* * *
Dr. Mohammad Raheem templed his thin fingers in front of his angular face. His professorial tone was serious. “What’s this about, Detective?”
Gold’s voice was measured. “We need to ask Karim a few questions.”
Raheem, Fayyadh, Gold, and Battle were sitting around the small table in Raheem’s stuffy office at nine-twenty on Tuesday morning. Fayyadh stared down at the table. Gold’s arms were folded. Battle was showing off his most intimidating glare.
“Is Karim under arrest?” Raheem asked.
Not yet. “No.”
“Is he in trouble?”
Absolutely. “Maybe.”
Raheem’s black eyes narrowed. He and Fayyadh had spent forty minutes sitting in silence with Pena and Espinoza while they waited for Gold and Battle. Pena and Espinoza were still in the outer office. Two uniforms were in the hallway. The building was surrounded by university cops and Chicago PD. They were encircled by the press. The whole circus was being aired live by news choppers. A terrorism investigation had transformed into a reality show.
Raheem glanced out the window. “Why have you surrounded the building?”
“We need to ask Karim a few questions,” Gold repeated. He quickly added, “Alone.”
“You think he’s going to outrun helicopters?”
“They’re from the TV stations. We have no control over them.”
Raheem turned and spoke to Fayyadh in a soothing voice. “Tell them the truth, Karim. We have nothing to hide.”
Fayyadh’s fidgety demeanor suggested he wasn’t sure about answering questions in a foreign tongue ten thousand miles from home. “My English isn’t very good.”
“I’ll interpret for you,” Raheem said.
“We need to talk to Karim alone,” Gold repeated.
“I’m not going to let you interrogate my student without an interpreter—and a lawyer.”
“Fine. We’ll work out arrangements when we get to headquarters.”
A distressed expression crossed Fayyadh’s face. Gold ascertained that he understood more English than he let on.
Raheem spoke again. “I’m advising Karim not to say a word until I find him a lawyer.”
Gold figured that it was only a matter of time before he heard from Earl Feldman. “We’re under no obligation to let Karim talk to an attorney. He isn’t a U.S. citizen.”
“This is intimidation.”
Yes, it is. “Call it what you’d like. He isn’t going to get any help from the Iraqi embassy.”
“There is no Iraqi embassy.”
“Precisely.”
“I have friends at the State Department.”
I’m impressed. “Call them. I’m sure they’ll be very helpful to an Iraqi national accused of terrorism.”
“Who said anything about terrorism?”
“I did. We know that Karim was involved with a terrorist group in Baghdad. We know that he was arrested.”
“He was detained. There was no evidence of any criminal activity. Those charges were dropped.”
“It doesn’t mean they weren’t true.”
“So much for the concept of innocent until proven guilty.”
“It takes a backseat to the concept of stopping another terrorist attack.”
“This is insane.”
“Suit yourself. Just so there’s no misunderstanding, I’d like you to interpret something for Karim. Please tell him that the call to the detonator at O’Hare was placed from the telephone at his desk. We already have video confirmation that he was here when the call was placed.”
“Then there’s been a mistake. Obviously somebody else must have made the call.”
“Whatever you say. In any event, please inform Karim that we’ll need to continue this conversation at headquarters. Our car is parked down the block. Department policy requires us to handcuff him when we take him into custody.”
“I’m not going to let you perp walk Karim through the press without a lawyer.”
“You have no choice. Neither does he.”
Fayyadh’s expression switched from concern to panic.
Raheem held up a hand. “Let me suggest a compromise. We’ll keep the lawyers out of this conversation for now if we talk here, and you let me act as Karim’s interpreter.”
“Not good enough,” Gold said.
“Everything will be delayed if lawyers get involved. Karim has nothing to hide. Let’s have a polite conversation where I interpret. Okay?”
It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than dealing with Earl Feldman, who would undoubtedly instruct Fayyadh not to say a word. Moreover, Gold knew that he could still take Fayyadh to headquarters and lean on him there. “Fine.”
Chapter 34
“I TOLD YOU WE HAD NOTHING TO HIDE”
Gold placed a miniature digital recorder in front of Fayyadh. “I trust you have no problem if I record our conversation?”
Fayyadh shot a wary glance at Raheem, who held up a reassuring hand. “It’s fine, Karim,” the professor said. “We want a record so there’s no misunderstanding.”
Gold recited the date, time, place, and names of everyone present. He spoke to Fayyadh. “Do you understand English, Karim?”
Fayyadh looked down at the recorder. “Yes.”
“If you don’t understand a question, we’ll have Professor Raheem interpret for you. What time did you get here this morning?”
Fayyadh spoke in a stilted version of the Queen’s English. “A few minutes before six.”
The call to O’Hare had been placed at six-twelve. “Why so early?”
“I’m still adjusting to the time change. I got up in the middle of the night, so I came here to do research.”
Of course you did. “How did you get inside the building?”
The young grad student shifted in his chair. “The door on University Street.” He fingered the ID hanging from a U. of C. lanyard around his neck. “I used my card key.”
So far, so good. Students and faculty complained about the U. of C.’s draconian security system, but understood its necessity. Gold had already confirmed Fayyadh’s time of entry. “Is there any other way to get into this building without a card key?”
“I’m not sure.”
Raheem spoke up. “We sometimes hold the door open for each other. There’s a back door that’s locked. An alarm goes off if you open it. I suppose it’s possible to sneak in through an unlocked window—if you can find one.”
We’ll check. Gold turned back to Fayyadh. “Was anybody else here when you arrived? Maybe a security guard?”
“I didn’t see anybody.”
They’d already spoken to the guard assigned to Albert Pick Hall. He’d checked the building at five and again at seven. Gold pointed to the outer office. “Was your door locked when you got here?”
Fayyadh stopped fidgeting. “Yes. I let myself in with the key.”
“Was anybody in your office when you arrived?”
“No.”
Too easy. “Was anything missing from your desk?”
“I don’t think so.”
He wasn’t flustered. “Did you log onto your computer as soon as you got into your office?”
“Yes.”
This, too, could be confirmed. “And you haven’t left the building since you came in?”
Fayyadh nodded.
Way too easy. Gold glanced at Raheem, whose right fist was pressed to his lips. Gold then looked at Battle, who stroked his chin. Do I need to read an Iraqi citizen his rights? “Karim, I want to be sure I have the timeline exactly right. You were sitting at your desk at six-twelve this morning, right?”
Raheem tried to run interference. “Karim,” he interjected, “you don’t have to answer.”
Gold fired back. “You told us he has nothing to hide.”
“I think it might be a good idea for Karim to talk to a lawyer.”
“Why would he need a lawyer if he’s telling the truth?”
Fayyadh raised a hand. “I
am telling the truth.” His eyes finally locked onto Gold’s. “I came inside the building at six o’clock, but I didn’t come up to the office right away.”
What? “Where were you?”
“In the library downstairs.”
“For how long?”
“Until six-thirty.”
“Was anybody else there?”
“No.”
It sounded forced. “You’re saying you didn’t go up to your office until six-thirty?”
“Yes. That’s when I turned on my computer. You can check.”
It would be easy to verify. “Did you see anybody on your way upstairs?”
“No.”
“You understand that we’re going to check the card key records and the security videos to confirm the time you entered this building, right?”
“Right.”
“And you realize there are cameras in the lobby and the library, which means we’ll be able to confirm exactly what time you came upstairs. We’ll also be able to verify the time you logged onto your computer. In other words, we’ll be able to verify everything you just told us.”
“Then you’ll realize that everything I just told you was the truth.”
Raheem exhaled. “I told you we had nothing to hide.”
Chapter 35
“IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO SAY TO HIM?”
Fayyadh’s story checked out—each and every detail.
Gold and Battle spent the next hour in the departmental library on the ground floor of Albert Pick Hall being debriefed by campus police and two detectives from Hyde Park station. The head of campus security provided card key records and security videos showing Fayyadh entering the building at five-fifty-nine a.m. A camera caught him going into the library at six o’clock, and exiting at six-twenty-eight. He logged onto his computer at six-twenty-nine—seventeen minutes after the call had been placed to O’Hare. Unless he’d borrowed Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak or crawled up three flights through an air duct, he’d been in the library when the call was placed from his office.
The security guard at Albert Pick Hall said the building was empty and the lights were out in Fayyadh’s office when he’d made his rounds at five a.m. He swore that he’d checked inside every office, although he admitted—grudgingly—that somebody could have been hiding in a closet. During his next walk-through at seven, Fayyadh was sitting at his desk. The building was otherwise empty, and he didn’t notice anything suspicious.
The security camera in the lobby didn’t show anybody entering the building between midnight and six a.m. other than the guard. A camera pointed at the emergency exit confirmed that nobody had used the rear door. There were no cameras in the stairwells or in the corridors on the upper floors.
A search of the outer office and Raheem’s inner office had been unenlightening. They found Fayyadh’s prints on his phone and his keyboard. There were dozens of identifiable prints in the suite, most of which matched Fayyadh, Raheem, and other university employees. A few smudged prints couldn’t be identified. The search for DNA was ongoing. A police canvass of the campus, Hyde Park, Washington Park, and Woodlawn had turned up empty.
A room-by-room search of Albert Pick Hall finally uncovered an unlocked window in an empty office on the ground floor. The security guard admitted that he hadn’t noticed it. The foliage outside was trampled. Somebody could have entered through that window and gone up to Fayyadh’s office without being caught on camera. No prints were found.
Gold and Battle eventually informed Raheem and Fayyadh that they’d verified Fayyadh’s story. The professor and his young researcher took the news calmly—as if they expected it. They agreed not to talk to the press, and they promised to keep Gold and Battle informed of their whereabouts. Gold’s people would keep them under surveillance. Gold was certain that he would be hearing from a lawyer.
At ten-thirty, Gold and Battle headed outside to face the music from a wall of hot, frustrated reporters. The temperature and humidity were approaching a hundred as they fielded questions from the steps of Albert Pick Hall. As usual, Mojo took the lead.
“Why are you here, Detective?” she shouted. It was difficult to hear her above the roar of the choppers. “Does this have anything to do with the bombing at O’Hare?”
Gold paused to let his eyes adjust to the blinding sun. His instincts told him not to reveal too much, but Mojo undoubtedly knew that Raheem and Fayyadh were inside. Of more immediate importance was his need for help from the public. “The call to the detonator at O’Hare was placed from a land line inside this building. We believe the person who placed the call entered and exited through a window on the ground floor. We are conducting a manhunt in the vicinity. We are asking the public for assistance identifying anybody who may have been inside this building at six-twelve this morning.”
“Do you have a description?”
“No. The individual wasn’t caught on a security video.”
“Were you interviewing Professor Mohammad Raheem?”
“Yes.” There was no reason to be disingenuous. “He and his graduate assistant work in the building. They were both fully cooperative.”
“Were either of them here at six-twelve this morning?”
“The assistant was here. Dr. Raheem was not. Neither person is considered a suspect at this time. We’ve asked them not to speak to the press.”
“Have you received any additional communications from the bomber?”
“No comment.”
“Is there anything you’d like to say to him if he’s watching?”
“Yes.” Gold looked directly into the camera. “We’d like to open a dialogue with you before anybody else gets hurt. Please contact me as soon as possible.”
* * *
The young man watched the end of Gold’s press briefing with detached amusement.
We’ll open a dialogue after you free Hassan.
* * *
Battle pulled a toothpick from the ash tray as he and Gold drove north on Cottage Grove past the Gates of Peace. “Any word from him?”
“No,” Gold said.
“Why hasn’t he sent you another e-mail?”
“I’ll ask him next time I hear from him.”
Battle looked over at his partner. “What is it?”
Gold took a deep breath. “Twenty-six people are dead, and the press is covering this like it’s a Bears’ game. They barely mention the victims’ names. They just keep score and show highlights.”
“It’s the world we live in, Dave. You pretty sure Fayyadh was telling the truth?”
“I think so. For one, he looked me in the eye. For two, he stayed calm. For three, he didn’t embellish. For four, the videos confirmed his story. Last, and most important, Raheem wouldn’t have let Fayyadh talk to us if he thought he needed a lawyer.”
“For what it’s worth,” Battle said, “I think you’re right.”
“We’ve been playing catch-up for two days. We need to find a way to get ahead of him.”
“We will. You think the same guy set off the bomb on the bus and placed the call from Fayyadh’s phone?”
“It’s possible. He could have planted the bomb on the bus, gotten off near Zibari’s apartment, placed the call from the payphone there, and walked down to the university. It’s only about a mile.”
“Maybe.”
Gold’s BlackBerry vibrated. Maloney’s name appeared on the display. There was tension in his voice. “You still got people watching Raheem and Fayyadh?”
“Yes,” Gold said. “They’re in their offices.”
“Any chance either of them placed a call in the last two minutes?”
“No. We confiscated their cells—which weren’t working anyway. The university shut down the land lines in their building.”
“In that case, I need you to get up to the North Side right away. A car bomb just went off at Riverview Plaza.”
Chapter 36
“LAUGH YOUR TROUBLES AWAY”
The helicopters chased Go
ld and Battle fifteen miles north to Riverview Plaza, a strip mall on Western Avenue a couple of miles west of Wrigley Field. They pulled in behind three fire engines, four police cars and two ambulances. Smoke billowed from the roof of the Dominick’s supermarket wedged between a Toys “R” Us, a Walgreen’s, and a closed Blockbuster. The stores had been evacuated, and the few shoppers were milling around outside the yellow tape. Except for the emergency vehicles, the parking lot was empty.
Gold and Battle jogged to the front of the Dominick’s, where paramedics were treating the injured. Gold recognized Detective Guy Gallicho, a native of Back of the Yards on the Southwest Side, who had worked his way up the ranks across town at the nearby Belmont station. Gallicho’s expression was grim, and his charcoal suit was drenched as he surveyed the scene from his perch next to the bullpen for shopping carts.
“Two dead, eight injured,” he reported. He wiped the perspiration from his silver crew cut. “Victims were an elderly couple who’d lived in the neighborhood for fifty years.” His voice filled with sarcasm. “Nobody’s laughing their troubles away.”
Gold understood the reference. From 1904 until 1967, the corner of Belmont and Western had been the site of Riverview Park, billed as “The World’s Largest Amusement Park,” even though it would have fit into a corner of Disneyland. Its patrons were encouraged to come to Riverview to “laugh your troubles away.” Its signature ride, the Bobs roller coaster, had an eight-story drop. The Pair-O-Chutes rose more than two hundred feet above the Midway.
Riverview was more than thrill rides, carnival games, and cotton candy. During Prohibition, beer flowed freely in its picnic grounds, which was a flashpoint for the rivalry between the O’Banion and Capone gangs. During World War II, Gold’s grandfather decreed that his family would never again set foot inside the park after the American Nazi Party was permitted to hold its annual picnic there. In the fifties, the Midway became a source of racial tension when its highest grossing concession was a game known as “Dunk the N***,” where many contestants fired balls directly at an African American man who taunted them with racial epithets from his perch above a water tank. As Chicagoans fled to the suburbs, Riverview limped to an ignominious closing at the end of the 1967 season.
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