nick had shut his eyes and didn’t see it happen, but Kharrazi must have turned at the last possible moment. Nick had continued into a large tree. He hadn’t even thought about the air bag, but it certainly had saved his life. At least until Kharrazi found him.
Nick saw steam wafting upward from under the hood of Kharrazi’s truck. The horn still pierced the air. He was able to unholster his gun with his right hand. His left arm and shoulder were useless. Liquid dripped down the side of his neck and when he touched it with the back of his gun hand, he came back with blood. He looked up to see himself in the rear view mirror, but it was gone. He pulled the side view mirror from his lap and saw lacerations streaking the left side of his face. They were already beginning to coagulate down to a slow ooze.
The truck’s engine was still running, but when he stepped on the accelerator, nothing happened. Everything looked real promising.
He was a sitting duck if he didn’t force himself out of the truck. First he unsnapped his seat belt harness and rolled to his right onto the bench seat. His legs seemed to be working properly, so he boosted himself up and, using only his right hand, he opened the passenger side door and hobbled outside of the truck.
Nick scoured the perimeter. He didn’t see or hear anything, but the truck’s horn dominated the sounds of the night. He wondered if Kharrazi had purposely managed to leave the horn blaring. It would cover up any peripheral noise Kharrazi might make from the woods. It was precisely the kind of thing Kharrazi would do.
Nick found himself favoring his right leg as he limped toward Kharrazi’s truck. He worked his way there from a wide semicircle. Keeping his attention on the cab of the truck, he slithered between trees and undergrowth. It was an older model truck and didn’t appear to have air bags. When he was even with the driver’s side door, he saw something move inside the cab. An arm maybe, or maybe a branch moved from the other side of the cab. He stood motionless and saw it again. An arm seemed to be banging against the dashboard. No, not the dashboard, the steering column. Kharrazi was pounding his fist against the horn, trying to get it to stop. Nick watched cautiously, trying to evaluate Kharrazi’s condition before approaching him.
A moment later the horn stopped.
It left a sudden void, which was filled with an eerie silence, like just before a hurricane was about to hit. Only the hiss of the torn water hose remained. Kharrazi simply sat there, his left hand pressed up against the side of his neck. Nick thought he heard moaning. It was an older, foreign truck and he noticed the windshield was smashed. Kharrazi didn’t appear to be wearing a seat belt and there was no air bag. He must have catapulted through the windshield, then rebounded back into his seat.
Nick thought about firing a couple of rounds at Kharrazi. He was close enough. The man didn’t deserve a warning. Not Kemel Kharrazi. Finish it.
Hesitation, doubt, indecision: these were all things that got FBI agents killed. Nick had to decide, then commit to the decision. Slowly, he stepped out of the woods and approached the truck. His right arm was fully extended, his left arm was limp by his side. His gun seemed yards ahead of him.
“How did you find me?” Kharrazi said, without turning his head.
“You even scratch your nose, I’ll blow your head off,” Nick said through clenched teeth.
Kharrazi finally turned his head and Nick got a good look at his damaged face. His right eye was swollen. Streaks of blood ran down his face like a map full of rivers marked in red. Kharrazi’s left hand kept constant pressure against the side of his neck, yet blood still seeped between his fingers.
“Get your right hand up on the steering wheel,” Nick closed in.
When Kharrazi didn’t move, Nick fired a shot directly across his face and through the broken windows of the cab of the truck. Kharrazi quickly placed his hand on the steering wheel.
“I’m going to kill you, Mr. Bracco,” Kharrazi’s voice was raspy.
Nick had a million questions, but he was so relieved to be alive, he shivered. His teeth were actually chattering. He noticed the blood saturating Kharrazi’s left shoulder. Kharrazi must have nicked his carotid artery when he went through the windshield. He needed attention soon, or he would bleed out.
Kharrazi gave Nick a deadly stare. “You have just condemned your wife to a life of fear and ultimately a painful death.”
“You’re going to prison for the rest of your life, Kemel.”
Kharrazi seemed appalled at the accusation. “You think for one minute that I don’t have the funds to acquire the best team of attorneys money can buy? You think I left fingerprints, or any trails that lead back to me?”
Nick considered this for a moment. What evidence did they actually have that Kharrazi was the one who was giving the orders. Everyone in the Bureau knew it was him, but how much physical evidence did they actually have? Who in the KSF would ever turn on Kemel Kharrazi?
Kharrazi sneered, “You don’t think I can get to you from prison?”
That was the clincher. Yes, Kharrazi could reach Nick from prison. Unmistakably, unequivocally, and with little effort.
Nick wasn’t about to live the rest of his life with that hanging over his head. Before he knew it, he was leaning into the cab of the truck and pressing the tip of his 9mm against Kharrazi’s head.
Kharrazi didn’t flinch. “You don’t expect me to believe you’re going to shoot me.”
Nick pressed hard enough to force Kharrazi’s head back. “You don’t think I can?”
Kharrazi’s face was cool, but his eyes had difficulty leaving Nick’s gun. “I have to give you credit,” Kharrazi said. “You surprised me back there with the head-on move. It took a lot of courage to do what you did. But that was a spontaneous act. This is different. Now, you have a prisoner under custody. I am no longer a danger to you. You are too honest, Mr. Special Agent. You are not me. You play by the rules. Rules that I have no need to abide by. But you’re not about to lower yourself because of me or anyone else.”
Nick actually smiled. His face hurt when he did, so he stopped. He lowered his gun and watched Kharrazi’s expression grow smug.
“That’s better,” Kharrazi said.
“What I’m wondering,” Nick said, casual, non-threatening, an inquisitive tone.
“Why you?” Kharrazi finished for him.
“Yeah?”
“Because of Rashid.”
“So, revenge.”
“Oh, no, it’s much deeper than that. Rashid was much closer than a brother. When you were able to chase him down and arrest him, I took notice. The FBI is a large, sluggish, political system that moves at a snail’s pace. There is always one person that finds their way around the obstacles in a massive entity like the Bureau. You were that person. And I knew if you were clever enough to capture Rashid, you were clever enough to thwart our operation.”
Nick waved his hand at the crumpled truck that enclosed Kharrazi. “Your logic was obviously flawless.”
“Don’t be so arrogant, Mr. Bracco,” Kharrazi scoffed. “You haven’t even begun to see the extent of my control. There are people I can contact who would gladly finish my chores for me. Your beautiful wife will not put up with the restrictions you’ll require in order to protect her. She will be more of a prisoner than I will ever be.”
Nick didn’t need to hear any more. He pulled his handcuffs from his belt and quickly snapped one around Kharrazi’s right wrist, on the hand that was gripping the steering wheel. It took Kharrazi by surprise.
“You have a Constitutional right to remain silent,” Nick said.
This seemed to relax Kharrazi. He was being arrested and it didn’t appear to faze him.
Nick pulled Kharrazi’s left hand from his neck and tugged it through the opening in the steering wheel, under the left side of the steering column. He then snapped it together with the handcuff on Kharrazi’s right wrist before Kharrazi knew what was happening.