driver. The man seemed to be searching for an address.
Matt said, “All of this overtime is putting a real crimp in my social life.”
“Crimp?”
“Yeah, you know, it’s crimping my style.”
“You mean cramp. It’s cramping your style.”
“That too.”
Nick watched as the sedan stopped in front of the KSF safe house. He was clutching the binoculars with a death grip and Matt must have noticed the tension.
“What do you see?” Matt asked.
“A car stopped in the street in front of the house and the driver seems to be looking for spectators.”
Matt squinted with futility. “What’s he look like?”
“Male, dark hair, mustache, blue collared shirt.”
“Anyone we know?”
“No.”
Nick noticed the driver staring intently toward the house. He switched his view to the front door and saw four dark-haired men exit the house and head toward the car; the last one hesitated and looked around before he got in.
“They’re leaving, get down,” Nick said as the car began to move.
The two men slumped below the dashboard. As soon as Nick heard the car pass, he peeked into his side view mirror and nabbed the license plate. He recited the number out loud and Matt called it in.
When Matt finished the call to the office, he stared at Nick, who had a sudden urge to examine the magazine of his pistol.
“What are you doing?” Matt asked.
“Just checking out the equipment.”
“I mean why aren’t you following those guys?”
Nick snapped his holster shut and opened his car door. “Let’s go see what we can find out.”
Matt beamed, as he jumped out of the car and fell into step next to Nick. “Finally my partner has moved to the dark side.”
“Relax, all we’re going to do is talk with some neighbors.”
“Maybe we could knock on the door and see if anyone’s home?”
“And lose the element of surprise?”
“The element of surprise is overrated. It pales in comparison to old fashioned bullying and intimidation. Maybe they’ll think twice before they get bomb-happy.”
Nick found himself following Matt up the steps to the KSF safe house. Before he could object, Matt rang the doorbell. Nick winced, placing a hand on his holster for comfort.
They waited for a few minutes and several more rings before Matt played with the doorknob.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked.
“I’m seeing if they need a carpet cleaning.”
To Nick’s surprise the doorknob turned enough to hear a click and they looked at each other. “Don’t,” Nick said.
“Why not.”
“First of all, it’s against the law.”
“C’mon, Nick, do you think there’s any way we’re going to get these guys without bending the rules a bit.
Nick shook his head. “Don’t do it, Matt. Besides, anything you find in there will be inadmissible in court and permanently protected from any further searches.”
“Not if we leave unnoticed.”
Nick folded his arms. “I am not breaking and entering.”
“You don’t have to. Wait right here and I’ll be right back.”
Matt opened the door and Nick grabbed his arm. “I can’t let you.”
Matt shook off his partner’s grip. “This is my choice. You had nothing to do with it.”
Nick unholstered his pistol and chambered a round.
Matt froze.
Nick said, “You’re an asshole for doing this, but I can’t let you go in there by yourself.”
“Good.” Matt smiled, took a step inside the house, then pulled back and faced Nick. “Listen, should something go wrong, we need a play.”
“A play?”
“Yeah, remember the Hartford raid?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll use that one.”
“If I’m not mistaken, we almost got killed in that bust.”
Matt nodded, “Yeah, that’s why I like it-it worked.”
Guns drawn, Nick followed Matt into the tiny foyer and surveyed the unremarkable interior. The fake wood- paneled walls gave the place a dark, dreary atmosphere. The living room had an old tan couch, a mid-sized TV with rabbit ears, and wooden coffee table with a TV guide in the middle of it.
“Looks like Ozzie and Harriet’s place,” Matt whispered. He pointed toward an archway leading down a hallway. “Go check out the bedrooms and I’ll visit the kitchen.”
Nick felt uncomfortable on so many levels. He placed one foot in front of the other and balanced his step like a cat burglar. The first door on the right was closed and he opened it slowly, gun first. The room was just as banal as the rest of the house. A small bed was neatly made and the dresser showed off a display of swimming trophies. Nick suspected the place was inhabited by KSF soldiers and the decor disturbed him.
He opened a dresser drawer and saw children’s clothes, Batman underwear, and Snoopy tee shirts. He thought he heard a noise, but when he peeked out of the room, there was nothing.
He silently crept down the corridor to the next bedroom. This time the door was open and he saw a much larger room with a big bed. The room had the clinical feel of a hotel room right after the maid’s visit.
Nick was beginning to think they had bad information, when he opened the closet door and froze. Stacked up past eye level was a row of surveillance monitors. Each one captured a different section of the exterior of the house. When he examined the monitor that was aimed in the direction of his car, he realized that he was parked too far away to be able to tell if it was occupied. His mind raced with all kinds of wishful thoughts. Maybe they got lucky and went unnoticed.
Nick moved closer to the monitor and saw a green button with the symbol of a magnifying glass stamped in the middle of it. He pushed the button and was startled to see his car zoom into view. It became so large, so quickly, that Nick withdrew his finger before it had even reached its maximum capability. Nick blinked. He stared at the close-up and was able to distinguish a crevice in the headrest of the passenger seat. What bothered him the most was that his car seemed to be centered in the camera lens.
Suddenly, he felt it get warmer in the house. He’d seen enough and he wanted out. Before he could turn to leave, a male voice said, “Drop the weapon.”
Nick didn’t move. He wondered how many there were, when a second voice said, “So nice of you to join us, Mr. Bracco.”
Nick turned to see a young man pointing an automatic machine gun at him. The second man was older and a bit plump. He didn’t fit the description of a KSF soldier, yet the way he stood, weaponless, casual, Nick could tell he was in charge. Nick dropped his pistol on the bed. A rush of adrenalin shot up the back of Nick’s neck. He knew then that not only was he dead, but there was a good chance his death might be preceded by a considerable amount of pain. Nick wanted to tell him that the place was surrounded, that the FBI had an entire battalion of agents training their weapons on the hideout. He couldn’t say a word.
“It’s just the two of you isn’t it, Mr. Bracco?” the man asked.
Nick stood motionless. His heart pounded fiercely, every labored breath a miserable prelude to death. The blood left his brain and he wobbled on numb legs.
Two more soldiers appeared in the doorway. One of them said, “The other one must’ve ran out the back
