“I’m listening,” Joe said, playing stupid just to watch the guy squirm.
“So,” the man said. He looked around the room. Only a few people were playing pool and two old-timers were watching an East Coast football game at the bar. It was noon and the Winchester wasn’t exactly a lunchtime type of place. “We’re part of a group of people who support the Kurdish search for a nation of their own.”
“The KSF,” Joe said.
“I didn’t say that.”
Joe shrugged. He wasn’t particularly political, but you had to be living in a cave not to know who the KSF was. “All right, who’s the target?”
The man drew a thin envelope from his pants pocket and laid it in front of Joe.
Joe opened the envelope and saw the picture inside. He had to hide his surprise.
“You know her?” the man said.
Joe nodded, but kept it straight. “I never met her, but sure I know her. Most people around here would.”
“Are there any problems?”
Joe lifted his glass and took a long pull on his beer. Now’s when the negotiations began and it was one of the few pleasures Joe missed about the business.
“Well,” Joe began, “I’ve been retired almost ten years now. I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to take any unnecessary chances, if you know what I mean.”
The man was paying full attention, which was good.
“Plus, this isn’t your ordinary get-rid-of my-ex-wife kind of thing,” Joe added.
He thought he saw the man twitch at the idea Joe might decline the job.
“So, I don’t think this is something worth the risk,” Joe finally said.
The man reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a lumpy envelope and placed it in front of Joe.
“I give you ten thousand right now,” the man blurted. “The other forty when you’re done.”
Joe looked at the envelope, then up into the man’s jittery face. “When does this need to be done?” he asked.
“By tomorrow.”
This time Joe didn’t hide his surprise. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Joe picked up the envelope and felt it like he was testing a ripe cantaloupe. Then he put it on the seat next to him.
“Tell you what,” Joe said. “You give me that other envelope you’re carrying with the forty and maybe we can agree on something. But you’ll give me another fifty when I’m done.”
“Another fifty? That’s one hundred-that’s double what we agreed.”
Joe pointed his cigar at him. “We didn’t agree on jack shit. I said I’d listen to your proposal, that’s all. Now, those are my terms. I don’t need any of this to live a full and happy life.”
Joe gave the man his hundred thousand dollar smile and waited.
Finally, the man pursed his lips and pulled a larger envelope from his pocket and handed it to Joe. “Okay. By tomorrow.”
There, Joe thought, sticking the cigar in his mouth. That wasn’t so hard, was it?
Chapter 5
Matt tossed Kemin’s corpse into the hole, then he and Tommy continued their search of the KSF’s safe house. They weaved their way through the dense woods twenty yards apart, both seeking traces of the unordinary. Something that was out of place in the serene, suburban cabin community.
Matt made eye contact with Tommy and watched him shrug.
“I’m a city boy,” Tommy said. “I don’t even know what to look for.”
They walked further, slowly, listening to the leaves crunch under their steps. Five minutes later Matt held out his hand and snapped his fingers. Tommy stopped. A bush moved fifty yards ahead of them. It was the type of movement only a trained sniper would notice. It wasn’t wind.
Matt motioned Tommy to take cover and Tommy slid behind a large tree with his pistol by his side. Matt dropped to his knees, tucked behind a fallen log. His eyes focused on one spot, while monitoring his peripheral vision. There was unnatural movement all around them. Bushes, tree limbs, leaves along the forest floor. He could sense the danger and tried to quantify his targets. He counted at least six. That meant there was more than ten. Not a number even he could overcome.
Tommy poked his head out and searched for something he would never see.
“Get back,” Matt said.
“I don’t see nothing.”
Matt sighed. All of his sharp-shooting prowess wasn’t going to get them out of this. The only thing that gave him hope was the fact that these weren’t terrorists. They were too organized. Too much training as a team. Terrorists weren’t good at playing together. These were professionals. They acted like Special Forces, but that couldn’t be right. The FBI SWAT team had the only pros around and they were down in Phoenix two hours away.
“Hey,” Tommy said. “What’re we waiting for?”
“Drop your gun,” Matt said.
Tommy cocked his head. “Come again?”
“Drop your gun and raise your hands up high.”
Tommy just squinted.
“Listen to me. If you don’t do what I tell you, you’ll be dead in a few moments.”
Matt dropped his Glock and slowly walked out from behind the tree. He placed his hands on his head and motioned for Tommy to follow his lead.
Tommy hesitated.
“If not for me, Kemin would have finished you off an hour ago,” Matt said. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Tommy grimaced. He dropped his pistol and walked into the open with his palms on his head.
“You’d better,” Tommy said.
It only took a moment to prove Matt’s theory. A male voice called to them from a spot thirty yards in front of them.
“Keep coming,” the voice said.
They sprang from the left, the right and the treetops. In less than twenty seconds a dozen soldiers in camouflage gear surrounded them with automatic weapons and blackface. The clicks of chamber rounds echoed in the quiet of the woods.
Their leader was easy to spot. He was the one who maintained a leisurely stroll while everyone else knelt into a perfect attack position. The leader must’ve been pushing sixty, but he seemed fit and alert.
“FBI,” Matt said, holding his hands lower now waiting permission to remove his credentials from his pocket.
The man nodded.
Matt pulled out his creds and watched the man examine it for a moment, before returning it to him. The man glanced at Tommy.
“He’s working with me. An informant,” Matt said.
The man seemed to buy it. He held out his open palm to Matt. “Name’s Buck Martin.”
Matt shook his hand. “Matt McColm. This is Tommy Bracco.”
Buck shook Tommy’s hand.
“Which unit are you with?” Matt asked.
“Well,” Buck said. “We’re not exactly with the military. We’re private contractors. Iron Mountain, USA.”
“Mercenaries? In Payson, Arizona?” Tommy said.
“Soldiers of fortune, if you wish,” Buck said. “The fortune is paid to us all over the world. Even here in the states.”
Matt gestured toward the soldiers still training their M-4’s at him and Tommy. “Any chance of getting them to relax?”
Buck nodded. “Stand down, boys.”
In unison the soldiers placed their weapons to their side.
“May I ask exactly what you’re being paid to do?” Matt said.
Buck seemed to mull it over in his head. Finally, he said, “We’re contracted to rid the area of residual terrorists. They’re believed to have dug in and waited out the original eradication.”
“You’re in luck. I’m one of two the resident agents here in Payson. I was here during the original eradication. My partner and I came over from Baltimore and-”
“Nick Bracco,” Buck said. “Yes, I know all about you. Unfortunately, we’re not set up to work with outside agencies. We’re much more effective on our own.”
That stopped Matt. He’d never heard of any law enforcement turning down help. But these guys weren’t the law. They were more closely related to hired assassins.