“It’s okay,” Julie said. “Matt and Tommy took care of it.”
“Tell me about it,” Nick said.
Julie looked at Steele and Matt’s new partner seemed to give it some thought.
“They played good cop, bad mobster,” she said. “I guess Matt knew about a weakness.”
“His kids,” Nick said.
Steele’s mouth opened. “How did you-”
“We were together for ten years. There’s very little that only one of us knows.”
“Yeah, well, they got Kemin to lead them to the KSF safe house.”
Nick lurched upward, but an acute sting in his shoulder forced him back down.
“They’re liable to walk into a trap,” he said with a short breath.
Steele’s eyes showed concern. “They know,” she said.
Nick looked out the window and tried to focus. Barzani couldn’t have many soldiers left. Afran Rami was his youngest and his nephew. He must’ve begged his uncle to be the one to kill Nick Bracco. The kid was inexperienced with rifles, so it was a tactical mistake to send him in the first place. But Barzani was loyal to a fault.
“Nick,” Steele’s voice became somber. “Dave Tanner is dead.”
Nick put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to hear any details, he already knew who and why. He thought of Dave’s wife and daughter and sighed. The team had become a target. Barzani had enough money to hire every hit man in America to track them down and get revenge for killing their leader.
Nick sat up on his elbows and thought about the rest of the team. “Anyone else?”
Steele shook her head. “Everyone else is fine.”
Julie’s face wilted with apprehension. With her hand she held her stomach as if trying to protect her unborn child. Nick reached over and touched her arm.
“It’s okay, Sweetie,” he said, looking as confident as he could while wearing a baby blue hospital gown. “We’ll take care of this.”
Julie bit her lip and nodded, but Nick could see the memories coming back to her. The death of Don Silkari while trying to stop the KSF from destroying the White House. She must’ve known the arduous task ahead of them and wondered where it might stop. Nick sat there wondering the same thing himself. But he knew Barzani was the key. If he found him, he would cut the head off the KSF’s American team.
• • •
“Something’s wrong,” Temir Barzani said. He wore olive fatigues and stood at the head of the kitchen table to address his soldiers. Inside the log cabin were seven KSF members who were assembled around the long, oak table with complete focus on their leader.
“It’s thirty minutes past his contact time,” Barzani said. “We must assume he’s been captured, or worse.”
“Worse?” a soldier asked.
“Yes. He could have given up our location.”
A murmur of disagreement filled the small room. The tepid chatter was silenced by the loud thud of a fist pounding on the table. All eyes returned to their leader.
“Now,” Barzani said, “until we hear from Kemin, we must prepare for uninvited guests. Secure the cabin.”
“But, Sarock, if Kemin is merely late, he might-”
One glare was all it took for Barzani to receive the desired submission from his subordinate. Barzani had two requirements from his team while they occupied American soiclass="underline" Speak only English and never second-guess his orders. Both rules came from the greatest leader the Kurdish Security Force had ever known, Kemel Kharrazi. Since Kharrazi’s demise, Barzani had been forced into a leadership role he reluctantly assumed. It was a suicide mission they were on, but Barzani kept that to himself so he could receive the full thrust of obedience he needed to succeed.
Barzani appraised his soldiers with a stern eye. “Why are you still gathered here? Prepare for intruders. Now!”
The kitchen buzzed with screeching wooden chair-legs and shuffling feet as the team headed toward their assigned posts. Barzani would not make the mistakes his predecessor had made. He would leave no opportunities to thwart his plans. Especially from the FBI agents who destroyed Kharrazi.
One of the soldiers stayed by his side awaiting instructions. The man was his finest lieutenant, Hestin Jirdeer, who was the one person Barzani trusted above all others.
Jirdeer waited until the room cleared before he said, “Rami was a brave soldier.”
Barzani understood the meaning. Rami did everything he could to become just like his uncle, but he was too inexperienced to take on such a task. Barzani wondered whether he’d undermined his authority by making such a brash decision, or whether he was displaying his willingness to lose his own nephew to prove a point.
As if Jirdeer could sense his concern, he looked his leader in the eye and said, “It was the right choice.”
Barzani appreciated the gesture. He nodded.
“And so was Kemin,” Jirdeer said. “However, these men are not to be underestimated.”
Barzani looked at his lieutenant with a questioning expression. “You have already sent for the assassin?”
“Yes, Sarock. We may be low on manpower, but we have an excess of funds. These funds can pay for someone else to achieve our goals here. I think this man is a good choice.”
Barzani looked down at his computer screen where he’d just transferred a half a million dollars to pay for the deaths of the remaining FBI agents who’d conspired against them.
He pointed to the screen. “Is this man as good as The Russian?”
Jirdeer hesitated. “It is doubtful anyone could be so good, Sarock.”
That was a very true statement. The Russian had no equal. It’s the reason they’d decided to overpay him. Vengeance had no price tag.
Barzani heard the bustle of footsteps overhead. His men were acquiring positions for battle. At one time there were more than two hundred KSF soldiers in the United States. This was before the American FBI agent had tricked their great leader and ruined their plans of forcing U.S. troops from their homeland in Turkey. A place where Kurds made up twenty percent of the population, yet after thirty years of negotiating with the Turkish government for autonomy, their language was still barred from schools and official parliament meetings. The time for negotiation was clearly over. It was time to make the United States pay for their support of the Turkish government. But more importantly to Barzani, it was time for revenge.
“Do you trust this man?” Barzani asked.
“No,” Jirdeer said. “But he is no friend of law officials.”
Barzani grinned. He always valued his lieutenant’s directness. There was never any worry of pretense. He pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to Jirdeer. “Take whatever you need.”
As Jirdeer reached for the key, Barzani pulled it back. “Make sure he gets the woman. I want this agent to suffer. I want him to understand what losing a family member is like.”
Jirdeer took the key. “As you wish, Sarock.”
• • •
“Why are we stopping?” Tommy asked from the back seat.
Matt had slowed the sedan and pulled to the curb of the suburban tree-lined street. “We wait here for backup. Luke is picking up Jennifer.”
“What are you talking about,” Tommy said. “I wanna get this rat bastard while I still got venom running through my blood.”
“They’ve got six, maybe seven soldiers up there. We’re not going to accomplish our goals alone.”
“I gotta tell ya.” Tommy shook his head. “Taking orders is not my strong suit. It’s the reason I never got married.”
“Relax. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Kemin’s face grew smug in the passenger seat.
“The fuck you so happy about?” Tommy blurted.
Kemin’s smile disappeared. He seemed reluctant to engage Tommy in dialogue. As if he might give Tommy more information than he already had.
Tommy stepped out into the cool autumn air.
“Where are you going?” Matt said.
“I’m taking a little stroll.”
“Get back in the car!”
Tommy dug his toothpick in between two back molars and took in the surroundings. Nice rolling hills. The houses were separated by acres of trees. No two homes looked alike. Nothing like the endless parade of row houses that framed the bowling-lane streets back in Baltimore.