A Touch of Revenge (A Nick Bracco Thriller) Read online

  Joe pointed his cigar at Tommy. “‘You know what I always liked about you? You never took an order without asking why. Cap would tell you to scare someone, or break a bone and you’d always look at him and ask why. No one ever asked Mr. C. why about anything except you. And the beautiful way you’d spin it when he gave you that dark glare. ‘But Mr. Capelli, should someone ask me why I’m doing something and all I do is shrug, well pretty soon they’re going to fill their head with their own ideas and maybe it’s not the right ones. Maybe they guess wrong about your motivation, then maybe they start talking behind your back, start making their own plans.”

  “Then,” Joe added, “You’d give him that classic Tommy look with your eyebrows raised and say, ‘I’ve gotta have your back, Boss.’”

  Tommy grinned. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve never been very good at taking orders, have I?”

  Joe’s face grew somber as he puffed on his cigar, the ashes glowing orange in the afternoon shadows. He reached into his jacket again, only this time he came out with a folded manila envelope and handed it to Tommy.

  Tommy opened the envelope and saw the stack of hundreds held together with a rubber band. On top of the money was a photo. Tommy pulled out the picture and held it by the window to catch a ray of sun. It was a surveillance shot, grainy because it was taken from a distance and then blown up to give a better view of the target. And Tommy knew that’s exactly who this was, too—a target. His mouth curled into ugly scowl as he recognized the woman in the photo. Julie Bracco.

  He looked over at Joe Tess and said, “Tell me everything.”

  • • •

  Hestin Jirdeer sat in his car across the street from the Gila County sheriff’s office, pulled the binoculars down and pursed his lips. He didn’t trust the assassin he’d hired to kill the FBI agent’s wife and now understood why. Even from a hundred yards he could see the man hugging the FBI agent’s cousin in his car. The same gangster who’d helped the FBI capture the KSF’s supreme leader. They were obviously very friendly and the assassin was certainly helping the FBI himself. Jirdeer dreaded even making the call he needed to make, but decided to do it quick, before too much time had passed. Their plans were dependent on timing. He dialed his cell phone.

  “Yes,” came the deep voice.

  “Sarock,” Jirdeer’s breath became short in his chest. “They have Semir.”

  Barzani grumbled something Jirdeer didn’t quite understand.

  Jirdeer decided to go forward with all the bad news. “Also, the assassin is working with the FBI. He was a plant.”

  The silence was too long for Jirdeer’s nerves to handle. He watched the two men exit the assassin’s car and head into the sheriff’s office.

  “Sarock?” Jirdeer said. “It is better we know now rather than later.” Giving his leader a positive method of considering the information.

  Temir Barzani didn’t seem willing to accept the setback. Jirdeer could hear heavy breathing and that was all. He gripped his steering wheel tight, his arm muscles aching with anticipation.

  Finally, Barzani barked, “Get that squad over there right now. I want that woman dead.”

  Jirdeer wasn’t sure where he wanted the hired team of soldiers to go. The sheriff’s office? Was he to order a shootout? He thought about the consequences of having the conversation linger and decided the shorter they spoke, the better for Jirdeer’s standing.

  “Yes, Sarock,” was all he said.

  • • •

  Temir Barzani slammed his cell phone down on the kitchen table and shouted, “Shik poot.” Two soldiers stood by windows with their automatic weapons tight to their chests. They stood more rigid now, darting their eyes around the perimeter of the cabin. Even though there were plenty of surveillance cameras, they were the last line of defense for their leader.

  “Mano,” Barzani called out.

  A soldier peeked in from the next room. “Yes, Sarock.”

  Barzani pointed to the floor next to him. “Come here.”

  Mano Surtek scurried around the oak table and stood next to Barzani. He looked up at him with fear in his eyes.

  “Mano,” Barzani said, seething. “How long have we been on this mission?”

  “One hundred and forty-three days?” Mano answered, seeming to grope for the correct response.

  Barzani could see his security team watching from the corners of their eyes. He grabbed Mano around the throat and squeezed hard until he felt the soldier’s larynx cracking between his fingers. “At what point in the plan was Semir to be captured by the FBI?”

  Mano tried to answer, shaking his head and pleading with watery eyes. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Barzani shoved him down, driving him to his hands and knees. Mano gasped for air while rubbing his neck.

  Barzani had understood the value of a small inner circle. He wasn’t about to make the same mistakes his predecessor had made by spreading hundreds of soldiers throughout the United States, leaving loose ends for the FBI to capture and garner information.

  Barzani leaned over and spoke softly into his soldier’s ear. “Do you know how much our people are relying on us to accomplish our goals?”

  Mano nodded as drool dripped from his lips onto the wood floor.

  Barzani whispered, “Our people in Kurdistan are being slaughtered while we make feeble attempts to rid our homeland of these American meddlers. We need them to understand the trauma our families are enduring. All we ask for is fairness. Our passion will carry us to victory. Do you understand this?”

  Mano’s head sunk to his knees. “Yes,” he squeaked.

  “Now, I have one more question,” Barzani said. “Are the explosives in place?”

  Mano looked up with a sense of hope in his eyes. “Yes,” he said.

  Barzani reached down and grabbed a handful of Mano’s hair and pulled him to his feet. “Congratulations,” Barzani said. “That is the first correct answer you’ve had today.”

  Chapter 9

  They huddled around Nick’s dual computer screens, Nick, Matt and Walt. Walt had logged into the FBI’s secure antiterrorist site. He was positioning the curser over an image of LAX airport, zooming in and out of parking lots and employee entrances with the skill of a computer programmer. Los Angeles was an hour earlier than Arizona so the setting sun was higher in the sky there.

  “What kind of intel drew you to this threat?” Nick asked.

  “Morris found a Kurdish snitch willing to receive leniency for information about the KSF.”

  “Who?”

  Walt hesitated, while he moved the images on the screen larger, then smaller. He moved the images so quickly he was giving Nick a headache.

  “Walt?” Nick repeated.

  Walt sighed. “Baldar Nemit.”

  “Baldar turned?” Matt said, stunned. “Are you kidding me?”

  The leader of the FBI’s antiterrorist department removed his hand from the mouse and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest as he addressed his old teammates.

  “You think this is a dictatorship?” Walt said bluntly. “You think I didn’t tell Ken the source was suspect?”

  Matt said nothing. He and Nick both knew the politics that went into Walt’s job. Protect the big targets first, then worry about the small ones. They were minnows compared to LAX.

  “There’s only one reason I’m sitting here right now,” Walt said, picking up steam as he went. “I went over Ken’s head and told Sam to get the President’s approval. How many lives you think I have left once I get back to the beltway? Huh?”

  Matt looked down at his shoes.

  Nick patted Walt on the arm. “We appreciate what you’ve done for us, Walt. Really we do.”

  “I hope so boys, because I need you two around.” Walt’s face softened. He wagged his finger back and forth between Nick and Matt. “If I could just download all the information in your brains …” He leaned back and rested his head on the chair. “See, the new Bureau is all about data and p
rofiling and things which can be manipulated. An informant could be nodding his head, ‘Yes,’ but if he says ‘No’ that’s what’ll show up in the damn file. You guys were there in the trenches. That’s why I say, use your instincts. It’s not the FBI’s way anymore, but that doesn’t mean you have to give it up.”

  Walt swung his legs back under the desk and replaced his hand on the mouse. He zoomed in on an image of workers filling in the Mexican tunnel. “Our two best friends in the fight against terrorism have been the Atlantic and the Pacific. But if these tunnels are becoming this sophisticated, we may as well hand out speeding tickets down there.”

  “What kind of tracings did you find?” Nick asked.

  “Semtex,” Walt said, referring to the plastic explosive which was a favorite of the KSF.

  “So let me get this straight,” Nick said. “Baldar, the strongest component of the KSF’s American occupation, squeals on his Kurdish brethren and gives up a tunnel laced with Semtex?”

  Walt said nothing.

  “Then,” Nick continued, “he tells us this tunnel was built to bring in explosives to detonate a bomb at LAX? Right?”

  Walt kept his attention on the computer screen.

  “You don’t buy it either, do you?” Nick said.

  Walt moved his head side to side, ever so slightly.

  Nick rubbed his only free hand through his hair. “An enormous diversion,” he said. He looked over at Walt and saw understanding in his eyes. Walt knew.

  “So what do we do?” Matt asked.

  “You mean what do you do?” Walt said, looking at his watch. “In another hour, I’m taking the entire Western region with me to L.A. You guys need to figure this out. The minute you have credible evidence there’s something else going on, call me. I can be here in ninety minutes.”

  The door opened and Tommy rushed in trailed by a man with a deep tan and a black leather jacket. Tommy had a harsh expression as he came to the front of the desk.

  “This here is Joe Tess. He’s a friend of ours.” Tommy said, while handing Nick an envelope. “He received this from a KSF member earlier tonight.”

  Nick looked over at Joe and nodded. He understood the reference. If Tommy introduced someone as ‘a friend of his’ then it was someone outside of the Family. But a ‘friend of ours’ meant Joe was a Family member. Someone Tommy trusted.

  “How did they contact you?” Nick asked Joe.

  Joe had his hands in his pocket and shrugged. “They called my cell.”

  “How did they get your number?”

  “I asked,” Joe said. “He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Nick,” Tommy said. “Open the envelope.”

  Nick unfolded the manila envelope and saw a stack of hundred dollar bills. He immediately understood what it meant. An amount that large could only mean one thing—a payoff for a murder. Then he saw the photograph under the stack. When he realized whose picture it was, his chest tightened into a knot.

  He looked up at Joe. “When do they want you to do this?”

  “By tomorrow.”

  Nick examined the photograph. A surveillance shot. Taken from a distance to avoid detection. Julie was walking out of a local coffee shop by herself. He tried to determine when the shot was taken, but couldn’t.

  “Joe’s a sharp cookie,” Tommy said. “He took the job even though he would never do such a thing.”

  Nick handed the photo to Matt and saw Walt look over his shoulder. Nick felt a sense of gratitude emerge. His wife was a target of Temir Barzani. With a shaky arm he reached out and shook Joe’s hand. “Thanks.”

  Joe smiled a lopsided smile. “Yeah, well, Tommy’s good people.” Then his face turned severe. “Besides, I’m an American. These punks need to learn a lesson.”

  Nick turned and saw Matt watching them, waiting for his turn.

  “Let’s give him a book to look at,” Matt said. “Maybe he can pick the guy out. My money is on Jirdeer.”

  Joe was looking down at the photo of Dave Tanner’s body sitting on the desk. He seemed fascinated. He picked up the photo and examined it closely.

  “You recognize him?” Walt asked.

  Joe squinted. “No.”

  Everyone waited as Joe moved the picture sideways, then at arm’s-length, then close-up again.

  “Something you care to tell us?” Walt asked.

  Joe dropped the photo onto the desk, then looked over at Tommy with a question on his face.

  Tommy seemed to understand. He nodded to Walt. “Should Joe here offer you some information which might incriminate himself—”

  “He has immunity,” Nick assured him. Then he turned to Joe. “This man was an FBI agent, a friend of ours. We need all the help we can get. Anything you say will never leave this room.”

  Joe looked at Tommy and saw him nod.

  “Well,” Joe said, suddenly seeming unsure of himself. “Have you done an autopsy on the body?”

  Walt looked over at Nick, then Matt. All three of them confused by the question.

  “I think we know the cause of death,” Walt said. “He was shot close range, two bullets to the back of the head.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not how he died.”

  Nick picked up the photo and scrutinized Dave’s figure lying there. His body was face down with his head twisted away from the camera.

  “I don’t understand,” Nick said. “What are we missing?”

  Joe glanced at Tommy again.

  “Go ahead, Tess,” Tommy said, firm. “He’s my cousin. We can trust him.”

  Joe seemed to search for the proper words. “Well, I’m interested in these types of situations … I mean from a strictly curious perspective.”

  “Of course,” Nick said, sounding sympathetic, as if they were discussing bird watching.

  “And I’ve observed a couple of bodies which were left just this same way. The head was left twisted up and away because the killer snuck up on the victim and twisted his head almost off his body. It was exactly the same angle. The killer was left-handed and tall, you can tell by the way his chin is pulled up away from his torso.”

  Nick studied the photo once again and saw what Joe was talking about. “I see what you mean. Where did you see these photos?”

  Joe hesitated.

  Nick held up his hand. “Total immunity. I promise.”

  “Bolivia,” Joe said. “There was a professional called in to assassinate the President. I heard rumors about this guy from Russia. Ex-KGB. He preferred to use his hands. Less noise I guess, I don’t know. They never found him.”

  “Anything else you remember about him?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah, a couple of years later I heard about a murder in Indonesia. Same thing. In my circle I began to hear stories about the guy. He was considered the most dangerous man on the planet. No one even knows his name. They just call him The Russian. The thing is though …” Joe looked down at the photo. “Where did this happen?”

  “Washington D.C.,” Walt said.

  Joe’s face seemed to twitch. “Well, supposedly he’s never been to the States before.” Joe looked around the room. “Until now.”

  Nick’s stomach clenched as he considered the news. He shook Joe’s hand and thanked him once again for all of his help. He immediately thought of Julie, though. She couldn’t possibly go through another ordeal like this. His poor wife deserved to be protected from the types of maniacs who drew targets on Nick’s photo. He pushed a button on the phone on his desk.

  “Hey, Jule,” he said into the speakerphone. “Can you come here please?”

  A moment later Julie stepped into the room with an even expression.

  “Tommy’s going to take you home so you can grab some clothes,” Nick said.

  Julie’s face soured, but she said nothing.

  “I’m being over-protective sweetie, that’s all. We’re going to have you stay in a safe house for a couple of days.”

  Julie nodded, but it was clear she wasn’t happy. Nick quickly got to
his feet and followed Julie into the outer room. The only person there was Semir sitting cross-legged on his cot.

  “Listen,” Nick said, touching Julie’s shoulder as she turned away from him. “Look at me.”

  Julie spun around with slightly puffy eyes. “Yes?”

  “This will be over quicker than you know,” Nick said, trying to look brave with his arm sling a constant reminder to his wife exactly how dangerous his job was. “This isn’t like the last time. There’s less than a dozen of them. I have Matt and Tommy with me.”

  He was trying to push her comfort buttons. She’d always considered Matt his guardian angel and Tommy’s presence gave her immense reassurance.

  Then she did something which made his heart melt. Julie tucked her head into the side of Nick’s face and gingerly placed her arm around his waist. He could feel her soft skin against his unshaven cheek.

  “I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “We’ll always love you.”

  The baby, Nick thought. She was already making them a family, letting him know what was at stake.

  Nick clutched her with his one good arm and whispered. “I’m so very blessed to have you.”

  Julie pecked him on the side of his face, then went for her purse on a nearby chair.

  Nick turned to return to his office and noticed Semir staring at them without expression.

  “What are you looking at?” Nick said.

  Chapter 10

  Tommy drove his rental car down the tree-lined street like he was going to a county fair. He had a pleasant smile as he observed the falling leaves through his open window. Julie knew it was Tommy’s way of calming her down and it was almost working.

  “I tell you, Jule,” Tommy said, “I could get used to this up here.”

  It was a good show, but Tommy kept eyeing the rear view mirror just a little more than necessary. It was a narrow two lane road with very little room before the trees came into play, which made Julie feel closed in even at sixty miles-per-hour.

  Tommy’s cell phone chirped. He glanced down at the display and put the phone to his ear.

  “Hey, Hector, how’s it going?”

  He listened for a moment, then said, “Good. Hey, I have a question about that tunnel the Feds just discovered on the California border.”