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

ago from that informant of yours,” Evans gave Nick a quick glance. “He gave us the license plate of the limo that took your brother. Turns out the limo was supposed to go home with the driver last night, only the driver lent it to a friend. A friend that the driver doesn’t know all that well, but he gets an envelope with twenty hundred dollar bills inside, so he hands over the keys. I mean the regular driver’s only a kid, maybe twenty-one tops. So we paid him a visit.”
    An agent in the back seat said, “You should have seen the look on the kid’s face when we show up waving FBI badges. He nearly vomited on us.”
    “Yeah, well he’s still living with his mother,” Evans continued. “So we sit down and the kid told us everything.”
    “Except maybe which side of the mattress he hides his Playboy Magazines,” the voice from the back seat again.
    Nick leaned toward Evans, “What did you find out?”
    “That’s some informant you’ve got there back in Baltimore,” Evans said. “With extremely long-range connections. Who is he?”
    “He’s an old informant from my days with the Baltimore P.D.”
    “What about the kid?” Matt shifted the conversation back into focus.
    “Long story short, we found the limo,” Evans said.
    Matt slapped his knee, “Finally, something goes right.”
    “It’s parked in front of a house in a residential area,” Evans said.
    “It’s in front of a house?” Matt said.
    “We’ve got a SWAT team and a couple of sharpshooters already in position.”
    A new voice behind Nick said, “Do you really believe that Kemel Kharrazi is, uh . . .”
    Nick turned to see a young man, clean-cut, no more than twenty-three, with wide, inquisitive eyes.
    “What’s your name?” Nick asked.
    “Jake Henson.”
    “How long you been with the bureau, Jake?”
    “Six months,” Jake answered, sitting painfully upright.
    “What do you know about Kemel Kharrazi?”
    There was a pause, then Jake said, “Well, I know that he’s forty-two and received a journalism degree from Georgetown. His father owns the largest construction company in Turkey. He has two teenage sons, Isal and Shaquir. He’s had his hand in the bombing of the U.S. Embassy in Jordan and American Airlines flight 650, to mention just a couple. And there’s a twenty million dollar reward for any information leading to his arrest.”
    Nick was impressed until he saw the blue-green glow across Jake’s face and realized he was holding a small hand-held computer.
    Matt twisted in his seat, stuck a piece of gum in his mouth, and pointed at the young man. “That’s pretty good. Can you get that Dr. Skin website on there? You know the one with all of the naked celebrities.”
    Jake’s face became grave. “This is official FBI merchandise. I can’t use it for personal use.”
    Matt looked at the older agent sitting next to Jake. “Is he for real?”
    “Are you kidding me?” the agent said. “He thinks watching a woman eat a banana is considered cheating on your wife.”
    “Jake,” Matt said, “you ever meet a fugitive on the List?”
    “No, sir, this would be my first.”
    Evans pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Jake and said, “The kid’s done a good job. He digs into that tiny machine and finds out that there’s only been one house sold in the nearby vicinity in the past six months. Guess which house?”
    Jake beamed.
    “That’s right,” Evans said. “The very house that limo sits in front of was sold to a businessman just four months ago. His name is Kalil Reed.”
    Nick and Matt exchanged glances.
    “Anyway, Jake runs the name into the computer and comes up with an alias for Mr. Reed. Anyone care to guess whose name comes up?”
    Evans looked into his rear view mirror at the two agents anxious for one of them to respond.
    Jake couldn’t hold it. “Abdullah Amin Shah!” he exclaimed. “He owns the house.”
    Nick could see Matt about to get sarcastic, so he grabbed Matt’s arm and gave him a