Stop in the Name of the… Straw?

Straws

Photo Credit: rkit/Pixabay

I’m not one to rant or rave through social media endlessly about politics or religion, and various subjects that I deem to be unfair, ridiculous, or just plain incorrect. I have a straight forward view of how I see the criminal justice system, law enforcement, forensics, and criminal investigations. I’ve never skirted issues, and for those of you who follow my blog or social media regularly over a period of time, know where I stand on most of the basic issues in my field.

I was born and raised in California—and I still reside in this big, amazing, confused, and often misunderstand state. I may not agree with the current politicians or their grievous tactics, but I do believe in the hardworking people who are trying to improve and keep the Golden State healthy, environmentally sound, and thriving as it should be.

This bogus “straw jail phenomenon” circulating about the State of California concerns me (wait, ticks me off)—not because it’s trying to do something helpful for the environment, but because not one news source, to my knowledge, or low-level politician, has reported the correct information. USA Today, LA Times, FOX news, Washington Post, and Forbes, to just name a few, have ALL stated that California is proposing jail time (up to six months) for a server to hand out straws to customers—without the straw being requested. The same story just carbon copied itself to every news agency, blog, podcast, and social media site. It took off like a California wildfire.

First, let me very clear. I’m in definite agreement that we have too much plastic waste and there are consequences on the environment and wildlife—and a clear strategy needs to be addressed. By something, I mean, a well thought out plan to begin to eliminate wasteful containers, plastic bottles, to-go containers, and yes, even straws.

Living on and near the California coast for most of my life, I have seen first-hand what trash, plastic, and environmental refuse has done to the beaches and wildlife. Let me give you an example—a firsthand account.

I worked for a company on the coast for several years and almost every day I took a walk along the beach and adjacent trails during my lunch break. I made sure that I had a medium-sized plastic garbage bag and by the time I returned to work—it was filled with garbage. Most items were plastic—Starbucks cups, lids, six-pack plastic tops, water bottles, soda bottles, plastic bags from the grocery stores, Styrofoam containers, diapers (yeah diapers, more than you know), and entire paper bags filled with the remains of fast food and their wrappers.

It’s truly disgusting what people toss out of their cars, leave in parking lots, and allow to blow along the beach because they are too lazy to pick up their trash. I witnessed a woman toss out a loaded baby diaper into the parking lot; she was less than twelve feet from a garbage can.

I’ve seen seagulls, otters, and pelicans, to name a few, that had become entangled in plastic, wrapped tightly around their wings, necks and legs. I’ve assisted in rescues to help capture wildlife, so that they can be freed from their garbage snares. It’s difficult and heartbreaking to see that our society has become so blasé about garbage—especially plastic. There are consequences for actions. Think before you toss your trash.

There has been a ton of misinformation making the rounds and I want to set the record straight. As for California and at the time of writing this blog post, please refer to AB1884 from the State of California government website. This is an assembly bill, which means it’s a proposal to change a current law. It still has to receive majority vote before it actually becomes a law.

For all of the chatter, hashtags, jokes, and outrage, there wasn’t anything mentioned in this assembly bill that had anything to do with jail time for handing out a straw. That jail notion was a fabrication—plain and simple.

AB1184  4271 (b) states:

“This section shall be enforced by an enforcement officer. The first and second violations of subdivision (a) shall result in a notice of violation, and any subsequent violation shall constitute an infraction punishable by a fine of twenty-five dollars ($25) for each day the full-service restaurant is in violation, but not to exceed three hundred dollars ($300) annually.”

To read the entire assembly bill: Go to the State of California government website and read AB-1884 Food facilities: single-use plastic straws.

As for the future of banning straws and coming up with sound and intelligent decisions about what to do with the excessive plastic waste in our environment—well, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

***

 

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KILLER ON THE LOOSE Chapter 6: Emily Stone #MiniBlogSeries

Em3

KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Chapter 6 – Emily Stone

Jennifer Chase

The increasing fatigue travelled down her arms as Emily gripped the gun.

She anticipated the assault.

The heavy gunfire ceased with only a small spray of bullets in several directions around her before it stopped completely. The men stopped their pursuit; it appeared they reevaluated their search.

The rising humidity fought against Emily’s awareness as she quickly wiped her sweaty hands on her cargo pants. She pressed her back harder against the cool rock to steady her nerves and focus on the imminent danger.

The landscape became quiet— unnervingly quiet. The birds were silent, no wings fluttering in the trees, and the breeze ran out of energy, not a leaf moved. The only constant thing was the humidity, which remained high and invading.

Emily licked her dry lips waiting in expectation for the next heavy barrage of bullets.

Nothing.

She tried to readjust her headset, hoping to hear static or the sound of Rick’s voice, but she only heard silence. Daring to peek around the rock formation, Emily eyed the trail of approach.

Where did they go?

She strained to hear any sound out of the ordinary, footsteps, crunching of leaves, winded breathing, soft conversation—anything.

What are they doing?

Still staying in a crouched position, Emily moved carefully from her location to gain a better vantage. The trees and surroundings looked normal. She stood up straight, still with her weapon directed and ready, cautiously sidestepping to move into another area away from the previous path.

She gained momentum and a confidence, hurrying down a makeshift pathway to view building location. She knew that she should continue uphill and move west to meet Rick, but her drive and concern to locate the missing girls overrode strict protocol.

Emily’s internal conversation was interrupted by shouts—first it was several men’s voices. She immediately recognized Rick’s authoritative tone. “Drop your weapons and show me your hands now!” he yelled.

Emily hurried downhill, careful not to stumble and fall. She ran as fast as she dared to in order to reach Rick. Disturbing thoughts raced through her mind of what might happen if she did not reach the location in time.

Reaching the bottom, Emily saw Rick holding one of the automatic weapons directed at the men—his shotgun lay on the ground next to him. The men were on their knees with their hands laced behind their heads.

“Rick,” Emily said breathlessly. “How’d you…”

“I had them in my sites after the alarm went off.”

Emily kept her Glock trained at the men. “Where are they?” she demanded.

The two men looked straight ahead, not moving, and ignored Emily’s question.

“I said…” she began as she confronted the first man by pushing her weapon into his face. “Where are the two girls?”

The man remained quiet.

“Em, secure them.”

“I want to know where the girls are!”

Rick lowered his tone, “Secure them and we’ll search the property before we alert authorities.”

Emily let out a breath clearly frustrated. She pulled several plastic zip ties from her cargo pant pocket and restrained the men—both wrists and ankles. She didn’t care that she pulled the ties too tight and hoped that it was uncomfortable.

“Keep an eye on them. I’m going to check this storage building.” Emily knew that the alarm was deactivated and there was no chance of a repeat of events.

Rick nodded and stood guard, taking the situation very seriously.

Emily hurried to the building. She stood at the entrance for a moment, hesitating, before she moved toward one of the tarps.

She flung back the covering and revealed various types computer parts. It was not entire computers like laptops and desktops, but boxed parts of motherboards, internal drives, memory cards, and various controller drivers.

Emily quickly documented the inventory with her phone and personally viewed everything in the storage area. There was no sign of the missing girls or any indication that they had been there.

She returned to Rick and reported, “No sign of the girls.”

“What’s in there?” he asked. “More weapons?”

“No, computer parts, all kinds,” she stated. She watched for any reaction from the two men.

Nothing.

“What the hell… why are they storing computer parts in a secure building?”

Emily added, “We need to find out who is behind this and where the girls are.”

“The bigger question is what were they going to do with the computer parts and explosives?”

***

In case you missed it:

Chapter 1 — Nick Bracco

Chapter 2 – Emily Stone

Chapter 3 – Nick Bracco

Chapter 4 – Emily Stone

Chapter 5 — Nick Bracco

***

LATEST VIGILANTE DETECTIVE EMILY STONE THRILLER  

DEAD COLD, An Emily Stone Thriller

DeadCold

 

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KILLER ON THE LOOSE Chapter 5: Nick Bracco #MiniBlogSeries

Nick_image

KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Chapter 5 – Nick Bracco

Gary Ponzo

There were flashing red and white lights in the distance charging toward the bus. In his peripheral vision Nick could detect unmarked sedans maneuvering around slow-moving city traffic .

“What’s going on?” Matt asked, gripping the steering wheel with clenched fists.

Nick was immediately on his phone. “What’s happening, Walt?”

“We received an email bomb threat five minutes ago,” Walt Jackson said. “I can’t allow innocent people to get in the way of our operation. Go get him now.”

Nick put the phone down and watched a cascade of sedans with flashing lights converging on the bus. One sedan pinched the bus toward the curb while five others surrounded the vehicle in a random display of power. Plainclothes FBI agents jumped out of their cars with guns drawn, crouched low and ready for the hostage situation to develop.

Nick and Matt hopped out of the SUV and carefully approached the bus from the door side of the transport vehicle. The bus driver was a round figure behind the wheel sitting still with his head on a swivel searching for the danger he knew was present.

Nick was close enough now to see that the only visible passenger was an African-American male who stood with his arms in the air as if he were guilty and didn’t want to be shot. He moved to the doorway of the bus and shouted, “Please don’t shoot!”

Something was wrong.

Nick quickly ran to the kid’s side and put his arms around the frightened teen. “Relax,” Nick said, “no one’s going to harm you. You’re safe.”

“Please, I didn’t do nothing wrong,” the kid stammered.

“We know,” Nick said, escorting the kid away from the bus. “You’re not in trouble.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Nick said, watching Matt lead the team onto the bus, his gun out and ready. Once the kid was far enough away from the action, Nick asked, “Who else is left on the bus?”

The boy’s eyes were wide with anxiety, as if any wrong answer would cost him his life. “Just me and the driver. That’s all.”

Something was definitely wrong.

Nick saw the bus driver waddle down the ramp while two agents helped him to the curb. There were agents shouting to pedestrians to move away from the scene as Matt made quick-twitch moves inside the tight quarters of the bus, searching for the assassin.

Nick’s temple pounded as he watched Matt duck down, then raise up, checking under each of the seats. Nick handed over the frightened teenager to another agent instructing him to protect the kid until Nick returned.

That’s when Matt scurried backward toward the front of the bus, shoving a team member to move quicker as he kept glancing over his shoulder.

When Matt finally jumped out of the bus, he screamed, “Call the bomb squad!”

***

In case you missed it:

Chapter 1 — Nick Bracco

Chapter 2 – Emily Stone

Chapter 3 – Nick Bracco

Chapter 4 – Emily Stone

***

http://www.garyponzo.com

Check out the latest: A Touch of Defiance

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KILLER ON THE LOOSE Chapter 4: Emily Stone #MiniBlogSeries

closeupEmily

KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Chapter 4 – Emily Stone

Jennifer Chase

Emily’s strength dwindled from her arms as her legs weakened. Her ears buzzed with a strange hypnotic sensation. Shock and disbelief took hold of her. After realizing she held her breath, Emily immediately let out a burst of air.

She stared at the crates and the word explosives unable to move.

“Em?” Rick interrupted over her headset. “Emily, can you read me?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. Gaining her composure, she reported, “Negative on the girls.”

“What’s going on?” he persisted.

She hesitated for a full minute before answering.

“The building is filled with crates and heavy-duty black cases.”

Emily moved around the area to confirm that indeed the entire inventory was what it appeared – and it was.

There was a pause on Rick’s end.

“Rick, there are military weapons and explosives,” she managed to say.

“Get out now. Back track to the west side of the property and I’ll meet you there.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Get out now Em. This is not our area of expertise. I’ll forward everything to the FBI and let them handle it.”

“No,” she insisted. “I have to make sure that the girls are not being kept here. They are running out of time.”

Emily gained control of her emotions and documented the inventory with her cell phone with both photos and a quick video. She decided to treat the investigation like any other and move forward. Sending the photographs to Rick’s cell phone, she prepared to move to the next building.

“Dammit Em,” Rick’s voice responded.

Emily ignored his concern and focused on the next search. She eased back to the entrance, squeezed through the door, and carefully replaced the lock to appear engaged.

Whispering, Emily said, “I’m moving to the next building.”

Rick was silent on the other end.

Emily stopped and listened. She heard only birds chirping in the trees, but no voices or footsteps.

Daring to move, she kept her body close to the backside of the buildings and inched forward.

The next structure had two windows on the backside. Emily moved in that direction hoping to catch a glimpse inside. She approached the windows, which were large enough to see the interior.

Standing up straight and straining her neck, Emily peered inside. More large tarps covered items around the interior. It did not appear like the same formation as the weapons shed. The farthest corners were dark. She could not ascertain if something moved or not.

Emily took a step backward and refocused her eyes. She looked inside again.

Something moved in the corner.

Without wasting any more time, Emily hurried to the door with two sliding deadbolts. She slowly flipped up the bolting mechanisms and slid both locks aside.

As she opened the large door, a screeching alarm sounded.

Emily silently reprimanded herself for not checking for signs of alarms or infrared devices.

“I’m heading north…” was all that Emily could say before heavy static filled her ears. The connection with Rick was lost.

Shouts from the pursuing men advanced in her direction.

With no other choice, Emily ran into the wooded area heading north on the property.

Several rounds of gunfire expelled into the air like warning shots.

The alarm continued to blast.

Loud voices kept increasing in volume competing with the blaring alarm, and the men continued to close the gap between the buildings and Emily.

Emily stopped to catch her breath, trying to calm her pounding heart rate. The escape route was up hill zigzagging around overgrown trees.

Emily continued to climb to safety. Her leg muscles burned with overexertion and increasing fatigue.

The alarm abruptly stopped, leaving a strange silence for only a moment.

Gunshots rang out.  Bullets whizzed in Emily’s direction cutting through vegetation and tree branches. The firepower was no match for her Glock.

Emily knew that she wouldn’t make it to the top of the hill without being struck by at least one bullet.

Emily dropped down and took temporary cover. She sat with her back against a large rock formation shielding her from immediate attack.

With her weapon drawn, she waited for her fate…

***

In case you missed it:

Chapter 1 — Nick Bracco

Chapter 2 – Emily Stone

Chapter 3 – Nick Bracco

***

LATEST VIGILANTE DETECTIVE EMILY STONE THRILLER  

DEAD COLD, An Emily Stone Thriller

DeadCold

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KILLER ON THE LOOSE Chapter 3: Nick Bracco #MiniBlogSeries

NICK BRACCO IMAGE- GOT NICK 2                                                 

KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Chapter 3: Nick Bracco

Gary Ponzo

            Matt stayed a block behind the bus, while Nick scrutinized the passengers with his binoculars.

            “Nothing suspicious,” Nick answered Matt’s silent question.

            “Can you see him?”

            “No,” Nick said referring to Karl Saxon, the assassin they suspected was on the bus.  Saxon’s nickname was, The Ghost, so the two agents kept a sharp eye on the vehicle as if he could evaporate at any moment.

            “I don’t like it,” Matt said.  “He must know we’re following him.  Why not make a move?

            After more than a decade of partnering together, Nick’s mind was rummaging through the same exact thought.  “Maybe he’s preparing to take a hostage and wants the bus to thin out first.  Less people to control.”

            “Yeah,” Matt said, gripping the steering wheel with clenched fists.  “But the longer we wait, the more time he has to prepare for us.

            The thumping sound of a helicopter became too conspicuous and Matt stretched forward over the dashboard.  “Tell Lincoln to get the chopper out of here.  I don’t want Saxon to spook.  The less hostages, the better.”

            Nick called Agent Jack Lincoln to instruct him bring the chopper to a higher elevation, but continue his surveillance.  When Nick placed the phone back on his lap and looked through the binoculars, he said, “As far as I can tell there’s only seven passengers left.”

            They were still on Pennsylvania Avenue, just before the White House and watched the bus make a left turn to head back south where they had begun.  At the first light the bus pulled over at a stop and Matt crept toward the curb to double-park.  Nick almost jumped from his seat when the car behind them honked the horn.  Matt opened his window and waved his arm to encourage the driver to go around, but there was already a line of cars too close for the driver to negotiate the turn. 

            Another long honk.

            Nick could feel his temple pulsate with pressure.  He opened the car door.

            “Hey,” Matt said.

            “I’ll be right back,” Nick said, then jumped out and stomped over to the car behind them.  The driver was a young male with a buzz cut and a gold earring pierced through his lower lip.  Nick went over to his window and slammed his FBI credentials up against the glass so hard he thought it might break. 

            The guy’s eyes widened.

            “Get out of here!” Nick shouted.

            The guy jammed his gear into reverse and slowly rolled backward, causing the rest of the cars behind him to do the same. 

            Meanwhile Nick moved behind the SUV for protection and scrutinized each passenger as they exited the bus, his fingertips lingering on the grip of his gun.  There was a woman with two children.  A businessman.  A young kid with red headphones dangling around his neck.

            The bus began to pull out into traffic and Nick hopped back into SUV.  When he shut the door behind him, Matt said, “There’s two left.”

            Nick scanned the interior of the bus with the binoculars.  “This isn’t good.  I’m getting backup.”

            Matt glanced down at the bus route displayed on his phone sitting on the console.  “There’s one stop left on the route.  Have Walt bring the crew to 14th and Constitution.”

            Nick made the call, then returned his attention to the bus, examining the pedestrian traffic to assess the risk involved with the imminent confrontation.  His head began to pound as he withdrew his pistol and examined his chamber with a quick slide out and snap back into place.

            “You getting ready for a shootout?” Matt asked.

            “Maybe.”

            “Well don’t, you’re scaring me.”

            “What, you think I’m trigger happy?” Nick asked putting the binoculars to his eyes. 

            “No I think you’re target challenged.”

            “Very funny.”

            “I’m serious.”

            “I miss a target by three inches and right away I’m target challenged.”

            Matt looked over at him.  “You were twenty feet away when I had—”

            “Stop,” Nick said, squinting through his binoculars now.  “Something’s happening.”

***

In case you missed it:

Chapter 1 – Nick Bracco

Chapter 2 – Emily Stone

 

***

http://www.garyponzo.com

Check out the latest: A Touch of Defiance

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KILLER ON THE LOOSE: Emily Stone #MiniBlogSeries

closeupEmily

KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Chapter 2 – Emily Stone

Jennifer Chase

Emily Stone deliberately slid down the rocky hillside and cautiously approached the house.  The heat and humidity of the summer bore down on her. The dense trees on the large 200-acre homestead made for a convenient camouflage as she approached the first building.

She checked to make sure that her Glock and Beretta were still secured in her hip and ankle holsters.

Adjusting the listening device, she whispered, “Rick, you read me?”

“What took so long?” he replied.

Ignoring his irritated response she stated, “I’m at the first storage building on the west side of the property.”

“I don’t need to remind you of our protocol?” he pushed.

“Of course not.”

“And?” he curtly interrupted.

Emily could hear the growing tension in his voice, and could imagine his usual dark stare and clenched jaw.  “Just locate and observe,” she sighed.

Of course, she knew the protocol.  They had tracked serial killers and abductors on many occasions, all with covert anonymity and shadowing of law enforcement.

Their search and investigation brought them to the rural location near Mason City, Iowa to find the three missing girls taken from a suburban neighborhood in California.

Footsteps approached.

“10-3,” Emily whispered, alerting Rick to radio silence.

She moved stealthily away from the building, deeper into the wooded area.

Voices ensued and the words became clearer.

Emily strained to hear the conversation, but realized that they were speaking another language – nothing that she had heard before.

She crouched low and tucked herself completely out of view.

Retrieving her cell phone from her pocket, she pressed the recording app and held it in the direction of the unknown men, hoping to catch some of their dialogue for later translation.

The two men talked excitedly in their foreign dialect with a few interjected English words.  They stopped at the front of building.

A cigarette butt landed on the ground near Emily, still smoldering before it eventually extinguished.

Emily leaned forward and craned her neck to get a look at the men.  They were dark-haired, one with a beard, and both were dressed in casual dark khakis and t-shirts.  One man carried an automatic rifle, while the other had a large hunting knife sheathed on his right hip.

Several times Emily heard the English letters “DC” and word “train” or “trainer”.

The shorter man unlocked the large doors, swung them open, and disappeared inside for a couple of minutes.

It remained quiet.  No conversation, no movement, it was as if everything had stopped.

When the man finally returned, he seemed agitated swinging his weapon erratically as he spoke.  After engaging the padlock, both men left.

Emily waited for a few more minutes until she could not hear the conversation between the men anymore.

She updated her partner, “Two suspects, one AK-47, one hunting knife, heading east in your direction toward the main house.”

“I can see them.  Two suspects,” responded Rick.

“I’m checking the building now.”

“Copy that,” he replied.

Emily emerged from her hiding place, taking a moment to survey her surroundings for traps or possibly another suspect.  She eased forward and noted there were no windows located anywhere on the building, nothing to give her an idea what was inside.

The small padlock was secured, but not impossible to break.

Emily searched around the area and found wooden boards from an old fence discarded in a neat pile.  She dug deeper, but kept alert.

“Em,” her earpiece crackled.

There were nails and pieces of wire hiding beneath the old fencing.

“Em?” Rick said again.

She had almost given up her search when she spotted a piece of steel resembling some type of rebar.

“Emily!”

“What?” she whispered.

“Update…”

“I’m getting ready to break the lock and look inside, out.”

She knew that Rick worried about her safety, and he had told her on countless occasions that she took too many risks.

The risks during the search for missing children were necessary.

She took the metal bar and inserted it into the lock at an angle, taking the extra precaution to make it as quiet as possible.  Leveraging the bar, Emily used all of her strength to break the lock, but it wouldn’t budge.

She took a step back.  It would have been much easier to shoot the lock off, but she would have had only seconds to escape the barrage of bullets.  The men’s firepower was no match for her.

With determination, she sucked in a breath and forced the bar downward.

The padlock finally snapped, released, and fell to the ground.

Emily stood still, body rigid, listening, and half expecting an alarm to sound.

Nothing.

She then carefully opened the door barely wide enough to slip inside.

Large weathered tarps covered the majority of the area, the shapes underneath appeared symmetrical and about six feet high.  Emily’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as she grabbed one of the corners of a white tarp and flipped it up.

Her skin prickled turning icy despite the muggy air.

Approximately twenty-five large wooden crates along with several heavy black plastic suitcases were exposed.

Emily had never seen anything like it in any of her searches, but the symbols on the sides of the crates were unmistakable.  The containers held military weapons and explosives…

***

LATEST VIGILANTE DETECTIVE EMILY STONE THRILLER  

DEAD COLD, An Emily Stone Thriller

DeadCold

In case you missed it:

Chapter 1 — Nick Bracco

 

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KILLER ON THE LOOSE: Nick Bracco & Emily Stone Mini Blog Series

NICK BRACCO IMAGE- GOT NICK 2

FBI agent Nick Bracco has been known to become involved in messy terrorist investigations across the country. He even has a cousin in the Mafia. This explosive best-selling series by Gary Ponzo has won plenty of awards and accolades.

Vigilante detective Emily Stone tracks down serial killers and child abductions covertly and under the law enforcement radar, with her intrinsic skills of criminal profiling and forensic investigation. The Emily Stone series is written by award-winning author and criminologist Jennifer Chase.

What happens when Bracco and Stone cross paths? I guarantee it’s something you don’t want to miss.

I’m excited that over the next six weeks every Tuesday and Friday, you can tag along and find out what happens with both Bracco and Stone every week. See if you can keep up…

***

 KILLER ON THE LOOSE

Chapter 1 – Nick Bracco

Gary Ponzo

“Is it him?” FBI Agent Nick Bracco asked.

His partner, Matt McColm, craned his head forward and squinted through the powerful binoculars at the man sitting on the bus stop bench with a briefcase on his lap.  They were on the third floor of the FBI’s Washington DC Field Office when Nick thought he spotted a familiar face below them.

Matt pulled the binoculars down and turned away from the window with a confused expression.  “How?”

Nick shrugged.  “I thought you killed him in Cairo?” he said to the FBI’s three time sharpshooting champion.

“I did.  He was three hundred yards away and I had a perfect angle.”

Nick stared out the window and noticed a bus approaching the bus stop.  He grabbed Matt’s arm and said, “Let’s go.”

They ran into the stairwell and scrambled down the stairs two and three steps at a time, Nick’s head pounding with the thought another threat this close to home.

“What’s he doing in DC?” Matt’s voice echoed off the cement walls.

“No idea.”

“And what’s in the briefcase?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

They ran out of the stairwell toward the front door and two agents in the reception area immediately ran up and asked if they needed support.

“Yes!” Matt shouted.  “It’s a Redball on the bus stop across the street.”

The two agents followed them out the front door into the bright sunlight and the muggy summer heat.  As they ran to the curb, the bus was pulling away from its stop.

Nick stared at the empty bench.  “Shit.”

Matt looked at the other two agents and said, “Get a bird in the air, quickly. ”

The two agents hustled back into the federal building while Nick examined the numbers on the back of the bus.  “That goes down Pennsylvania Avenue.”

Matt began to run toward the underground parking garage and glanced back at his partner.  “C’mon.”

“No,” Nick said, beginning to jog across the street.  “You get the car and I’m going to try to stay close on the sidewalk.  Pick me up along the way.”

Matt sprinted down the street, while Nick negotiated the traffic with quick bursts of speed and a couple of hip checks around slow-moving vehicles.  He ran onto the sidewalk and tried desperately to track the bus which was already a couple of blocks ahead of him.  He needed help from a stoplight or passing police car.  Something that could give him hope.

But when the bus turned down Pennsylvania Avenue and began pulling away, he slowed to a jog.  The heat, the humidity, the years of chasing criminals, everything conspired to work against him.  Nick was bent over catching his breath when he heard a horn and saw Matt’s SUV in the right lane with his partner waving for him to get in.

Nick jumped into the black Explorer and slammed his door shut.  He leaned back against the headrest.  “What’s he doing on a bus?”

“With a briefcase?” Matt said, pulling into traffic and flipping the emergency lights on the grill.

“Well,” Nick said, “the good news is he’s an assassin, not a suicide bomber.  Whatever’s inside that case probably isn’t a bomb.”

“Good call,” Matt said, accelerating into the middle lane for turns and flying around a group of cars waiting at a light.  He jammed on the brakes momentarily until he saw it was clear, then quickly sped through the intersection.

“There it is,” Nick said, pointing to a distant bus just as Matt pulled around a large panel truck.

Matt’s heavy right foot found more speed as he urged the cars ahead of him to move.

Matt jerked the steering wheel from side to side while Nick grabbed onto the safety bar and braced himself with his feet against the floorboard.  “I’d like to be alive when we catch that bus.”

“Don’t get greedy.”

As Matt rushed along the left lane, Nick grabbed his arm.  “Hold on a minute.  If he spots us we’ll turn this into a hostage situation.  We need to wait him out.”

“Too risky,” Matt said, still rocking the SUV between lanes.  “We can’t afford to lose him.”

Nick flicked off the emergency lights.  “Slow down, buddy.  We’ve got time on our side.  He won’t get away.”

Matt pursed his lips, then pulled his foot off the accelerator.  “If you’re wrong about this—”

“It’ll be a first.”

Matt grinned.  Over a decade of partnering allowed Nick the freedom to call the shots.  “Okay, but you’d better get on the phone and tell Walt what’s going on.  And to keep everyone out of the area.”

Nick pushed a button on his phone, then put it to his ear.  “Because I’ve got the cowboy with me.  What could possibly go wrong?”

***

Bio:

Author Gary Ponzo began his writing career over a decade ago by writing short stories. He quickly discovered a knack for the short form. In just five years he’d published seven short stories in various publications, two of which were nominated for the very prestigious Pushcart Prize.

His first novel, “A Touch of Deceit,” took five years to write and one to pick clean. The story was born from his childhood experiences working in his father’s candy store in Brooklyn, NY. His father was Sicilian and became friendly with some local members of a different kind of Sicilian family. Since Gary was just fifteen at the time, these family members would make sure he was protected whenever he would work late at night by himself. He soon discovered a side to the mafia not many people knew. It was these relationships which caused him to write about Sicilian FBI agent, Nick Bracco, who recruits his mafia cousin to chase down the world’s most feared terrorist.

“A Touch of Deceit,” went on to win the 2009 Southwest Writers Novel Contest, Thriller category. He is currently working on the 5th book in the Nick Bracco series as well as trying to create world peace in his spare time. Gary currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona with his wife Jennifer and two children, Jessica and Kyle.

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