“You can never be too sure,” Alex said.
Shannon gave him a cold stare. “Easy for you to say.”
She returned to the center of the courtroom and crossed her arms for a moment, deep in thought. “In your experience, Special Agent Long, do criminals typically like to get caught?”
Long shook his head as if Shannon were an idiot. “Of course not.”
Shannon took a deep breath and then spit the next question out as quickly as possible. “Then why would my client use his own cell phone knowing that it was probably tapped?”
“Objection!”
Rosenthal banged his gavel and stared at Shannon Reese, clearly perturbed. “I told you that question was objectionable.” He turned to the jury. “Please disregard that question. Counsel will have sufficient time to argue her case during the closing argument.”
Shannon turned and looked at Alex. He gave her a subtle nod. I’m pretty sure they got it that time.
“No further questions,” she said cheerfully.
When Shannon sat down, Taj Deegan stood and announced she had only one question on redirect.
“Do you have any reason to believe that Mr. Mobassar, a Muslim cleric who specializes in Islamic studies, was intimately familiar with the details of the Patriot Act?”
“Absolutely not.”
Shannon leaned over and whispered to Alex, “Unless he could read Wikipedia.”
83
fifteen years earlier beirut, lebanon
Before the death of his brother, fifteen-year-old Ahmed Obu Mobassar had been living a double life. During the day, he went to school and learned how to be a productive Lebanese citizen. But each evening, he attended the salat at a local mosque and became indoctrinated in the elements of jihad.
His father led a different mosque, one more conciliatory in its views. But his father was a tolerant man and wanted Ahmed to discover his own path to Allah. He often quizzed Ahmed about what he was learning and cautioned him about certain teachings, but he never prevented Ahmed from attending the more radical mosque.
Ahmed had learned not to tell his father everything. He also learned what it meant to be a true Muslim-one committed to completing the conquest Mohammed had started and establishing a global caliphate. Allah would be glorified. The Great Prophet would be pleased. Jihad was the way!
Ahmed was taught that true Muslims should hate the enemies of Allah with all their hearts. He was taught that Sharia law must be established in every nation inhabited by true Muslims. And his instructors extolled the glory of martyrdom over and over. At the first drop of your own blood, you would redeem your soul. By laying down your life, you would redeem your family. Martyrdom. Paradise. Redemption. There was no other way for a true believer to die.
While the imams filled his mind with the elements of jihad, Hezbollah warriors trained his body. Ahmed learned how to assemble explosives, how to handle and shoot an assault weapon, how to lay a land mine and turn an automobile into a bomb. He learned how to destroy others in hand-to-hand combat.
But the week after Omar died in the Palestinian refugee camp, Ahmed’s double life came to an end. His father’s views changed overnight. With his parents’ full knowledge and the help of his father’s friend, Fatih Mahdi, Ahmed moved into a Hezbollah training facility on the outskirts of Beirut. His first mission into Israel would be less than a month later.
Before Ahmed and the others embarked on that mission, a revered imam gathered the teenagers and looked each of the young men squarely in the eye, as if searching for any chinks in their courage. “Today you will become men,” the imam said. “Today you will fight for the glory of Islam. Today you will fight for the glory of Lebanon. Go with courage and for the glory of Allah!”
“Allahu akbar!”
The shouts echoed as adrenaline surged through Ahmed’s body. He and the others were mighty warriors for Allah, though many of them did not yet shave. Still, he had no doubt that each one would strap explosives to his body and trigger the fuse if he could take out twelve Israelis. These were the greatest warriors in the Middle East. They were dead men with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Allah would be glorified! Family members would be redeemed! At their funerals, there would be rejoicing.
It was only a matter time.
84
the present virginia beach, virginia
Alex and his team were cautiously optimistic Wednesday night. It seemed to Alex that the jury was bothered by the same thing that had struck him about this case-why would Khalid send text messages from his own cell phone?
There were, of course, a number of possible explanations. Perhaps Khalid really didn’t know about the particulars of the Patriot Act. Perhaps Khalid didn’t think he would ever be a suspect because the police would zero in on Fatih Mahdi. Perhaps Khalid did it precisely because it would seem too obvious and he could later argue that it created reasonable doubt, like a killer signing the crime scene in blood. Who could be that stupid? Maybe Khalid had outsmarted everybody, including his own lawyers.
Alex preferred not to think about that last alternative.
Nara seemed upbeat when she showed up at the office after visiting her father. “My dad says you guys really know what you’re doing,” she said.
They were sitting around the conference table preparing for the following day’s witnesses. Shannon merely looked up when Nara made the comment and then went back to work. Alex took it as Nara’s way of apologizing for the way she had acted at lunch. The words I’m sorry were not a prominent part of Nara’s vocabulary.
“Shannon did a great job on cross-examination,” Alex said. “And as you know, I made no mistakes in my opening statement.”
“So I heard,” Nara said. She flashed a beautiful white smile.
Apology accepted, Alex thought.
Later, Alex had a few minutes to talk with Nara in the privacy of his office. “I’m ready to testify,” she said.
“We’ll make that call this weekend,” Alex responded. “The commonwealth should rest its case on Friday. I’ll know better after I cross-examine Fatih Mahdi whether we’ll need you.”
“Alex,” Nara said, waiting for Alex to look in her eyes before she continued. “If there’s any chance we might lose this case, I need to take the stand. Promise me.”
Alex didn’t respond. He still believed that if he put Nara on the stand, it would only be a matter of time before Hezbollah took her out. Even the witness protection program was no guarantee against an organization with as many tentacles as Hezbollah.
“Promise me,” she insisted.
He looked down. “If I think we need your testimony, I’ll put you on the stand.”
“Thank you, Alex.” Nara rose from her seat, approached Alex, and kissed him on the cheek. She paused a few inches away from his face. “If I have to testify, I’ll be okay. I’ve got a place to go. After a few years, I’ll come back.”
Looking directly into her eyes, Alex wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that she would be all right. He wanted to believe that she would come back for him. But during their trip to Beirut, Hezbollah had already demonstrated its ability to know things it shouldn’t know.
He had the uneasy feeling that she was only telling him the things that she knew he wanted to hear. Al toqiah. Anything for the sake of the cause.
But two could play this game. Unless the case fell completely apart, Alex had no intention of putting her on the stand.
And then, a split second later, none of that mattered. Who could think of such things when a woman like Nara leaned in for a serious kiss?***
Even the juiciest trials get bogged down in details, and Thursday was that day for the Mobassar trial. Dr. Kumar Santi took the stand and gave the jury a lesson in cell phone triangulation. To keep the jury somewhat awake, Deegan showed PowerPoints with lots of colorful charts and maps. When Santi stepped down, there was little doubt that the text messages from Khalid’s cell phone had been sent from the vicinity of the Islamic Learning Center in Norfolk. The message from the killer’s cell phone had been sent from Sandbridge.