speaking. It was President Merrick. Somewhere, there was a radio broadcasting the President’s speech.
Nick crept down the dirt path; a deep musty aroma forced him to breathe through his mouth. He followed the President’s voice taking careful steps, heel to toe, his gun out in front of him.
Stiff-legged and panting from pain, Nick saw the tunnel split in two. The radio broadcast was coming from the left tunnel, the same direction Benton had told him to take. He inched his way down the dirt shaft until he saw an opening on his left. It appeared to be an intersecting tunnel, but as he got closer, the President’s voice seemed to amplify. The opening was more illuminated than the other parts of the tunnel and as Nick approached, he understood why. The opening was a room of sorts. A small cave with no outlet.
Nick suddenly felt claustrophobic. There was no turning back now, though. He either found Barzani and stopped the terrorist from detonating a bomb, or he became another casualty of the KSF’s pronounced death sentence.
The President was getting ready to announce his support for Turkey. He was glorifying past alliances with the Turkish people and offering his sympathy for the turmoil the Turks had to endure. It was only a matter of moments before Merrick would declare his unequivocal endorsement of the UN peacekeeping troops in Kurdistan, leaving Barzani no doubt that his threat had fallen short of its target.
It had been so long since Nick cleared a room by himself, he felt naked. He and Matt had such a system down, such a smooth rhythm of checks and balances. Now he was forced make a charge and gamble. The clock was ticking.
He leaned back against the wall and took a long breath. His heart pumped so loud it made his eardrums throb. In one swift move he turned into the opening and swept his gun across his field of vision, left to right, by the book, his gun lined up directly with his view.
The cave was empty. Nick exhaled. The room looked to be ten by ten and contained a wooden bench against the far wall. In front of the bench was a short, folding table, like something the kids would sit around for an outdoor party. On the table was a black portable radio with a single antenna sticking all the way up. The President had just given his word that America would never be intimidated by terrorist threats, nor would he ever negotiate with people who didn’t respect America’s freedoms.
Next to the radio was an ashtray full of cigarette butts. Nick didn’t need to examine them to know which kind they were. The smell of stale cigarette smoke lingered throughout the small confines. He’d trained himself to listen for anything he couldn’t see, but he never heard his attacker plow into him from behind and smash him against the cave wall. His gun flew loose from the impact and he found himself on the floor in severe agony. His shoulder had taken the brunt of the collision and he couldn’t help but clutch the tender joint.
A tall man with a Mediterranean complexion and a weathered face picked up Nick’s gun and sat on the wooden bench. He held up a pair of hiking boots, then dropped them to the floor to put them back on his stocking feet. There was no doubt in Nick’s mind who was sitting in front of him.
“I have done a lot of research on you in preparation for this moment,” Anton Kalinikov said with a Russian accent. “I am retiring after this job. My wife wants to live near a beach and I never disappoint my wife.”
Nick’s survival mode kicked in and he tried to get to his feet.
Kalinikov held up his hand. “Please do not act foolish, Agent Bracco.”
For some reason those words resonated with him. It was incredible how easily Nick seemed to accept his fate. There was no time to reminisce. The only thought imbedded in his mind was the image of Julie’s soft belly carrying the child he would never live to see.
The President’s speech was winding down. His tone seemed to contain resolve, a commodity which Nick was lacking at the moment. He wasn’t even sure he could get up without help, never mind mount a successful attack against a professional assassin.
Kalinikov leaned over and turned off the radio. “There’s too much hate in the world.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s why people like me exist, huh?” He pulled a pair of purple gloves from his pocket and began to stretch them on his hands.
“I tagged your vehicles with a GPS device as soon as I drove into town. I thought your technology person would have discovered them.” The Russian looked over at Nick with a mixture of confusion and pity. “You knew you were a target. Yet you were so blinded by the chase, you had forgotten to check your defense. That was a mistake.”
Kalinikov gestured toward Nick’s shoulder. “Your sutures have opened up.”
Nick felt the wound and came back with bloody fingers. His mouth had dried up. He’d wondered why his assassin hadn’t killed him yet, until Kalinikov produced a metal cylinder from his jeans pocket and began screwing it on the end of his pistol.
“In all this rush, I forgot to attach my silencer,” The Russian said. “I guess we all get hasty at times, right?”
With every twist of the silencer, Nick felt the blood drain from his head. He no longer cared about the pain. What he cared about was the end. He wanted it to come quickly and give his weary mind the relief it desperately craved.
From the tunnel came a pair of footsteps rushing toward the cave. Kalinikov didn’t seem to be affected by the sound. He continued attending to his gun. A few seconds later, Temir Barzani came rushing into the room in a cloud of dust. With his pistol out, he looked at the two men. First Nick slumped on the floor, then Kalinikov sitting on the bench, putting the finishing touches on his silencer.
To Kalinikov, Barzani said, “You?” He pointed to Nick and said, “Why is he still alive?”
That’s when Kalinikov raised his gun and shot Barzani with the quickest move Nick had ever seen. A chest shot. By the amount of blood seeping through the terrorist’s shirt, it was obviously a direct hit on his heart. Not a difficult shot from the distance, but effortless and professional and with just a muted pop. Barzani’s face held the shock all the way to the floor and it never left even after his life had expired.
Kalinikov moved quicker now, getting up and rummaging his hands through Barzani’s corpse. He seemed to be finessing something from Barzani’s pocket. Finally he came up with a narrow, metallic device and gave it a careful examination before placing it on the plastic table.
“That would be the detonator,” Kalinikov said. “There is no timer, so your people should be able to defuse it rather easily.”
The Russian must’ve seen the confused look on Nick’s face. He grinned. “Barzani offered me money to kill you.” He raised his eyebrows. “But the Turkish government offered me more money to kill him. A lot more.”
Nick didn’t move. His pulse pounded through his head like a steady drumbeat. He still anticipated one more shot to be fired.
“I put a tourniquet around your partner’s leg,” Kalinikov said, casually waving his pistol in the air. “If he gets to the hospital within the hour they should be able to save it.”
Nick studied the man's movements, waiting for a quick draw and the bullet which would put him down. He was certain the assassin was just playing with him. Enjoying the kill. He forced himself to sit upright. Take it with valor.
Kalinikov put away his gun and wiped the dirt from his pants. “You are good at your job, Agent Bracco. It’s the reason I followed you. I knew you would lead me directly to him.”
The Russian scanned the room one last time. His eyes settled on Nick. “I also know you well enough to know you have no intention of going after me. It is why you are still alive. Anyone who mingles with the type of organized criminals you do, does not care about anything but the results. Besides,” he looked over at Barzani’s body. “I am now retired.”
Nick watched Kalinikov leave the cave. His footsteps became softer with every passing moment.
“Oh, one more thing,” Kalinikov’s voice echoed throughout the tunnel walls. “Please thank your cousin for the drink. He was good company.”
It wasn’t until the maintenance door slammed shut that Nick realized he was going to survive. It took another five minutes for his breathing to slow down enough for him to attempt to get to his feet. He pushed down on his good arm, then decided against it. Somehow sitting in a small cave with Temir Barzani’s decomposing corpse seemed like a satisfying place to spend a few minutes.
