A Touch of Deceit (Nick Bracco Series #1) by Gary Ponzo Page A

on their shoulders and assumed an attack position. Hasan held an index finger to his lips and motioned for the men to spread out. He peeked out from the side of a curtain. Standing at the front door as casual as if he were delivering flowers, was Nick Bracco. Bracco didn’t appear to be expecting trouble. His hands were empty and loose at his side. Maybe the FBI was canvassing the area?
    Hasan’s first instinct was to shoot. Kill the FBI agent and his brother. But too many years of following orders prevented him. The shooting would attract attention and cause the house to be invaded by FBI agents. There was a plan for the situation, which was just as deadly and allowed them more time to escape. In fact, Hasan had secretly hoped for an opportunity to use the alternate escape plan. It would send a necessary message to the Americans. The end of their cozy little lives was near. No one was safe in his homeland, why should America be immune from the danger?
    Hasan stepped silently into the kitchen where a bearded man examined a syringe full of noxious liquid, flicking the syringe to remove excess air bubbles.
    Phil Bracco sat motionless in a wooden chair in the middle of the room. His arms were tied behind him, his legs bound to the chair’s legs, and his mouth taped shut. His sleeve was rolled up in preparation for his silent death. As the man bent over to inject Phil’s arm, Hasan grabbed the man’s wrist.
    “Leave him. We need him alive,” Hasan said.
    The man gave a perfunctory shrug.
    Hasan reached down and unfastened one of Phil Bracco’s legs from the chair. He leaned close to the prisoner’s ear and whispered, “Count to thirty, then make all the noise you wish.”
     
    * * *
     
    Nick Bracco trembled while he waited at the front door. There wasn’t a plan. There wasn’t time for one. He had to interrupt his brother’s execution. He banked on the fact that the terrorists inside might be concerned about gunshots causing attention. Matt was sent to get help while Nick shifted his weight from foot to foot, acting as innocent as possible. He caught himself wiping his sweaty palms on his pants and quickly placed his hands behind his back. Unarmed and harmless. Just checking with the neighbors, that’s all.
    Suddenly, a light came to life from behind closed curtains. Then another blinked on from an upstairs window. To his left another slit of light escaped from a closed drape. The entire house was being lit up. Did he have the wrong house? He considered that for a moment, yet the door remained closed. He rang the bell again. Still no answer.
    He heard the hushed tones of FBI agents and Hostage Rescue experts closing in from a distance. He didn’t dare turn and acknowledge their presence. He rang again, this time hearing a noise. A faint thumping, not rhythmic or in any cadence. Carefully, he held his ear to the door. Again the thumping from inside the house.
    He slowly walked away from the house and headed for a clump of bushes where he knew Matt would be waiting. Once behind the cover of the foliage he asked Matt for the cone.
    “I hear something inside,” Nick said. He slipped on the headphones and listened to the amplified sound through the cone. “Someone’s banging . . . I can’t make it out. It’s not hard like steel, more like someone banging their fist on a wall.”
    “We’ve got the place surrounded,” Evan’s said. “Let’s crash this party.” He looked at Matt, “How many do you think?”
    “Five, maybe six,” Matt estimated.
    Evans lowered his head and spoke into the miniature radio attached to his collar, “When I give the signal, you take the rear. We have the front.”
    The team began their inspection from a window on the side of the house where the noise seemed to originate. Others were doing the same thing to each wall of the house. Jake positioned a slender black tube to the side of the window, where only a crease of light showed. The tube was attached to a video device that