A Touch of Deceit (Nick Bracco Series #1) (36 page)

Nick motioned Steele to brief them on their route.

With the professional look of a surgeon about to go into the operating room, Steele held up a map with a black line meandering through a densely wooded area. “Just past mile marker 78, we’ll veer left onto a dirt road for about three or four miles.” She looked at Rutherford, Downing, Tanner and Tolliver. “Stay down in the back of the truck. The dirt road is a popular path for hunters so three of us in the cab doesn’t necessarily cause any suspicion.” She pointed to a black line perpendicular to the trucks route. “At this juncture, we’ll unload the gear and travel the rest of the way on foot. About another mile.” She looked up and to the west. “The sun’s going down in another hour and a half so that should give us enough time to position ourselves.”

She looked at the group and said, “Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Carl Rutherford said, “are you single?”

Matt momentarily glared at Rutherford.

“For you, Agent Rutherford,” Steele deadpanned, “I’m happily married with twelve kids.”

A few snickers followed Rutherford’s put-down. It was a nervous laughter that Nick recognized as a release of tension. All eyes migrated his direction and he suddenly felt like a football coach needing a halftime speech. “All right,” he said, “I don’t want any heroics. We do our job and get out. When we get to the perimeter, Carl and Ed have the backside, Matt and Jennifer are the snipers.”

Nick looked at Dave Tanner. “You have the Halothane mixture?”

Tanner tapped the duffle bag tugging on his shoulder. “Ready to go.”

“When I give the cue, Dave will launch the gas through a window on the second floor. The gas is heavier than oxygen so it will settle all the way down to the basement. Thirty seconds later he and I will enter the building wearing the body suits. Our primary goal is to locate the detonator, then get Carl in there to disable the unit. Everyone know their roles?”

A cluster of nods.

“Good.”

Matt seized the opportunity to inject some inspiration. He regarded each agent in turn, snapped shut the clip of his Glock and added, “Let’s show them what a predator really is.”

Hopped up on adrenalin, the team ran around the building. Rutherford and Tanner nearly banged heads jumping into the back of Steele’s truck. Nick was in the cab again with Matt. Steele drove north with the setting sun sprinkling shadows of tall pines across the hood of the truck. She nodded ahead to a roadblock that caused a backup of several cars. “Do you want to wait?”

Nick saw that it was only three cars ahead of them. “Yes, wait.”

When it was their turn a DPS officer spied the foursome prone in the back of the truck. His right hand went for his gun, but hesitated when he saw who was driving. “Jennifer? What’s going on here?”

She pointed to her cab mates. “This is Matt McColm and Nick Bracco. All six of theses guys are FBI Special Agents from Baltimore. They’re on loan to us until we resolve this KSF issue.”

The officer nudged his hat up a bit and looked at Matt and Nick. “You think they’re in the area?”

“We suspect,” Nick said. “Have you seen anything suspicious?”

The officer shrugged. “A few hunters without permits. Several DUIs. No one that could pass for a terrorist though.”

Nick handed him a business card. “You come across anything, have dispatch put you through to me directly.”

The officer nodded, then backed up and waved the vehicle through the roadblock.

“He’s a good cop,” Steele said.

“I’m jealous,” Matt quipped. But by the look on his face, Nick could tell he immediately regretted saying it. Steele let it hang there unnoticed. The only refuge for Matt was the slight widening of her lips into the tiniest of smiles.

Nick’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Bracco.”

Walt Jackson’s voice had an upbeat tone. Nick thought he was either delirious from stress, or he actually had reason for hope. “Tell me something good,” Jackson said.

Nicks gaze drifted west. An orange haze lingered over the mountainous peaks. “Well, the Arizona sunsets are beautiful.”

A snort of laughter. “That’s what I like about you, Nick. You never give up more than you have to. I have some good news for you, however. We found the missiles.”

“You did?”

“Not me personally, of course,” Jackson said. “Dolphins, actually. The Navy’s got these dolphins trained to search for underwater mines, bombs, missiles. They’re pretty darn good at it too. Apparently there’s an offshore oil rig that was thought abandoned, but when they sent the dolphins in they found silos disguised as drilling devices.”

“That’s great news, Walt. I guess we’re just here to find Kharrazi then?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why’s that.”

“I said they found the silos, I didn’t say they disarmed the missiles in them.”

“What are you talking about? Can’t they just destroy the silos?”

“I guess not.”
“Well, explain it to me like I’m a third-grader, because I’m not understanding.”

“I don’t understand it fully myself, but according to General Hitchcock there are seven silos spread out across an acre of ocean floor. All of them contain missiles that are less than two minutes airtime away from the White House. It appears that they’re all wired together somehow and if one silo is destroyed, the other six automatically detonate. The entire area is booby-trapped. Navy Seals are down there right now working on it, but it’s evening here and they’re moving very cautiously. They think they can have it disabled in about twelve hours. And that’s just one of them.

“Pretty remarkable technology at play here. I can’t tell you now, but you’ll be amazed when you hear who actually built these things.”

“What about shooting them down once they’re airborne?”

“That’s what they intend to do. The problem is, the missiles will be armed with countermeasures. Hitchcock feels at least one or two will make it to its target.”

“So we really don’t have a handle on it.”

“No, we don’t. What’s going on out there? Do you have any good leads?”

“We’re on our way to check one out right now.”

“How good is it?”

Nick could sense Matt and Steele listening in on the conversation and the last thing he wanted to do was dampen any enthusiasm for the mission. “I’ll let you know in about forty-five minutes.”

Steele swerved the truck onto a dirt road and Nick wasn’t ready for the turn. He jerked up against the door and let out a low, “Umph.”

“Are you all right?” Jackson asked.

“I’m fine.” The truck was hopping furiously over the bumpy trail. Nick heard Steele comment on her desire to get away from the road as quickly as possible.

“Listen, Nick,” Jackson’s voice took on a fatherly tone. “I don’t want you guys taking any unnecessary risks. I mean there’s a faction of the administration that feels you’re, well, sort of—”

“What?” Nick demanded.

“There’s a sentiment growing that you’re wound a little tight right now and maybe not thinking clearly. For one thing, Julie was just the object of an attempted murder and you’re flying across the country the next day.”

“Wait a minute. I thought Riggs was the one rubberstamping this thing?”

“Riggs will support you right up until the moment you’re proven wrong. Then you will see him backpedal into the sweetest little soft-shoe of deniability you’ve ever seen. Besides, you’ve got to admit your information is more than a little tainted.”

Nick sat quiet for a moment, allowing Jackson to finish his case. When he was satisfied the scrutiny had ended, he said, “And what about you?”

There was a pause. “After all is said and done, I trust you. That’s why I’m telling you not to take any chances. I don’t want you going off half-cocked trying to prove a point. If you get sight of a hot location, you call me and I’ll get a SWAT team up there immediately. Otherwise . . .” Jackson let the thought play out tacitly.

“Otherwise, we’re on our own,” Nick finished.

The silence was as good as shouting, “Yes!”

“Walt?”

“Yeah.”

“When I come home tomorrow with Kharrazi’s head,” Nick gripped the phone a little tighter. Several sarcastic thoughts ran through his mind, but he knew they would be misdirected if he hurled them at Jackson. Finally, he took a breath and finished, “I’ll buy you a beer.”

Jennifer Steele found a low spot in the forest to park the truck and the team unloaded their gear. Nick threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and said, “Everyone wearing their Kevlar?”

The proper response was a fist pump to the chest. Nick heard five thumps and one, “Kevlar?”

Steele looked embarrassed. “I guess I didn’t expect to—”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dave Tanner said, “I’ve got a spare.” He threw her the lightweight body armor and Steele thanked him. Everyone else ignored the rookie mistake and allowed her a moment of privacy as she wrapped the Kevlar under her windbreaker.

While Nick waited for Steele, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He was hoping it was Silk, but it was Walt Jackson again.

“There’s been a leak,” Jackson said.

“What do you mean?”

“The Washington Post is about to print a story on their website claiming that the KSF headquarters is located in Payson, Arizona.”

“Shit. Who did it?”

“We have our suspicions, but it hardly matters now. How far are you from the lead you’re chasing?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“I can hold off the story for another half-hour, but that’s it. Get in and get out. Call me as soon as you’re done.”

Nick dropped his phone back in his pocket and found his team with duffle bags over their shoulders, antsy to get going. Steele looked down at her compass and pointed to an area of gradually elevated terrain close to a mile away. “Over that rise. Once we cross that hill, the cabin sits in a bowl-like valley. It should be a perfect spot to gain a perimeter.”

“All right,” Nick said. His heart was pumping now. He tapped his headset. “Remember, no communications unless it’s absolutely necessary. We go in silent. I’m not taking any chances.” He pointed to Matt and Steele and motioned them to go wide right. He motioned Carl Rutherford and Ed Tolliver to go wide left. Nick, Mel Downing and Dave Tanner centered the lineup. They all walked at the same pace staying in line with each other. The trees were spread out so Nick could have clear sight of both groups thirty yards to each side of him. The ground was thick with brown pine needles. He had to move around pinecones every other step. His head was pounding so hard he was practically numb.

* * *

Matt crept between the trees carefully, as if someone could be hiding on the other side of each one. Steele was to his right. The only noise he heard was the pine needles crunching beneath their footsteps. It had been ten years since he’d last seen her, yet she looked exactly the same. The same smart eyes. The same dimples that framed her lips when she smiled. He wondered if she’d even given him a second thought. After what he did to her, he couldn’t see how.

“Aren’t there any birds around here?” he asked, quietly.

He could sense Steele rolling her eyes at the city slicker. “It’s October,” she said. “Besides, they know enough to stay quiet with a deadly sniper like you around.”

Matt smiled. He met her eyes for an instant as he continually swept his surroundings. She seemed a little stiff. A fake smile was painted on her face. “You ever been involved with a maneuver like this before?” Matt asked.

“I’ve seen my share of maneuvers.”

Matt looked at her. He wasn’t sure which way she was going with the comment. They walked in silence and Matt nodded to Nick intermittently to signal everything was clear. Matt was scanning the horizon when he heard Steele’s voice come at him as a low sigh.

“You let me leave,” she said.

Matt almost stumbled at the words. Suddenly, he couldn’t remove his eyes from her. She moved through the twilight and brushed away branches as if she’d never said a thing. If Nick looked over, he would think Steele was deeply entrenched with the pursuit. But nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

Matt’s heart swelled with regret. “You told me—”

“I know what I said,” Steele snapped. “What did you expect me to say—‘Hey, Matt, would you be interested in stopping me from leaving you?’ You had sex with a stripper the night before our wedding. What was I supposed to do?”

Matt hadn’t realized that he’d stopped walking until Steele was twenty feet ahead of him. “You mean you would have forgiven me?”

Steele didn’t respond. Nick snapped a finger at Matt to get back into formation.

Steele motioned Matt to catch up. “We’ll talk later,” she said. “We’re getting close.”

Matt took syncopated steps to regain position. Looking straight ahead, he said, “I was only twenty-three, Jen.”

“I know. You were a young twenty-three.”

For some strange reason it made him feel good that she seemed miffed. “Have you ever—”

“Not now,” Steele said. “Later. We’ll talk plenty. Right now we have a job to do.”