by Brad Thor
“Which you fed to Riley?” asked Ozbek.
“Yes.”
“And he was the only person claiming to be with the FBI that you ever had contact with?”
“Correct,” said Salam, “but no matter how much information about FAIR and its activities I gave him, nothing ever seemed to be done about it. I got the same line about investigations being in the works and it taking a lot of time to build strong cases and then one day Riley told me to sever all ties with Nura and back off the Foundation on American Islamic Relations.”
“Did he say why?”
“Riley claimed that the Bureau was finally beginning a full-blown investigation of the organization and that any further work I did could jeopardize my cover. I agreed. The only problem was that Nura didn’t. She was convinced by what she was seeing and overhearing that something very big was afoot.”
“What was she seeing and overhearing?” asked Ozbek.
“Abdul Waleed began having more and more meetings with a radical Saudi imam who ran several mega-mosques across the U.S. named Sheik Mahmood Omar. According to Nura, the two men seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
“She had overheard them complain on two separate occasions that if the threat wasn’t halted, Islam, as well as everything they had been working for, could be seriously compromised.”
Ozbek interrupted him. “What threat? What are we talking about?”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to know,” replied Salam. “Nura said they had begun asking a lot of questions about her uncle, who is a Koranic scholar from Georgetown.”
“What’s the uncle’s name?”
“Dr. Marwan Khalifa.”
“Where at Georgetown did he work?”
“The Center for Arabic Studies.”
Ozbek looked at him. “The same place you studied.”
“True, but I’ve never met him. He’s one of those Indiana Jones types who’s always off on some archeological dig or research project.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“He has been bouncing around a lot working on some project for the Yemeni Antiquities Authority,” replied Salam.
“Did Nura say why she thought they might see her uncle as a threat?” asked Ozbek.
“Some of the more orthodox and hardcore fundamentalists felt that his research raised too many questions about the authenticity of the Koran. To them what he did was blasphemy and he was considered apostate, which meant that a case could be made for killing him. If you believe that sort of thing.”
“And do you?”
Salam was taken aback. “No way. Not at all.”
Ozbek made a few more notes and then said, “You told the FBI that Nura said Waleed and Omar hired an assassin. That’s not exactly an easy thing to do. How’d they find him?”
“Sheik Omar arranged it,” replied Salam. “The man’s name was Majd al-Din. It means Glory of the faith in Islam.”
“What was his name before that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You told the FBI that Nura believed he was from the CIA. Why?” asked Ozbek.
“She had overheard Omar bragging about him. He said al-Din was a revert to Islam.”
“Revert is a Muslim term for a convert, right?”
“Yes. According to Nura, Omar was crazy about this guy because he was a typical, average-looking white guy who would never raise suspicions anywhere. He was like a chameleon that could change his appearance at the drop of a hat. He said when you sat down with him he looked more like an accountant than someone who used to kill for the CIA.”
Ozbek added it all to his notebook, making sure he got everything down.
“Omar was especially amped about this guy,” continued Salam, “because he’d been part of some super-secret program or unit or something at the CIA called the Transept. Does that ring any bells with you?”
Ozbek looked up from his pad, shook his head and lied. “No.”
“Well, this guy al-Din is supposedly like the Terminator. He has been programmed to kill and that’s all he does. Kill. Kill. Kill.”
“A lot of people like to boast that they’ve worked for the CIA,” replied Ozbek.
Salam laughed. “And those people are usually the biggest liars. The I could tell you what I used to do but then I’d have to kill you types.”
Ozbek smiled. “So you can see why this all sounds a little over the top.”
“According to Nura, Omar had been al-Din’s spiritual advisor for several years. The sheik seemed to know a lot about him and his background.”
“Maybe he was bullshitting.”
“Maybe,” said Salam. “But I wouldn’t bet on it. Omar’s a rough character and he’s paranoid as hell. He’s not going to bring a white revert into his inner circle unless he’s fully vetted the guy.”
Ozbek didn’t like the sound of what he was hearing, and neither would the CIA. He noted a few more things and then asked, “Is there anything else you can give me about al-Din? A current address or phone number he might be at?”
“I’m sorry,” said Salam as he lifted the last bite of his meal and then suddenly changed his mind and set the fork down. “Nura was killed before she could tell me anything else.”
Ozbek was sorry too. “Did al-Din ever come by FAIR while Nura was there? Did she ever see what he looked like?”
Salam shook his head and changed the subject. “I’m going to prison, aren’t I?”
“That’s not for me to decide.”
Salam was quiet for a moment. “I told the police about my dog. He only had food and water for a couple of days. Do you think they’ve sent anybody over to my house?”
“I’ll bet they’ve sent tons of people to your house,” said Ozbek.
Salam realized the humor in what he just said and smiled for a moment. “Ninety-nine point nine percent of the Muslims in this country are good people. They love America just like me. I was doing what I thought was right for the United States. I still think that.”
“I know you do,” said Ozbek as he flipped his notebook shut, “and for what it’s worth, I believe you.”
“So you can help me.”
“I’m going to try,” said the CIA operative as he stood up and walked to the door. As he reached it, he asked, “By the way, what kind is it?”
“Excuse me?” replied Salam.
“Your dog. What kind is it?”
“Chesapeake Bay Retriever.”
“That’s a good breed,” said Ozbek. “Very loyal.”
Salam nodded and watched as the man left.
Outside the interrogation room, the D.C. Metro detective handling the investigation was waiting for them. He was a hard, no-bullshit cop in his mid-fifties named Covin with a gray mustache and the build of a college linebacker. “Did you get everything you needed?” he asked.
Ozbek shook his head as he slid the notebook back into his coat pocket.
“He’s full of shit,” stated the detective. “Academy Award performance every time. If you listen to him long enough you actually catch yourself believing him.”
“You don’t?” asked Ozbek, careful not to reveal his own feelings.
Detective Covin looked at him. “Let’s just say that all of this smells.”
Ozbek agreed with him on that. “What kind of personal effects did he have on him when you picked him up?”
Opening the folder he was carrying, the cop read off the list. “Watch. Wallet with credit cards, bank card, cash, and a D.C. driver’s license. Business card case with cards. Car keys. Cell phone—”
“We’d like to take a look at his cell phone,” said Ozbek.
The detective closed the file and looked at the two CIA men. “That means you’re going to have to sign the chain of evidence sheet. At this point, you’ve only come in and asked a couple of questions. The minute you lay a finger on that evidence, you and the CIA are permanently tied to this case.
“I was a prosecutor before I became a cop and I kno
w what a defense attorney would do with the fact that two spooks were left alone with the suspect’s personal effects.”
Rasmussen resented the implication. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying quit while you’re ahead. Questioning the suspect about a possible tie to a CIA operative is one thing. Going through his personal effects is something altogether different.”
“You’re right,” said Ozbek as he signaled for Rasmussen to back off. “We don’t want to get involved with any of the evidence. That could be bad for all of us.” Checking the signal strength on his cell phone he added, “I’m going to need to jump back into the interrogation room for a second.”
“What for?” asked Covin.
“There’s something I forgot to ask the suspect.”
As Ozbek and Rasmussen left D.C. Police Headquarters and headed for their car, Rasmussen asked, “What was that last-minute question you had to ask Salam?”
“I needed his cell phone number.”
“What for?”
“Plan B,” replied Ozbek.
Rasmussen had a pretty good idea of what Plan B was, but he let it slide for the moment. “What’s Plan A?”
“I want to run everything Salam just gave us against the Transept personnel files.”
“You want to pull the files for every Transept operative who looks like an accountant and is good with disguises? That’s almost every person in that program, including the women. They were all recruited because they were forgettable.”
“I don’t care. I want the whole team working on this,” insisted Ozbek. “I want to know where every single Transept operative is right now—active, retired, even dead. All of them. And while we’re at it, let’s pull everything we have on the victim’s uncle.”
“Marwan Khalifa from Georgetown?”
Ozbek slid his keys from his pocket and nodded. “I want to know where he is and exactly what he’s working on. If he’s the target, I want to know why.”
“I’ll let Patricia know not to wait up,” muttered Rasmussen. “For either of us.”
CHAPTER 19
PARIS
“Jefferson was a brilliant polymath,” said Professor Nichols as he set the ice bag he’d been applying to his jaw on the coffee table in front of him. “He possessed encyclopedic knowledge in a wide range of areas and was a skilled architect, archeologist, paleontologist, horticulturalist, statesman, author, and inventor. He was also an adept cryptographer who loved puzzles as well as making and breaking codes.
“He could read in seven languages and never read translations if he could read the original. In fact, he taught himself Spanish specifically so he could read Don Quixote on his transatlantic passage to France in 1784. He felt the book was vital to his understanding of the Muslim enemy the U.S. was facing in the Mediterranean.”
“Why?” asked Tracy. “What does Don Quixote have to do with Islamic pirates?”
Harvath had read Don Quixote as a boy and hadn’t thought about it much since. He did remember something interesting that he’d been taught about its author, Miguel de Cervantes, and wondered if that might have been why Jefferson had been interested in the book. “Cervantes got the idea for his novel while in a Barbary prison,” said Harvath. “Didn’t he?”
Nichols nodded. “Miguel de Cervantes was a Spanish soldier who had fought in many battles against the Muslims, including the Battle of Lepanto, a decisive victory for European Christians over invading Islamic forces. Though he was wracked with fever, he refused to stay belowdecks and fought admirably, incurring two gunshot wounds to the chest and one which rendered his left hand, and some say his whole left arm, useless for the rest of his life.
“After six months of recuperation, Cervantes rejoined his unit in Naples and stayed with them until 1575, when he set sail for Spain. Off the Catalan coast, his ship was attacked by Muslim pirates who slew the captain and murdered most of the crew. Cervantes and the handful of passengers who survived were taken to Algiers as slaves.
“He suffered five years of barbaric treatment under his Muslim captors. He tried to escape four times and prior to his ransom finally being paid, Cervantes was bound from head to toe in chains and left that way for five months. The trauma provided much fodder for his writing, particularly the Captive’s Tale in Don Quixote.
“Jefferson was reading Don Quixote to learn more about the Barbary pirates, but right in the middle of it he discovered something else—a cleverly hidden cryptogram. It took him a while to crack it, but once he did, it revealed an incredible story hidden within the Captive’s Tale.”
“What was it?” asked Tracy.
“In sixteenth-century Algiers,” replied Nichols, “educated slaves like Cervantes were used by their largely illiterate Algerian captors as amanuenses to perform a variety of tasks, from accounting to transcribing documents.
“It was in the house of one of the city’s religious leaders that Cervantes first learned that the last revelation of Mohammed’s life had been purposefully omitted from the Koran.”
Just when Harvath thought the man couldn’t come up with anything more astonishing, he did. “What was Mohammed’s final revelation?” he asked.
“That’s exactly what the president and I have been trying to find out,” said Nichols. “According to Jefferson, Mohammed was murdered shortly after revealing it.”
“Wait a second,” said Tracy. “Mohammed was murdered? I never knew that.”
“632 AD,” replied Harvath, who in order to better understand his nation’s enemy, had studied Islam extensively. “He was poisoned.”
“Do they know by whom?”
“Jefferson believed,” said the professor, “it was one of Mohammed’s apostles; the men he referred to as his companions.”
“Jefferson didn’t exactly have access to the Internet,” said Harvath. “How could he have done any substantive research on this kind of topic?”
“Per his diary,” replied Nichols, “the task was extremely difficult. He did have help, though. Besides an incredible network of international contacts in diplomatic, academic, and espionage circles, the European monastic orders charged with ransoming prisoners from the Islamic nations proved very useful.
“These monastic orders were exceptional record keepers. They debriefed all of the prisoners they repatriated and recorded the accounts of their captivity verbatim. Many of these orders had representatives and in some cases even headquarters in France. Through them, Jefferson had access to an array of archives detailing what the prisoners did during their captivity, as well as what they saw and overheard.
“There were many prisoners like Cervantes who worked in the homes and businesses of their Muslim captors and picked up very interesting bits of the missing Koran story over the years. Jefferson’s task was to take that information and put it together with other avenues of research he was working on to tease out a bigger picture.
“What we’ve been able to piece together of that bigger picture includes several references to one man in particular,” said Nichols as he reached for a sheet of paper, wrote down the name Abū al-’Iz Ibn Ismā’īl ibn al-Razāz al-Jazarī, and held it up.
“Who’s he?” asked Tracy.
“Al-Jazari was one of the greatest minds of Islam’s Golden Age. He was the Islamic equivalent of Leonardo da Vinci; an incredible inventor, artist, astronomer, and highly regarded scholar who was also interested in medicine and the mechanics of the human body.
“In 1206, he published The Book of Knowledge and Ingenious Mechanical Devices. In it he documented an amazing host of mechanical inventions including programmable automatons and humanoid robots, but he was best known for creating the most sophisticated water clocks of his time.”
“He sounds impressive,” said Harvath, “but how does he fit in with the missing verses from the Koran?”
The professor put up his hands. “That’s the problem. We don’t really know.”
“Even if you did, how could discovering something like this have any imp
act on fundamentalist Islam?” asked Tracy.
“Good question,” replied Nichols. “You see Muslims believe that the Koran is the complete and immutable word of God. To suggest anything else is considered blasphemy and an outright attack on Islam. Nevertheless, about a fifth of the Koran is filled with contradictions and incomprehensible passages that don’t make any sense.
“For example, in the beginning of Mohammed’s career as a prophet in Mecca, Allah revealed to him through the Angel Gabriel the concept of living peacefully with Jews and Christians. Later when Mohammed, who had been shunned by the Jews and Christians, became a warlord and raised a powerful army in Medina, Allah supposedly revealed that it was every Muslim’s duty to subdue all non-Muslims and not rest until Islam was the dominant religion on the planet.”
Tracy nodded. “That never made sense to me.”
“You’re not alone. Part of the confusion comes from the fact that the Koran isn’t organized chronologically. It’s organized predominantly from the longest chapters, or suras, to the shortest. The peaceful verses from the beginning of Islam can therefore be found throughout. The problem, though, is that the violent verses take precedence due to something called abrogation.”
“What’s abrogation?”
“Basically, it says that if two verses in the Koran conflict, the later verse shall take precedence. The most violent sura in the Koran is the ninth. It is the only chapter in the Koran that doesn’t begin with the phrase known as the Basmala—Allah the compassionate, the merciful. It contains verses like slay the idolaters wherever you find them and those who refuse to fight for Allah will be afflicted with a painful death and will go to hell as well as calling for warfare against and the subjugation of all Jews and Christians.
“Although it’s the next-to-last chapter, it’s the last true set of instructions Mohammed left to his followers and it’s those verses that have been driving violence in the name of Islam ever since.”
“The difficulty for peaceful Muslims who do not espouse violence,” clarified Harvath, “is that they don’t have a contextual leg to stand on in their religion. When Mohammed said ‘go do violence’ and when he himself committed violence, Muslims are not allowed to argue with that. In fact, they are expected to follow his example.”
