“Thanks for joining us, Luke. I look forward to having you on the team. Emma will show you out,” Winkler said.
Emma then escorted Rollins back to the lobby and out to the elevator.
“Quite an interesting case, Emma, not like most I’ve seen in over thirty years as a fugitive hunter,” Rollins said to Emma as they walked. “It’s funny how the small-time crooks get caught, and the big-time crooks sometimes—”
“Disappear?” interjected Emma.
“Yep, that’s what I was thinking,” he said, with a grin.
“What’s your take, Luke? Do you think Guttmann died in the crash? I know this has been on David’s mind ever since it happened. It’s really incredible how he just happened to meet Guttmann’s daughter in Aruba.”
“If you ask me, it’s too much of a coincidence. But for now, it’s moot because she’s paid a retainer. We’ll all do our jobs, my ex-wives will be happy—for a while—and we’ll see where it takes us.”
“Do you care to speculate on whether Guttmann is dead or alive?”
“Frankly, Emma, that’s all it would be—pure conjecture. My guess is no better than yours. But if there’s anybody who can find him, I’d like to think it would be me. Here, I forgot to give you my business card.” He pulled a business card from his wallet with his color photo on it, bearing the following text:
Luke Rollins Investigations, LLC
Licensed Private Investigator
Three Decades of Experience in Finding People
We Use Biblical Methodology
“Flashy business card for a start-up, color photo and all.” Emma held it up and read the byline. “What’s ‘biblical methodology’ supposed to mean?”
“It’s an ice-breaker. It refers to the expression, ‘Seek and thou shalt find,’” Rollins said, with a smile. “It’s actually in Luke 11:9.”
EMMA RETURNED TO WINKLER’S OFFICE and related her conversation with Rollins.
“He makes a good point about the coincidence—you just happening to meet Guttmann’s daughter, with your prior history and all.” Her intuition was making her nervous.
“I’m not surprised he’s skeptical about my meeting Maria Theresa. So am I,” Winkler said. “But I just don’t know what to do about it. The way I figure it, unless we can see a reason not to move forward, we treat this just like any other case. We do what we’re asked to do, and if we become uncomfortable, we reassess.”
“I suppose so,” said Emma. “Coincidences do happen.”
“Emma, if I told you the number of times I’ve bumped into people I knew halfway around the world, it would make your head spin. I ran into a client in a camera shop in Hong Kong, a high school buddy in an art museum in Zurich, and a cousin at Hyde Park in London. It’s crazy, but it happens. And if you think about it, statistically it’s even more likely to happen if you’re not talking about someone you actually know, but someone who knows someone you know.”
“Some people would even say that there is a higher power bringing you to this situation—that this is not purely coincidence, but that you have a particular and meaningful role to play in resolving this matter,” said Afzam.
“Maybe so, Afzam, but for now I’m just the quarterback. We’re not backing out, at least not right now, so we’re not turning our back on destiny. Let’s see what you come up with and take it from there.”
“David, before Afzam leaves, you wanted me to make sure you spell out our firm’s arrangement with him.” Emma was always the one to keep her eye on the agenda.
“Thanks, Emma. I almost forgot.”
Winkler explained to Afzam that he’d remain an employee of Kelly, Friedman & Green as concerns his general computer responsibilities, but the assignment would be billed hourly under a separate assumed name, Afzam Information Services, which Emma was prepared to register on his behalf. Afzam was to keep hourly time records, detailing each task, and Emma would prepare invoices. All disbursements that would normally be charged to a client would be charged to a separate account. He would be paid weekly, from the Client Trust Account, and there would be no income tax or Social Security withholdings; those would be his responsibility.
“If this is how the firm wants me to handle it, then it’s fine with me,” said Afzam. “I’m happy to be of help and earn a few extra dollars. This is all strictly legal, isn’t it?”
“Should be no problem at all, but we’ll make sure to run it by our immigration attorneys. If there’s an issue, we’ll restructure. Just sign the Assumed Name Registration form, and we’ll get it filed. We’ve already made your letterhead for your reports and invoices,” Winkler said.
He passed a folder over to Afzam, who signed the form, ‘M. B. Afzam.’ They then shook hands, and Afzam left the office.
“Emma, what else do we have on for this afternoon?” Winkler asked Emma, who was just starting to gather up the salad plates, plastic silverware, and glasses.
“I’d like to bring in some mail to review with you.
Amazing how things pile up when you’re out of the office for even a few days.”
“OK, but let me shoot off a quick e-mail to Dan Duncan in our Immigration Law Department and make sure we’re not getting Afzam into the soup. It’ll just take a minute.”
As Emma went to her desk to retrieve a stack of mail, he typed the following message:
Dan,
Afzam, our computer network administrator, is going to do some work on a special project. He’s a resident and citizen of Canada. We need to have him bill our firm for these services separately, as an independent contractor, to get paid from Client Trust Account money as client disbursements. I am having him file an assumed name with the county clerk’s office, using our office as his place of business, and his home address in Canada as his residence, all of which is accurate. If they won’t accept that filing because he’s not a resident of the county, then I propose to set up a limited liability company for him, again using our office address as the registered office. Any immigration law problems with this arrangement? If so, please advise immediately.
Thanks.
David
He hit the “send” button and immediately received the following reply:
I am out of the office at an immigration law conference. I will not be checking e-mail. I will reply to your e-mail upon my return.
Dan Duncan
That’s an interesting way of making sure no one knows how long you’ll be out of town, thought Winkler.
“Emma, let’s tackle that pile of mail.”
CHAPTER 16
“EMMA, THIS IS AFZAM. Please tell Mr. Vinkler that I’ve found a considerable amount of material over the past two evenings and I am in the process of analyzing it. Over one hundred seventy articles—more than five hundred pages of text. I’m going to be billing the firm extra for paper and laser toner,” he quipped over the phone.
“Do you need any help to sift through this stuff?” Emma asked.
“Not just yet, Emma. Much of it is background history, and I would like to distill the information myself, to get some perspective. I was lucky enough to find the official Mexican government crash report, which was put on the Internet. There’s also an article about the NTSB position—that they won’t do their own investigation—so no use looking for an NTSB report.
“I do have NTSB crash reports on other incidents involving similar aircraft, so we can get an idea of what causes these planes to go down. Pilot error is often cited. I also have photos and specifications on our aircraft, the Gates Learjet 24B, and the safety record. I also found some top secret State Department material relating to the Argentine situation, which has been declassified.”
“So no real smoking guns yet, Afzam?” asked Emma.
“Well, I also found what you might call ‘relationship’ software. It searches the web for names that appear to have a relationship with a given person. The more hits, the closer it puts the other people in relationship with the subject, in something like a spider web. No telling i
f this will be worth anything, but there are several people who are frequently mentioned in connection with Guttmann and the crash, other than direct family.”
“Put together your list, and we’ll discuss which ones to pursue with David and Luke. What kind of people are we talking about, Afzam?”
“The American reporter who covered the initial crash story, then seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. Alex Ginsberg. No other articles since the crash carry his byline. However, he was mentioned a couple of times in connection with a real estate finance attorney, James Ferguson, who was with a large firm back then. Maybe he’s still in practice and would have some leads on Ginsberg.
“Then there’s the poor fellow whose company owned the charter aircraft and never got paid for the trip. J.B. Winston. Seems he did his own investigation, which was mentioned in several news articles.
“Guttmann’s right-hand man—Miguel Sandoval—appears in a prominent position, but I believe Mr. Vinkler said he was dead.”
“That’s right, Afzam, but maybe those other fellows are worth pursuing. When do you think you’ll be ready for the next meeting?”
“If it’s OK with you, I’ll bring my materials tomorrow morning and leave binders for Mr. Vinkler and Mr. Rollins. Then we can decide what more needs to be done on my end.
“Also, Emma, I forgot to thank Mr. Vinkler for the book he loaned me on Detroit architecture. It shows the top twenty-five architectural treasures. And his wide angle lens for my 35mm camera. I had mentioned to him that I was putting together a little photo book for my family back home, and he was kind enough to loan me these things. Just thank him for me, and I’ll give a proper thank you next time we meet.”
“Sure. So, you’ll be in the office tomorrow morning?” Emma asked.
“Yes, Emma, around nine, depending on the tunnel traffic. You know it’s quite unpredictable.”
TRAFFIC FROM WINDSOR via the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel that Friday morning was crawling. As Afzam waited patiently in one of a dozen lines of cars, the U.S. Customs & Border Protection officials seemed to be taking much more time than usual. Crossing into the U.S. had been very slow, even though many years had passed since 9/11, but this day the wait seemed interminable. Perhaps there was a heightened state of alert.
Everyone agreed that it made little sense to inspect inbound vehicles after they’d already passed through the tunnel to the U.S. But as long as no one had detonated a bomb inside the tunnel, the arguments seemed to fall on politicians’ deaf ears on both sides of the border.
Finally, the car ahead of him cleared inspection. The CBP officer typed Afzam’s license plate number into the computer, then motioned him to advance. Afzam rolled down his window and held out his Canadian passport. As a Canadian citizen, he didn’t need a special visa to work in the U.S. He was a NAFTA Professional and had worked in the U.S. under this special status for years.
The agent flipped through his passport, then looked up at Afzam. “What is the purpose of your visit?”
“I work at a law firm in Detroit. Computer Network Administrator.” Afzam handed the agent his business card.
“You do this trip every day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your name is Mohammed Afzam, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You were born in Kashmir, India, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pull your car over to the right, please. Just a routine inspection,” said the agent.
As Afzam pulled away, the CBP agent picked up a phone. As if scrambling to meet a known enemy, three armed CBP agents raced out of their office to the carport to which Afzam had been directed for inspection.
The first agent engaged Afzam in further questions about his work and whether he had anything to declare, then asked him to open his trunk. The second agent then began going through the binders of Afzam’s research material, while the third stood off at distance, with his hand on his sidearm.
The second agent shook his head as he saw photos of jet aircraft, NTSB crash reports, and declassified State Department memoranda. He then saw the book picturing Detroit buildings, a 35mm camera in a camera bag with a wide-angle and telephoto lens, and a pair of high-power binoculars.
Another agent yanked a memo off the bulletin board in the office, and walked it over to the other agents in the inspection area.
“Boys, I think we’ve got some trouble here. Ten days ago, one Mohammed Afzam, a Kashmiri Indian, was involved in a commando attack on the Indian Parliament and reportedly fled to Pakistan. Looks like a match to me, and look at this stamp in his passport from Pakistan just a few days ago. We may have ourselves an enemy combatant.”
The first agent then pulled Afzam from the front seat and slammed him against the hood of the car, spread eagle, and slapped handcuffs on him. He patted him down for weapons, then had his technical support team go over the car with a fine-toothed comb. While they conducted their search, other agents took Afzam into the office and interrogated him. He explained the purpose of his visit to India, and the fact that he had to make a stop in Pakistan on the way back because of airline delays and flight rescheduling. Without revealing attorney-client confidences, he attempted to explain the items they strongly felt, taken together, were evidence of a threat to the national security of the United States of America.
Two grueling hours later, the agents still weren’t convinced of his innocence. They did, however, allow him one phone call.
“Mr. Vinkler, this is Afzam, and I have a big problem!”
“No kidding, Afzam! We all do. The network has been down, your second-in-command is off at a technology conference, and the whole firm is at a standstill. You know our litigation team is in a state of paralysis when the network is down. Emma tells me you were going to be here at nine. Have they closed the borders for anthrax?”
“Not exactly, Mr. Vinkler, but there’s been a snag, and I was hoping you could intercede. I apologize, but I haven’t been allowed to make any outgoing calls until now.” He then related what had happened.
“Will they let you pass the phone to me so I can explain what’s going on?” Winkler asked.
“No, sir, they will not. They want to see a person over here right away, face-to-face, and they’re not even sure that will convince them I’m not a terrorist. Seems there’s a known terrorist with the same name, Mohammed Afzam. Kashmiri to boot.”
“Afzam, I never knew you were Mohammed.”
“As you can imagine, names sometimes can cause problems in relationships, so I normally use only my last name.”
“Let me get Dan Duncan on this. If he can’t get you out, we’ll call the U.S. Attorney’s office and pull some strings. Afzam, I apologize for what they’ve put you through!
“Emma,” he shouted, “see if Dan Duncan is back from that conference, and get him on this ASAP. Call his cell phone if you have to. If you can’t get him, get me a litigator with contacts in the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
This is one helluva way to keep a case low profile within the firm, Winkler thought.
Within a few minutes, the Management Committee would have yet another reason why he shouldn’t have taken this case.
CHAPTER 17
“EMMA, WHAT’S THE LATEST ON AFZAM? I can’t believe the Feds are so trigger happy, they’d jump on somebody who just happens to have the same name as a terrorist! Were you able to rouse Duncan, or are they going to ship Afzam down to Guantanamo?”
“I’m on top of it,” said Emma. “Dan just got back this morning, and I was able to reach him at home. He went right over to the border as soon as I called him. He was able to talk some sense into the Homeland Security people. Seems the guy described in their security alert was ten years older than our Afzam—and they didn’t even bother to check his birthdate.”
“Damn, what a waste of time and energy! But I guess all that stuff in his trunk looked more than suspicious to someone who sees thousands of cars with empty trunks every day. Did he get all
his research material back?”
“Yes—and no,” replied Emma. “Dan told me Afzam had hard copies of some of it in binders, with PDF files of everything he found on a USB key. He had to agree to let them keep the binders a couple of days so they could review them more carefully. They still don’t understand why someone would have NTSB crash reports, airplane specifications, and declassified State Department internal memoranda, and Dan didn’t know how much he could say about your investigation, nor did Afzam. You can just imagine how this could raise eyebrows—even apart from the photos of major buildings, telephoto lens and binoculars.
“Dan initially refused to let them keep the material, claiming illegal search, but they were playing hardball and said they’d hold Afzam and refer the matter to counsel if he refused their demands. Since it was all public record, he thought it best to get Afzam out and let them keep the binders, especially since everything was on the USB key. They made copies of the files on the key. Afzam kept the original, and Dan had to agree on behalf of the firm to present Afzam for further questioning upon request.”
“So much for keeping this thing under the radar,” said Winkler. “How’s Afzam holding up?”
“Really shaken up, but happy to be back over here. He’s going to stay with friends on this side of the border for a week or so until things calm down. He’s really afraid of something like this happening again.”
“I understand,” said Winkler. “Tell Afzam we’ll pay to put him up for a while if he prefers. Let’s hope the Feds get busy with other things and just stack the binders in the corner of an office to gather dust and forget about them. See if you can get Afzam to stick around, and get Rollins over here as well. I’d like to go over what Afzam found.”
AFZAM SET UP SHOP in the large conference room, with a laptop and laser printer. When Winkler and Rollins arrived, he’d just started printing off his research material from the USB key.
“This is going to take a little while, but we can talk about what I found as it comes off the printer,” said Afzam. As the printer started to hum and spew forth copies of the articles, Afzam pulled an extra ream of paper out of a cabinet.
To Save the Nation Page 10
