Cold Snap (52 page)

"We were told he had to suffer for what he
had done."

"And what did he do?"

"Well...nothing. He had to suffer for what he
was planning to do." Mohammed twisted his battered face up to Ari.
"I bet you know all of this already. You're just playing me
along."

"Why would I do such a thing?" Ari asked,
pulling up a kitchen chair and easing his sore body onto its thin
cushion. "I assure you I am darkness visible."

"Yeah? The Chaldeans called you 'the Godless
One'. Gail said she had seen a drawing that looked a lot like you.
She asked around. There's a rumor that one of Saddam's old henchmen
is in the States working for the CIA. They say he has a
photographic memory."

"Ha!" Ari mocked. "A man with such a memory
would not be as confused as I find myself now."

"OK, then, we met at American University in
DC. Hasan and Quassim went because they have a large proportion of
Arabs and Arab-Americans in the student body. You wouldn't guess
it. I mean, the place was set up by the Methodists."

"Oh?" said Ari, squirming at the thought of
Pastor Grainger and his (to Ari's thinking) dreary sermons.

"It's not really religious or anything,
although maybe it was in the beginning. It's over a hundred years
old."

"Al-Mustansiriya University in Baghdad was
founded in 1227," Ari observed, a little boastfully.

"OK, they've got a little bit of a head
start," Mohammed shrugged. "I went because I majored in Journalism.
AU has an academic partnership with the Ecole Superieure de
Journalisme de Paris."

"Ah!" Ari smiled, turning a gloatful eye on
Ahmad, who was leaning against the wall near Ethan. "That sounds
much more interesting than knitting pantaloons!"

"Say what?" said Ahmad, but Ari had already
turned back to Mohammed.

"But it was Gail who was the real gungho
student," Mohammed continued. "Big time volunteer, became a member
of the Student Union Board. She helped arrange a concert with
Ghostface Killah."

"Really?" Ahmad brightened. "Cool."

Ari was discomfited by this bit of cultural
recognition, which he did not recognize at all. Young people the
world over shared secret icons that bonded them in strange
societies. Nothing good could come from it. 'Ghostface Killah'?
That certainly sounded ominous.

"Be that as it may..."

"Sure," said Mohammed. "Well...I had some
relatives back in Iraq. We wanted to get them out. We went to all
the organizations that help refugees: the Refugee Admissions
Program at the State Department, IRAP, the List Project, some
others. They were willing to help, but they were all swamped—you
can imagine. It would take time, and we didn't have much of
that."

"So you went to A-Zed."

"We didn't know anything about them at that
point. We'd heard that the Chaldeans had a pipeline. Actually, it
was Gail who found out. I'm sorry she did. Bunch of Assyrian
assholes..."

Ahmad emitted a warning cough and nodded at
Ari.

"Uh?" Mohammed gave Ari's dark complexion a
speculative glance. "Well, anyway, the Chaldeans didn't think much
of us. We were raised in this country. We weren't really Sunnis or
Shia or Yazidis or Christians...you know. You come to America, and
you become pretty much nothing."

Ari was about as spiritually null as a living
human could get, but it wasn't pleasant to hear.

"This does not conjoin with being a
jihadist," he said.

"We aren't jihadists!" Mohammed cried.
"Jesus! We're just...we didn't want to convert anyone. We sure as
hell didn't set out to kill..."

"Continue."

"The Chaldeans...you wouldn't believe how
much they were asking for per head. We didn't find out until later
that they didn't have a pipeline at all, they were just
middlemen."

"So that you were paying both the Chaldeans
and A-Zed...both very pricey."

"No kidding. Well, Gail set up an emergency
funding site on the internet. You know, asking for donations to
bring in people whose lives are at risk."

"And people gave?"

"Lots."

"Hmmm," said Ari thoughtfully.

"It was the way Gail presented it. You should
have seen that site. She's...she was first-rate with websites.
People who clicked on it ended up in tears. They sent the money
through Paypal."

Ari looked at Ahmad. "Why don't you begin a
site like that?"

"You mean, for donations?" asked Ahmad,
surprised.

"What else?"

"But donate for what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps create a fund for the
chronically brain deficient." Ari was disappointed that Mohammed
was shooting down so many of his theories, and seemed on the verge
of shooting down many more. He was taking out his frustration on
Ahmad.

"Aw crap," said Ahmad. "And speaking of my
uncle, he's bleeding to death outside."

"Death and vultures avoid Abu Jasim like the
plague," Ari asserted. "He will survive."

"Are you sure?" said Mohammed. "I warned
you...this is a long story. A really long story."

"Then can you untie me?" Ethan complained,
thumping a bit in his chair.

"I'm getting nut-burn here."

"You are a thief and a philanderer," Ari shot
back. "Allow your nuts to simmer and annoy me no further."

"It worked." Mohammed took a deep breath. "We
got our people out of Iraq. Then word began to spread and we got
caught up bringing in more and more refugees."

"How did you, Hasan and Quassim fit in with
this scheme?"

"I was the contact with the Chaldeans...they
wanted their money up front, in cash, and face to face. I didn't
want Gail dealing with them."

"Dangerous Assyrians," Ari nodded
sagaciously.

"Well, some of them. But I guess most are
just what their name says: Chaldean. Still, a bad lot."

"I advise all of my acquaintances to keep
their distance from them."

"Hasan and Quassim helped with the charity
site...we used Hasan's domain name. And Quassim cooked up some kind
of raffle...win a free trip to the Bahamas or something. It was all
pretty innocent...I mean, decent. We were doing good work."

"And then you became serial killers."

"Hold on! There was this guy...Al-Samad...I
met him a couple times in Detroit, where the Chaldean Mafia...well,
they took him in. He was even scummier than they are."

"He was Shia."

"I don't think that mattered. But the
Chaldeans really loved him, because he showed up with a ton of
active credit card numbers. He was straight out of Baghdad—in fact,
almost straight from the Green Zone. He ran some kind of magazine
stand and was skimming off credit card numbers. Some from Iraqis,
but a lot from American soldiers. I thought they used Army script
or something. But some chaplain found out he was selling
pornographic videos and went to get the MP's."

"American soldiers buying pornography?" Ari
clucked.

"Yeah, 'Macho Gonzo ravishes Egyptian Beauty
Queen'...that kind of thing."

"Can't you get your head cut off over there
for that kind of thing?" said Ahmad.

"In some places, sure. But it's still a big
business. Lots of money."

"But there's the internet," Ahmad protested,
then blushed. "Not that I would know anything about it."

"I think the Army filters out pornographic
content," Mohammed speculated. "Anyway, Samad figured a lot of the
soldiers wouldn't always have internet access. So they could just
buy a DVD, pop it into their laptops, and enjoy Arabic culture. All
the tourist stuff Samad was selling in the Green Zone was just a
cover. But...uh...well, he made some money off of that stuff, too.
A little."

"Yes," said Ari.

"Samad used A-Zed to get here, which is
probably how he got in contact with the Chaldeans."

"He was a bad boy," said Ari.

"It's not like we didn't know what we were
getting into," Mohammed said contritely. "I mean...the Chaldean
Mafia..."

"What else did Samad bring with him, besides
credit card numbers?" Ari asked. "Did he not also bring some of his
old merchandise with him?"

"How did you—" Mohammed's eyes narrowed.
"You're in this with them, aren't you?"

"I'm still in the dark, I assure you."

"Doesn't sound like it, to me." Mohammed
glanced at Ahmad.

"Hey, don't look at me," Ahmad said. "I don't
know what he's up to one minute to the next."

"And you don't want to know," said Ari.

"You got that right."

"And you say you've never heard of 'Bill'?"
said Mohammed.

Ari's response was a blank face.

"A few months after I last saw Samad in
Detroit, I got a call from home. My father had been beat up pretty
badly. It wasn't really a mugging...it was a message. This guy told
Dad to tell me that he knew I was mixed up with a bad business, and
that he...Bill...would be contacting me to talk about it."

"Interesting," said Ari.

"The next week, way out in Washington State,
the same thing happened to Hasan's father."

"With the same message?"

"It happened to all our families," Mohammed
said grimly. "Gail's father died years ago, so this guy broke into
her home back in Los Angeles, in the middle of the night...and
threatened Gail's mother..."

"And after this Bill chap showed up you
understood he knew where you lived and how easily he could harm
your families..."

"He contacted us on Gail's charity website.
'If you don't want worse to happen, meet me at the Holiday Inn in
Takoma Park on such-and-such date and time. Don't call the police.
They would be very interested in your dealings with the Chaldeans.'
I mean, this guy knew all about us! Even though Gail's site was
anonymous, with no names or anything!"

"You met him?"

"We went. There were the four of us, and we
had fair warning. We figured we could handle him."

"You didn't take a gun?"

"Where would we get a gun?"

"This is America."

"Well, it crossed our minds, but we didn't
think we would need one. None of us even knew how to fire one."

"Which has changed."

"Yeah..." Mohammed lowered his head. "We got
to the motel, went to the room he told us to go to, but no one
answered when we knocked."

"He was waiting outside to see if you were
followed."

"I guess. We were about to leave, when this
guy comes walking out of the dark..."

"Bill."

"Yeah. So we...followed him inside."

"What did he look like?" Ari asked.

"Oh hell...well, a little like you. About the
same height, but bulkier. No moustache, but he had the same..."

"Complexion?"

"Sorta. Maybe lighter. But no distinguishing
marks that I could notice."

Ari's mind raced across a gallery of old SSO
comrades in arms. There were several that could have fit this
description.

"We sat down—five of us total and only two
guest chairs, so the rest sat on the bed."

"In bed with Bill?"

"He stayed standing. He had a quiet kind of
voice, the kind that makes you lean in."

"Putting you within striking distance."

"I got that feeling, although he didn't make
any threatening moves. He started off by telling us he had some
ominous news. We couldn't think of anything more ominous than what
had happened back home, and we told him so."

"Did he have an accent?"

"Not really. He never actually said he was
from Iraq." Mohammed paused. "You get actors like that, who can
play any nationality—well, almost—without a touch of makeup."

"Anthony Quinn," Ari suggested.

"Yeah. He brushed off what he had done to our
families. He only wanted to get our attention, make us realize how
serious things were."

"What was so serious?"

"He said that Samad had bolted out of town.
Out of the States, in fact. We just sort of sat there. I mean, it
took me a minute to remember who the hell Al-Samad was. So we said:
So? That's when he pulled out a laptop, and then held up a disc for
us to see."

"'Scenic Iraq'," said Ari blandly.

"Oh fuck, you are in on this. You plan on
killing me out here?"

"It is not part of my nature to lethally
spank young brats."

"Ha!" said Ahmad.

"Well...he loaded the disc in the laptop. It
opened on some stupid travelogue, but he stopped it and went back
to the file folder. He opened another file and it opened on a video
made at the University of—"

"We are aware of that."

"I got the idea you might..." Mohammed winced
and held his side. "When he finished showing the video, Bill said
he had an outstanding death warrant for anyone who had seen it.
Having just seen it...it sort of put a chill on the party."

"I can imagine."

"The original video was made by some travel
agency in Baghdad. 'To the Ends of the Earth'. There was nothing
special about it. But it turned out the owner of the agency somehow
came across the video of the nuclear stuff. He was a real believer.
Shia. And he decided to pass the video on to his hero, Muqtada
al-Sadr."

"Oh, great," Ahmad commented.

"You can imagine, he had to be discreet, what
with the Americans all around and the Sunnis and Shia cutting each
others' throats. So he burns the file onto 'Scenic Iraq', hiding it
in a different format. Then he must have gone out for lunch or
called it a day or something, because Samad walks in and sees the
disc sitting next to the desktop. He did odd jobs for the agency,
was always popping in and out. They had one of those multiple DVD
burners and I think he used it to make copies of his porn movies.
Well, he sees the tourist video and thinks it would be a perfect
camouflage for his little kiosk business. You know, they would sit
on top of the counter, and when a customer asked if he had anything
more interesting, out comes the diddle flicks."

"Or torture movies," said Ari.