Chosen People

by Robert Whitlow

  “Why did you turn there?” he asked in a loud voice.

  Without answering, Emily braked hard and turned onto another side street. Thrown to the right, Jakob glanced around. They were in a run-down residential neighborhood. He repeated his question.

  “Trust me,” she said.

  They passed a boarded-up convenience store and took another sharp left. They reached a traffic light as it turned green, and Emily turned onto a familiar main road that was surprisingly close to where Jakob needed to go. The serpentine detour had enabled them to avoid two well-known traffic bottlenecks. Then they left the main road again. This time, Jakob tried to keep track of the detour but couldn’t. Emily turned left into the back of a parking lot and stopped.

  “Here we are,” she announced as she turned off the music. “Fourteen minutes early.”

  Jakob hadn’t approached the office building from this direction before, but he quickly recognized it and grabbed his laptop and briefcase. “That was impressive driving,” he said. “How did you know those side routes?”

  “I used to be a cop who worked this part of the city.”

  Not sure if the eclectic blonde was telling him the truth or attempting a joke, Jakob got out of the car. Emily turned sharply and left the parking lot.

  An hour and a half later, Jakob and the defense lawyer settled the case on terms favorable to Jakob’s client. When he stepped outside, Emily was waiting. It was exactly one thirty.

  “You play it tight, don’t you?” the driver said as she put the car in gear and took off. “I wasn’t going to cut you any slack.”

  “It’s been a good day. I hope nothing ruins it.”

  After Emily let him out in front of Hana’s office building, Jakob glanced up and down the street. A man with an olive complexion approached and looked directly into Jakob’s face before glancing away. Jakob watched him continue down the street. The man disappeared around a corner. Jakob entered the building, glad to see an armed security guard positioned near a fountain in the center of the large atrium.

  Janet buzzed Hana’s phone. “Mr. Brodsky is here,” she said. “I reserved conference room J.”

  “Okay, tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

  Hana took her laptop to the conference room. Jakob was facing the large window that provided a panoramic view of Buckhead. While they waited for Daud Hasan to call, she updated him on her plans.

  The speakerphone in the middle of the table buzzed. It was Janet. “Mr. Hasan is on the phone.”

  “Thanks,” Hana responded and turned to Jakob. “I know Hasan speaks English, but we’ll need to check his level of fluency.”

  The phone buzzed and Hana answered in English. “Hello.”

  “Hasan, here,” a male voice said in Hebrew.

  “This is Hana Abboud,” Hana replied, continuing in English. “I’m here with Jakob Brodsky, one of the other lawyers representing the Neumann family. Are you available for a meeting when I am in Israel?”

  “No problem,” Daud answered in heavily accented English. “I am calling now because I spoke with Anat earlier, and she wanted me to call you immediately.”

  “For what reason?” Hana asked.

  Daud responded in Arabic. “Anat is concerned about your safety. Is the lawyer with you the one who was attacked?”

  “Yes,” Hana replied in Arabic. She held up her finger for Jakob to be patient. “But the police haven’t established a connection.”

  “Okay, tell me more about the lawsuit.”

  “Can I switch to English?” Hana asked. “That way Jakob can understand.”

  “I’d prefer Hebrew or Arabic.”

  Hana turned to Jakob. “I’m going to explain the basis for the lawsuit to him in Arabic.”

  “Did he answer your question about Anat?”

  “I’ll explain later,” she replied and then spoke to Daud in Arabic. “We are at the beginning stages of the investigation and want to pursue a lawsuit under the US Anti-Terrorism statutes.”

  Hana launched into a quick tutorial in Arabic about the legal basis for a cause of action. They went back and forth as she explained what they needed and how the investigator might be able to help.

  “Are you working with the US government?” Daud asked when she paused.

  “No,” Hana answered, surprised by the question. “Why?”

  “A man from New York City who said he worked for the US government called me about the Neumann murder two days after I received your first email. I thought there might be a connection with you. He wanted to hire me.”

  “What did he want you to do?” Hana asked. “And before you answer, let me translate for Jakob.”

  Jakob’s eyes widened as he listened. “Which branch of the US government?” he asked.

  “He did not tell me,” Daud answered in English. “At first I thought he was looking for a translator, but he told me they were investigating the terrorist attack on Gloria Neumann and wanted my professional help. He did not answer when I asked if someone within the Israeli government gave him my name.”

  Daud Hasan’s English seemed better than he’d initially let on.

  “Did he hire you?” she asked.

  “No, I turned him down.”

  “Why?”

  “I am not a mercenary. If you do one job for a foreign government, they will come back and ask you to do another. Then, if you turn them down, they will blow your cover,” Hasan said.

  Jakob nodded at Hana and mouthed, “That’s good.”

  “What kind of cover?” Hana asked.

  “Investigative.”

  Hana wasn’t sure what Daud meant but left it alone. “What do you already know about Gloria Neumann’s murder?” she asked.

  “It was described as a lone-wolf attack in the Israeli press,” the investigator said, switching back to Arabic. “That may not be true. If the man who contacted me works for the CIA, he wouldn’t have tried to hire me unless the US believes the Zadan brothers had links to a terrorist network.”

  “Is the Palestinian Authority paying money to the Zadan family?” she asked.

  “Probably, but I’ll confirm it. They make payments even in the case of an attack by an unaffiliated terrorist. It’s easy to get an answer on that.”

  “I also need to find out if the younger Zadan brother is still in custody and interview him. Can you locate him?”

  “Yes, but whether he will talk is unknown. I doubt he’ll talk to you. But there are alternative ways to obtain information.”

  Hana could see Jakob checking his watch. So far, except for brief moments, he’d been cut out of much of the conversation.

  “Would you be willing to do some preliminary work before I arrive in Israel?” she asked.

  “Without a retainer contract or being paid?”

  “No, of course not,” Hana answered, embarrassed. “But I definitely want to meet with you.”

  Daud gave her his personal cell phone number. She did the same.

  “Anat mentioned you would be talking to other investigative firms,” Daud said. “Who is on your list?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “So I can tell you if they’re suited for this type of work.”

  “I’ll make up my own mind on that.”

  “Okay. See you in Jerusalem.”

  Hana pressed the button on the speaker to end the call. “Sorry, we were able to communicate much better in Arabic,” she said to Jakob.

  “I understand,” he said, then quickly added, “Actually, I didn’t understand it at all. What’s the bottom line?”

  Hana summarized the Arabic portion of the conversation.

  “He’s not telling you everything he knows.”

  “You’re right,” Hana agreed. “I had the same feeling.”

  “And do you really believe he’d give you an honest opinion about his competition?”

  “No.”

  Jakob told Hana about his conversation with Detective Freeman.

  “That’s real evidence showing
you were targeted,” she said soberly. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Right now, it’s an adrenaline rush. Tomorrow morning, I may have a different opinion. There’s no need to mention it to anyone else except Ben and Mr. Lowenstein.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t know who we can trust.”

  After Jakob left, Hana returned to her office, and Janet ambushed her.

  “How was the call?” Janet asked. “And what did you think about Daud Hasan? Even his name has an air of mystery. What does it mean? You’ve told me before how important that is in your culture.”

  Hana thought for a moment. “Daud is David, which means ‘beloved.’ It’s pronounced with an emphasis on the last two letters. Hasan indicates that the person is handsome.”

  Janet nodded. “I like that. Very much. Maybe you should have named your dog Hasan instead of Leon.”

  Hana laughed. “I’m going to meet with Daud Hasan in Israel.”

  “I approve.”

  “And several other investigators, including Sahir Benali.”

  “You know my vote.”

  “Yes, and it will be counted.”

  After fixing a sandwich for supper, Jakob logged on to his home computer and then the link to his office account. He took a bite of Lebanon bologna and Swiss cheese on rye bread. Before he checked anything on the computer, his phone on the coffee table vibrated. It was Detective Freeman.

  “We found the dark blue car and made an arrest,” the detective began. “A patrol officer saw the car in a residential neighborhood off Piedmont Road and pulled it over. The driver didn’t offer any resistance. He’s been in a holding cell for a couple of hours.”

  The location wasn’t near where either Jakob or Ben Neumann lived.

  “What can you tell me about the driver?” Jakob asked.

  “He’s not Middle Eastern. His driver’s license, which is a fake, listed his name as John Smith.”

  “John Smith?”

  “Actually, John M. Smith. But his fingerprints match a thirty-two-year-old man named Andre Sarkasian arrested two years ago in Raleigh for auto theft. He jumped bond and has been on the run ever since.”

  “Sarkasian?” Jakob repeated.

  “Yes, he’s from Dearborn, Michigan, and has a rap sheet going back to when he was a juvenile. He came to the US as a kid from one of those countries in the former Soviet Union that I can’t pronounce,” Detective Freeman replied.

  Jakob sat up straighter. “Do you think he was at the apartment complex the night I was attacked?” he asked.

  “Not according to his alibi. He’s worked at a local restaurant for three months as a dishwasher. It’s not far from our precinct, and I went over there with his picture. Four people in the kitchen and the general manager are one hundred percent sure Sarkasian, or Johnny as they know him, was working at the time you were attacked.”

  “Any connections with the man who came to my apartment complex and then fled the country?”

  “Too soon to know. Sarkasian has had lawyers before, so he didn’t tell us anything except his alibi story. Other than that, he’s kept his mouth shut. He doesn’t know we have a match on his fingerprints on the case in North Carolina. He’s probably hoping bail will be set so he can take off again. That’s not happening.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Johnny will lawyer up with a public defender, and we’ll go from there until he’s extradited to North Carolina.”

  While finishing his sandwich after the call ended, Jakob thought about what the detective had told him. A link to one of the Islamic republics to the south of Russia made Jakob’s skin crawl. He called Ben Neumann.

  “You’re working late,” Ben said.

  “Yes, is Sadie in bed?”

  “For over an hour. I received an email from Hana a few minutes ago. She mentioned what the detective told you about the man who fled the country.”

  “Yes, and that’s not all.” Jakob told him about the follow-up call from Detective Freeman. “With the one guy gone and the arrest of Sarkasian, it’s clear the police are bringing light to the situation. That should cut down on the risk.”

  “Our townhome is in a gated community,” Ben said slowly. “But we leave every morning when Sadie goes to school or day care and I go to work. After that, we’re as vulnerable as anyone else.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Hana woke up suddenly from a deep sleep, grateful she’d escaped from a nightmare in which she was in Reineh but couldn’t find her way home. Walking faster and faster, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed or chased. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw shadowy figures that didn’t materialize in human form. A deadly vapor came from their faces. Hana started running as fast as she could up a hill, even though she didn’t know what lay at the top. Just as she crested the hill she jerked awake. Her heart was pounding, and there was perspiration on her forehead.

  Getting out of bed, she splashed water on her face before going into the living room to read and pray. Leon was lying in the kennel on his back with his legs in the air. Hana had no idea a dog could sleep in such an unusual position. He didn’t stir when she sat on the couch and turned on a lamp. She opened her Bible to Psalm 46. The chapter began with an earthquake and toward the end quoted the famous words “Be still, and know that I am God.”

  One of Hana’s faith goals was to quickly bring herself to a place of internal rest regardless of her outward circumstances. Even with the psalmist’s help, it took a full hour to dispel the nagging wisps of the nightmare from her soul. There was no doubt that since she’d become involved in the Neumann case, the level of spiritual warfare swirling around her had increased.

  In the morning, Hana brewed her coffee Middle Eastern–strong and poured an extra cup to take in the car. After dropping Leon off, she arrived at the office earlier than usual and began working. Morning was her most productive time of the day. When she finally took a break at ten o’clock, she’d accomplished a lot. She stepped out to Janet’s desk.

  “I could feel the brain activity seeping out from beneath your door,” her assistant said. “When you’re in the zone like that, it makes my IQ go up a couple of points.”

  Hana stretched and smiled. “I have to complete several projects before I leave for Israel. Did anyone important want to disturb me?”

  “Does Jakob Brodsky make the cut?”

  “Yes.”

  “Also, Mr. Lowenstein wants to see you in five minutes.”

  “Five minutes!”

  “I was about to interrupt you when you came out.”

  Hana entered the senior partner’s office, and he motioned for her to sit down. “What’s the status of the Neumann case?” Mr. Lowenstein asked.

  Hana told him about her conversation with Daud Hasan. When she mentioned Hasan being contacted by an American governmental official from New York, Mr. Lowenstein’s eyes widened, and he held up his hand to stop her.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The US Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York has an open file on Gloria Neumann’s murder, and I talked with an assistant US attorney a few minutes ago. She wanted to know what we were up to.”

  “How did they know about us?”

  “I assume your investigator spoke with them after talking to you yesterday. The woman who called me is named Sylvia Armstrong.” Mr. Lowenstein looked down at his desk. “She wanted to find out information, not give it, but she told me it’s a criminal investigation.”

  “Have they identified a suspect besides Tawfik Zadan?” Hana asked.

  “I don’t know. But the presence of a federal investigation could certainly work in our favor. They have capabilities far beyond ours to obtain information.”

  “If they’re willing to share, but it doesn’t sound like that’s part of their plan.”

  “Don’t give up so easily,” the senior partner replied. “They haven’t met you yet. Ms. Armstrong was very interested when
I mentioned that we have an Israeli Arab lawyer working on our case and that you’ll be in Israel later this week. I think you may be able to broker an exchange of information at the right time, which is another reason for you to get on a plane as soon as possible.”

  “And complicates the investigator issue,” Hana said. “Daud Hasan plainly told me the American tried to hire him, but he refused the offer. Then he talks to the US attorney after getting information from me. What you’re telling me makes me wonder who he’d be working for. Jakob Brodsky had a sense Hasan was hiding something. I think we should move on from him.”

  Mr. Lowenstein shrugged. “When it comes down to it, how much difference is that going to make? In the big picture we’re all on the same team—we want to catch and hurt the bad guys—both financially and by locking them up. The way I view it, you should be able to ride Hasan’s coattails and use it to our advantage.”

  “Ride his coattails?”

  “Utilize information and guidance he receives from the feds and their other sources. I’m optimistic this can be a breakthrough opportunity.”

  Once again, Hana had to adjust to Mr. Lowenstein’s ability to evaluate a situation differently from the way it first appeared.

  “Looking at it that way helps,” she said slowly. “But should I confront Hasan?”

  “Only as a door for discussion as to how much collaborative communication you can expect. I also want you to call Sylvia Armstrong. I’m sending you her contact information. Try to establish a level of quid pro quo with her. She gives you something; you give her something.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up for this,” Hana sighed.

  “View it as a sophisticated form of haggling in the marketplace.”

  “I’ll try, but we’re not dealing with oranges or cucumbers.”

  Hana returned to her office. Janet was on the phone and motioned for her to wait a moment.

  “Let me check,” the assistant said as she put the caller on hold.

  “It’s Jakob Brodsky. He wants to know if you’re free for lunch. He says it’s important.”