“I like it up here,” Tommy said.
“Good, now get back in the car.”
Tommy looked down at Kemin in the front seat. “How far away are we?”
Matt jumped out of the car and slammed the roof. “Dammit, Tommy, we do this my way.”
“Your way put my cousin in the hospital. I’m not so impressed-”
“I’ll take you,” Kemin interrupted.
No one spoke.
“You two fight like old women arguing over a soup recipe,” Kemin said.
Tommy smiled. “See, even the terrorists are accommodating up in the mountain air.” He opened the passenger door and gestured Kemin to get out.
“Tommy,” Matt said. “You’re screwing this whole thing up.”
“Let me tell you something, G-man.” Tommy pulled on Kemin’s arm until he was out of the car. “A kind of operation like these guys have, they’ve got a system. This putz is overdue for his call-in. They know something’s wrong. If we wait until those two get here they could be gone.”
Matt seemed to consider the idea.
Tommy raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “You see I understand these guys better than you think. We don’t have time. At least let’s get close and be ready to stop them if they try to bolt.”
Matt lowered his head for a moment, then slammed his door shut and came around the car. “All right. We get to within five-hundred yards and that’s it. I’ll monitor them with my field glasses.”
“Is that the same as binoculars? You government types always trying to complicate things.”
Matt shook his head in disgust and motioned for Kemin to show them the way.
Tommy took out his pistol and held it waist high. “Don’t get cute, unless you can run faster than a thousand feet a second.”
Kemin took slow, deliberate steps and seemed to be searching for markers along the way. Tommy didn’t like the way Kemin observed the leaf-covered floor of the forest. It gave him an uneasy feeling, like when someone had a winning hand at a poker table.
Tommy was about to tell Matt about this when his world fell out from under him. He plunged to the bottom of a massive hole with enough force to empty his lungs. He gasped for air as tears filled his eyes. The back of his head throbbed from the impact. He tried to make sense of what just happened. He looked up and eight feet above him were long strands of branches with leaves glued to them. They covered up the opening. A couple of the branches came down with him into the hole.
He heard Matt shout. Then two gunshots pierced the forest.
Matt stopped shouting.
Tommy groped around the hole for his gun, but it wasn’t there. His breaths were coming in quick spurts. It was dark and the dirt was cold and moist. The gun, where did his gun go? His question was answered when he looked up. Kemin leered down at him with his arm extended. In his hand was Tommy’s gun.
“Great,” Tommy said, catching his breath. “You found my gun. Thanks.”
“Throw me your cell phone,” Kemin said.
“What’s the matter all of a sud-”
“Give me your cell phone or I kill you like I did the FBI agent.”
“See, I just don’t see myself doing that.”
“Goodbye, you stupid, stupid man.” Kemin stretched out his shooting hand and smiled a wicked smile. Tommy sat motionless. He shut his eyes tight and waited. When the shot came, it was quieter than he’d expected. As if Kemin had moved farther away. He waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. When he opened his eyes Kemin was gone. He couldn’t put it together in his mind until he saw a different face come into view above him. It was Matt. His face was dirty. His gun was by his side.
“You okay?” Matt said.
“How?”
Matt pounded his chest with his fist and the unmistakable sound of Kevlar rung out. “I slipped it on before we left the hospital.”
“You know something,” Tommy said. “I’m beginning to have a crush on you.”
Chapter 4
Joe Tessamano sat down on the barstool at the Winchester Saloon and raised his index finger to the female bartender.
“Draft Bud,” he said.
The woman gave him one of the best tip-grubbing smiles he’d ever seen. She was half his age, but that didn’t stop his imagination from drifting away. He watched her in those tight jeans pour his beer and place it on a cocktail napkin in front of him. He slid a twenty dollar bill toward her and said, “Keep it.”
She beamed and Joe smiled back. He took a sip of his beer and looked around the darkened bar. It was his first trip to Payson since he’d moved to Scottsdale from the East Coast. Scottsdale was oozing money, with oversized trucks and hot moms driving convertibles and everything else this little mountain town wasn’t. But he didn’t drive the hour and a half for pleasure. This was simply a business trip. Or at least it had the potential to be a business trip should the circumstances present themselves.
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a hand-rolled Dominican cigar. The Cuban’s had the best tobacco, but the Dominican’s knew how to roll better than anyone he’d ever seen. He licked his lips, then placed the cigar in his mouth. The female bartender gave him a firm look.
“Don’t worry, darling,” he assured her. “I’m just getting it lubed up for later.”
She grinned and Joe winked back.
A thin man with dark skin and thick mustache sat next to Joe. “Are you Joseph?” the man said with a Middle Eastern sounding accent.
Joe didn’t like the guy already. He was stiff and uncomfortable and drawing attention to himself just by his formal behavior. He’d called him Joseph as if he’d learned his name from looking up Joe’s driver’s license.
“Joseph?” Joe said. “That’s who you’re looking for?”
The man nodded. “Yes, please.”
If Joe didn’t suspect the guy was carrying an envelope full of money he would’ve just shot him right then. Joe looked around the shadowed room, pool tables and dart boards filled the east side of the bar. Lynyrd Skynyrd blared from an antique jukebox. He gestured toward a booth on the other side of the bar. The two of them slid in on opposite sides.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Joe said, blunt and not caring how it sounded.
The man swiveled his head around, then said, “We need someone eliminated.”
“We?” Joe said. “Who’s we?”
“I mean me,” the man tried to recover.
“No, you said we. So tell me who I might be working for and maybe I’ll listen.”
The man with the mustache just stared. It wasn’t a deep thoughtful stare, just a blank expression like he hadn’t considered the possibility the assassin would ask any questions.
Joe got out of the booth and patted the guy on the arm as he passed. “See ya, pal. Good luck finding someone stupid enough to work blind.”
He’d only taken four or five steps before he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Please,” the man said. “Let me explain.”
Joe had no intention of leaving. He was way too intrigued to let this guy fly the coop, but he wasn’t going to be bullied by an incompetent negotiator.
They returned to the booth and Joe twisted the tip of his cigar between his lips, waiting for an explanation. The man looked down at his hands folded on the table.
“Do you know the name Kemel Kharrazi?” the man said.
“Of course.”
“Well, when he died he left behind some loyal followers.” The man looked up at Joe as if that might be enough. Joe kept his mouth shut which he knew would force the imbecile to keep talking.
“And some of these followers have a grudge against the person who murdered their leader.”
Joe wanted to tell the guy that Kharrazi wasn’t exactly murdered, but that was beside the point. As far as he knew Kharrazi was trying to escape an FBI manhunt when one of their agents tracked him down to a path in the woods of Payson and won a game of chicken against the terrorist. The two of them were supposedly racing head-on toward each other with trucks when Kharrazi turned into a tree and died from the collision. But Joe still stayed quiet and watched the man raise his eyebrows as if Joe should finish the story on his own.