“Good point, Dee. Rick trusts us, especially you.”
Dee and I have a lot of credibility with Rick Bellamy. He knows he can trust both of us. And I think I can trust him. If we meet with him I won’t be doing anything to hurt my client’s defense. Maybe he can even help me. Lawyering often involves a lot of risk taking.
“I think you’re right, babe. Rick will want to know about this case. What’s more important, he’ll listen to us. I’ll call him first thing in the morning. I’m sure that he’ll want us to go to Washington, or maybe to his New York office, so you may have to miss some classes.”
***
I called Rick Bellamy’s office in Washington.
“The Secretary will be with you in a moment, Mr. Blake.”
“Matt Blake, how are you my friend, and how’s your wonderful wife?”
“Diana is right next to me Mr. Secretary. If you don’t mind I’m putting the phone on speaker so she can be on the call.”
“Please, the name’s still Rick. No formalities with you two. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
“To get right to the point, Rick, the matter we want to talk to you about directly involves the nation’s security. I represent a criminal defendant in a mall bombing case.”
“I take it you mean The People vs. Ali Yamani? I read in the newspapers that you were his attorney. That’s one bad boy you’re representing, Matt. I recall that about 61 people were killed and over 100 were injured in the bombing. I’ve been tracking this case. They have a thumbprint and even a video of the guy before the bomb went off. I hope you don’t want to see me about this case, Matt.”
“It’s a lot bigger than the Yamani case, Rick.”
“Remember the Sideswipe Conspiracy, Rick?” Diana said.
“How could I ever forget the Sideswipe Conspiracy? Diana, if it wasn’t for you our nation would have suffered the worst goddam disaster in history. Yes, I remember it well.”
Diana looked at me, with an expression that said, Should I keep talking? I nodded.
“Well, Rick, in the Sideswipe matter, nothing was what it appeared to be, including the ‘accidents’ that we discovered weren’t accidents at all. The Yamani case is a lot like that, and it’s not the only such matter.”
“I take it that you’re referring to the Sidduq case in New York and the Almeth case in San Francisco. Mall bombings, just like the case against your guy.”
I was always amazed at Rick Bellamy’s memory for details. The president couldn’t have picked a better guy for this job.
“Yes,” both Dee and I said.
“I want to have someone else at the meeting, folks. His name is Jack Logan, my successor as head of the FBI Counterterrorism Task Force. He’s been working on some cases with his wife Bonnie, a homicide detective with the NYPD. They’re good people, and sharp as hell.”
“Rick, would it be okay if we brought somebody else to the meeting?”
“I don’t see why not, but who?”
“Good old Bennie Weinberg, Rick. He’ll have a lot of input into what we’re going to talk about.”
“Dr. Bullshit Detector himself. It seems like you two want to convince me of something. Call Grace Andreotti, my assistant, to arrange for the details of when we’ll get together.”
Dee and I felt good about bringing the case to the federal government, not that the fed wasn’t already involved. But Rick Bellamy is a solid guy, and Homeland Security is a place that we needed to go.
Chapter 24
Muhammed and Shari, the bride and groom, both age 22, walked into the large tent where 300 relatives and guests were assembled. Their parents had arranged the marriage, as was the custom. Although their married fate had been determined, neither of them were concerned about it because they loved one another.
At the north end of the tent the chefs prepared a large sheep over a spit, the main course. Other chefs prepared the vegetables and accompaniments. A southerly breeze kept the smoke away from the guests.
Because it was a Muslim ceremony, no alcohol was served, but a few guests had brought in flasks of liquor under their robes.
Muhammed’s father rose to speak. He and his wife were pleased with the union, a joining of two prominent Aden families.
As he looked out on the crowd, he noticed a short woman wearing a full burqa approach him. He had carefully counted the guests, and he couldn’t imagine who this woman could be. As she reached the middle of the tent, the woman pulled off her burqa, revealing a large bomb vest. She pressed a detonator that she held in her right hand.
The explosion sent shrapnel and debris hundreds of feet. The bomb was imbedded with spikes and lead projectiles. Of the 300 guests and relatives only two survived, both critically wounded. The bride and groom were killed instantly.
An investigation revealed that the suicide bomber was an operative of the Islamic State. A spokesman, his head covered by a hood, released a video, praising the martyr for her suicide, and claiming joy for the incident. The video was recorded in Sana’a, the capitol of Yemen, at a recording studio known for its messages of hate.
***
Mustafa Ali, the manager of the Words of Heaven recording studio in Sana’a, tidied up after the day’s recordings. Along with 15 assistants, he prepared the facility for the next busy day of recording. Four men, all dressed in black, walked slowly through the rear door of the studio. As Ali stood in the middle of the room shouting orders to his assistants, the men reached into a locker at the back of the room and withdrew four AK-47 machine guns. They opened fire, killing all 15 assistants and Ali, the studio manager.
As the men walked out to a waiting car, one of them placed a two-foot square sign at the back of the room. It read: “Not For Long.”
Chapter 25
Diana, Bennie, and I walked through the first of seemingly endless security checkpoints at 26 Federal Plaza. Beep, buzz, ring, clang. I guess it’s necessary, if somewhat of a pain in the ass. Dee and I recalled our weeks at this place working on the Sideswipe Conspiracy. At the time, our secret undisclosed location was in the charming Greenwich Village area of Manhattan. We lived in a building right next door to where Rick Bellamy and his wife Ellen lived. We had a great apartment, at taxpayer expense. The government was intent on keeping us alive, and we were just fine with that. Dee and I had to admit that we had some wonderful memories of the place. It’s where we discovered that we both loved to play catch, something that’s stuck with us. We had our first game of catch on the beautiful roof-top garden over our apartment. It’s also the place where we got married.
“Secretary Bellamy will see you now, folks,” said Grace, Rick’s assistant.
The three of us, along with Rick Bellamy, and Bonnie and Jack Logan, sat around a conference room table. As Secretary of Homeland Security, Rick had a nicely appointed office at Federal Plaza, although his main office was in Washington. Ever since I knew him, I was always impressed by Rick Bellamy’s calmness, a pretty amazing feat given his past job and his present one. Rick introduced us and we all shook hands.
Bonnie and Jack Logan were a sharp couple. He’s the new head of the FBI Counterterrorism Task Force, and his pretty wife, Bonnie, is a NYPD homicide detective. I always had an image of a homicide detective as a rumpled guy with a cigar in his mouth. Bonnie didn’t fit that image. They were both blond and physically fit. I figured they were in their early 40s, but could have easily been in their mid-30s.
“I’m glad you two could make this meeting,” Rick said to Bonnie and Jack. “I know how busy you both are.”
“Yeah, Rick. Bonnie and I are up to our ears in that Islamic Center shooting the other day. Weird case. But hey, from what you’ve told us, I’m sure our little mass murder case has nothing to do with what these folks want to talk about.”
“Don’t be so sure, Jack,” I said.
The Logans and Rick stared at me, wide-eyed.
“I’ll explain what I just said, shortly,” I announced. “Let me give you an overview of why w
e asked for this meeting. As you know, I represent Ali Yamani, the man accused of a terrorist bombing at the Water Tower Place Mall in Chicago. I have also been in constant touch with Georgina Rice, the attorney for Muhammed Sidduq, the man accused of a bombing a mall in New York, and Jerome Blackwell, the attorney for Mustafa Almeth, accused of bombing a shopping center in San Francisco. These three cases have a lot in common, as I’ll explain. Now I want to be clear about something. I’m here as an attorney and I’m going to be discussing the federal government’s case against my client. I’m going to be blunt: I request that you don’t discuss this case with the prosecutor, even though the rules of discovery have basically shown him our defense.”
“Don’t worry, Matt. If he calls me he won’t be the first prosecutor I’ve told to fuck off. Please go on.”
“The evidence against Mr. Yamani, my guy, as well as the other two, is pretty compelling stuff. But it’s only compelling at first glance. In each case the prosecutors have a thumbprint of the defendant on a bomb detonator. All three cases have DNA evidence linking the men to the scene. All three cases also have a video showing the men standing next to a parcel that was later found to be the bomb.”
“Matt,” said Rick Bellamy, “you said it’s only compelling at first glance. From my perspective, I’d say it looks pretty damn compelling from any glance.”
“Okay, so here’s my case. First, there’s a problem with the detonators. To show you the problem, I’ll ask a simple question. If you were a terrorist bomber, wouldn’t you ditch the detonator? Or wouldn’t you wear a latex glove to avoid leaving a thumbprint or a DNA sample from blood? In all three cases, the detonator, the murder weapon if you will, was found in plain sight within a couple of hundred feet from the point of the explosion.”
“That’s a point,” Bonnie Logan said, “that’s a really important point. To say otherwise, we’d have to assume that all three of these guys were stupid. I’ve seen stupid criminals over the years, but they don’t usually show up in groups. They could have tossed the detonators into a trash can. Like I said, this is a good point. But the fact remains that the cops did find a thumbprint as well as DNA from blood on each of the detonators.”
“And do you not find it strange that all three defendants cut themselves, depositing a blood sample on the instrument?” I said.
“Another good point, Matt,” Jack Logan said. “but as Bonnie said, the facts show that the print and the DNA sample were there.”
“This is where it really gets interesting,” I said. “All three defendants were called for a physical exam a week before each of the bombings—all three. Each of them was told to report to a clinic for the exam. The other lawyers and I checked out these clinics. They were hourly rental places. Each of the guys said that there was a hand-painted sign in front of each location that simply said ‘clinic.’ Also, independently of one another, the defendants said that the caller/scheduler was a woman, and that she had a heavy Middle Eastern accent. All three said that she pronounced ‘physical’ exam as feesickle. I went further, and so did the other two attorneys. We checked with each of the organizations that the defendants worked for. Only the Chicago School System, my client’s employer, required a physical, and it had been done already about six months before. The other two employers didn’t require physicals at all.”
“So your guys showed up for what sounds like a sham ‘physical’ and then a thumbprint and a blood sample were taken,” Bellamy said.
“Exactly,” I said.
“I have a question for Bennie, not to be confused with Bonnie,” Rick said. “Did you interview these defendants?”
“Only Mr. Yamani, Rick, the client of Blake & Randolph.”
“Well, you know my obvious next question, Ben. Did you detect any bullshit?”
“Not a whiff, Rick. You know how I go about my analysis. I look for a dozen indicators of possible lying. I look for perspiration, eye contact, hand movements, voice patterns, et cetera. I would say this under oath, and I probably will have to—Mr. Yamani was telling the truth. If he was lying he’d be one of the most talented psychopaths I’ve ever met. No bullshit at all. If he gave me the name of a horse I’d bet on it. Georgina Rice, the attorney on the New York bombing case, has asked me to interview her guy, which I’m going to do next week.”
“My God,” Bellamy said. “I always think of Ben Weinberg as more reliable than sodium pentothal or a polygraph. If Bennie says the guy is telling the truth, he’s got my complete attention. So tell us more about these apparently fraudulent physical exams, Matt.”
“Well this is where we get closer and closer to the idea that the three defendants aren’t lying. None of them remembered the doctor’s or the nurse’s names. That’s not surprising. When you go for a routine physical, you don’t make careful note of names. But each one gave a description of both the doctor and the nurse to their respective attorneys, including me. They matched almost exactly. All three guys said that the doctor was about 5’5” had red hair and a red beard. Also, they described the nurse as wearing a head covering, and that she was extremely short, under five feet. And here’s what nailed it for me. All three of them said that the nurse was missing the top digit on her right ring finger. You notice something like that if you’re being examined.”
“Any leads at all as to their identities?” Jack Logan asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “It’s as if they disappeared. We have no idea of their names or whereabouts.”
“Okay, I want to play the devil’s advocate,” Bonnie Logan said, “which is how I live my weird life as a homicide detective. Let me go to another piece of evidence. There are videos of each of these guys standing next to a parcel that was later found to be the exact location of the bomb detonations. Can you comment on that, Matt?”
“Each one of the three defendants say the same thing. They said that they had been to the malls, but on days before the bombings. We had all three videos examined by a forensic expert. He said that all three—all three—of the videos were shot from the same camera, a Nikon P510. It’s easy to reset the time and date stamp settings. Remember, these guys were all arrested days after the bombing, so the clothes they wore don’t come into play. Our theory is that the videos were taken at different times, actually on different days.”
“Reasonable doubt?” Rick Bellamy asked.
“That’s my job,” I said.
“And where did these videos come from, Matt?” Bonnie Logan asked.
“They were sent to the police from an unknown source. Each of the videos. If that isn’t a shit chain of custody I don’t know what is.”
Bonnie Logan slapped her hand on the table and shook her head.
***
“Well, I think it’s fair to say that you guys have piqued our attention about these bombing cases,” Jack Logan said, “but at the beginning of this meeting, you said that our mosque shooting case may have something to do with your information. Please explain, Matt.”
“Sure, Jack. This conversation is about to take a strange turn. Neither Diana or I know what to make of it, but I’ll lay it out.”
“Matt, if you don’t mind my asking,” Bonnie Logan said, “could you please get to your main point and work backward to the particulars? Like Jack and Rick, I’m just dying to know what your thoughts are on our mosque shooting.”
“I’d be happy to, Bonnie,” I said. “So here’s the main point. There’s a war going on, a war between the forces of radical Islam and the forces of reform, if that’s an appropriate word. My client is on one side of the war, although he’s not an active participant, just a writer. He’s on the side of reform. He told us about a secretive group, known to very few people as the NFL. No, they have nothing to do with the National Football League. It’s an acronym that stands for Not For Long. NFL, according to my client, is a secretive group of reformers who have declared war on the jihadis, sort of like a jihad against jihad. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, the number of violent acts in the past few weeks against Imams a
nd preachers who are known for their radical Islamist beliefs. My client has never met one of these NFL types but he heard about them from fellow writers.”
“Yes, we have noticed the uptick on attacks against Muslims, Matt, as you may imagine.” Rick Bellamy said. “It comes under my overview at Homeland Security, and the FBI is specifically involved in almost all of the incidents. I suppose I shouldn’t say this, but I’m personally a bit stumped. I’ve never seen so much violence against radicals on American soil. It’s happening all over the world, but we’re used to seeing Muslim on Muslim attacks in the Middle East. The Sunnis and Shiites are still slugging it out over who is the rightful heir to the Prophet Mohammed. But the increase in attacks here in the States has gotten our attention, not that we know what’s going on. The one thing we’ve noticed is that these acts aren’t the typical suicide bombings we’ve grown accustomed to. The mosque shooting case that Bonnie and Jack are working on is a perfect example. It was a carefully executed attack, almost military in its precision. The shooters weren’t looking to commit suicide. They escaped right after the shooting. And we’ve also noticed that nobody is claiming responsibility, the way we see in a Sunni against Shiite event. So what does your client, Mr. Yamani, have to do with any of this?”
“Ali, or Al as he prefers to be called, is a high school English teacher, but at night he turns into a writer. He’s written a novel and is working on two more. All of the defendants have one thing in common—they’re critical of Islam, or radical Islam to be more exact. Diana and I are reading his books right now. He’s no Ernest Hemingway, but he’s not bad, at least according to my wife the professor over here.”
The Reformers: A Matt Blake Novel (The Matt Blake legal thriller series Book 2) Page 9