The Terrorist Next Door

by Sheldon Siegel

Fong was staring at his monitor when he heard an animated voice over his earpiece. “It’s Lauter,” it said. “We just got a ping from Robinson’s BlackBerry.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Location?”

  “Southeast quadrant. We’re narrowing it down.”

  “I need the exact location now.”

  “8906 South Baltimore,” he said. “It’s a block from where you are.”

  Fong was already on his way.

  Chapter 68

  “CHANGE IS PART OF LIFE”

  Janikowski was back on his feet and pacing. “Everything went to hell when I was in Iraq, Father Stash.”

  The priest answered in his confession voice. “You saved lives, Michael. You dismantled bombs. You earned a Purple Heart. You’re a hero.”

  Bullshit. “I went overseas to overthrow a dictator and promote freedom.”

  “That’s exactly what you did.”

  “And when I got home, my neighborhood—our neighborhood—had been overrun by the people I went to help.”

  “They’re Americans. They have nothing against you.”

  “They bought our houses. They took over our businesses.” Janikowski felt the bile rising in his throat. “Now they want to build a mosque next door to father’s business. It isn’t right.”

  “Then we need to talk to them. You can’t solve this problem by killing people.”

  “It’s our neighborhood.”

  “It’s their neighborhood, too. Polish Town isn’t the only area that’s changing, my son. The whole city looks a lot different from when I was a kid. Change is part of life.”

  “They want to take over our country.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Yes, they do. And we’re letting them do it. We’ve gotten weak. And lazy. We aren’t protecting ourselves.”

  “Not every Muslim is a terrorist, Michael.”

  “Do you have any idea how easy it would be for one of them to shut down a U.S. city?”

  “I do now.”

  * * *

  Gold’s right arm ached as he held up his BlackBerry. Keep him talking, Father Stash. He didn’t take his eyes off Silver, whose expressions were hidden by the tape covering her eyes and mouth. I won’t let you die alone, Lori. He used his left hand to pull the microphone toward his mouth. “We have two minutes,” he whispered to Fong.

  “We know where he is,” Fong said. “Keep him talking. We’re on our way.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “I’ll explain later.” Fong’s tone turned ominous. “If we can’t take him out in the next minute and a half, you’re going to have to make a move.”

  * * *

  Fong led Battle, Rowan, Martinez, and six SWAT teamers through the alley behind the old synagogue. They stayed close to the dilapidated buildings and avoided the lights. Finally, they approached an abandoned three-flat near the corner of 89th and Baltimore.

  Fong saw a light flickering through the decaying boards covering the rear window on the third floor. He divided his personnel into two groups. He would take a team through the back door. Martinez would lead a second group through the front. He listened intently through his earpiece. Father Stash was still talking to Janikowski.

  Keep him talking for one more minute.

  * * *

  Janikowski was now angry. “You don’t understand, Father Stash. It’s all coming apart. Things will never be the same.”

  The priest kept his voice even. “We’ve been through a lot, Michael. We can work through this, too.”

  “No, we can’t, Father.” Janikowski took a deep breath and reached for the two-way radio next to the monitor.

  * * *

  Gold braced himself on one knee. “Lori,” he whispered, “get ready to rock and roll.”

  * * *

  Fong pounded up the rickety stairs between the second and third floors. There was no way to do this quietly, and there was no place to hide. The walls had been stripped to the studs. The appliances, plumbing, and copper work were gone. He hoped Father Stash could distract Janikowski for a few more seconds.

  When he got to the top of the stairs, he shined his flashlight down the empty hall. Battle was behind him. He heard a voice coming from the back of the building.

  * * *

  Janikowski’s sweat suit was drenched. He tried to calm himself by taking a breath. He fingered the two-way radio in his right hand.

  * * *

  Gold was on the balls of his feet. “Be ready on the count of three,” he whispered.

  Silver nodded.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  He leapt across the area separating them and used all of his power to tackle Silver and topple the chair. The tape securing Silver and the chair to the pole gave way. His left shoulder took the brunt of the impact as he and Silver fell awkwardly onto the linoleum. The flying tackle upset the tub of gasoline, which tipped over and poured out onto the floor.

  Gold’s shoulder burned as he dragged himself to his knees, pulled out his pocket knife, and began cutting the layers of tape securing the detonator below Silver’s chin.

  This is taking too long!

  Gold started to speak into the microphone on his shoulder, but realized it had been dislodged by the fall. He found it on the floor in a pool of gasoline. “Fong!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

  “Suspect is in view.”

  “Take him out—now!”

  * * *

  Fong stepped inside the doorway with his flashlight and weapon raised. Battle moved in next to him and also took aim. Janikowski’s back was toward them. The painter held a two-way radio in his right hand. He turned around and saw them. His dark eyes gleamed in the reflection from Fong’s flashlight.

  Fong aimed his weapon at Janikowski’s forehead. His training told him to relax and not to hold his breath.

  And then he squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter 69

  “IT’S OVER”

  Silver heard muffled voices as she thrashed against the tape binding her hands and covering her eyes and mouth. She tensed as she felt a comforting touch on her shoulder. Then she heard Gold’s voice.

  “It’s okay, Lori,” he said softly as he carefully pulled the tape from her mouth and removed the detonator from the vest. “It’s over.”

  “Where’s Jenny?” she shouted, her eyes still covered.

  “She’s fine. She was asleep in her room. We took her to Comer for observation. Your sister is with her. Vanessa’s fine, too.”

  Thank goodness. “Does Danny know about this?”

  “Yes. We reached him in Korea. He’ll be home in a couple of days.”

  Silver pushed out a deep breath as Gold unwound the tape covering her eyes. He cautiously removed the vest and handed it to Rowan, who quickly took it outside. Silver buried her face in Gold’s chest and sobbed. She struggled to regain her composure when she saw Battle and Fong come in with a team of EMTs.

  “You okay?” Gold whispered.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry I tackled you so hard.” Gold explained the need to get her away from the tub of gasoline as quickly as possible. “You might have a concussion.”

  “I’m fine,” Silver repeated. She was pulling the remnants of tape from her face and her hair when she noticed that Gold’s left arm hung limply at his side. “Did you hurt your shoulder again?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re as stubborn as I am. You need to get it checked out.”

  “I will.”

  Silver looked around the smoke-filled basement. “Is he here?”

  “No. He was in a building around the corner. He was talking to us through a radio.”

  “Just one guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. Is he . . . dead?”

  “Yes.”

  Good. “Al-Qaeda?”

  “No.”

  “Muslim?”

  “No.”

  “Who tra
ined him?”

  “We did. He was a U.S. Marine with a drawer full of medals. His name was Michael Janikowski. He spent four years dismantling bombs in Iraq and Afghanistan. He came back angry. He thought we were unprepared for another terrorist attack-especially from somebody in the U.S.”

  “Helluva way to make a point.”

  “Tell me about it. He also had issues with the Muslims who’ve moved into Polish Town. He thought they were taking away jobs from ‘real’ Americans.”

  “They’re Americans, too.”

  “I know. He was upset about the plans for a new mosque. It’s supposed to be built near the site of his father’s old business.”

  “That’s what set him off? He killed all those people to make the Muslim community look bad so they wouldn’t be able to build a mosque?”

  “So it seems. We’ll probably never know the full story.”

  Silver’s eyes adjusted to the light. “Where are we?”

  “The basement of Bikur Cholim.”

  “Why did he take me here?”

  Gold shrugged. “If you want to make the Muslim community look bad, maybe you try to make it look like they blew up the oldest synagogue in Chicago.”

  “It isn’t even a synagogue anymore. What did we do to him?”

  “Nothing. He’s been working on this for a while. He started buying throwaway cell phones at least six months ago. The Al-Shahid case provided a convenient opportunity to make a statement. We were in the middle of the investigation, so we probably became convenient targets.”

  “Did he know Al-Shahid?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And all the evidence against Al-Shahid’s brother, his imam, his advisor, and the guy at the Shrine of Heaven?”

  “We think he planted all of it.” Gold told her about the tracking devices and the surveillance cameras. “He learned how to improvise in Afghanistan. He’s had us chasing our tails. He was a very smart guy.”

  “And a very angry guy. He probably had some form of post-traumatic stress.”

  “Probably.”

  Silver tried to get her bearings. “How did you find me here?”

  “He told us where to find you.” Gold pointed at the picture of the menorah on the wall. “He sent us a photo of you from your cell phone. He probably figured I’d recognize the painting. And we were able to track your location from the GPS on your phone.”

  “So he was after you, too.”

  “Yes. He was going to burn down the building—with us inside.”

  “But he was already gone by the time you got here.”

  “Yes.”

  Silver felt tears welling in her eyes. “So you could have gotten out.”

  “I wasn’t going anywhere without you.”

  Silver felt a lump in her throat. “How did you find him?”

  Gold pointed at Fong. “There was a BlackBerry inside Janikowski’s pocket. George and his people traced it.”

  “But they turned off access to all the cell phones.”

  “Not for law enforcement.”

  “Was it my phone?”

  “No.” Gold swallowed hard. “It was DeShawn’s.”

  Silver let the answer sink in. “Does that mean?”

  Gold nodded. “Shot in the head outside your house.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dave.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Why didn’t he turn off DeShawn’s phone?”

  “He did, but it came back on a few minutes ago. We don’t know how or why. It may have been an accident. He might have leaned against something or sat on it.”

  “You’re saying we got lucky?”

  “Yes.”

  Silver rubbed her wrists. “If you were here, and he was around the corner, how did you shoot him?”

  “I didn’t.” Gold nodded to Fong. “George did.” He took her hand. “George saved your life, Lori. And mine.”

  * * *

  “How’s Lori?” Battle asked. It was three hours later.

  “Fine,” Gold said. “So are Jenny and Vanessa.”

  “Good.” Battle looked at the sling on Gold’s left shoulder. “Another separation?”

  “Not as bad as the last one. I’m going back on the DL for another month.”

  At three-thirty on Wednesday morning, they were sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area down the hall from Silver’s room on the third floor of the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital on the U. of C. campus. The flat screen TV was tuned to WGN, where Mojo was interviewing Maloney at police headquarters.

  “Did you talk to Father Stash?” Battle asked.

  “Yes. I thanked him for his help. He’s taking Janikowski’s death pretty hard. He’d known Janikowski since he was a baby.”

  “We had to take him out, Dave. It was a live detonator.”

  “I know. I’m not questioning you. I’m very grateful that you got him.”

  “I was standing next to Fong when he fired. I didn’t mention it to the press, but I shot him, too. I’m not planning to lose any sleep over it tonight.”

  “Neither am I.” Gold had suspected as much. “It isn’t going to make it any easier on Father Stash—or Janikowski’s mother.”

  “Or all the other people who died,” Battle added.

  “True.” Gold was exhausted. “Have they set a time for DeShawn’s funeral?”

  “Ten o’clock on Saturday morning at Holy Name. Full honors. I’ll drive.”

  “Thanks.”

  Battle took a final gulp of cold coffee and set the empty cup on the table. “For the record, you were lucky you weren’t killed. Frankly, you should have been killed.”

  I know. “I wasn’t leaving Lori. I knew you’d find him.”

  “I’ve never lost a partner, and I don’t plan to ruin my perfect record now.” Battle winked. “If you try anything like this again, I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Got it.” Gold tugged at his collar. “I’ll understand if you want to find a new partner.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to go.” The big detective’s face transformed into a wide smile. “That’s the way we do things in South Chicago.”

  Gold stood up. “You and Estelle want to come over for dinner tonight? I promised my dad smoked shrimp from Cal Fish.”

  Battle smiled. “It’s a date.”

  “A.C.?”

  “Yes, Dave?”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter 70

  “BEING CYNICAL IS THE EASY WAY OUT”

  Gold tapped lightly on the open door. “You up for visitors?”

  Silver absent-mindedly brushed the hair from her eyes. “Do you ever sleep?”

  “It’s overrated.”

  “I look like hell.”

  “You look beautiful.” Gold hesitated. “I can come back later if you’re tired. You want me to go?”

  “I want you to stay.”

  Good.

  Silver sat up in bed as Gold came into her room on the third floor of Mitchell Hospital at eight-thirty on Wednesday morning. The lights were off, but sunlight poured through the windows.

  Gold pointed at the TV. Mojo was broadcasting from in front of Bikur Cholim. “She doesn’t sleep, either.”

  “Guess not. The doctor said I can go home as soon as they finish the paperwork.”

  “Perfect.” Gold inhaled the sweet aroma from three large floral arrangements on the windowsill. He walked forward and kissed Silver on the forehead. “Some people would like to see you if you’re up for it. You realize, of course, that it’s against regulations.”

  “You have to break a few rules every once in a while.”

  Gold gestured toward the door, and a smiling Jenny came bounding in, clutching a new teddy bear. Vanessa was behind her, followed by a slow-moving Harry, who navigated his walker with assistance from Lucia. Battle brought up the rear.

  “Mommy!” Jenny shrieked.

  Gold put a finger to his lips. “Remember what we discussed. You need to keep it down so you w
on’t disturb the other patients. You can give Mommy a hug, but you have to be gentle.”

  Silver fought back tears as Jenny climbed into her arms.

  Jenny’s eyes lit up. “Guess what? Dave and A.C. drove me here in a police car. They didn’t use the siren, but they let me turn on the lights.”

  “Cool,” Silver said, her voice cracking. She turned and spoke to her babysitter. “I heard you had a rough night. I hope you aren’t going to quit.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Good.” Silver looked at Harry, who had taken a seat in a chair beneath the TV. “It was nice of you to come.”

  “I wanted to make sure my son is treating you right.”

  “He’s treating me great. How are you getting along?”

  “I had a better night than you did.”

  Silver turned serious. “I’m sorry about your Mustang, Harry.”

  “It was just a car, Lori.”

  “You’re a gem.”

  “And you’re a honey. Lil would have liked you.” He nodded to Gold. “We brought you something.”

  Gold stepped outside for a moment, and returned with a long flower box, which he set down on the bed next to Silver. He winked at Jenny and said, “You can help Mommy.”

  Jenny removed the pink ribbon and opened the lid. Her delicate features transformed into a perplexed expression. “Why did you get Mommy a baseball bat?”

  Harry answered her. “We thought she might find it useful. It’s signed by Luis Aparicio. I saw him play shortstop for the Sox in the 1959 World Series. He’s in the Hall of Fame.”

  Jenny darted a look at her mother. “But Mommy is a Cubs fan.”

  Silver finally interjected. “Even Cubs fans liked Luis.”

  Gold patted Jenny on the shoulder. “I have a friend at the station with seats behind the Sox dugout. How about you, me, Vanessa, Harry, A.C., and Lucia go to a game together? I’ll buy you a hot dog, peanuts, and ice cream, and I’ll show you some real baseball. I know a guy who can take you down to the clubhouse to meet the players. If you ask your mom nicely, maybe you can convince her to come with us.”

  Jenny’s eyes lit up. “Can we, Mommy?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  Jenny’s face broke into a glowing six year-old smile. “Thanks, Dave.” She looked down at the empty box on the floor. “What happened to the flowers?”