A Touch of Deceit (Nick Bracco Series #1) (49 page)

The terrain seemed to leap out in front Nick, forcing him to make split second decisions with the steering wheel in his left hand. His right hand steadied the GPS device and at one point he stuck it between his legs in order to strap on his seat belt. He looked again and realized that Kharrazi was forced to take a circuitous route because of the direction of the dirt road. Nick was literally scaling the side of the mountain with Steele’s four-wheel drive. It was a riskier method, but it dramatically cut the distance to the runway.

Within a couple of miles of Kharrazi, Nick realized what he had forgotten. A plan. He was so incensed with the idea of rushing after Kharrazi that he failed to come up with a course of action.

He kept flinching at tree branches that scraped the windshield as they brushed past until he spotted the clearing for the makeshift runway. He darted the truck into the clearing and without obstructions was able to step down hard on the accelerator. He glanced down at the screen. Kharrazi was still on the road, but less then a mile away.

In the dark Nick barely made out the silhouette of a prop plane idling at the far end of the dirt strip. He prayed Kharrazi wasn’t in contact with the pilot. He was completely conspicuous with his tires spitting up loose rocks just a couple of hundred yards away.

Nick headed for the mouth of the dirt road hoping to reach it before Kharrazi emptied into the clearing. When he barreled onto the road, Nick glanced at the GPS screen. He was headed directly at Kemel Kharrazi at fifty miles an hour without the slightest idea what to do.

Nick flirted with the notion of turning off his headlights, but that would force him to slow down to a crawl. He glanced at the screen again. Kharrazi was closing fast. When he looked up, he knew he wouldn’t need the device any longer. Kharrazi’s headlights bounced up ahead. A large pickup truck. The lights disappeared below a ridge, then popped up a moment later with renewed intensity. No retreat in their demeanor. Even Kharrazi’s headlights seemed evil.

Kharrazi had to see Nick coming and it had no affect on his velocity. He bore down on Nick like a heat-seeking missile. Suddenly, the plan became inevitable. In the game of chess you gladly lost a pawn to capture the opponent’s King.

With less than fifty yards separating them, Nick’s heart pumped furiously. He licked his lips and searched for an opening, but found none. They were on a collision course. Two bulls charging down a bowling lane lined with tall trees, nowhere to turn.

Kharrazi’s truck flew up over a rise and seemed to gather speed. Now it was a game of chicken. Kemel Kharrazi was a shrewd, conniving terrorist with sinister desires and malevolent aspirations.

But Nick Bracco was prepared to die. He was drained and weary and welcomed the repose that death offered. He was ready to go to the other side and apologize to Silk in person.

Nick slammed his foot down on the pedal and the truck lurched forward. Kharrazi also appeared committed. The front end of his truck jerked upward from acceleration.

They were twenty yards apart, both engines screaming into the night sky. As the intensity of Kharrazi’s lights blinded Nick, Julie’s face flashed in front of him. She was smiling. Nick had finally put a long awaited smile on her face.

Just before impact, Nick clutched the steering wheel with both hands, closed his eyes and pressed forward. It took a beat longer than he anticipated, then the devastating explosion of the head-on crash jolted him forward. And then there was nothing.

Nick could’ve been unconscious only moments, but when he came to, he was disoriented. His mouth tasted of dust and his head throbbed unmercifully. A horn was blaring relentlessly. He had trouble focusing. He was sitting upright, strapped in by his seat belt and his hands felt pinned to his lap.

It took a moment to realize that the air bag had deployed. He could taste something powdery in his teeth and shards of glass blanketed the cab, including the dashboard, which was much closer than it should have been. His side view mirror lay cracked in his lap along with a couple of branches. That horn. He tried to move his left arm and found that to be a useless chore. With his right hand he pushed up and moved the bag from his face.

When he tried to turn his head, he yelped involuntarily and grabbed his neck. He looked down to inspect his body, but his world went spinning and he lay his head back and shut his eyes. The horn was coming from behind him. He was confused. How did Kharrazi get behind him?

Nick opened his eyes, twisted his entire torso around to the right, and followed the sound of the horn. Where the back window used to be, a clear opening existed. Shards of remaining glass clung to the border of the aperture. Through the opening Nick could see a truck just into the woods, its back end still sticking out into the road. The front end encircled a massive pine, which had stood its ground against the speeding mass of the truck. Nick couldn’t see anyone in the cab of the truck. He instinctively reached for his gun even before his brain had the time to understand why.

Just before contact, Nick had shut his eyes and didn’t see it happen, but Kharrazi must have turned at the last possible moment. Nick had continued into a large tree. He hadn’t even thought about the air bag, but it certainly had saved his life. At least until Kharrazi found him.

Nick saw steam wafting upward from under the hood of Kharrazi’s truck. The horn still pierced the air. He was able to unholster his gun with his right hand. His left arm and shoulder were useless. Liquid dripped down the side of his neck and when he touched it with the back of his gun hand, he came back with blood. He looked up to see himself in the rear view mirror, but it was gone. He pulled the side view mirror from his lap and saw lacerations streaking the left side of his face. They were already beginning to coagulate down to a slow ooze.

The truck’s engine was still running, but when he stepped on the accelerator, nothing happened. Everything looked real promising.

He was a sitting duck if he didn’t force himself out of the truck. First he unsnapped his seat belt harness and rolled to his right onto the bench seat. His legs seemed to be working properly, so he boosted himself up and, using only his right hand, he opened the passenger side door and hobbled outside of the truck.

Nick scoured the perimeter. He didn’t see or hear anything, but the truck’s horn dominated the sounds of the night. He wondered if Kharrazi had purposely managed to leave the horn blaring. It would cover up any peripheral noise Kharrazi might make from the woods. It was precisely the kind of thing Kharrazi would do.

Nick found himself favoring his right leg as he limped toward Kharrazi’s truck. He worked his way there from a wide semicircle. Keeping his attention on the cab of the truck, he slithered between trees and undergrowth. It was an older model truck and didn’t appear to have air bags. When he was even with the driver’s side door, he saw something move inside the cab. An arm maybe, or maybe a branch moved from the other side of the cab. He stood motionless and saw it again. An arm seemed to be banging against the dashboard. No, not the dashboard, the steering column. Kharrazi was pounding his fist against the horn, trying to get it to stop. Nick watched cautiously, trying to evaluate Kharrazi’s condition before approaching him.

A moment later the horn stopped.

It left a sudden void, which was filled with an eerie silence, like just before a hurricane was about to hit. Only the hiss of the torn water hose remained. Kharrazi simply sat there, his left hand pressed up against the side of his neck. Nick thought he heard moaning. It was an older, foreign truck and he noticed the windshield was smashed. Kharrazi didn’t appear to be wearing a seat belt and there was no air bag. He must have catapulted through the windshield, then rebounded back into his seat.

Nick thought about firing a couple of rounds at Kharrazi. He was close enough. The man didn’t deserve a warning. Not Kemel Kharrazi. Finish it.

Hesitation, doubt, indecision: these were all things that got FBI agents killed. Nick had to decide, then commit to the decision. Slowly, he stepped out of the woods and approached the truck. His right arm was fully extended, his left arm was limp by his side. His gun seemed yards ahead of him.

“How did you find me?” Kharrazi said, without turning his head.

“You even scratch your nose, I’ll blow your head off,” Nick said through clenched teeth.

Kharrazi finally turned his head and Nick got a good look at his damaged face. His right eye was swollen. Streaks of blood ran down his face like a map full of rivers marked in red. Kharrazi’s left hand kept constant pressure against the side of his neck, yet blood still seeped between his fingers.

“Get your right hand up on the steering wheel,” Nick closed in.

When Kharrazi didn’t move, Nick fired a shot directly across his face and through the broken windows of the cab of the truck. Kharrazi quickly placed his hand on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to kill you, Mr. Bracco,” Kharrazi’s voice was raspy.

Nick had a million questions, but he was so relieved to be alive, he shivered. His teeth were actually chattering. He noticed the blood saturating Kharrazi’s left shoulder. Kharrazi must have nicked his carotid artery when he went through the windshield. He needed attention soon, or he would bleed out.

Kharrazi gave Nick a deadly stare. “You have just condemned your wife to a life of fear and ultimately a painful death.”

“You’re going to prison for the rest of your life, Kemel.”

Kharrazi seemed appalled at the accusation. “You think for one minute that I don’t have the funds to acquire the best team of attorneys money can buy? You think I left fingerprints, or any trails that lead back to me?”

Nick considered this for a moment. What evidence did they actually have that Kharrazi was the one who was giving the orders. Everyone in the Bureau knew it was him, but how much physical evidence did they actually have? Who in the KSF would ever turn on Kemel Kharrazi?

Kharrazi sneered, “You don’t think I can get to you from prison?”

That was the clincher. Yes, Kharrazi could reach Nick from prison. Unmistakably, unequivocally, and with little effort.

Nick wasn’t about to live the rest of his life with that hanging over his head. Before he knew it, he was leaning into the cab of the truck and pressing the tip of his 9mm against Kharrazi’s head.

Kharrazi didn’t flinch. “You don’t expect me to believe you’re going to shoot me.”

Nick pressed hard enough to force Kharrazi’s head back. “You don’t think I can?”

Kharrazi’s face was cool, but his eyes had difficulty leaving Nick’s gun. “I have to give you credit,” Kharrazi said. “You surprised me back there with the head-on move. It took a lot of courage to do what you did. But that was a spontaneous act. This is different. Now, you have a prisoner under custody. I am no longer a danger to you. You are too honest, Mr. Special Agent. You are not me. You play by the rules. Rules that I have no need to abide by. But you’re not about to lower yourself because of me or anyone else.”

Nick actually smiled. His face hurt when he did, so he stopped. He lowered his gun and watched Kharrazi’s expression grow smug.

“That’s better,” Kharrazi said.

“What I’m wondering,” Nick said, casual, non-threatening, an inquisitive tone.

“Why you?” Kharrazi finished for him.

“Yeah?”

“Because of Rashid.”

“So, revenge.”

“Oh, no, it’s much deeper than that. Rashid was much closer than a brother. When you were able to chase him down and arrest him, I took notice. The FBI is a large, sluggish, political system that moves at a snail’s pace. There is always one person that finds their way around the obstacles in a massive entity like the Bureau. You were that person. And I knew if you were clever enough to capture Rashid, you were clever enough to thwart our operation.”

Nick waved his hand at the crumpled truck that enclosed Kharrazi. “Your logic was obviously flawless.”

“Don’t be so arrogant, Mr. Bracco,” Kharrazi scoffed. “You haven’t even begun to see the extent of my control. There are people I can contact who would gladly finish my chores for me. Your beautiful wife will not put up with the restrictions you’ll require in order to protect her. She will be more of a prisoner than I will ever be.”

Nick didn’t need to hear any more. He pulled his handcuffs from his belt and quickly snapped one around Kharrazi’s right wrist, on the hand that was gripping the steering wheel. It took Kharrazi by surprise.

“You have a Constitutional right to remain silent,” Nick said.

This seemed to relax Kharrazi. He was being arrested and it didn’t appear to faze him.

Nick pulled Kharrazi’s left hand from his neck and tugged it through the opening in the steering wheel, under the left side of the steering column. He then snapped it together with the handcuff on Kharrazi’s right wrist before Kharrazi knew what was happening.

“What are you doing?” Kharrazi said.

Nick continued. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.”

Kharrazi tugged on the handcuffs. He found himself hunched over the steering wheel. Both hands were on the opposite side of the steering column, which was bent upward from the collision and tight against the dashboard. He desperately tried to get his left hand to his neck, but couldn’t manage. When left exposed, the carotid artery in Kharrazi’s neck began flowing freely. Each pulse of his heart sent a surge of blood squirting from the gash like a fireman’s hose.