Nick was beginning to understand it now. If Silk was simply ambushed, it makes him look slow, which is not exactly how these guys want him remembered. Neither did Nick.
“There is one other thing,” Nick said, and he went on to tell them Silk’s last words, that Nick should track Kharrazi down if he screwed up.
This opened up a chorus of, “See that,” and “Exactly what Sal’s trying to say.”
Nick was actually beginning to feel better. This was worth twenty sessions with Dr. Morgan. He was at Silk’s funeral and was finding himself almost happy. Talking with Sal was practically cathartic. Why did he suddenly feel so blissful? Maybe it was the relief of confessing his sins. Maybe it was the document he had tucked in his jacket pocket. Maybe it was the fact that they were right. Silk could be many things, but slow wasn’t one of them.
“Does your boss know you’re telling us all of this?” Tommy said.
“I don’t have a boss right now,” Nick said. “I resigned from the Bureau yesterday.”
“You shitin’ me?” Tommy said.
“Nope.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m looking for a place up in the mountains. I think Julie and I are going to take it easy for a while. Get rid of some stress.”
“Good for you,” Sal said. “I always thought you were wound up a little tight. You’re doing the right thing.” He paused and thought for a moment. “So, we all square with the feds?” He looked out the window at Silk’s grave, “I mean, we pay enough of a price for them?”
Nick glanced at each man, one by one. When he got to Sal, he said, “You overpaid.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Sal grunted.
Nick reached into his inside jacket pocket and came out with a black leather case. It was a document holder the size of a large checkbook. The case gleamed in his hand and Nick could smell the fresh leather.
“What ya got there,” Tommy pointed his toothpick.
Nick handed the leather case to Sal, then watched.
Sal’s face brightened as he reviewed the document inside.
Nick waited to let the concept sink in before he hit him with it. Finally, after a minute, Sal looked up at Nick. “What does this mean exactly?”
“It means you’ve been selected to be an Honorary Consulate of the United States of America.”
Sal smiled and held up the shiny leather case to give everyone a good look. When they were all done gawking at the official document inside, Sal looked back at Nick, “Okay? What exactly does a, uh, Consulate do?”
“Well, technically, he would look after American commercial interests in foreign countries.”
“American commercial interests? What the fuck’s that mean?”
“Well, Sal,” Nick said, “you’re a successful businessman. We need someone with your talent to help grow your industry throughout the world.”
Sal’s eyebrows furrowed. “But I run an exterminating business.”
“That’s right,” Nick said. “It’s precisely the type of business we need to export. We need a good exterminator.”
Sal tapped the case against his leg and gave Nick a skeptical glare. “You need an exterminator?”
Nick nodded, giving nothing away.
Sal looked like the tumblers were falling into place as understanding crossed his face. “You said, technically I look after these interests? What about untechnically?”
Nick grinned. Silk wasn’t the only one who could smell an ambush. “Well, untechnically, you would report to a Victor Pedroza in the U.S. Embassy in Amman, Jordan.”
“Jordan? What the fuck-”
Nick held up his hand. “Hold on, Sal. Before you get all bent out of shape, let me explain.”
Sal leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Only if you’re willing,” Nick continued, “Victor Pedroza will be your contact at the embassy. Pedroza is a twenty-year veteran of the CIA. He will furnish you with classified papers and photos of the worlds most powerful terrorists and their current whereabouts. Leaders of Hamas, al-Qaeda, Hizballah. Your expertise will help eradicate these leaders.”
Sal lifted an eyebrow. “I see.” He studied Nick for a moment and said. “If they know where these guys are, how come they need us? And how come it took so long to find. . uh, what’s his name?”
“We always know where they are, Sal. Sometimes it benefits us to watch who comes and goes more than it does to take the guy out. Then there are times when we don’t have enough evidence to arrest, yet we know what they’re up to. We use wiretaps, satellite photos, stuff that sometimes doesn’t hold up too well in court. We need someone to, well, let’s say, we need someone to take care of certain projects behind the scenes.”
Sal nodded, thinking about the idea. “If we always know what they’re up to, then what happened on September 11th?”
Nick sighed. “Yeah, well, that’s when the gloves came off and all of this satellite communications stuff became routine. We’ve been infiltrating their networks ever since. And as far as Kharrazi goes, the CIA had the goods on him, but egos got in the way.”
“Ain’t that always the case,” Tommy said.
Nick rubbed the side of his face. “Look, there’s going to be mistakes made. That can’t be avoided. But we can diminish their abilities dramatically. You only have to go over there a couple of times a year.” Nick looked around at the rest of Sal’s crew. “You’ll need to find some staff members to take with you.”
Sal sat still a moment, then unfolded his arms and slapped his knees. “Damn. So the government actually wants us to go whack these assholes?”
Nick winced. “Let’s just say, the United States Government doesn’t mourn the loss of terrorists. And they’re willing to pay handsomely to expedite their demise.”
“What happens if we get caught?”
Nick nodded again, ready for the question. “When a terrorist is killed, the CIA becomes the lead investigator. They will work with the local authorities and confiscate any evidence left behind. This evidence has a way of getting buried. As long as the incident isn’t filmed by the media, it’s a safe bet that the killer will never be caught. The CIA will guarantee that.”
“They can do all that?”
Nick grinned. “Sal, if the CIA wants to, they can always find a way to gain jurisdiction. Once they have jurisdiction, they control everything. And I mean everything.”
Sal seemed satisfied with that.
Nick thought about something Kharrazi told him just before he bled out. “The United States has been forced to play by the rules when it came to terrorism, yet the terrorists don’t have those restrictions. Up until now it hasn’t been a fair fight.” Nick pointed to the document in Sal’s hand. “We’ve just evened up the odds.”
Sal lifted a plain brown cigar from his jacket pocket and played with it. “I don’t know.” He pointed the cigar at Nick, “How do you figure in all of this?”
“I’m simply the liaison for the State Department. Just an ex-FBI agent making decisions on my own. There’ll be no footprints to follow back to the White House.” Nick hunched over and looked up at the crew as if he were a quarterback in the middle of a huddle. “Everyone in this car is an American. It’s time we show these assholes how to play the game. We’ve always had the technology, now we have the muscle to back it.”
Nick could feel the testosterone level elevate around him as he spoke. He pressed down a bandage that was coming loose from his sweating forehead. He spoke, not as an ex-FBI agent, or Tommy Bracco’s cousin, but as a salesman trying to close the deal. He’d spent too many sleepless nights worried about the things he couldn’t do because of the law, or because of his moral obligation to follow the Constitution. Nick had turned the corner and he wasn’t ever going back.
He noticed Sal absently finger his cigar as he concentrated fully on Nick.
Nick said, “It's time we go after the leaders of these groups. We sort of take all the fun out of being the boss. It disrupts their plans and lowers the quality of leader they choose. After a while, they’re doing more fighting among themselves, than anything else.”