Sahmoud began to laugh — a rough chuckle that had a raspy edge to it.
“What’s so funny?” Uzi asked.
“The man who made all this possible. One of your own.” Laugh. Wince.
“What are you talking about? Who made what possible?”
Sahmoud’s head fell back against the wood desk. “He … helped us locate the bank. He … made it possible … to buy the scroll.” His eyes closed.
C’mon asshole, don’t die on us now.
Uzi and Vail shared a concerned look — but he started talking again.
“His idea to use it … to leverage … the Israelis. Knew they’d give in … Not many weaknesses … but their holy books … their holy land … can’t help themselves.” He laughed again, brought his knees up to his chest. “He found out … FBI director coming … to make sure … I was sent to … America … for trial. Warned me.”
Uzi got in his face. “Who? Who warned you?”
He opened one eye. “Take me …”
Uzi hesitated, then said, “Fine. We’ll take you with us.” He turned to DeSantos and said, as convincingly as possible, “Get something to use as a stretcher.” Back to Sahmoud: “Who warned you?”
He swallowed, licked his lips. “Ward … Connerly.”
74
The president’s chief of staff?” Uzi glanced at DeSantos, the look saying, “So it wasn’t Mo.”
“That’s why you planted the burned body,” Vail said.
Sahmoud managed a crooked grin, his eyes closed, his voice weak. “You weren’t … smart enough … to get the … clue.”
“Clue?” DeSantos asked.
The note pinned to the Times Square vic. The first ward. Ward Connerly. “First” applies to the president, like the First Lady, the first dog. The president’s chief of staff.
She explained it to Uzi and DeSantos.
“Nothing … you can do …” Sahmoud said. “Never … find … evidence …” His voice tailed off, his arms went limp, and his head dropped to his chest.
DeSantos pressed two fingers against Sahmoud’s neck, then straightened up. “Looks like he’s reached his end of days.”
“What are we going to do about this?” Vail asked.
“Nothing,” DeSantos said, feeling for hidden compartments in the desk. “Our job’s done. We’ll give it to Knox, let him run with it. Right now we grab what we can, get the hell out of here.”
“Sahmoud could’ve been telling the truth,” Vail said. “Guys like Ward Connerly know how to cover their tracks, they use straw men to do the dirty work. If there’s nothing out there linking him to this—”
Uzi walked into the vault and started rummaging around. “There’s more than one way to build a case. It may take a while, but we’ll get him.” He pulled out his phone, put it on speaker, and set it on the table.
“Rodman.”
“Hot Rod, it’s Uzi. Sorry to wake you.”
“Wake me? Been at the ops center pulling double shifts. What do you need?”
“Ward Connerly. Get what you can on him.”
“The president’s chief of staff?”
Uzi explained what Sahmoud had told them. “Any connections to Middle Eastern types that look suspicious, dig deep. Speed matters.”
“We’ll get a team on it right now. Hodges,” he shouted away from the phone, “get your ass over here.” Back into the handset, he said, “If there’s something to find, we’ll find it.”
“We’ll be on the move. Anything comes up, tell Knox and Hoshi Koh at my office.”
“Got something,” DeSantos said. He handed it to Vail, who brought it to Uzi.
“Hang on a sec,” he said to Rodman. Uzi studied the two-page printout for a moment, then said, “Looks like a list of al Humat cells in the US, with contact numbers for what could be the leader of each one. Hot Rod, I’ll send it over to you. You’ll need an Arabic translator.”
“We’re on it. Check six.”
Uzi hung up, then took a photo of the spreadsheet and emailed it to Rodman.
“If that’s what you think it is,” DeSantos said, “that’s a huge win.”
Uzi opened a cabinet in the vault and rifled through its contents. “We’ll see. No idea how up-to-date it is — assuming I’m right.” His back to DeSantos, he said, “But I don’t share your optimism about bringing Connerly to justice.”
“I think we should be happy with our score and call it a damn fine job.”
Vail checked her watch, then pulled open another desk drawer. “Assholes getting away with a crime doesn’t sit well with me. Especially when those assholes are in positions of power.” She found a booklet made of clear plastic sleeves containing maps. Although she could not read the Arabic, it had GPS coordinates and was marked up meticulously with bold blue and red lines crisscrossing the pages.
Vail walked back into the vault and showed it to Uzi. “What is this?”
He flipped through the pages and paused to read the Arabic. “A diagram of their tunnels. Red for the ones that go into Israel. Blue for the ones coming from Egypt into Gaza. That’s gold. Take it with us, we’ll turn it over to the IDF.”
As Vail shoved the booklet into the back of her waistband, she noticed that Uzi was slowly unrolling a parchment.
He stooped over the document as he read the Hebrew. “This is it.”
“The Jesus Scroll?”
Uzi brought his gaze up to hers. She saw wonderment in his eyes, nothing short of amazement.
“I’m actually holding one of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The same one that my zayde — my grandfather — held.” He gestured to the thick stack of pages at his right elbow. “And the Aleppo Codex. We found it. We really found the codex.” He shivered. “Sorry. I just … I feel like I’m touching my history. My cultural essence.” He shook his head. “I’m babbling.”
“I understand.” Vail inched closer for a better look. “It is extraordinary.”
A moment later, Uzi straightened up suddenly. “We’ve gotta get going. Go help Santa finish our search. I’m gonna pack this stuff up. All we have to do now is get it to the Antiquities Authority.”
Uzi emerged with four containers. “I’ve divided up the documents into these cases. Safer that way. Something happens, one or two of us is more likely to make it through. Avoids the all eggs in one basket thing.” He kept a mailing tube for himself, handed another one to Vail, and gave the portfolio to DeSantos, who also took Fahad’s satchel.
“We’ve been here too long,” DeSantos said as he consulted his satphone. “We need to go. Call Fahad, get a status.”
Vail did so and headed for the stairs. Fahad answered immediately. “Mo, we’re coming upst—”
“We got a problem.”
Vail stopped at the bottom of the steps, phone pressed against her ear. “What kind of problem?”
“Vehicles approaching. Army vehicles. Shit, Karen. It’s al Humat. And they’re armed. We’ve gotta get out of here, now!”
They ran up to the main level, where Fahad was waiting. DeSantos handed him the satchel as they all moved to the back of the house. “We’ve divided up the docs, each of us has a part.”
“Good idea,” Fahad said as he slung the bag over his shoulder.
Uzi pulled the back door open. “Split up, meet at the Shrine of the Book. Go!”
75
Vail ran through the yard in a northerly direction, scaled a masonry wall, and ended up in a lightly landscaped greenbelt. She fastened her scarf as she continued on past palm trees and meticulously pruned hedges, then made her way back to the street.