A Touch of Greed

by Gary Ponzo

  Tommy glanced over his shoulder and saw Nick looking at his phone. “Well?” he said.

  “Walt suspects the bomb is being transported today.”

  “And you still think we’re better off alone, than calling in a team of agents to help find this thing?” Tommy asked.

  From the rearview mirror, Tommy could see Nick looking out his window.

  “We overwhelm this town with agents and they’ll modify their plans,” Nick said. “Maybe dig in and wait until it blows over. We don’t have time for that. We need them to underestimate us.”

  Tommy grinned. “That’s okay. I like being the underdog.”

  The BMW cruised over the asphalt with smooth precision. They’d rented the car because it didn’t necessarily raise any red flags like an SUV or a black American sedan might.

  “What if they bolt town?” Tommy asked.

  “They can’t,” Nick said. “We’ve got a DPS roadblock cutting off traffic before it gets to the highway.”

  “I’ll bet that’s a pretty exciting place to—”

  “Got something,” Stevie said. Nick hunched over the screen, while Matt craned his neck to look over the back of his headrest.

  “See him?” Stevie said, pointing to a spot on the monitor.

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “Can you zoom?”

  “You bet.”

  Tommy could hear Stevie tapping his keyboard. After a few moments he heard the response to the drone’s image.

  “Shit,” Nick muttered.

  “Where?” Matt asked.

  “Two miles ahead of us, to our left,” Stevie said.

  “Let me see,” Matt said.

  Stevie twisted his laptop to show Matt, while Tommy glanced back at the image. The car swerved to the right, hitting a couple of shoulder bumps as Tommy examined the screen.

  Matt grabbed the steering wheel and steadied the car back to the middle of the lane.

  “Come on,” Matt said. “Keep it on the road.”

  “Relax,” Tommy said. “What am I gonna hit out here, a lizard?”

  Stevie returned the computer to his lap and gave commentary. “He hasn’t taken notice of us yet.”

  “Is he alone?” Matt asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Rifle?”

  “Yes.”

  Matt twisted in his seat to look at Nick. “Should I take him out?”

  Nick seemed to contemplate this. He examined the image on Stevie’s computer.

  “He just spotted us,” Nick said. He waved at Matt. “Turn around, he’s grabbing his binoculars.”

  Matt twisted back into his seat and tried to look casual. Tommy did him one better. He turned up the volume on the XM alternative station and began to bounce the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. His head bobbed up and down to the beat of a Guster song with a maniacal grin spread across his face.

  “He’s checking us out,” Stevie announced.

  Tommy kept up the act, while intermittently slapping Matt’s arm to get him going.

  “Cut it out,” Matt said, seeming ready to shoot his gun at someone, anyone.

  “It worked,” Stevie said. “He’s put down the binoculars and went back to eating a sandwich.”

  As the car whizzed past low hills to the left, Tommy saw the hawk making a slow, deliberate circle over a stand of large boulders.

  “Is he behind those rocks?” Tommy asked.

  “Exactly,” Stevie said.

  “He doesn’t notice that drone, huh?”

  “Nope. It’s a common occurrence out here. I have it programmed to emulate the exact flight pattern of a Red-Tailed Hawk.”

  “You spend a lot of time with machines, don’t you?” Tommy said.

  Matt lowered the volume on the radio. “We should just go straight to the mine?”

  “Stick to the script,” Nick said. “We need to get intel before we barge in there.”

  But when Tommy saw the look on Matt’s face, he wondered whether the FBI agent was working off the same script as everyone else in the car.

  * * *

  Garza stood in the driveway with Victor and went over the final instructions. The caravan began with a couple of Humvees full of his men, then the pickup truck where Victor would be, then another Humvee trailing behind.

  “Do not allow any variance,” Garza warned. “I won’t put up with any more last minute demands.”

  Victor nodded. “Yes, Jefe.”

  “Also,” Garza said, “make sure this device is secured properly and the tarp covers it completely.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do not take chances. I have a few Federales watching out for you. They will offer a safe path in and out of town.”

  “Yes.”

  “And if this thing—”

  “Jefe,” Victor held up his hand. “Do not fret. I am aware of the dangers. I will take care of it.”

  Garza sighed. “Yes, of course.” It was at that point that Garza realized how much he’d relied on Victor. He had a sudden urge to send someone else. Someone more expendable. But for something this big, he needed Victor’s brains to control things.

  Garza took his sunglasses off and met his first lieutenant’s eyes. “Be careful.”

  Victor gave him an assuring nod, then hopped into the back seat of the pickup truck and waved a hand out the window to signal the lead driver.

  The hydraulic gate yawned opened and Garza watched the caravan head to town. His phone rang and he looked down to see the caller. Santiago Valdez.

  “Yes,” Garza said into the phone.

  “Are you busy?” Valdez said.

  “Never too busy for you, Santiago.”

  “Good, because I need a delivery made today.”

  Garza felt his throat tighten. “Today?”

  “Yes,” the cartel leader said. “I need this done by tonight. No exceptions.”

  “Santiago, I have my men already taking care of a delivery as we speak. We cannot handle any more deliveries today. I can have it done tomorrow morning, however.”

  There was a pause. Every second that passed, Garza could feel the desert temperature rise. He watched as a trail of dust followed his team down the dirt road toward town.

  “So you are working with one of my competitors, and they are more important to you than the Zutons? Is that what you are telling me?”

  “Of course not. The Zutons are my most valuable client. I simply had this scheduled ahead of time.”

  “I see.”

  Valdez offered another gut-wrenching pause, while Garza scrambled for a way to avoid a conflict. He kicked at small rocks and waited for a response.

  “I have been a very good customer, Antonio. I do not believe you want to deny my request. It might not be the best decision for your future.”

  The man left it at that, the words hanging in the air like a butcher’s knife over Garza’s neck.

  “Santiago,” Garza began without knowing what to say.

  “Yes.”

  Garza mined his brain for a way to make it work. This was no time to accrue enemies. Somehow he needed to make the bomb and Santiago’s product fit in the same transfer.

  “I can do it,” Garza said with authority.

  “Very fine,” Valdez said. “We shall meet at our usual location at five.”

  “We will be there,” Garza assured him.

  “I know you will,” Valdez said, then disconnected the call.

  Garza looked down at his cell phone as if it were a loaded weapon. He had many calls to make, but the first one needed to go to his American partner. He could do nothing if the northern side of the border wasn’t ready for him. He pushed a button on his phone and put it to his ear. When Sonny Chizek answered, Garza said, “We have a double order to place tonight.”

  “Just make it worth my while,” Chizek said.

  Garza put his phone away and grinded his teeth. He could tell something wasn’t right. There were too many new players in his system. He began to consider who the infiltrator might be and how h
e might deal with him. Then a new thought occurred to him. How many ways could he dissect a human body while still keeping the brain alive long enough to see the mutilation.

  This one thought sustained him long enough to dial his second number on his phone. When the man answered, Garza said, “You’d better know where the American FBI agents are right this minute.”

  Chapter 21

  In Hebron, Israel, Shimon Yosef sat cross-legged in the back of the prayer room patiently waiting for David Zuri to finish speaking with a crowd of older men. The men stood in a circle in front of the otherwise empty mosque. There was no furniture, simply a large expanse of carpet to allow the visitors the room to pray.

  Yosef watched the young man bow and shake hands with the elders while the knife beneath his thobe scratched his inner thigh. The men began to exit the mosque and Zuri walked them to the door before kneeling beside Yosef and leaning over to pray. When he sat back and crossed his legs, Zuri handed Yosef an envelope. Yosef didn’t need to count the money inside to know it was light. Too light.

  “What is this?” Yosef asked.

  Zuri seemed to understand the vague question. “The money is simply not there. They’ve been threatened by Hamas to discontinue donating to us.”

  Yosef dropped the envelope and bowed and prayed for the strength to be patient. He took a deep breath and returned upright, grabbing his knees for stability. “We cannot sustain these reductions.”

  “What did the American FBI man say about our warning?”

  “He is a fool,” Yosef snarled.

  “But he must know about the bomb.”

  “He is a fool, David. Do not let his actions dictate yours.”

  There was a long, quiet stretch of time where the two men recited the words of the Quran written on the walls of the mosque, periodically lowering their foreheads to the carpet.

  Yosef waited for Zuri to finish his prayers. The young man lowered his voice even though they were alone in the building.

  “Hamas is too strong,” Zuri said.

  “Hamas is a weak political tool. They choose words over actions. Words will never affect change as much as action will.”

  Zuri seemed to digest this. “I do not know, Shimon. I feel we may have made a mistake. Too many of our followers have returned to Hamas for the protection they offer.”

  Under his clothes, Yosef’s right hand found the handle of his knife. “By this time tomorrow, word of our attack in America will have spread across the globe. Then what would you say?”

  There seemed to be some doubt on Zuri’s face. “This Sadeem. I do not know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zuri turned to face him. “We discovered him in the United States. He’s been with us for less than six months and we give him this kind of responsibility.” Zuri returned to face forward. “I do not know.”

  “You have many doubts, don’t you?”

  Zuri nodded absently. “I believe I shall accept an offer to return to Hamas.”

  “They have made you an offer?” Yosef seethed beneath a stoic demeanor.

  Zuri nodded. “They have the type of political muscle we will never see. Not in our lifetime.”

  Yosef could stand it no longer. He pulled the knife from under his thobe and drove it into Zuri’s stomach, the force of the blade thrusting all the way up under the man’s ribcage and into his heart.

  Zuri turned with shock on his face, trying to mouth words, but nothing came out. Finally, he dropped into Yosef’s lap.

  “No,” Yosef whispered. “Not in your lifetime indeed.”

  Zuri’s body lost all balance. Yosef held up his frame with the knife inside him. Like a puppeteer, he maneuvered him into a deep forward prayer position. His head against the carpet.

  Yosef removed the blade with a sucking sound as the bloody instrument vacated Zuri’s internal organs. He wiped the bloody knife on the inside of Zuri’s shirt, then tucked it away. He picked up the envelope and stood over the dead man.

  “You will not be alive to see the trauma we will inflict, David. That is too bad for you.”

  As Yosef exited the mosque into the night air, his hand felt moist and he realized he needed to clean up. He found a coffee shop and used the bathroom to wash his hands. As he did this, he wondered for just a moment about the responsibility he had bestowed upon Sadeem. The man was a loyal follower and the cousin of one of Yosef’s closest friends. It was not someone they had stumbled upon arbitrarily. His conscience was clear.

  As Yosef wiped his hands, he heard a beep from his cell phone. When he looked to see the text message, he smiled. It was from Sadeem:

  Device is on the way. All is well.

  Yosef had just taken one step closer to becoming a large player in the world of international terrorism. His words would no longer be a frail voice in the wind. He was about to bring the United Palestinian Force to the front of the pack and this one fact kept the smile on his face all the way home.

  * * *

  They pulled into the motel parking lot and entered the small office with the ragged look of four weary businessmen looking for a place to stay. It was an easy act to pull off.

  The office was situated at the end of a single row of motel rooms. It was an L-shaped building with the office jutting out as to allow a perfect view of the entrance to each room. It was a small office with wood-paneled walls and a plastic brochure dispenser next to the door which held pamphlets advertising facilities like water parks and shoreline vacation spots many miles from the desolate border town.

  The man behind the counter sat on a stool and was watching a rodeo on a small TV. He was young and seemed annoyed to be dragged away from his show.

  “Can I help you?” the man said, standing and assessing the four men with a leery expression. He was bone thin and Nick thought he looked a little too much like Norman Bates.

  Nick stayed back and let Tommy do his thing. He engaged the man with his million dollar smile.

  “Yeah,” Tommy said. “We need a place for the night.”

  The man looked up at the clock on the wall showing that it hadn’t yet reached noon.

  “You do have a place available, right?” Tommy asked, looking out the window at the near empty parking lot.

  The young man glanced at the four of them and asked, “How many rooms?”

  “Just one,” Tommy said with an easy expression. He pointed to Nick and said, “Me and my boss are staying the night, the other two are leaving and coming back tomorrow.”

  Even after this explanation the man didn’t move. He didn’t reach for a log book or a key, or even gaze at his ten-year-old computer behind the counter. Instead, he asked, “What are you guys in town for?”

  This didn’t dampen Tommy’s enthusiasm. He reached into his pocket and slapped a business card on the counter. “We’re here to install a new Dexa Scanner in Dr. Mitchell’s office.”

  “A what?” the man said, examining the card of a real businessman who allowed Tommy to use his identity for the charade.

  “A Dexa Scanner,” Tommy said. “It’s a machine which measures bone density.”

  Still, the man remained motionless and watched Matt examine the facility with his FBI-trained eyes.

  “What’s the doctor doing with something like that?” the man asked.

  “Excuse me?” Tommy said.

  “I mean, why does he need some kind of scanner in a town this size?”

  Now, Tommy tilted his head. “Do you have any idea how prevalent osteoporosis is?”

  The man shrugged.

  “One in every two women over the age of fifty will fracture a bone due to this condition. Did you know that?”

  The man stared.

  “Are there any woman over the age of fifty living in this town?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, then Dr. Mitchell is installing a new device to help diagnose those woman with low bone density and get them headed toward a healthier lifestyle.”

  This seemed to satisfy the guy�
��s curiosity, so he finally looked at his computer screen and moved his mouse around. “We have room eight available.”

  “Room eight sounds just peachy,” Tommy said.

  “That’s eighty-nine dollars.”

  Tommy handed him the phony credit card to match the phony business card. Both of them set up on short notice using FBI muscle to expedite the process.

  As the motel clerk swiped Tommy’s card through the credit card machine, he said, “Will you be using the phone?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Tommy asked.

  Nick could tell Tommy was running low on patience with the guy, so Nick gave him a look and his cousin frowned.

  The clerk handed Tommy back his card along with a key.

  As the four of them headed out the door, Tommy looked back at the man and said, “Thanks for the hospitality.” Then he added another winning smile for good measure.

  As they grabbed their bags from the trunk of the car, Tommy said, “Punk,” under his breath.

  “Relax,” Nick said. “They’ll know we’re here soon enough. We don’t need to give them a head start.”

  The parking lot was gravel with nothing but desert lining the opposite side of the street. A six foot aluminum fence ran parallel to the road across from them representing the border to Mexico. Nick thought one swift kick could bring down the entire fence.

  They made their way to room eight and when Tommy opened the door, the musty smell hit them like a rotten sack of potatoes.

  “Aw, shit,” Matt said.

  Nick waved his hand in front of his face, like he was leading a pack of hunters through the African Bush. “Jeez, how long has this been vacant?”

  Stevie set up his laptop computer on the night table next to the first bed and began hitting the keypad with authority. Nick dropped his duffle bag while Matt went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Tommy whispered to Nick, “I’m a little worried about your partner.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Nick said.

  Tommy shook his head, but said no more.

  When Matt came out of the bathroom pulling up his zipper, Nick said, “Stevie will get the drone back in the air while Tommy gets the lay of the land.”

  Tommy whirled the car keys around his index finger. “Okay,” he said, pulling open the door. “I’ll be back.”