The Terrorist Next Door

by Sheldon Siegel

  “We understand. We would advise our colleagues in other cities to remain vigilant.”

  Mojo rolled her eyes. “If the Islamic Freedom Federation is watching, what would you like to tell them?”

  Maloney looked directly into the camera. “Please contact us as soon as possible.”

  * * *

  The young man picked up the two-way radio.

  Here’s my response, Chief Maloney.

  Chapter 47

  CREATING A DIVERSION

  Maloney was still standing at the microphones in front of the McDonald’s when the first reports came in about a car bomb in the parking lot at the Lincoln Park Zoo. The detonator was a two-way radio. One pedestrian was injured. An hour later, Gold and Battle were interviewing witnesses at the zoo when another bomb went off in a station wagon behind the original Uno’s Pizza on Ohio Street, injuring two passers-by. The bombings continued into the evening.

  Six p.m.: an SUV on the lower level of the Grant Park underground garage. One person suffered second degree burns.

  Seven p.m.: a Pathfinder on the street near the Hancock Center. Nobody was hurt.

  Eight p.m.: a Tercel in the parking lot of the Dominick’s on Halsted just west of the Loop. Two people had smoke-related injuries.

  Nine p.m.: an Impala in a garage across the street from Sears Tower. Two people were injured.

  Gold and Battle spent the evening racing from scene to scene. The MO was always the same. Each bomb was set off in a stolen car using a two-way radio. The detonators melted. The cars were wiped clean. There were no witnesses. Surveillance videos provided no conclusive evidence of the bomber’s identity.

  At nine-forty-five on Tuesday night, the Crown Vic was parked outside the yellow tape near the corner of Adams and Franklin, across the street from the Sears Tower, and adjacent to the four-story parking garage where the latest bomb had been detonated. Downtown Chicago was empty. Gold’s BlackBerry pulsated. Fong’s name appeared on the display.

  “Heard anything from him?” Fong’s voice was hoarse with fatigue.

  “Not since he set off the bomb at Wrigley,” Gold said. “I’ve sent him dozens of e-mails, but he hasn’t responded. Are you any closer on a trace?”

  “No.”

  “Anything on the Pythons?”

  “About fourteen hundred units were sold in the Chicago area in the past three months. We’re focusing on repeat purchasers. We’re also going through online sales. It’ll take days to narrow it down.”

  “We have fifteen minutes.”

  “He can’t buy more gasoline,” Fong noted.

  “He probably has a stockpile.”

  “I’m doing everything I can to help you, Detective Gold.”

  “I know.” Gold pressed Disconnect and lowered his window. The wind had shifted and a cool breeze was blowing in from the lake. He turned up the radio. Mojo was interviewing Earl Feldman. The crafty defense attorney announced that his client—described as a law-abiding citizen—was distressed by the acts of senseless violence on the streets of Chicago. “Mr. Al-Shahid and his family are offering a one hundred thousand dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of any member of the Islamic Freedom Federation.”

  Gold turned to Battle. “Can you believe this?”

  “Surreal. And smart.”

  The Cook County State’s Attorney’s Office appeared on the display of Gold’s BlackBerry. He answered on the first ring. “You okay, Lori?”

  “Just great, Dave. The terrorist I’m prosecuting for murder just offered a reward for a terrorist who’s setting off bombs.”

  * * *

  The young man was amused by Feldman’s offer.

  I wonder if I can collect the reward?

  The red dot showed Gold and Battle still at the Sears Tower. The blue dot was now heading east on 26th. Silver was finally on her way home.

  He closed his laptop and pulled out a two-way radio. It was time to put the final phase of his mission in motion.

  He would start by creating a diversion.

  Chapter 48

  “IT’S JUST A CAR”

  “We’re chasing our tails,” Gold said.

  “So it would seem,” Battle agreed.

  They were speeding west on Roosevelt Road toward FBI headquarters when Gold’s BlackBerry vibrated again. A Chicago PD number appeared on the display.

  “It’s Ignacio Navarro,” the voice rasped.

  Lieutenant Ignacio Navarro lived two doors from Gold. They were friends and colleagues, but they didn’t socialize much outside of work. “Is everything okay?”

  There was a pause. “We have a situation at your house.”

  Gold could hear the anxiety in Navarro’s voice. “Is my dad okay?”

  “He’s fine. . . ” Navarro’s labored breathing got heavier. “Look, Dave, there’s been an accident. A bomb went off in the alley behind your garage. The firefighters got here right away. The house is fine, but your garage burned down.”

  In the grand scheme of things, Gold wasn’t terribly concerned about the old four-hundred-dollar special. “Is my dad really okay?”

  “Yeah. A little shaken up, but he’s still a tough old cuss.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  The line went silent for a moment before Gold heard forced cheerfulness in Harry’s voice. “Good news,” he deadpanned. “We can finally get a new garage.”

  Gold wasn’t amused. “You okay, Pop?”

  “I’m fine.” Harry’s voice trembled slightly as he tried to strike a workable combination between bravado and calm. “No kidding, Dave. Swear to God.”

  “What about Lucky?”

  “He’s really pissed off, but he’s fine, too. Nobody got hurt, Dave.”

  Relief. “Did you see anybody?”

  “No.”

  “We’re on our way. You want me to call Len?”

  “I’ll take care of it, Dave.”

  “How bad’s the damage?”

  “Not that bad,” Harry answered too quickly. “The house is fine, but the garage is toast.”

  “It’s just a garage, Pop. What about your Mustang?”

  There was a pause. “It’s just a car, Dave.”

  Chapter 49

  “NEVER LET YOUR GUARD DOWN”

  Assistant State’s Attorney Laura Silver’s BlackBerry was pressed to her ear as she drove east on the Stevenson. She knew it was illegal to use her cell while she was driving, but her hands-free didn’t work. She said goodbye to her babysitter and pressed Disconnect. Jenny was asleep. She allowed herself a sigh of relief.

  Her moment of calm was interrupted by her BlackBerry’s grating rendition of “Bear Down Chicago Bears,” signifying a call from Gold. “You still at Sears Tower?” she asked him.

  “We’re in South Chicago. We had a little excitement at my house.”

  “Is your dad okay?”

  “He’s fine, but somebody set off a bomb in the alley. The house is okay, but the garage burned down.”

  Dear God. “Same guy?”

  “Looks like it. He used a two-way radio.”

  “You sure your dad’s okay?”

  “He’s pretty shaken up, but he’s all right. So is Lucky.”

  “Good. And the Mustang?”

  “It’s just a car,” Gold said.

  “I’m sorry, Dave. I know it meant a lot to your dad.” And to you.

  “Where are you?”

  “Almost home.”

  “Good. DeShawn is still in front of your house. Call me when you get there.”

  “I will.” Silver pressed Disconnect, then she punched in Robinson’s cell number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Everything okay, Ms. Silver?”

  “I’m fine, DeShawn. I’ll be home in a few minutes. Did you hear about Dave Gold’s garage?”

  “Yeah. Not good.”

  “Do you want to head over there? I’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll check in with you when I
get home.”

  “I’ll be watching for you. Pull straight into the garage and close the door.”

  * * *

  Robinson’s eyes were moving as he sat in a police unit next to Silver’s driveway. University Street was quiet at ten-forty on Wednesday night. His window was open halfway. A gentle breeze fluttered through the mature maple trees forming a canopy over the street.

  Never let your guard down.

  He looked up at Silver’s two-story townhouse. The living room drapes were closed, but he could see flickering lights. The babysitter was watching TV. Jenny was asleep upstairs. He forced a smile. It was a far cry from the crack house at 89th and Phillips he’d called home for the first nineteen years of his life.

  He took a sip of warm water from a plastic bottle. He could subsist on water and energy bars for days. He looked at the rear view mirror and tensed. Someone was approaching on foot. He turned around for a more careful look. His contacts were scratchy. He got out of the car. Hyde Park’s old fashioned street lamps provided a nice ambiance, but they didn’t throw off much light.

  Robinson’s eyes focused on a young man jogging toward him, limping noticeably. He was wearing a Nike sweat shirt and fancy running shorts. He could have been a law student.

  Robinson motioned to him. The young man stopped at the rear fender. He was breathing heavily, but he wasn’t sweating “You okay?” Robinson asked.

  “Not so good.” He spoke in unaccented English. He stroked his light beard. “I blew out my ankle a couple of blocks back.”

  “Got an ID?”

  He cringed. “I left it at home.”

  “Not a great night to be out.”

  “I know. Any chance you can give me a lift? I live just a couple of blocks from here.”

  “Sorry,” Robinson said.

  “Mind calling me a cab? The buses are down and the cell phones are out.”

  “Let me see what I can do. It’s a busy night.”

  Robinson leaned inside the car and reached for his police radio. He was about to initiate the call when he heard a muffled pop behind his left ear.

  It was the last thing he ever heard.

  A .38 caliber bullet travels about six hundred feet per second in the air. Given the density of Robinson’s skull, the bullet that passed through his brain was moving much more slowly by the time it lodged in the armrest on the passenger side of the car.

  He was already dead when his body slumped onto the seat.

  Chapter 50

  “I DON’T WANT TO KILL A CHILD”

  The young man felt a tinge of remorse as he turned off Robinson’s BlackBerry and stuffed it into his backpack. He didn’t enjoy killing—even with a legitimate purpose. The success of his mission wouldn’t be measured by body count, which was already higher than he had anticipated. He had no personal gripe against the young cop who was now a strategic casualty of a necessary war.

  He walked over to the side of Silver’s townhouse. He opened the electrical box and flipped the switch he’d modified a week earlier. The security company wouldn’t know that the alarm was disconnected.

  * * *

  Assistant State’s Attorney Laura Silver was listening to WGN as she pulled off the Outer Drive at 47th and drove through the viaduct beneath the silent Metra tracks. Mojo reported an explosion in South Chicago, but didn’t reveal the address. Silver would check in with Gold shortly. She wanted to make sure Vanessa got home safely.

  * * *

  The young man finished covering Vanessa Turner’s eyes and mouth with tape. He had already bound her ankles and wrists. He’d regretted tasing the babysitter. If he hadn’t been able to disable her quickly, it would have been necessary to kill her.

  I’m sorry you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  He positioned her on the floor of the laundry room beside the door leading to the garage. Then he walked up the stairs.

  * * *

  Silver drove south on Woodlawn. The streets of Hyde Park were silent. She’d never admit it to Gold, but she was relieved to see Robinson’s unit next to her driveway. As she passed the patrol car, she opened the glove compartment and reached for her garage door opener. The momentary distraction kept her from noticing that Robinson wasn’t behind the wheel.

  * * *

  The young man stood in the doorway of Jenny’s room. The only illumination came from a flickering Winnie the Pooh night light. Jenny was sleeping on her side and clutching a teddy bear. Her lips were frozen in a half-smile. Her breathing was rhythmic.

  Please don’t wake up. I don’t want to kill a child. I saw enough dead children in Baghdad.

  He watched her for a few more seconds. Then he heard the rumbling of the garage door. He shut Jenny’s door silently. He moved quickly down the narrow stairs and positioned himself in the pitch-black laundry room. He gripped the taser.

  Then he waited.

  * * *

  Silver’s laptop bag was slung over her right shoulder. She clutched her briefcase in her left hand. She inserted her key into the lock and jiggled it. It turned on the second try. She pushed the door open. The laundry room was dark.

  I wish Vanessa would remember to leave the light on.

  She stepped inside, set down her briefcase, and felt for the light switch. Something was blocking her foot. She assumed it was a laundry basket. If her eyes had been able to focus, she would have seen her unconscious babysitter on the floor.

  She started to call out Vanessa’s name. She got as far as “Van’ before a gloved hand violently covered her mouth. The smell of leather filled her nostrils. She felt the warmth of her own breath as the hand squeezed tightly against her lips.

  I don’t want to die this way.

  She felt something hard pressed under her right arm. A jolt of fifty thousand volts rushed through her. Time slowed as her legs gave out. A muscular arm grabbed her around the waist and kept her from falling. She saw Jenny’s face. The world sparkled brightly for an instant.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 51

  “HE KNOWS WHERE WE’VE BEEN”

  “You okay, Pop?” Gold asked.

  “I’m fine,” Harry said.

  Gold’s house was encircled by emergency vehicles, but he couldn’t allow himself to lose his composure in front of his father. At five to eleven, he and Harry were sitting in the dining room. Lucky was at Harry’s feet. The house smelled of smoke. Battle filled the doorway to the kitchen. Ignacio Navarro was supervising the uniforms outside. Firefighters were mopping up in the garage. Flashing red lights danced through the windows and bounced off the walls.

  “Did you see anybody?” Gold asked.

  Harry shook his head. “No.”

  Lucky’s ears perked up as Fong entered from the kitchen. The agent loosened his tie as he sat down next to Harry. “You need anything?” he asked. “The entire federal government is at your disposal, Harry.”

  Fong’s bedside manner was better than Gold had expected.

  Harry responded with a nervous smile. “A new garage would be a good start.”

  Fong returned his smile. “I’ll check with my people. In the meantime, you’ll have better luck with your insurance company.” He lowered his voice. “Sorry about your Mustang.”

  Harry’s tone was philosophical. “It was an old car, George. Nobody got hurt. Did you find anything outside?”

  Fong put a clear plastic evidence bag on the table. Inside was a mass of melted black plastic the size of a hockey puck. “That’s your detonator. We found it in the garbage can. Probably another Python radio, but we won’t know for sure until we get it to the lab. The officer parked outside for the past two days didn’t see anybody. It was probably planted before he was assigned to watch the house. When was the last time your trash was picked up?”

  “Thursday afternoon.” Harry said he hadn’t noticed anything suspicious since then. Neither did Gold.

  Fong put the evidence bag into his briefcase. “I want to get this downtown right away
. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

  Gold nodded respectfully. “Thanks, George.”

  Fong was collecting his belongings when Navarro entered through the front door. The burly lieutenant had been born forty-four years earlier at South Chicago Hospital and baptized at Our Lady. The youngest son of a laid-off steel worker couldn’t afford college, so he opted for the army, where he served in Kuwait with distinction. Harry Gold always described him as the smartest student he’d ever taught. Though he had no formal training, Navarro’s innate intelligence and inveterate curiosity made him an expert on battlefield telecommunications. After his discharge, he put his knowledge to use when he joined Chicago PD and went to war against a tenacious and well-financed enemy: the drug dealers of South Chicago. He set two evidence bags on the table. The first one held a blackened tube about the size of a ChapStick. He handed it to Fong, who passed it to Gold, who gave it to his father.

  “You’re the science teacher,” Navarro said to Harry. “You know what this is?”

  Harry took off his glasses and studied it. “A video camera. They run a couple hundred bucks on the Internet.”

  “You get an A. I found it on the power pole across the street. Somebody’s been watching you.”

  “Can you trace it?”

  “Doubtful.” Navarro handed it to Fong. “You guys have better equipment. Looks like the identifying information was removed.”

  “I’ll take it downtown, too,” Fong said.

  Navarro handed the second evidence bag to Harry. Inside was a blackened disk about the size of a thumb tack. “Double or nothing. Do you know what that is?”

  Harry looked at it closely. “Some sort of a transmitter?”

  “Exactly. It’s a miniature tracker. Military grade. Very James Bond.” Navarro shot a glance at Gold. “I found it in a hard-to-reach spot under the radiator of the Crown Vic. The identifying information has been removed. He probably set it up using a phony name.”

  Gold’s throat tightened. “We had the car checked twice for tracking devices.”

  “It would have been impossible to find unless you knew exactly where to look. I haven’t seen one of these since I got back from Afghanistan. This guy knows what he’s doing.”