After taking another bite of the burrito, Candy sneered, “Your friend knew he taking risk when he take assignment. Besides, doesn’t this qualify him for virgins?”
“I wish you understood,” said Kareem.
“Understood what? You commit crime hoping to make profit. Isn’t that why most people commit crimes?”
“I did it for the cause.”
“Yeah, I hear you talk about mission, faith, and cause but maybe I have cause, too.”
“I wish my cause was your cause.”
“I have my own jihad,” she said with a fake smile.
Kareem shook his head and with resignation in his voice said, “Your brother was never interested in the faith. I tried to convince him of its value but he never wanted to listen. Maybe if he adopted our ways he wouldn’t still be sitting in prison.”
“My brother and I have lot in common. We never want anyone or anything to interfere with good times.”
“Was Tommy that important to you?”
“He was convenient but murder just brings more police.”
“You don’t think kidnapping interests them?” asked Kareem, knowing the cops take the crime very seriously and often call in the FBI.
“As I understand, Park never report kidnapping.”
Kareem nodded, continuing his chores behind the bar. “I’m sorry Tommy was killed.”
Candy dismissed the apology with several more bites. Finishing lunch, she took the last sip of her iced tea. Grabbing the dishes to return them to the kitchen, she said, “I be back later. I check on things and continue clean up your mess from last night. Have one of girls seat customers.”
Kareem continued his work behind the bar preparing for the lunch crowd. Shortly after Candy left, he happened to look to the hallway to see Mohammed standing in the shadows and quickly made his way to the terrorist leader.
Hidden in the darkened passageway, Mohammed whispered, “It did not go well last night.”
“The kidnapping was successful but we lost a faithful soldier,” said Kareem, fearful Mohammed was upset.
Mohammed remained calm, his face expressionless. “He died for the jihad. He is being rewarded in the next life. It was a good plan. I should have given you more men, anticipating others might be in the house.”
Kareem was afraid to lie to his mentor. “I changed the plan at the last minute.”
“How?”
Kareem screwed up his courage, bracing for criticism. “We saw the security people leave just as we suspected they would, but then Tommy, Candy’s friend, came back unexpectedly. When the gate opened I saw it as an opportunity to breach the alarm system without any effort. I didn’t think Tommy would be a problem.”
“You were wrong.”
“Yes, I was.”
Mohammed maintained his stoicism. “It is my fault. I should have been there with you. Rostam said as much when I made the decision to proceed.”
“Rostam did not want us to do this, did he?” said Kareem, looking his mentor in the eye.
“No,” Mohammed admitted. “He believes the promises of our brothers in Beirut — that this new arrangement will assure us of funds for jihad. But Rostam is not responsible for paying our debts; I am. The expenses of bringing fighters here from the Bekaa Valley, Syria, Chechnya, and Iraq have been great. Our brothers in Beirut may indeed come through in the future. But this operation is something we can control. We will be more careful in the future. Is everything still a go for the rest of the plan?”
Kareem nodded.
Before exiting down the hallway and heading back to the mosque, Mohammed said, “As Allah wills, we shall succeed.”
He knew it was high risk, but if he was to learn anything about Gabe, Jenny, and Gracie, he would have to cover some familiar ground. Jake parked the Range Rover across the street from Henry Yeong’s restaurant and jaywalked through traffic to the front door.
Business was less than brisk. There were just six patrons in the dining room and only two people at the far end of the bar. As he climbed onto a stool the burley bartender sauntered over, less than enthusiastic to see the return of his only peckerwood customer.
“Yeah,” said Kareem, wiping off the area in front of Jake.
“Give me a Light.”
The ex-con drew a Bud Light from the tap.
“Is Candy around?”
“Nope, she left a half hour ago. I doubt if she returns today. Her boyfriend got capped last night.”
Jake focused on the bartender, who wouldn’t return the look. “Tommy was my friend, too.”
“So you mourn him by drinking a beer before noon?” said Kareem as he reached for a basket of peanuts and slid it in front of his customer.
“I mourn in my own way. Maybe when you catch a cold, I’ll hoist one to you as well. Heard anything about what happened?”
Kareem shrugged and opened his hands, feigning innocence. “Should I?”
“According to the news, it was a home invasion. I thought maybe you would have heard something.”
The bartender shook his head. “Nada. I just pour. In case you haven’t noticed, business isn’t all that great today and this is Mid-Wilshire, not San Marino.”
“Yeah, but you listen and this is Koreatown. And as you probably know, Tommy and I delivered goods for your boss and Mr. Park. Whoever did this killed my friend and snatched Mr. Park’s daughter and granddaughter — and all of them just happen to be Korean.”
“Is that so?”
“If you come up with anything I’ll make it worth your while.”
Kareem offered a wicked smile. “My loyalties don’t run too deep. If I hear anything I’ll let you know and drop a dime.”
Jake laughed. “You must have been away a long time; it’s a quarter now.”
He didn’t finish the beer but threw a five on the bar. As Jake headed to the front door, he grabbed a couple of pieces of candy from the bowl on the hostess stand.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“In the movies they always get really cool vans, decked out with the latest spyware,” said Jake.
“Well, this ain’t the movies and you aren’t James Bond,” said Trey as both men stared out the heavily tinted windows in the back of a beat-up van. The vehicle was parked in the darkened alley about seventy-five feet from the rear entrance to Henry Yeong’s restaurant; the only light came from the opened door of the restaurant.
Activity had been minimal and time seemed to drag. So far the traffic consisted of a produce truck making a late-night run at an all-night market farther down the alley and a couple of homeless people pushing shopping carts. All were quickly dismissed when it was apparent they played no role in Yeong’s business.
Jake looked at his cell phone and realized it had been less than two hours. “Somehow Hollywood has never quite captured the sheer boredom of a surveillance.”
“That’s because on TV they have to get it done within a one-hour episode and the case agent isn’t locked in a van with an ADD undercover nut job.”
Jake unscrewed the top on his third Coke Zero as both men talked without looking at each other, focusing on the alley.
“That stuff runs right through me,” said Trey, referring to the diet soft drink. “I’d be going like a racehorse if I drank as much of that stuff as you do.”
“That’s why I save the bottles and caps, so I have something to pee in, and why I never sit on a surveillance with a female.”
Just then Trey passed gas and a broad smile covered his face.
“You idiot!”
“That’s why I never sit on a surveillance with a female,” said Trey, proud of his accomplishment in confined quarters.
Jake opened a sliding window on the side of the van next to the building, but his efforts did little to air out the vehicle.