The Terrorist Next Door

by Sheldon Siegel

  “We need the trace now,” Gold snapped.

  Fong glanced at his BlackBerry as if he were begging it to ring. “Any second.”

  Gold looked at the photo again. “Can you enhance the background?”

  “A little.” Fong manipulated the photo. The wall below the level of Silver’s shoulders was gray cement. Above that, the wall was whitewashed brick.

  Battle pointed at the screen. “She’s in a basement. The cement foundation is below ground; the bricks are above ground.”

  “That narrows it down to almost every house in the Chicago area,” Gold said. “Can you zoom in on the area above her left shoulder?”

  Fong did as he was asked.

  Gold studied the picture closely. “See that outline painted on the wall?”

  Fong nodded. Then his BlackBerry vibrated. He held it up to his ear and listened intently, then whispered to Gold. “We have a trace.”

  Gold was moving toward the door. “I already know where she is: 8927 South Houston.”

  Fong spun around and looked at Gold. “How did you know?”

  “I saw that picture every Saturday morning when I was a kid. It’s a menorah painted on the wall in the basement of Bikur Cholim—the old synagogue in South Chicago. He just told us where to find her.”

  Chapter 58

  “YOU THINK HE WANTS TO DIE?”

  “He knows we’re coming,” Battle said. “It’s a setup.”

  “Game on,” Gold said.

  Eleven-thirty-six p.m. Gold was operating on a full-blown adrenaline rush as he frantically worked the police band while he and Battle barreled down a deserted South Chicago Avenue. “All available personnel to 8927 South Houston,” he shouted. “Approach the building with extreme caution. Possible hostage situation and bomb detonation. Need SWAT and Bomb Squad support. And fire engines. Personnel should cordon off a two-mile radius and instruct residents to stay inside. Emergency vehicles only within the restricted area. Every other vehicle should be stopped and searched. Absolutely no press. Suspect is armed and dangerous.”

  Battle jammed the accelerator. “He’s probably monitoring the police band.”

  “He already knows we’re coming.”

  “You think he wants to die?”

  “I think he wants us to die,” Gold said.

  “What did you do to him?”

  “I put his Al-Shahid in jail.”

  “You realize the building may go up like a load of kindling.”

  “I do.”

  “You’re prepared to go inside?”

  “Lori’s in there.” And I’m not going to let her die without a fight.

  Chapter 59

  “YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE”

  “Any contact from inside?” Gold asked.

  The veteran hostage negotiator lowered her megaphone. “Nothing.” Lieutenant Rosita Fernandez, a Chatham native and grandmother of four, was kneeling behind the fender of a squad car parked on the sidewalk across the street from the old synagogue. “Power’s off. Phones are out. We don’t even know for sure if he’s in there.”

  Gold stared intently across the street. The neon sign for the building’s current occupant—the Christ Life Church—was dark, but Houston Street was illuminated by floodlights from the police units and fire engines lining the block. Maloney stood to Fernandez’s left. Rowan was to her right. The commander of the Area 2 SWAT Team was next to him. Jesus Martinez was a Navy Seal who had served in Afghanistan. He was being briefed on the building’s layout by Emmanuel Adesanya, the church’s pastor. Fong was monitoring the situation from inside the FBI mobile command unit parked behind them.

  “Anybody gone in or out?” Gold asked.

  “Not since we’ve been here,” Fernandez said. A Chicago PD baseball cap was pulled down over her intense brown eyes. “Building’s surrounded. He isn’t going anywhere.”

  “If he’s inside.” Gold turned to Pastor Adesanya. “When was the last time you were in the building?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “Was anybody else inside when you left?”

  “Our caretaker, Willie Williams. He usually works until eleven-thirty. I just talked to his sister. He didn’t make it home.”

  Gold held up a reassuring hand. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Do you have a security system or video cameras?”

  “No.”

  Maloney entered the discussion. “We just got word that there’s a RAV4 parked in Pastor Adesanya’s space in the back. It may have been used to transport Assistant State’s Attorney Silver here. Reported as stolen on Friday. He’s smart enough to know that he won’t be able to use it as a getaway vehicle. He may have planted another vehicle nearby.”

  Gold nodded. The bomber could have vanished into the alleys, gangways, and empty lots of the Southeast Side. He looked at the brightly illuminated yellow façade of the synagogue-turned-church. “What are our options?” he asked Fernandez.

  “Obviously, we’ve lost the element of surprise. He hasn’t responded when I’ve tried to make contact. The phone inside has been disconnected. We can try to wait him out.”

  “Not for long,” Gold said. “He said he would kill Assistant State’s Attorney Silver at midnight. That’s twenty minutes from now. He’s very good about keeping his promises.”

  “I can try to talk him out.”

  “Only if he’ll talk to you. What about tear gas? Or a flash bomb? Or a smoke bomb? Or even knockout gas?”

  The bomb expert answered him. “Too risky,” Rowan said. “I went up to the building for a look. You can smell gasoline.”

  “How about an unmanned probe?”

  Rowan glanced at his watch. “Not in the next twenty minutes.”

  Dammit. “You aren’t giving me any good options.”

  “There aren’t any good options.”

  Gold took a deep breath. “I’m going in.”

  The SWAT commander finally spoke up. “You can’t go in there. It’s too dangerous.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “This isn’t your gig.”

  “It is now.”

  “There’s a good chance you’ll end up like your partner.”

  “Then I’ll die a hero like Paulie.” Gold looked around at the army of cops, SWAT teamers and Bomb Squad members. “I’ll go first. Anybody want to join me?”

  Battle was the first to answer. “I’ll lead a group through the back door.”

  Rowan put on his helmet. “You’re going to need somebody who can dismantle a bomb.”

  Martinez eyed Gold. “You’re going to need adult supervision,” the SWAT leader said. “We’re coming, too.”

  Chapter 60

  “I WANT YOU TO TAKE HIM OUT”

  Supervisory Special Agent George Fong attached a miniature camera and tiny microphone to the shoulder of Gold’s Kevlar vest. “I’ll be able to see everything you see,” he said. “It may be dark inside—especially in the basement, so I want you to keep talking to me.”

  “I will,” Gold promised.

  Fong had gathered everyone for a quick briefing inside the FBI’s mobile command unit. He’d supplied everybody with a mini-camera, a microphone, and an earpiece. Pastor Adesanya had circulated a hand-drawn sketch of the interior of the building. There were two entrances: front and back. The main floor had an entry hall, an office, and the sanctuary. There was a vestibule area between the sanctuary and the back door. A small balcony was perched above the rear of the sanctuary—a reminder of the building’s history as an orthodox synagogue where the women and men sat separately. There was a social hall and a kitchen in the basement—both of which now were used primarily for storage. Stairways in the foyer led up to the balcony and down to the basement.

  Fong’s voice was tense as he spoke to Gold. “The bomber may be able to hear you, so I want you to talk to me quietly through this microphone.” He turned to Rowan. “There’s a two-way radio taped to Assistant State’s Attorney Silver’
s chest. You may have to disarm it in a hurry. You already know about the smell of gasoline. You’ll also need to be careful about other explosive devices.”

  Rowan nodded.

  A somber Chief Maloney cleared his throat. “Agent Fong and I will be here monitoring everything you do. The building is surrounded. Call for backup if you need it.” The chief held up a finger for emphasis. “You’re probably going to get only one shot at this guy. Don’t dick around. If you have an opening, I want you to take him out.”

  * * *

  The young man looked at the small monitor on the counter in the dark room. It displayed real-time footage from the miniature camera he’d mounted on a power pole across the street from the old synagogue.

  Meticulous planning.

  He watched as Gold led Rowan and a group of SWAT teamers through the cast iron fence that still bore a decorative Star of David, and up the three front steps of the building. Battle led a second unit down the gangway toward the rear entrance. Gold deferred to Rowan when they reached the worn double doors. The Bomb Squad commander motioned the team to stand back. Then he began examining the hinges and the doorframe.

  You won’t have any trouble getting inside the building, Commander Rowan. It will be a lot harder to get out.

  Chapter 61

  “WE FOUND A BODY”

  Eleven-forty-eight p.m. Gold could smell gasoline from inside the old synagogue as Rowan probed the hinges and the locks on the front door. Martinez and six SWAT teamers stood by at high alert. Battle, a second Bomb Squad member, and three more SWAT teamers were poised at the rear door.

  “Anything?” Gold asked.

  Rowan scowled. “Not as far as I can tell. This isn’t an exact science. Stand back.”

  “Let me,” Gold said.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” Gold thought of Paulie as he pushed the handle down and opened the door. Too easy. He spoke into the microphone. “Front door’s unlocked. We’re going in.”

  “I have you on video,” Fong said.

  Gold heard Battle’s voice. “Back door is unlocked. We’re in, too.”

  “I have you, too,” Fong said. “See anybody?”

  “All quiet. We’ll secure the main floor.”

  “Keep your flashlights on and proceed with caution.”

  Weapons and flashlights drawn, Gold, Rowan, Martinez, and the SWAT teamers swarmed into the lobby, which was slightly bigger than Harry’s living room. It was about twenty degrees warmer inside than it was outside.

  Gold’s lungs filled with the stench of gasoline. He knew the layout from memory. An office and a coat room were to the right. Two sets of doors leading into the two aisles of the sanctuary were in front of him. The stairways up to the balcony and down to the basement were to his left. He heard Fong’s voice in his earpiece.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what you see.”

  “Lobby’s clear,” Gold said. “So are the office and the coat room. Smells like gasoline.”

  Two SWAT teamers raced upstairs and quickly secured the empty balcony. Two more took up positions next to the door leading outside. Another waited near the stairway. Gold, Rowan, and Martinez hustled into the sanctuary, a narrow room with white plaster walls and ten rows of refinished mahogany pews still bearing the small nameplates of the synagogue’s first members. The original gold chandeliers hung over the aisles. The power had been cut, but the room was illuminated by searchlights streaming in through eight frosted glass windows. A small stained glass window in the shape of the Star of David was still visible above the area where a mahogany ark once stood.

  Weapons drawn, Gold and his team moved deliberately toward the stage at the front of the church. “Sanctuary’s clear,” he reported to Fong.

  “Ten-four. A.C.?”

  No answer.

  Fong tried again. “Detective Battle? Please respond. I’ve lost visual contact.”

  “Need backup in the room behind the sanctuary,” he said. “We found a body.”

  Chapter 62

  “WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU”

  Gold strained to hear Battle’s voice through his earpiece as he approached the door behind the podium at the front of the sanctuary. “Talk to me, A.C.”

  “African American male,” Battle said. “Bullet to the head.”

  “We’re coming in.” Gold pushed the door open and found Battle and three SWAT teamers standing over the body of the caretaker in a windowless room spattered in blood.

  Battle looked up. “Driver’s license says his name is Willie Williams.”

  Gold tugged at the microphone on his shoulder. “Please tell the pastor that I’m sorry,” he whispered to Fong.

  “I will.” Fong lowered his voice. “It’s ten to twelve. You need to get downstairs.”

  * * *

  “Talk to me,” Fong said. “Where are you?”

  Gold was breathing heavily. “Top of the stairs in the lobby.”

  He’d stationed two SWAT teamers at the rear door, and two more at the front. Gold, Battle, Rowan, Martinez, and two more SWAT teamers would enter the basement from the stairway in the lobby.

  Gold beamed his flashlight down the stairs, but saw only the yellowed linoleum floor. The stench of gasoline was stronger. He listened intently, but he didn’t hear anything. Pointing his weapon and his flashlight in front of him, he moved down the stairs into the darkness. Battle, Martinez, and Rowan followed him. The SWAT teamers brought up the rear.

  Gold paused when he reached the bottom. Except for the illumination from his flashlight, it was pitch black.

  If this turns into a firefight, there will be no room to maneuver.

  His feet stuck to the floor as he moved his flashlight and his service revolver in tandem to survey the musty room directly beneath the sanctuary. The low ceiling was supported by wooden joists held up by century-old steel beams manufactured at the South Works.

  Fong’s voice broke the silence. “The video is bad. Tell me what you see.”

  Gold swung his flashlight around the cluttered room and tried to get his bearings. A century earlier, the basement had been a social hall where post-service meals were laid out on round tables covered by crisp white linens. Now it was a storage area filled with broken tables and chairs, faded sofas, rolled-up rugs, bookcases, coat racks, and cleaning supplies. The sweet aroma of challah, bagels, fruit, and wine had been replaced by the smell of gasoline.

  Gold kept his voice down. “Looks like a junkyard and smells like a gas station,” he told Fong.

  “Any sign of Silver?”

  “No.”

  Gold and Rowan began making their way down the left side of the room. Battle and Martinez led a group down the right. Gold worked his way past two overturned tables, a dozen chairs, a sofa, and countless boxes. The crisscrossing beams from the flashlights bounced off the low ceiling and the faded walls.

  Rowan stopped abruptly about a third of the way into the room. He pointed his flashlight at four aluminum tubs filled with gasoline. “Now we know where the smell is coming from,” he said to Fong. “It’s a good thing we didn’t use tear gas or smoke bombs. Any spark would have blown this place to Indiana.”

  “Detonators?” Fong asked.

  “Two-way radios.”

  “Can you disarm them?”

  “Eventually. It’ll take at least twenty minutes.”

  A deep voice modified by distortion software boomed from the darkness. “You don’t have twenty minutes, Commander Rowan. If you get any closer, I’ll set them off now.”

  Gold and Battle dove behind a nearby sofa. Rowan moved behind a file cabinet. Martinez and his team took up positions behind a bookcase.

  Gold heard Fong’s voice in his earpiece. “Can you see him?”

  “No.” Gold looked over the sofa and shone his flashlight in search of the source of the voice. He came up empty.

  The voice spoke again. “Come in, Detective Gold. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Chapter 63

  “WHAT TOOK
YOU SO LONG?”

  The voice spoke again. “What took you so long, Detective Gold?”

  “You’re hard to find,” Gold said. He could smell Battle’s aftershave as they crouched behind the sofa. Fong was speaking to him through his earpiece, but Gold couldn’t answer him. Gold looked at Battle and whispered, “Recognize the voice?”

  “Can’t tell.”

  Gold whispered into his microphone. “Can you hear everything?” he said to Fong.

  “Most of it. Where is he?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You want reinforcements?”

  “Too dangerous. I don’t know where he is, or if he’s alone. And there are tubs filled with gas down here.”

  The voice spoke up. “You still there, Detective?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need to respond faster. You’re almost out of time.” The voice turned sarcastic. “I see you brought some of your friends.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Detective Gold. I can see all of you: Detective Battle, Commander Rowan, Lieutenant Martinez, and the guys from the SWAT team.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Fong said.

  “He can see us,” Gold whispered, “but we can’t see him. I don’t know if he’s in the building. He could be watching us with cameras and talking to us through a speaker.”

  The voice was growing impatient. “Listen carefully, Detective. I want you to stay put, but I want everybody else out of the building—now.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Detective,” the voice continued, “you and your friends aren’t listening. I’m going to count to ten. If they haven’t cleared out by then, I’m going to set off every one of those tubs of gasoline. Nobody will make it out alive. Do you understand?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “One. Two.”

  Gold frantically motioned to Battle, Rowan, and Martinez, but they froze.

  “Three. Four.”

  Gold pointed at the stairs. “Everybody out! Now!”