Paul forced the meeting with Conway. They crowded into his office at seven in the morning, along with the first deputy, Tony Valentini. Without drinking his coffee, Paul started. “I know you’re pissed off at me, Bill.”
Conway scowled at Paul. His arm propped up a wrinkled face.
“Tony said it himself, that he ‘liked the smell of this guy.’ We’re onto something.”
When Conway dropped his eyes and sat motionless, Paul knew to stop talking. Conway’s sharp mind probably struggled to put all the facts, suspicions, and fears into a logical order. He would test the truth from various angles.
He looked at Paul and Valentini. “You’re right.” He heaved his body up. “Shit. I thought we had put these Somali cases to bed.”
“First mission is to find Dr. Ammar.”
“How about the mosque? We’ll carpet it with agents. What’s our time frame again?” Conway asked.
“This Friday. Abraham said the doctor wanted to meet with them. Seems the obvious way to go—if we’re not too late.”
“A high-percentage play,” Valentini agreed.
Conway turned to Paul. He walked close enough that Paul could smell stale cigarettes. “Get back to the school and that kid. And I don’t want you to Bogart this thing. Understood, Agent?”
Paul started to laugh until he realized Conway was serious.
“By the way, no one talks to the press. I find even a tiny leak, you’re fired.” Conway blew out a huge breath of air. “This is frightening enough for the public. For now, at least, they think we got the bad guy in jail, waiting to be convicted. I don’t want any possibility of a panic on our hands if they find out we don’t have this case all wrapped up and there’s still some bogies out there.”
When Conway turned away, Paul knew the meeting was over. He reached for his coffee cup. At the door, he stopped and said, “Bill, forgot to ask you.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you know about the US Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Disease? I Googled their website, but there’s not much information.”
“Never heard of ’em. Of course, every year there’s a new agency in Washington. No wonder the voters are fed up with government.”
“Besides that, someone from their agency was at the crime scene and seized some of the evidence. Can you get a meeting with them ASAP?”
“Son of a bitch.” Conway grabbed a phone. “Damn right. I’ll call the director himself if I have to. What the hell’s going on with this case?”
Paul met with Gennifer Simmons and Abraham at Hiawatha Academy an hour later. He said to the boy, “I don’t want you to be scared, but we would like to meet Dr. Ammar. Could you tell me more about where you meet?”
Abraham looked from Paul to Simmons. “It’s the mosque in Burnsville, near the mall. We meet in the community room once a week. Dr. Ammar is going to meet us again.” He was so thin, Paul worried that if the clothes draped around Abraham were removed, he’d collapse. “Dr. Ammar is cool and talks a lot to us about being a Muslim and being proud of it.”
“Oh?”
“Maybe you don’t understand, but my parents work all the time. I never see them. Most of the kids at school, when they hear I’m Somali, they walk away. And the American blacks don’t like us—so it’s kind of lonely. Mr. Ammar helps us with things like that. We’re going to see him again on Friday.”
“Has he ever asked you to do anything illegal for Islam?”
Abraham laughed. “No. He’s totally into science. Like, he’s helping us for the Science Expo. He helped with our projects and will be there.”
“I know you like the group at the mosque, but maybe you should take a week off and not go there.”
“But why?” Abraham’s face twisted.
“Uh, we think there are some problems with Dr. Ammar.”
The boy’s expression told Paul he didn’t agree.
“Can he go to the Science Expo?” Simmons asked. “It’s Friday night, and it’s held in the fieldhouse. There will be competing science students from all over the state. Hundreds of people will be there.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Paul left and drove straight to the mosque in Burnsville. When he reached the neighborhood, he spotted a small sign for the mosque. Like many Muslim groups in Minnesota, they didn’t have enough money for a fancy facility. This one occupied the end unit of a one-story row of offices. Paul drove around the back side and found several cars parked there.
He didn’t have time to get a search warrant but hoped the people inside would cooperate. At the door, an ash tree leaned over so that its leaves brushed the corner of the building. Cardinals called in warning about the human invading their space.
After a few minutes, a man shuffled toward the door from inside and opened it. He had a black beard and wore a tan skullcap and a full-length brown robe.
Paul stuck his badge in the man’s face. “I’d like to talk with you.”
The man squinted at the badge as if he were nearsighted. “What do you want?”
“I’m looking for a man named Dr. Michael Ammar. He’ll be meeting with a group of boys here tomorrow.”
The man stretched to his full height. His black skin glistened in the sunlight. “I do not know anyone. He is not here. Good-bye.”
Before Paul could jam the door with his foot, it slammed shut. Nothing more to do here now. But the man’s reaction told Paul he was on the right track—this was the correct mosque.
Back in his car, Paul called Conway. “Bill, I’m at the mosque in Burnsville. This is the hot spot. We’ll need a stakeout immediately, and we’ve got to move fast to protect the boys before Ammar’s alerted.”
“Great work, but I want you back here right now.”
Something in Conway’s voice bothered Paul. “I’m out here now. I’ll handle surveillance until the team arrives.”
“Get back here now.”
“But—”
“I’ve got a meeting starting in ten minutes. I got through to the Army Medical Research Institute. They’re meeting with us, along with ICE.” His voice dropped lower. “Paul, trust me, you’re going to want to hear this—”