by Gary Ponzo
Matt peered into the magnified scope of his rifle. With his cheek clenched up against the butt of his rifle, he said, “Yes.”
“You know Kharrazi’s gone already, don’t you?” Nick said.
In the corner of his eye, Nick saw Kelly swivel his head and take in the muzzle flashes from the wooded terrain surrounding the cabin. Nearby, McKenna barked orders like a born leader. McKenna was behind him now and Nick suspected he was close to the cabin.
“I think that dry mustard is affecting your judgment, Agent Bracco,” Kelly said. “There’s nobody escaping from that cabin. Not tonight.”
Nick looked at Matt and saw his partner make a scooping gesture with his left hand without removing his right eye from the scope. Both of them thought the same thing. They’d seen the tunnel that Kharrazi had built in the basement of the safe house back in Las Vegas.
Nick returned his attention to the satellite photos. Steele handed him a miniature single-lens microscope with an illuminator tip. He smoothed out a patch of dirt and lay the photo on the ground. He pressed his eye into the lens and searched a particular distance around the perimeter of the cabin. It took a couple of passes, but he found what he was looking for. It was just a glint. Normally it wouldn’t be enough to warrant a second glance. But under the scrutiny of the powerful lens, Nick had discovered the unmistakable reflection of a mirror. It winked out from the middle of a large bush. Once Nick examined the shrub itself, he realized that it didn’t have the symmetrical canopy that nature would provide a mountain bush of its type. It seemed to be a manmade covering.
Surmising how Kharrazi was going to escape only complicated matters. The next thirty minutes had to be dedicated to finding and disarming the detonator. Nick’s vendetta with Kharrazi had to be put aside for now. They didn’t have the resources to mess with him.
Nick tried to get to his knees and stopped for a quick breath.
“You know,” Steele said, “you could puncture a lung if you aren’t careful.”
With every intake of air, Nick worked to increase his capacity. He got greedy with one breath and his lungs rejected it immediately. His entire chest stung as he coughed a short, staccato cough.
Matt grabbed his arm. “Are you okay? McKenna’s inside. They’ve got the basement secure. He’s asking for you.”
The shooting subsided. Nick muscled his way to his feet, careful to stay behind a wide tree trunk. “What’s the status?” he asked.
“There’s a few tough ones inside, digging in, a handful maybe. The basement is clear, however, and they need our help.”
“Kharrazi?”
Matt shook his head.
Nick dusted himself off and saw Rutherford, Tolliver, Downing, Steele and Silk gather around them. Smoke billowed from the two upstairs windows, illuminated by the moonlight. A half-dozen Marines were blending in with the forest, their machine guns impatiently waiting for any sign of enemy activity. There was a clear path to the basement doors, which yawned open like a bible on a priest’s lectern. Nick caught the eye of one of the Marines and gestured for cover. The Marine nodded.
Nick led the way to the edge of the tree line. When he pulled the 9mm from his holster, his ribcage felt like he’d just taken an injection from a long hypodermic needle. He doubled over for a moment causing Steele to ask him if he should stay put. Nick thought about how close he was to Kharrazi’s headquarters, how much information they would eventually garner from this raid. With his hands on his knees he looked across the open pathway to the basement doors just thirty feet away. He knew it was the portal to his destiny. There was still time to stop the missiles. They could still find Kharrazi. He came up to force a quick breath and said, “Let’s go.”
Chapter 37
Nick and Matt ran down the cement stairs to the cellar, followed by the rest of the team. Silk was a few steps behind them, his revolver by his side. Gunfire on the opposite side of the cabin caused them all to duck as they hit the basement floor.
The room was musty from lack of circulation. Nick, on all fours, looked up to see McKenna standing in a darkened corner with Kelly chiseling something on the wall. They were the only two in the room besides Nick’s crew. A solitary wooden desk and fabric sofa were the only pieces of furniture in the unfinished basement. When Nick saw the stacks of newsmagazines behind the desk, he knew it was Kharrazi’s lair. The chair behind the desk was pushed in. It didn’t appear that Kharrazi was in any rush to leave.
McKenna pointed to the adjacent room with his machine gun. “Their communications room,” he said. “Probably the nerve center of the entire operation.”
Nick peered into the next room where Marines patrolled the area. He could see TV screens and sophisticated radio equipment layered on top of each other. Shelves were stacked with spools of wire and canisters of what Nick assumed were explosives.
Nick nodded at McKenna, who watched Kelly creating sparks against the cement wall.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked.
“You said the detonator would be down here. We’ve gone through most of the basement. My guess is that baby’s inside this wall safe.”
Nick rushed over and grabbed the chisel from Kelly’s hand. Kelly looked to McKenna for instructions.
“What are you doing, Bracco?” McKenna asked.
Nick stared at Kelly, looking straight through him and thinking like a chess player, four moves ahead. There was a long silence and just when McKenna was about to speak, Nick said, “There’s no time for this.”
“If you’re suggesting we use explosives,” Kelly said, “I think there’s a good chance that will set off the detonator.”
“I know,” Nick said.
McKenna looked at his watch and bristled, “Listen, Agent Bracco, we have exactly thirty-five minutes to get inside this safe and try to diffuse this thing. You’re wasting valuable time.”
Nick made eye contact with Silk and nodded. Everyone watched as Silk smiled and rolled up his sleeves. “I thought you’d never ask,” Silk said.
Kelly backed away as Silk cracked his knuckles and wiggled his fingers like a concert pianist about to begin his sonata. He leaned close to the safe door and let out a mock laugh, “Shit, a Haussman 8000. It’s older than my grandfather. I used to wind these suckers open when I was just a—” he stopped when he realized everyone was staring at him. He looked at Nick. “Should be less than two minutes.”
McKenna said, “What the—”
Nick put his finger to his lips and everyone watched quietly as Silk gleefully twisted the knob back and forth with practiced skill. After a minute there was a click and Silk broke into an all out smile. He pulled down on the handle and opened the safe door.
McKenna shook his head in disgust. “Not exactly by the book.”
When the door of the safe swung open, Nick’s mouth went dry. In the tunnel-like opening a red digital timer beamed its fatal number. The time read 33:18 and diligently worked its way toward zero. The timer was attached to a band of multicolored wires that wound its way to a small metal box, then to something that looked like a miniature car battery.
“Shit,” McKenna murmured.
Kelly bent over and spread open his black bag. Everyone gave him room as he pulled out a high beam flashlight to illuminate the interior of the safe.
Nick motioned to Carl Rutherford to take a look. Rutherford was the team’s bomb expert and was the only one in the room who knew more about bombs than Nick. Kelly sensed his presence and moved slightly, allowing Rutherford to inspect the device with him. Everyone in the room jumped when Rutherford clicked open the metal box. It squeaked as it swung up and Kelly and Rutherford seemed to generate a mutual concern over the discovery inside.
“I don’t see the transmitter,” Kelly said. “How is this thing sending its signal across the continent?”
Rutherford beamed the flashlight into the back of the safe. He pointed to a clear plastic line that seemed to disappear through a narrow opening in the back corner. “I’m guessing it’s a wi
reless system.”
Nick felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He looked down and saw that it was Walt Jackson. He looked at his watch and realized that the President was due for his press conference in less than two minutes.
“I’ve got the President on conference call with us, Nick. What have you got?”
Nick searched for the proper words. He knew Merrick would be making a colossal mistake if he gave in to Kharrazi’s demands. Nick also knew that in the next thirty minutes, he was the only person on the planet who could prevent that from happening.
“Mr. President, Sir,” Nick said.
His crew stood up straight and circled around him. He felt the weight of their stares. Matt stood next to Steele, holding her hand. All of them seemed anxious to hear Nick’s exchange.
“I don’t like the sound of that greeting, Nick,” President Merrick spoke with tension thick in his voice.
Nick saw a Marine enter Kharrazi’s private quarters from the communications room and brief McKenna on the status of the cabin. Nick pulled his ear from the phone to overhear the Marine tell McKenna the cabin was completely secure. All KSF soldiers were either dead or captured. No Kharrazi.
“Nick,” Walt said. “Are you there? We’re holding up this press conference for your report. The President feels the only option is the withdrawal of troops from Turkey.”
Kelly and Rutherford seemed to be in complete agreement on the assessment of the detonator. They turned to Nick and waited for him to get off the phone.
“Hold on,” Nick said, and covered the tiny mouthpiece with his thumb. He looked at Rutherford, who was shaking his head.
“We’re screwed,” Rutherford said, in exactly the language Nick expected from him. “It’s a Rashid special.” He turned and pointed to the metal box between the battery and the timer. “There’s a surge monitor. If we disconnect any of the wires from the battery that support the detonator—” Rutherford flipped open his fingers in an explosive manner. “Auto destruct. The missiles fire immediately.”
“Then Kharrazi had no way of ever stopping the detonation, even if the President acquiesced?” Nick said.
Rutherford shrugged and reached into the safe to show Nick something. Nick heard Walt’s voice booming from the earpiece of his phone, “Nick! Answer me!”
Rutherford held up a square plastic board with at least twenty pegs that appeared to look like switches of some sort. It was connected to the other three devices with the same wires, but was hidden behind them. Kelly handed him a small forceps allowing Rutherford to hold the board with his hand aside, giving Nick a better view.
“What is it?” Nick asked.
“Twenty four dummy switches and one kill button,” Rutherford said. “I’m sure only Kharrazi knows which button would shut the device off. The other twenty four simply detonate it early.”
“Nick!” Walt’s voice gained in volume and pitch.
Nick stared at Rutherford and put the phone to his ear. “I’m here, Sir.”
“Damn it, Nick, what the hell’s going on over there? The President has a nation waiting for him.”
“Hold on, Sir,” Nick put the phone down again and looked at Rutherford. “But Kharrazi’s not here, so he can’t disarm it."
Rutherford nodded. “Like I said, we’re screwed.”
Nick brought the phone to his ear just in time to hear Walt muttering his name.
“Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. I have the information you’re looking for.” Nick stamped his thumb over the mouthpiece again and pulled the phone down. “What about draining the battery?” Nick asked Rutherford. “Can’t you drain its power slowly without creating any surge in energy loss?”
Rutherford turned to Kelly to discuss the possibility. As they exchanged headshakes and discouraging murmurs, Nick returned the phone to his ear. He interrupted a barrage of cursing so harsh that Nick could actually see Walt Jackson’s face twisted with aggravation. “I’m here, Sir. I was just getting a last minute brief.”
“You leave this phone again and I swear I’ll—”
“Sir,” Nick interrupted. “There’s no need for any news conference. At least not one that announces any withdrawal.”
There was a pause. Nick found it hard not to stare at the timer. Thirty-two minutes.
Finally, Nick heard the dejected voice of President Merrick. “Why do you say that, Nick?”
“Because, Sir . . .” Nick thought carefully about his words. Rutherford made eye contact with Nick and shook his head with disheartened expression. “I’m looking at the detonator right now—”
“You found the detonator!” Jackson and Merrick’s voices collided across the airwaves.
“Yes,” Nick said. “We’re working on it right now.”
“So, you’ll be able to disarm the thing then?” Merrick sounded desperate.
Nick watched Rutherford’s grim face grow increasingly bleaker. Rutherford shook his head as if he could hear their question from across the room. Nick’s stomach tightened and his jaw clenched shut. He tried to open his mouth, but it locked up on him.
“Nick?” Walt said.
Nick couldn’t understand what was happening, but he became nauseous without an opening to vomit through. He thought he might have to vomit through his nose, when he turned from the group and slowly shuffled into the communications room. Matt trailed him with a suspicious look in his eye. Nick settled onto a round stool next to a tall wooden cabinet. Matt paced in a semicircle in front of Nick, half the time scrutinizing his partner’s physical appearance, the other half making sure no one approached them.
Nick heard Walt’s faint voice through the receiver, like background music in an elevator. He grasped the phone in a claw grip and felt the words tumble out of his mouth before he could realize their gravity. “Yes, Sir. We can disarm the detonator.”
There was silence. On the phone, and all around him, Nick heard nothing. Matt stared at him, expressionless.
“Nick,” Walt said, tentatively. “Are you certain?”
A pause while Nick reasoned with his struggling psyche. If the President gave in to Kharrazi, it would only be a matter of time before every terrorist on the globe was taking pot shots at America. Nick couldn’t afford to see that happen. His thoughts seemed to meander into a dim future, then surprisingly they resurfaced on the image of the small battery powering the detonator.
“Yes, Sir, I’m certain,” Nick said, feeling empowered somehow with the deceit. “The missiles will not be firing tonight, Mr. President, or any night for that matter. Tell the nation, we’re on the verge of capturing Kemel Kharrazi and putting an end to all of this madness.”
More silence. Nick saw astonishment sweep over Matt’s face.
“Nick?” Walt said. “Are you serious? You have Kharrazi?”
Nick wiped his brow and came back with moisture. At first he thought it was nerves, but it was more than that. It was as if he’d broken a fever; a ball and chain had been lifted from his subconscious. He was blurting fabrications like a politician. “He’s within our grasp. He won’t make it until morning.”
Merrick’s voice seemed to raise an excited octave. “Agent Bracco, I’m trusting you. I’m basing my decision solely on your report. Are you certain you can disarm the detonator?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And you’re positive you’ll have Kharrazi in custody tonight?”
Nick realized he’d passed the point of no return. He may end up doing prison time or spend the rest of his life bagging groceries, but he’d be damned if he was going to allow Kemel Kharrazi to terrorize America into submission.
“Yes, Sir,” Nick said.
“When you get back to Washington, I want to see you personally. We’ll set up a dinner for you and your wife up here at the White House. That sound all right with you?”
Nick’s hands trembled. “That’ll be just fine, Sir.”
Nick clicked off the phone and found Matt looking incredulous. “You just lied to the President of the United States?�
��
Nick looked down at the cell phone in his hand like it was a fired pistol.
Matt stared.
Nick wiped his clammy hands on his pants. “Um, it seems that we have work to do.”
Matt turned toward Kharrazi’s private quarters where Kelly and Rutherford were using nervous energy to appear productive. He gazed up the stairs that led to the main cabin where Kharrazi had certainly escaped.
“That’s great, Nick,” Matt said. “But in less than thirty minutes the White House is going to explode and Kemel Kharrazi will still be on the loose. Have you considered your future thirty-one minutes from now? Or have you thought that far ahead?”
Nick shook his head. “If I didn’t know you so well I’d almost believe you didn’t trust me anymore.”
Matt didn’t say anything but his expression changed. He looked at Nick with a shrewd smile. “You know where Kharrazi is?”
“I have an idea.”
“You’re going to find him and convince him to tell you which is the kill switch?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t think there’s time for that.”
Over Matt’s shoulder, Nick saw Silk lurking nonchalantly.
Matt nodded toward the adjacent room. “Then how are you going to stop that thing from detonating?”
Nick pointed to a roll of thick black wire that curled around an enormous spool the size of a golf cart tire sitting on the shelf next to them. “Take that into the other room and start cutting it up into forty-foot sections.”
Matt only hesitated for a second, then he hefted the spool onto his shoulder and dutifully headed toward the room. He looked over his shoulder as he went. “You’ll tell me why eventually, right?”
With that started, Nick found McKenna at the base of the stairs exchanging words with another Marine. He gave Nick a steely glare when he approached.
“We have three KSF prisoners upstairs,” McKenna said. “You want to speak with any of them? Maybe get some ideas about that switchboard in there?”
Nick held up his hand. “Not right now. I need you to radio DPS and have them divert all vehicles down this private driveway. Have a couple of your men waiting outside the basement and instruct the cars to park facing the basement doors. As close as possible.”
