Kadir’s brows lifted.
Abrianna coughed to clear her airway. “Bullets just flew through the window, cutting Shawn down right there in front of me.” Shawn. Her gaze dropped as it suddenly felt as if a steel vise was harnessed around her heart. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like without him going forward.
“Shawn?”
“He, uhm . . . my best friend.”
Kadir placed a hand over her trembling ones to encourage her.
Abrianna continued, “Everything else just happened in a blur. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. But . . . those assholes chased me out the back of the building. I ran until I saw that guy getting out of your car, and the rest is history.” Once she’d finished the story, she assessed Kadir’s reaction.
There wasn’t one.
Suddenly, she was back on her feet. “Look. Thanks for saving my ass back there. I appreciate it. I’m sorry about your car, too. But I think that I can handle things from here.” She headed toward the door.
Kadir waited until she opened it before speaking up. “Hold up.”
She didn’t wait. She charged ahead, winding her way through the crazy narrow maze of computer servers.
“Abrianna, wait up,” Kadir called, but ended up chasing after her.
Ghost and his crew swiveled their attention from the news reports on their screens when Abrianna barged in.
“How do I get out of this hellhole?” she barked.
Kadir caught up and grabbed her good arm. “Excuse her,” he said to Ghost and his crew. “She’s running a bad fever.”
Belligerent, Abrianna tried to wrestle free, surprising Kadir with her strength, but he wasn’t a punk either and managed to drag her all the way back to the tiny gray room and slam the door. “Calm the fuck down,” he growled. “Where in the hell do you think you’re going? We’re the most wanted people in D.C. right now. You won’t last ten minutes out there!”
“Why do you care?” she snapped.
The question caught him off guard. Why in the hell do I care?
“It’s my problem,” she said as more sweat beaded on her forehead. “I’ll handle it. I don’t need your help.” She moved to step around him, but the moment her hand touched the doorknob again, the floor seemed to tilt beneath her, wreaking havoc on her balance.
Kadir caught her before she hit the floor. “No. You’re not going anywhere,” he said, and carried her back to the cot and laid her down. “You are going to rest here, whether you like it or not. Then we’ll think of a plan for you—or us—to get out of D.C.”
42
Special Agents Bell and Hendrickson stood outside of an FBI interrogation room in similar wide-leg stances with their arms folded across their chests as they observed the nervous junkie squirm in his chair through a two-way mirror.
“So what do you think?” Bell asked his partner.
“The truth?” Roland asked, assessing the man again.
“Always.”
“I think we’re wasting valuable time with this dude. I mean, look at him.” He gestured toward the glass. “Either he’s tweaking or he’s in withdrawal.”
“So what? You want to cut him loose?” Bell asked.
Roland shrugged. “I don’t know, man. It’s your call.”
“How is it that the other teams get to question the normal neighbors and we get stuck with the local junkie?” Bell asked.
“Luck?”
“Not funny.”
Bell assessed Mook again. “Hell. We already got him here. Might as well hear what he’s got to say.”
Resigned, Roland sighed and fell in step behind his partner into the interrogation room.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mister, uh . . .”
“No need to be formal. Folks call me Mook,” the junkie said, smiling.
“I see . . . Mook.” Bell shot a look to his partner, whose bored expression was set in granite.
Bell pulled out a metal chair to the left of Mook and stepped over the seat and squatted down like he was settling into a saddle. “All right, let’s get started.” He produced a pocket recorder and hit record. “Can you state your full name for the record?”
“I told you, folks call me Mook.” He twitched and scratched the side of his neck. His dry skin sounded like chafing sandpaper.
“Yeah, well. That may be true, but I’m going to need your full government name, if you don’t mind.”
A tic twitched at the side of Mook’s right temple. Clearly, spitting out his name was a problem.
“What’s up? You got a warrant out or something?” Bell asked.
“Nah. Nah. At least, I don’t think so.” Mook sighed. “Name is Michael.”
“Michael what?” Bell asked, already feeling his patience strain.
“Michael Legend,” Mook spat and then shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
“Michael Legend?” Bell echoed.
“Yeah. Crazy name to live up to, huh?” Mook scratched his neck again and shifted around in his chair.
“It’s a good name,” Bell acquiesced. “Now, Michael, we’ve heard that you pretty much know everybody at the Park Flats apartments. Is this true?”
“Yeah. I make a habit of getting to know my neighbors. That’s not against the law or anything, is it?”
“No. No. It’s not against the law. In fact, it’s a mighty neighborly thing to do, if you ask me. I wish more people had a sense of community and got to know their neighbors. It certainly would make our jobs a little easier. Wouldn’t it, Roland?”
“Yep,” Roland said.
Mook smiled, exposing his butter-yellow teeth. “See? I’ve been saying the same thing for years. But folks don’t be hearing me though. I gets along with everybody, mainly ’cause they know that I can get anything they need on the low-low.”
“What? You running a black market, Mr. Legend?”
Mook opened his mouth, thought about it, and then quickly snapped it shut.
Bell grinned. “Well, we’re not here to talk about that right now. We’re more interested in what you know about one of your neighbors. A Kadir Kahlifa. You know him?”
“Oh. K-Man. Oh yeah. I fucks with him. He’s cool.” The yellow teeth made another appearance while a gust of halitosis drifted under Bell’s nose.
The agent blinked his watering eyes several times. “Good. So what can you tell us about him?”
“About who?”
“About Mr. Kahlifa,” Bell stressed. “Say like, when was the last time you saw him?”
“K-man? Oh, well. That’s easy. I saw him this morning. I did him a solid and sent some bizness his way.”
“Some . . . bizness? What kind of bizness?”
Mook shrugged. “He’s a cab driver . . . well, one of those uh, whatcha call it?”
“An Uber driver?” Roland filled in from his post by the door.
“Yeah. The Al-Sahi brothers needed a lift to the airport when their cab didn’t show up so I sent them his way.”
Both Bell and Roland came to attention.
Roland finally moved from the door to lean over the table toward Mook. “Say that shit again.”
Mook sensed that he’d said something wrong. “Hey, why do y’all want to know so much about Kadir anyway? What’d he do?”
“That’s our bizness,” Bell said. “Who are the Al-Sahi brothers? They live in Park Flats, too?”
“Yeah.” Mook shrugged. “I don’t know too much about them. These are some new cats that moved in over at unit thirty-seven-B a few months back. I think . . . late spring—or sometime around there. They pretty much stay to themselves—late-night workers though. The lights in their apartment are on all hours of the night.”
Bell cleared his throat, hinting to get back to the point.
“Anyway, Najjar and Brahim needed a ride to the airport so I gave them K-Man’s apartment number and sent them his way.” Mook shrugged. “He appreciated the bizness.”
“Would you be able to identify the Al-Sahi brothe
rs?”
“Sure. I mean, a lot of those Middle Eastern cats look alike, but yeah.”
Roland tossed his partner an I-told-you-so look over his shoulder, before asking, “Are you sure?”
“I could point them out in a lineup, if that’s what you mean.” Then he realized what he’d said. “Wait. They do something? If they did, scratch that. I don’t know nothing about nothing. I ain’t no snitch.”
“Hold tight,” Roland said, leaving the table and then the room.
43
The Bunker
Abrianna was burning up. She was unaware of her clothes being stripped from her body or of Kadir’s nightlong vigil by her side, placing and replacing ice-cold towels on her forehead and body in an attempt to lower her temperature.
“So is she going to make it or what?” Ghost asked when Kadir finally stepped out of the room.
Kadir shook his head. “I honestly don’t have any idea.”
Ghost sighed long and hard. Frustration etched deep lines across his forehead. “What if she doesn’t?”
Kadir’s temples twitched in irritation. “I don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”
“News flash, buddy, but we’re already standing in the middle of that fucking bridge.”
Kadir stepped back and eyed his friend. “I’m starting to think that you want her to die.”
“Honestly?” Ghost asked. “I don’t give a shit. I may not have as many problems as Jay Z, but I don’t need another one. And neither do you.”
Kadir raked his hand through his tufts of wet curls.
“Do you want my opinion?” Ghost asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. Not really,” Ghost said. “The question was a courtesy.”
“I figured as much.” Kadir sighed. “Go ahead. Hit me.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like her. She is trouble. It’s written all over her. Big T on her forehead.”
“That’s not what you said when you first saw her at the Stallion.”
“Oh, she’s hot. Don’t get me wrong,” Ghost said. “There isn’t a man in here, I suspect, that wouldn’t drink her bath water. But none of that is going to make us feel better when we’re behind bars. And if she croaks, I’m not helping you move a dead body. I didn’t sign up for that.”
“Are you kidding me? The entire country thinks that I’m a homegrown terrorist and you’re worried about a simple murder case?”
“You can explain your shit. You’re a fucking cab driver.”
“Uber driver.”
“Same difference. My point is that you didn’t know those dudes. As long as they can’t tie you to those two shitheads, they’ll have to cut you loose.”
Kadir cocked his head and gave him a flat look.
“Well, sure—they might torture you a bit to make sure. But after a little waterboarding, you’ll be out of there.”
“Is this supposed to be a pep talk, coach?”
“No. I’m handing your ass a reality check. You don’t know anything about this girl.” Ghost glanced inside of the room where Abrianna tossed and turned. “And that story you told me about her just waking up next to a dead body is fishy as hell. She could’ve killed that dude. You don’t know.”
“She said that she didn’t do it.”
“What the hell else is she going to say? She needs a sucker like you to help her get out of the city.”
Kadir’s gaze cast into the room as well. Abrianna’s tossing and turning stopped. Her sweat-drenched hair plastered itself against her peaceful face. “And what about those other bruises and scars all over her body? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
Kadir didn’t answer.
Ghost snapped his fingers in front of his friend’s face.
Kadir jumped.
“Man, you got it baaad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Ghost crossed his arms. “All I know is that I asked you to come aboard this operation and you told me to go to hell.”
“I did not.”
“In so many words you did. You gave me a big speech about how you were playing shit straight from here on out. Our revolution against our tyrannical government no longer interested you. Then you teased me by coming here, asking about T4S. But the minute a hot chick jumps in your car, suddenly you don’t value your freedom so much.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
Kadir huffed and paced around. There really wasn’t a reason for his willingness to stick his neck out for a girl that he didn’t know.
“I’m waiting,” Ghost said.
“I don’t know. I . . . I believe her, all right?”
Disappointed, Ghost hung his head.
“Look, what is it going to hurt to help her get out of town, huh? I’m already neck-deep into this mess anyway. I just need a car or something to get her across town, all right?”
Head back, Ghost closed his eyes and prayed for strength.
“Look, man. I’ll owe you big for this one,” Kadir asked.
“Oh. You already owe me big.” The friends’ gazes locked, each willing the other one to come to their senses. But it was Ghost who relented first. “All right,” he said, sighing. “Let me see what I can do.”
Ghost’s lips split into a smile. “Thanks, man.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Now what about your situation? You get her to where she needs to go and then what?”
Kadir sighed. “The way I see it, I only have one play.”
Ghost lifted a brow. “You’re going to turn yourself in?”
“You have another suggestion?”
“You could run. You got people in Yemen. You could easily disappear without a trace. All we have to do is get you around a no-fly list, which I’m sure you’re on by now, with some fake IDs and a passport.”
“You can do that?”
“I know a guy who knows a guy.” Ghost shrugged. “The typical way these things go.”
Kadir shook his head. “I’m not running. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You don’t have to do anything wrong to be locked down for life. The government needs a perp walk for this. You’d be the new face of homegrown terrorism. Any Muslim will do.”
“I thought you just said they’d have to cut me loose after a little waterboarding.”
“I changed my mind. They’ll crucify you.”
Kadir shook his head. “I’m not running.”
Ghost sighed. “All right. A hard head makes for a soft ass.”
“I’m not even going to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean.” Kadir laughed, but then lowered his volume when he remembered Abrianna was still resting a few feet away.
“Why don’t you at least test the waters?” Ghost suggested. “Call that special agent you said dropped by your crib the other day. State your case to him and gauge the temperature of the shit storm you’re about to walk into.”
“Agent Bell?” Kadir laughed. “That man hates me—and frankly, the feeling is mutual.”
“You’re not asking the man out to the prom,” Ghost reasoned. “Run your story by him first and judge his reaction. Who knows, maybe the media is hyping the shit up for ratings. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Kadir considered the suggestion.
Ghost popped him on the shoulder. “C’mon. What do you have to lose?”
PART FOUR
Only Women Bleed . . .
44
After a long pause hung over the line, Kadir answered, “Hello, Special Agent Bell.”
Chuckling, Bell turned his back to the interrogation room to give the caller his undivided attention. “Well, I’ll be hot damn. I was just thinking about you.”
“I just bet you were,” Kadir said.
“What can I say? You’re a very popular man right now. It takes a certain amount of talent to go from criminal hacker to domestic terrorist in a single bound.”
“Y
ou’d like to believe that, now wouldn’t you?”
Bell smiled and leaned casually against the door. “I’m just going by what all of America is seeing right now: you dropping off your suicide buddies at the airport. What’s the matter? You didn’t have the guts to join them for that big virginal orgy in the sky?”
“I had nothing to do with that sick shit.”
“Sure you didn’t,” Bell chuckled. “You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Is that the card you’re going to play on this?”
“It’s not a card. It’s the truth.”
“Uh-huh. And now this situation with this girl . . . ? Seems you’ve been busier than I have given you credit for. By the way, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“You got it all wrong. I told you the other day that I got a job as an Uber driver. Those guys were nothing more than a fare. I don’t know anything else about them.”
At the familiar story, Bell faced the interrogation room holding Mook. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. That’s right. And there’s a neighbor of mine who can back me up on this, too. He’s the one who recommended that I take them to the airport when their taxi never showed up. Hell, you could probably call around to the local cab services and verify that shit.”
Bell’s confidence waned, but his thoughts darkened. His big fish was trying to slip loose. “Tell you what. Why don’t you come on in and explain it all personally to me? If it all checks out, you have nothing to worry about.”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Kadir said. “This shit playing on rotation on the news ain’t right, man. I want to come in, but I want safe passage. I’m well aware of how trigger-happy law enforcement can be with darker-hue brothers.”
Bell grunted. “Is that right?”
“And what about the girl?”
“We’re not discussing her. It’s not important.”
“Not important?” Bell laughed. “Speaking for the whole department, I beg to differ with you on that.”
“Yeah, man. I want to clear my name. The sooner, the better.”
“Well, I certainly want to see that happen too. Where are you right now?”
“Ah. Ah. Ah. Not so fast,” Kadir said. “I need some guarantees. I want to speak with your supervisor.”
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