by Carsen Taite
“Amir came to me with one of his cousins. I don’t even remember his name. They were interested in setting up a foundation, a charity for displaced Middle Eastern refugees, but they were concerned about the laws enacted after 9/11 and rightly so. I told them about the increased scrutiny that such charities faced, especially after the Holy Land prosecution, and they asked me a lot of questions about how to set up a foundation that would stay off the government’s radar.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them they should talk to someone who specialized in that type of work. A tax lawyer or someone who worked with non-profit organizations.”
“But that wasn’t the end of it, was it?”
“You know how Amir can be. When he decides you can help him, there’s no dissuading him. Meg mentioned he insisted you meet him at the courthouse to help Naveed. It was like that.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She was used to this refrain. For the years they’d been in practice together, his proclivity for taking on matters that were outside his specialty had always been a source of contention. Ellery steadfastly believed in referring out cases she wasn’t qualified to handle, but he had always insisted on helping current clients, especially well paying ones, with whatever they chose to ask. “I’m a board certified criminal defense lawyer—more than qualified to help Naveed with his felony case. You have no experience in setting up a foundation other than knowing what to do to avoid prosecution. Did you draft their initial documents or not?”
He stared at her for a moment. “I did. It was nothing more than a draft. I told him he would need to run it by a specialist to make sure it was done correctly.” He paused for a beat and then his voice got lower. “I also answered some hypothetical questions about funding the foundation’s efforts. I may have suggested they select someone in the community who was above reproach to be the face of any financial dealings they engaged in, but I swear I had no idea they were up to anything other than helping people.”
She knew the instant he delivered the words—he’d told Amir how he could break the law, and the expression on his face signaled he now realized the consequences of his actions. But he looked more sheepish than surprised, and she realized he’d already figured out exactly what he’d done well before his trip here. “Dad, why are you here?”
“What?”
“What prompted this little visit?”
“Can’t a father visit his daughter for no reason at all?”
“If you’d ever done it before, it might not seem so suspicious. You know something, don’t you?”
“Not really. When I heard about the bomb, I don’t know, I just had a feeling.”
She didn’t believe he would have traveled back to Dallas because of a feeling and she said so. “There’s something more. Something you’re not telling me.”
“I’ve told you everything I can.”
“You realize you could be charged as a conspirator for giving Amir advice that helped him go against the law?” Anger rose up to burn her insides and she could hear her voice rising. She forced her next questions into a whisper, “Are you going to stand by and let me be charged too?”
He shook his head forcefully. “Of course not. It doesn’t sound like you knew anything about it and the less you know, the better off you are.”
“Do you really think you’re protecting me by not telling me whatever it is that you know? Why did you even come here?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I don’t know anything about the bombing. I was worried about you. Your mother was too. I promised I would come check in on you. I’ll help you find a good attorney and then I’ll get out of your hair. Believe me, it’s best. If things get bad, I’ll figure something out. I promise I will.”
Ellery couldn’t help but feel that she’d been played. She was convinced her father had used this trip to find out what he could about his own culpability and now he was leaving her to deal with the fallout. She was pissed off and had no idea what to say to him. She had no idea what to do about any of this, but she was sure about one thing. He had better leave or she would throw him out.
*
Sarah locked the door of her apartment and walked to the Katy Trail for her morning run. The trail was tucked away behind her building, so secluded only residents and regulars even knew it was there. The urban gem was a primary reason she’d chosen this part of town when she’d started hunting for a place to live. She loved being able to walk out her front door and a few feet later start running through Dallas without having to dodge cars. It reminded her of D.C. where there were plenty of running trails situated throughout the city.
Until last night the trail was the only thing that reminded her of D.C. Now politics threatened to eclipse the fresh start she’d embarked on when she moved here. After Trip’s late night visit, she’d spent most of the rest of the night thinking about the case against Amir Khan and Ellery Durant. Neither of them had been arrested, but they’d both had their assets frozen and search warrants executed on their homes and offices, or in Ellery’s case, former office. She’d confirmed with Trip the night before that the tactic was to get one of them to talk and divulge what they knew that could point to who actually set the bomb. All bets were on Ellery to be the first to flip. Trip figured Ellery would hire a high-powered defense attorney to reach out to the AUSA on the case to broker the deal.
Sarah had a feeling they’d underestimated their opponent. Ellery didn’t seem like the sort to rat out a client to get herself out of a jam, but maybe she was letting her increasing attraction for Ellery get in the way of her usually stellar ability to predict behavior. If Trip had known how she felt, he probably would’ve found someone else for this particular assignment. Or would he? Could be he thought her attraction to the suspect would allow her to get closer, have a better chance at rooting out her involvement in the case.
The only thing she was certain of was the very thought of seeing Ellery again got her blood pumping. Every night, as she’d slipped into sleep, thoughts of Ellery dominated her thoughts. The only way she was going to erase her desire for Ellery was to replace it with something or someone else. She should go back to Sue Ellen’s and find a willing partner, but for now she pounded through her run, dodging dogs and parents with their running strollers on the busy trail.
Within a few moments, she slipped into a rhythm and let her rising endorphins take over. While the rush did nothing to cool her feelings, it did give her a sense of clarity, and she used the time on the path to review everything she knew so far. After ticking through the events of the week, Sarah discovered a couple of things that bothered her. She’d spent every evening this week going through the files that the agents from HSI had hauled off from her office on Monday. No one knew she had them on her home computer, and she hadn’t felt the need to share that little tidbit, especially since she’d seen nothing truly remarkable other than what she’d already flagged. The connection between Amir Khan’s charity and Saheed Jafari’s foundation was significant, and the overseas bank account was a red flag, but none of what she’d seen definitively pointed to terrorism, and she hadn’t seen anything that pointed to Ellery.
Going after lawyers was a big deal and the justice department had a reputation of treading softly in this area. Although Ellery hadn’t been detained, the fact that her home and former office were searched and her accounts frozen meant someone in one of the agencies working this case had solid evidence against her. Judging by how fast they moved against her, she found it hard to believe this evidence had popped up just this week.
Two miles in now, she ached with the delicious slow burn of her muscles pulsing through the run. She kept running and used the rhythm to give her clarity. She examined every aspect of last Monday. She’d come to the office with donuts. She’d reviewed files with Liz. She’d called Ellery. They’d met for coffee. She’d gotten a phone call to return to the office. Upon her return, she’d found Liz with Mason and they’d been going through her desk. She’d given
them the paper files and Liz had admitted she’d gone to Mason with her concerns about the charities. She hadn’t thought a lot about it at the time, but she’d been slightly ticked off at Liz since she’d asked her to wait so she could run down the facts before she put everyone on alert. Liz had agreed on her strategy, so what had happened that day that had changed Liz’s mind? And why hadn’t she come to her to discuss it first?
The unanswered questions jogged her out of her rhythm and she looked up at the bright blue sky and the still rising sun. It was going to be a beautiful spring day. The kind meant for patios and beer and grilling. When she’d taken this job, she’d thought weekends like these would be hers for doing all of those things, but here she was, whirring through the facts of a case that was determined to elude her. The faster she got some answers, the faster she could resume her new life. She looked at her watch. It was just after ten. Plenty of time to go home, shower, change, and show up ready to take a certain woman to brunch and see if she could get some answers.
Chapter Thirteen
Ellery parked Leo’s car in a metered space on McKinney Avenue. Before she stepped out, she pulled up the hood of her dark blue sweatshirt. Between it and her Ray-Bans, there was little chance she’d be recognized. She didn’t care so much about being spotted as a suspect in the case—last night had already placed her front and center in the public eye. Her desire to be incognito today had more to do with what she had planned for this little outing.
The distance from the car to her old firm was about a quarter mile and the weather was perfect for a Saturday morning walk. Any other Saturday, she might have been in this part of town for pleasure, enjoying brunch at one of the many restaurants here in Uptown or browsing the shops. As it was, she blended in with the hipsters strolling the streets even if her plans had nothing to do with weekend leisure.
The Victorian house where she’d spent her entire former career was on a side street sandwiched between a real estate office and a print shop. She’d always loved the character of the place, despite the attendant troubles of maintaining an older building. The house had so much more charm than the many sterile skyscrapers further south, and clients had a much easier time navigating their way to appointments since it was located outside the crowded downtown area. The best thing about this place right now was that her parents had maintained ownership of the building, even after she’d left the firm.
The arrangement had been a sore spot for Meg who had offered higher than market value to purchase the building along with the firm’s book of business, but Gordon had resisted selling. The building had been in the family for generations and, while he would have had no problem passing ownership to his daughter, he didn’t want the house to leave the family. Meg hadn’t wanted to move, so she leased it from the Durants. Before she’d put him in a cab that morning, Ellery had insisted he get her a copy of the key from the local company that managed the property in his absence, and now she stood at the back door to the building ready to unlock the door.
There weren’t any cars out front or in the small allotment of spaces out back, so she was reasonably certain no one was inside. She turned the key slowly and gently pushed the door open, stepping quickly inside and punching in the code for the alarm. She walked past the kitchen, coveting a cup of coffee, but she needed to get in and out before anyone discovered her here.
The flash drive Meg had given her contained the search warrant affidavit and she’d spent the night reading the thirty-page document. A lot of it was fluff, ramblings about how the lead HSI agent had expertise in these matters and, based on his expertise, he expected to find evidence of these crimes in the following places and in the following formats, thereby justifying the warrant. The boilerplate language was followed by a series of specific allegations about Welcome Home International and a sister foundation, Global Enterprise Alliance. She recognized the name of the GEA founder. She didn’t think the firm had ever had any dealings with him, but she couldn’t be certain and that was one of the reasons why she was here this morning. She could’ve called Meg and asked her the questions that had popped up since last night, but she hadn’t wanted to use the phone to ask anything about the case. More importantly, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. The fact that Meg had neglected to include on the drive the forms that had been drafted by her father for WHI, gave her pause. Why would she go to all the trouble to meet her late at night with the search warrant affidavit and tell her about the other forms, but not bring them with her?
She owned the fact she might be overly suspicious, but at this point she had nothing to lose by being cautious, although coming here was the opposite of caution. If Meg or one of her associates showed up at the office right now, she’d make up some lie about checking on the property, but Meg would know better, so she’d have to work fast if she wanted to avoid detection.
She headed straight for Meg’s office. When she’d moved out, Meg had taken over the space she’d inherited when her father moved to Chicago. The large office occupied two thirds of the top floor of the building. When she’d had this space, she decorated it with handmade pieces of furniture she’d created in her spare time, enjoying the juxtaposition of her hobby and her profession in the same environment. Meg, in contrast, had populated the space with more modern touches, glass and chrome, which gave the place a lighter, less substantial feel. Now, it looked more like an advertising agency than a law firm, but the office still had two perfect features: a second, private stairwell that she could use to escape when a particularly trying client was waiting downstairs and an amazing balcony that overlooked the quiet street below. Her father used to invite everyone in the office out to the balcony for drinks after a particularly good win in court. She’d continued the tradition and even added a grill.
She resisted the urge to walk outside, sink into one of the cushioned chairs on the deck and enjoy the beautiful spring day. There was no time to indulge in memories, especially since not all of them were good. Instead she sat behind Meg’s desk and moved the mouse, happy to see the large monitor on her desk spring to life. The box on the screen asked for a password and she took a shot, hoping Meg’s habits hadn’t changed.
Within seconds, she was in. She looked around the screen for something that would give her access to the cloud where the firm’s documents were being backed up to, and her eyes landed on the Dropbox icon. She put in Meg’s e-mail address as the user name and drummed her fingers on the desk as she considered whether Meg would be so careless as to use the same password for these files as she used everywhere else. She held her breath while she typed in the word 1Litigator and waited while the spinning beach ball on the screen did its thing. One, two, three seconds passed and the program opened to an array of folders, all neatly labeled with the names of the firm’s clients.
Ellery scanned the files and located everyone who had even the slightest connection to Amir Khan, but she didn’t find anything she didn’t already know. His son Naveed’s case was here along with minor infractions she’d handled for his older children and his businesses. She didn’t see a file folder for Sadeem Jafari, the founder of GEA, but she typed his name into the search box anyway. Within seconds, several files appeared and she clicked on the first one, labeled Certificate of Formation. She’d never seen the particular document before, but recognized it as one a new business filed with the state upon incorporating. She scanned the entire document which listed Jafari as the President of GEA, curious why Meg hadn’t mentioned that she’d represented this individual who was named in a search warrant for an investigation into her.
Nothing about the filing itself raised any red flags, but she copied the document onto the flash drive she’d brought along. Next she searched for the documents her father had supposedly created for Amir. She found several versions, but all of them appeared to be drafts. None of them were signed and the space for the person appointed to hold the power of attorney for WHI was blank.
Maybe her father had told the truth and he’d merely given hypothet
ical advice to Amir and Amir had chosen on his own to put her name down to give legitimacy to his enterprise. Or maybe her father had given him tacit permission to do so. She knew he had a habit of not wanting to put some of his shady advice in writing. She could see him handing Amir a flash drive with the draft document on it and telling him exactly what to do to give the organization legitimacy.
But none of these speculations gave her any real insight into why the feds were targeting Amir and, by association, her as suspects in the bombing. The search warrant didn’t even mention the bombing directly, but it talked about aid from the specified charities going to fund terrorist organizations and how some of those organizations had increasingly been recruiting American citizens to take part in terrorist activities both here and abroad. It had even mentioned the recent arrests of American citizens traveling to Syria to enroll at terrorist training camps. The agents who’d searched her house had as good as told her father they suspected she was involved in the bombing, but the allegations in the search warrant affidavit weren’t enough to implicate her directly. Since she knew the evidence to tie her to the crime didn’t exist, she would have to prove a negative if she was going to clear her name, but she wasn’t going to prove anything sitting here. She copied the draft documents onto her drive with the rest of the files and signed off Meg’s computer. The screen had just faded to black when she heard a door open downstairs.
“Shit,” she whispered and looked around for a place to hide. Meg’s office was a big open space and she’d be spotted in an instant if someone climbed the stairs. She pocketed her flash drive and walked toward the partially open door, careful to step softly on the wood floor and avoid the boards she knew would squeak. She saw a shadow pass through the hall below, but she couldn’t tell who it was before the person slipped into the supply room. She considered her options. She could walk down the back stairwell, but without knowing exactly where the person downstairs was, she might be discovered. She could walk down the main stairs and bluff through some story about how she’d just come by to check on an issue the property manager had reported, or she could find a way to sneak out. The outside balcony was an option, but it was a steep drop from the railing to the ground below and she was likely to attract attention from someone passing by if she tumbled into the front lawn.
