A Touch of Greed by Gary Ponzo Page A

border. From what I understand, they’re tapped out on funds. They put all their chips into this venture. If Garza gets this thing into our country and they are able to detonate the device anywhere near a populated area, the gamble will pay off. They’ll immediately become a new player. The funds will start rolling in and membership will thrive.”
    “And if they don’t?”
    “They’re done. Finito. Never to be heard from again.” Fisk put his index finger to his lips. “Mum’s the word.”
    Merrick leaned back in his chair. “All right, buddy. I’m trusting you here.”
    “It’s Garza we need to stop. He gets this done and he’ll expose a major weakness to our border defense. Every terrorist organization on the planet will be paying him a visit.” With a distant stare, Fisk said, “Give Nick and the boys a chance to get this done.”
    Merrick cocked his head. “When you say, ‘the boys,’ exactly whom do you mean?”
    Fisk smiled knowingly and returned his finger to his lips.
    Merrick shook his head. He knew Fisk was protecting him, keeping him from being culpable with whatever Nick’s ‘family’ may be doing without law enforcement compliance. He also knew their involvement had saved many American lives in the past.
    Merrick swiveled his chair around to face the South Lawn behind his desk. A hummingbird was flapping its wings furiously while pecking at a flower petal. “You ever wonder about the consequences of our choices, Sam?”
    Fisk said nothing.
    “Sometimes my choices allow a family to afford a new home or a schoolchild to afford a smaller classroom.” The hummingbird dipped and rose erratically, until it flew off in a fury. “Then other times my choices cause a homeless person to lose a meal.”
    Merrick turned to face Fisk. “Sometimes I wonder if that homeless person knows I took that meal away from him so I could pay for us to capture a Mexican terrorist and save hundreds, or maybe thousands of lives. You ever wonder about that, Sam?”
    “I try not to swim that deep,” Fisk said.
    “Well, if this country has a beating heart, it’s because of people like Nick Bracco and Matt McColm.”
    “Hallelujah,” Fisk said. “Now . . . can we find something to eat around here?”

Chapter 13
     
    Just one look at the outside of the off-track betting place and Tommy knew he wasn’t in Baltimore anymore. There was a large patch of desert with some sort of beat-up cactus and a few wilted shrubs along the front wall. Along the side of the building an asphalt parking lot had a half-dozen pickup trucks and a couple of small foreign cars. Tommy parked in the back by himself, giving the rental a chance to survive a door ding.
    As soon as he stepped inside, however, he felt right at home. It was a struggling sports bar whose owner probably decided to lure degenerate gamblers to bolster his lunch business. The rectangular bar was centered in the middle of the room with a scattering of round tables around the perimeter. To the right was the restaurant with booths and tables. To the left was the wall of OTB tellers.
    Tommy took a seat at the bar and gestured to the bartender. “I’ll take a bottle of Bud and a Form please,” he said.
    The guy behind the bar seemed bored as he placed the beer on the bar and handed Tommy the Racing Form.
    “Seven-fifty,” the guy said.
    Tommy gave the bartender a ten and told him to keep it. He took a swig of beer and examined the room. He spotted his mark instantly. The guy was sitting in a booth on the restaurant side, a pretty girl snuggled up next to him wearing the shortest shorts he’d ever seen. The guy stuck out because the crowd was mostly gray-haired men straining to see one of the dozen TV monitors hanging from the ceiling. He also stuck out because he was pushing three hundred pounds of pure fat. 
    Tommy glanced at a TV and discovered it was seven minutes to post time for the third race at Hollywood Park. He opened his Form and studied the charts.