“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 didn’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.
Stevie dropped his bag with a grunt. “Man, I could use a cup of coffee.”
“It’s already made,” Julie said from the bedroom.
Nick went and poured Stevie a cup of coffee, then placed the cream and sugar on the counter next to the cup with a spoon. As Stevie prepared his drink, Nick looked at the duffle bag.
“Is that everything?” Nick asked.
“No, I’ve got another case out on the porch.” He took a sip of the coffee and sighed. “So, tell me what you need.”
“We’ve located Barzani’s safe house,” Nick said. “He left in a hurry, so I need you to go over there and inspect every centimeter of that place. He’s shrewd, but he left clues behind, I’m sure of it. We just need to figure out which ones matter.”
Stevie glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m ready anytime.”
“Okay,” Nick said. “I’ll go wake up Tommy and have him take you there.”
“Tommy, as in your cousin?” Stevie asked.
“Yeah,” Nick said. “That okay?”
“No,” Stevie said with a tired smile. “That’s better than okay. I need the entertainment.”
Chapter 16
President Merrick sat slumped back in a chair in Press Secretary Fredrick Himes’ office. He was reading the Washington Post with his legs crossed while Himes worked on notes for Merrick’s upcoming press conference from behind his desk. Himes’ office was a small, white room with the American Flag prominently displayed behind the desk.
“Isn’t that a little old fashioned?” Samuel Fisk said from the doorway, pointing to the newspaper in Merrick’s hands.
Merrick didn’t turn his head. “I hear you’ve been searching the White House for me.”
“I have,” Fisk said, leaning against the door jam and folding his arms. “They’ve just increased the terrorist threat level again. That’s twice in five days.”
“I know. I’ve already read the reports.” Merrick squeezed his eyelids shut, then reopened them. “That backlit screen is just too harsh. Sometimes I just need good old fashioned paper and print.”
“Is your statement finished?”
Merrick lowered the newspaper and looked at Himes. “Freddy?”
“Just about,” Himes said, his face glued to the computer monitor.
“What’s the main theme?”
“We don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Himes said flatly. “Should they want a serious conversation, we’ll have one. If they just want to threaten, we can do that as well.”
“I see,” Fisk said. “By the way, John, have you been playing online poker again?”
Merrick turned a page. “Is there something you want to tell me, Sam?”
“Well, apparently your little bluff with Hakim has worked.”
Merrick shut the newspaper so fast, it almost ripped. “And?”
“He’s on his way to the airport as we speak.”
Merrick slapped his hands together. “Yes.” He turned to Himes. “Get this news out to Nick in Arizona. Maybe he can do something with it.”
“Can I ask you something?” Fisk said.
“Sure.”
“What exactly are you going to tell him when he asks you about your withdrawal strategy?”
Merrick folded the newspaper and placed it on Himes’ desk. “Well, to be honest I never thought it would get this far.”
“I know,” Fisk said. “That’s why I asked.”
Merrick leaned back in the chair. “You know Sam, you can be a real pessimist sometimes. I just bought us another twenty four hours. Maybe I just saved some lives out in Payson. Maybe Barzani sees this as a positive sign and gives us enough time.”
“Enough time for what?” Fisk asked.
“Enough time for Nick and Matt to catch the bastard,” Merrick said, putting some mustard on that last word.
Fisk shook his head. “You put a lot of pressure on those two. How many bullets do you think they can dodge?”