“No,” Nick said. “He’s Kurdish. He’s not one of these guys that hides out in a cave and draws plans in the dirt. He does everything himself. And he’s good at what he does. Maybe the best.”
“What does he do?”
Nick was deep in thought. Rashid Baser. What would Rashid be doing here? He looked over at Matt and saw the same question going across his face.
“You think he came all the way here just for revenge?” Matt asked.
Nick shook his head. Partly because he didn’t believe it. Partly because he didn’t want to believe it.
“You said he’s the best,” Ray said. “The best what?”
“He kills people,” Nick said. “He’s good with a gun, but prefers to work with blades.”
“Blades?”
“Yes, blades.”
Ray involuntarily rubbed his neck.
“Exactly.”
Nick was pacing now, gathering speed as he went. “Do you want to know the most dangerous thing about Rashid Baser? He’s Kemel Kharrazi’s best friend. They grew up together in Southeastern Turkey.”
Ray swallowed.
“That’s right, that Kemel Kharrazi. The one whose name makes serial killers sleep with the light on. So let’s cut the crap, Ray. Are you positive this is the guy you saw?”
“What do you want from me?” Ray pleaded. “I swear I’m not lying to you.”
Nick nodded. He grabbed the copy of the photo from Matt and examined it closely. The image was grainy, but it certainly appeared to be Rashid. Nick thought it looked to be taken about five years ago. Rashid was still wearing a mustache. He thought of something.
“Ray,” Nick said, “What did he look like when you met with him? Any different than this photo?”
Ray appeared serious, as if he were adding numbers in his head. “Yeah, he wasn’t wearing no mustache when I saw him.”
“Is that all?”
“And… and… he was missing part of his left ear. Looked like he lost it in a fight or something. Pretty ugly.”
“Great,” Nick said, now certain that Rashid Baser was actually on American soil. He turned to see Matt sitting there feeling his empty holster, looking like a boy who’d left his fly open.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Matt said, looking at the four cement walls that contained them.
“No shit,” Nick said.
Ray looked lost.
Nick crouched down and pulled up on Ray’s chin until their eyes were inches apart. “What did you do, Ray? Did he pay you to set us up?”
“Huh?”
“Look, Ray, I know you’re stupid, but you don’t have to overdo it.”
Seville’s face tightened with confusion.
“Ray. He tried to kill you. He knows you made him. You don’t think he’s going to finish the job? You think he forgot about you? What if he followed you here and saw two FBI agents waltz in behind you? Especially agents who specialize in counterterrorism. Faces he knows.”
Seville’s eyes widened with recognition, like someone who just remembered he’d left the stove on.
“You think you were tagged, Ray?”
Seville just stared.
Until the explosion broke the silence.
Chapter 2
The sound came from the outer hallway. It wasn’t the searing blast of a bomb destroying the building, but the muted pop of Semtex ripping apart the hinges of a steel door. Nick knew that the next thing he’d hear would be the thump of that big piece of steel slamming into the corridor. He also knew that Truth would be hustling furiously toward his demise. Which was exactly how it happened. Nick heard a couple of coughs from a silencer, then all three hundred pounds of Truth hit the floor heavy.
By now the red light in the poker room would be flashing, signaling a breach in the entrance. Everyone would scurry out the back exit for fear of being caught in a raid.
Nick searched for a way out, but saw nothing. He knew what it felt like to be trapped inside of a coffin. Nick glanced down at his cell phone. No reception. He looked at Matt and saw him examining his phone. He shook his head. Their service was being jammed.
Matt stood up and grasped his holster as if it could grow another gun. He stared at the solitary exit from the basement room. A rickety oak door that hung there more from habit than sound construction.
There was a tap on the door. It sounded exactly what the muzzle of a gun would sound like against brittle oak. A man’s voice came from the other side. It was soft, but firm, with a hint of an accent. “Raymond.”
The only noise was the hum of the fluorescent lights.
“Raymond, it’s not you I want. Just tell me if they’re armed and I’ll let you go untouched. It’s the only way you’ll leave here alive.”
“It’s him,” Ray murmured.
Nick put a finger to his lips. Matt was on his knees quietly twisting off a leg of the coffee table.
“Raymond,” the voice said. “Don’t be a fool. These are not men worth dying for.”
Nick watched Seville carefully. The guy was actually thinking about it. He saw it in his eyes. Seville blurted, “They’re un—”
Matt reached him first. His uppercut smacked Ray hard under the chin. Seville’s head jerked back, and his body instantly became a rag doll against the pillow of the sofa.
“Raymond?” came the voice on the other side of the door.
There was silence while Matt went back to work on the leg of the table. Nick saw him twisting the wooden dowel, but it was like watching from an out-of-body experience. A silent vacuum seemed to suck all of the oxygen from the room. Anxiety tightened its grip around Nick’s neck and forced him to remain still for fear of falling down. He was slipping away again.
A vision flashed across Nick’s mind. It was the image of a lipstick kiss his wife left for him on the mirror that morning. It hung there like the single digit sum to the chalkboard-crammed equation of his life. The kiss said everything that needed to be said. Suddenly, the floor seemed to be moving and he realized it was his legs wobbling beneath him.
“Nicholas,” the assassin said, breaking into Nick’s death dream. “I found two guns on the black man’s corpse. We both know who they belong to.”
Matt freed the wooden leg and motioned with his hand, encouraging Nick to engage the killer in some dialog. The lipstick kiss evaporated.
“Nicholas,” Rashid said. “Is that your partner with you? Mathew?”
Rashid’s voice jarred him back to consciousness. The evil seeped through the door like toxic waste.
Nick’s heart felt as if it would burst through his chest. He forced himself to concentrate. He wasn’t about to accommodate his assassin with any concessions.
“Nicholas, you may as well speak. They will most certainly be your last words.”
Nick instantly went from resignation to anger. Fury built up inside of him like a bolt of adrenalin. He could practically see Rashid’s teeth showing through his shark-like grin.
“Rashid,” Nick said, “wipe that smile off your face.”
A small chuckle from behind the door. “Nicholas, I should have killed you in Istanbul.”
“You didn’t kill me in Istanbul because you couldn’t,” Nick said. “Just like now.”
A pop. The silenced bullet shot through the door and buzzed past Nick’s ear. Both agents hit the floor, their heads only a couple of feet apart. They scurried behind the sofa across from Ray.
“He’s being cautious,” Matt whispered. “We got lucky once. He won’t make that mistake again.”
“Or he’s relishing the moment,” Nick said. “Prolonging the pleasure.”
“Whatever he’s doing, we’ve got thirty seconds, maybe sixty if he’s in a sporting mood.”
Nick nodded. He pointed to the door. “How does he come in? Heavy or slow?”
“He busts through, dives right and shoots around the room starting from his right.”