Saving Sophie: A Novel (37 page)

*   *   *

T
HE RIDE FROM THE
North Shore to Honolulu Police Department headquarters on South Beretania Street, from one side of the island to the other, took about forty-five minutes. The rain on the interstate grew stronger. At long last, a golden glow, coming from the lights of downtown Honolulu, appeared through the fog. It was almost midnight as Kayla pulled into a slot on the first level of the parking garage. In the heavy rain, Marcy’s umbrella was barely large enough for three to share. As they turned the corner, Liam tapped Kayla’s arm. “There. On the street ahead. It’s the same black Cadillac.”

“The motor’s running,” she said. “They’re waiting for Sommers to leave the building.”

Inside the station, Liam asked the desk sergeant for Richard Hanley. “He’s in an interview,” he was told.

“Would you tell him that Liam Taggart, one of the people he spoke to earlier this evening in Hale’iwa, thinks that the sergeant may have been followed? The car I saw trailing him is sitting outside. Tell him it has something to do with the case he’s investigating, and the guys in the car are dangerous.”

A few minutes later, Hanley came into the waiting area. His shirtsleeves were rolled up. He had a pencil tucked onto his right ear. “Mr. Sommers is not going to be released tonight,” he said to the group. “I don’t think that he was involved in the murder, but we’ve got other issues here, not the least of which is that he’s pretending to be his dead brother-in-law to skip out on an Illinois warrant. So you guys can go on home.”

“You were followed when you left Marcy Grant’s house tonight,” Liam said. “The car, a black Cadillac, is sitting across the street. There are two men in it. I would not be surprised if they are armed and waiting for Mr. Sommers to walk out the door. I would also not be surprised if they had something to do with the motel murder.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Sergeant,” Kayla said, “the Illinois warrants you mentioned were issued in connection with an embezzlement. Two other men who were involved in the crime have been murdered. The clerk at the Honolulu motel where Sommers was living was murdered. We have good reason to believe that Sommers is the next target.”

“Do you have prints from the motel?” Liam said.

Hanley nodded.

“Then it might be a good idea for you to take a look at the men in the car. You might find that their prints match. You got anyone here who speaks Russian?”

“Russian?”

“It might come in handy with these guys.”

Hanley gathered four officers and told them to check out the black Cadillac. They left the building with weapons drawn.

Kayla said, “Sergeant, I’ve placed a call to the Justice Department in Washington. As I told you, Mr. Sommers is critical to a federal operation.
My
operation. I’ve asked for a judicial order granting me custody of Mr. Sommers for transport back to Chicago. In the meantime, he must be kept under protective custody.”

“Oh, he’s under custody all right. He isn’t going anywhere.”

“I don’t want him in general population.”

“Look, Ms. Cummings, until I get an order—”

Hanley’s response was interrupted by the sound of gunfire on the street. He pulled out his service revolver and headed for the door with Liam close behind. One officer lay in the street. The Cadillac was gone.

“They opened fire,” an officer said to Hanley. “We approached from both sides. A guy popped out the passenger door with an automatic weapon. He sprayed the street and the Caddy took off. I called in the plates. Adam’s down.”

By this time, several officers and paramedics had gathered. Sirens wailed from the south.

“Sergeant,” Kayla said. “Do you think you might keep Sommers in a secure area tonight?”

He nodded.

S
IXTY

L
UBANNAH ENTERED THE LIBRARY
where al-Zahani sat reading his paper. “Arif, the little one is so upset tonight. Jamila will not play with her.”

“I spoke to Hassan. I could not change his mind. He is a small-minded, bigoted man. To him, she is an American Jew, and they are all evil. He will not see the good in Sophie. He won’t give her a chance. He says Sophie will corrupt his daughter with blasphemous talk. I told him that is nonsense, that she is of our blood, but he is filled with hate of America. Nothing more can be done.”

“I am very sorry, Arif. Playing with Jamila was the one thing that brightened Sophie’s day. It was the only thing that brought her out of her shell. Now she just sobs and looks out the window.”

“She’ll have to get over Jamila. We’ll find her another playmate.”

Lubannah looked sternly at al-Zahani. “That’s not the only reason she’s upset tonight and you know it.”

Al-Zahani shrugged.

“She’s upset because it’s bedtime and she can’t find her stuffed animal, her Sweetness.”

Al-Zahani nodded and kept reading.

She raised her voice. “Arif. Do you know where it is?”

“Where what is?”

“The bear. Sophie’s little bear. Have you seen it?”

“Why is that important? The madrassa, her studies, those are important. Teaching her the history of our people, helping her to take her rightful place, that’s important. And where are you in all this, Lubannah? What are you doing to educate her? Are you helping her to become what she can be—a leader in our struggle? Or will she be just another silly woman buying produce at the markets? Are you teaching her, Lubannah, or are you leaving it all to me? That stuffed animal is a crutch; it’s an anchor to her past. I told you we should have thrown it out when we first got here. I’ll hear no more of this bear.”

“You took it, didn’t you? Despite my wishes, you took the bear from her.”

Arif stood. “And what if I did?”

“How dare you,” Lubannah yelled with her hands on her hips.

Arif shook his head in disgust, stood, and flipped the back of his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Woman, don’t ever raise your voice to me. Pay attention to your duties. The house should be cleaner. It shames me.”

He checked his cell phone, turned, and walked toward the door. “I’m going out. I have important business tonight. Don’t wait up.”

*   *   *

T
HE GROUP OF TEN
had resumed its meetings in the back of the Breadstone Bakery. To soothe Fakhir’s anxiety, each of the participants arrived at different times, from different directions. No one parked in front of the store.

“We are now eight days away from our first mission of glory,” Fa’iz said proudly. “Does anything remain undone? Are we still processing bags?”

“We are,” al-Zahani answered. “Forty a day, and we will keep on doing so until next week. We have nearly two thousand, all safely stored in our Jerusalem warehouse.”

“I think we should shut down,” Fakhir said. “We have enough. How much more impact will an additional three hundred bags make? What if Aziz is detained? What if Arif’s laboratory is discovered? We have been fortunate so far, why chance it?”

Fa’iz leaned back on the couch, his hands crossed on his abdomen. “Perhaps we should consider Fakhir’s suggestion.”

“Fakhir is a coward,” Nizar said. “He’s afraid of his shadow. How many times have we heard him scream,
‘The IDF’
? He just doesn’t want us to meet in his bakery anymore.”

“Nizar is quick to call names,” al-Zahani said, “but here I agree with him. I’m in the middle of production. I can stop, but three hundred more victims, three hundred more wailing, mortified families begging Israel to concede the land and stop the occupation? That has great value. Twenty-three hundred dead enemies will certainly be regarded as the most glorious jihadist victory since the Twin Towers. And right in the heart of our enemy. Do not fear the discovery of my lab. I have wired it for destruction. If necessary, I can instantly firebomb the building and obliterate all remnants of our operation.”

“But we are close to the deadline, and is two thousand so different from twenty-three hundred that we should risk discovery?” Rami said. “Why chance an unforeseen accident exposing the plan? I can go along with Fakhir.”

“And you, Ahmed?” Fa’iz said.

He nodded. “Fakhir is wise. We are well positioned at this time. Arif can use the surplus bags for Tel Aviv.”

“I, too, believe we should shut down,” Fa’iz said. “Let us just concentrate on Sami’s deliveries. We’ll meet again on Monday.” He reached for their hands. “From the river to the sea, from the Golan to the Gulf.”

*   *   *

I
N A WHITE MINIVAN,
parked on a corner near the bakery, two members of a specialized unit had listened to the discussion. Through a concealed aperture, pictures of the group were taken as they left the bakery.

“Bags of what?” one of the men said. “Two thousand bags safely in a warehouse in Jerusalem? Sammy’s deliveries? IEDs come to mind, but in a bag?”

“Chemicals?”

“I’ve never heard of chemical weapons dispersed from a bag,” the other said. “Could be anthrax.”

“Eight days. Isn’t that Yom Ha’atzmaut? Whatever it is, it’s pegged to happen on Independence Day.”

“Well, our job is to collect the info and send it on. Let’s get it off to Tel Aviv and let them figure it out.”

S
IXTY
-O
NE

I
T WAS SHORTLY AFTER
10:00
A.M.
when Liam and Kayla walked into the chambers of the Honorable Nathan B. Kim on the second floor of the Prince Kuhio Federal Building. They were accompanied by Michael Green, the first assistant US Attorney for the District of Hawaii.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Green said. “I’m here to present this petition for habeas corpus seeking the release of a prisoner named John Sommers, presently held by the State of Hawaii at the HPD jail on Beretania. With me this morning is Kayla Cummings from the Department of State. Special Agent Harry Foster is available by telephone. Both of them are prepared to provide testimony that Sommers is an essential participant in a classified US operation in the Middle East.”

Judge Kim read through the petition and set it down on his desk. “Your petition states that he is being held because of an outstanding warrant from Illinois. What are the pending charges?”

“Embezzlement. Theft. Possible implication in two homicides.”

“Let me hear from the Department of State,” Judge Kim said.

Kayla stepped forward. “Mr. Sommers has a child who has been kidnapped by her grandfather and taken to the city of Hebron, which is located in the Palestinian territories. The grandfather is a suspected terrorist and is thought to be involved in an impending jihadist operation. Sommers was induced to participate in an embezzlement scheme in a misguided effort to rescue his daughter. The State Department intends to use Sommers and a feigned ransom as a way of getting into the jihadist base to foil the operation. And we hope to rescue his daughter as well. It’s very dangerous, but Sommers has agreed to do it.”

“How much money is he alleged to have embezzled?”

“Eighty-eight million dollars.”

Judge Kim gave a low whistle. “And you say there are two homicides he’s involved with?”

“There’s no evidence he even knew about the homicides,” Liam said.

Kayla nodded. “It appears that Sommers was manipulated and induced to participate in an intricate fraud to misappropriate eighty-eight million dollars from an escrow account. We think that the mastermind of this scheme, a man named Dmitri, arranged for the kidnapping. He then promised Sommers he’d secure his daughter’s return if Sommers would divert the escrow proceeds. Two of the other participants have been killed and we believe that Sommers is the next target. We’re very concerned about his safety.”

“And there is no way of penetrating the terrorist ring without Sommers?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, as to this habeas petition, we’re not dealing with an unlawful detention. There is a warrant outstanding, I can’t just release him. But I can remand him to the custody of the Department of State to be returned to the State of Illinois when the operation is concluded.”

“That’ll work,” she said.

“What does the State of Illinois have to say about all this?”

“Mr. Foster has met with the Cook County State’s Attorney, who does not raise an objection to the release. Although there are no promises, Illinois has agreed to consider Mr. Sommers’s cooperation when the overseas operation is concluded,” Kayla said. “But as of today, there are no leniency agreements in place.”

The judge picked up his telephone and asked his clerk to send in the court reporter. “We need to make a proper record before I sign this order. Let’s get Mr. Foster on the phone. Each of you will supply the sworn testimony, Ms. Cummings.”

One hour after they had entered the federal building, Kayla and Liam walked out into the warmth of the morning sun. The morning mist that had covered the island when they arrived at the courthouse had burned away.

Marcy, who had been sitting on a bench in front of the building, jumped to her feet. “Did you get it?”

“Sure did,” Kayla answered. “A signed court order demanding that Jack be immediately released into my custody.”

They quickly covered the five blocks to the police station, where they asked for Sergeant Hanley.

“Doesn’t come in till tonight,” the desk sergeant said.

Kayla produced the court order and placed it on the counter. “This is an order to take immediate custody of John Sommers. He was brought in last night.”

The sergeant nodded and took the order back into a windowed office. Several minutes passed. Finally, a man in a blue suit, open collar, and loosened tie shuffled out of the back office and walked over with the order in his hand. “I’m Captain Nelson. We don’t have a John Sommers here. In fact, all the guys who came in last night were sent over to bond court this morning, except for one.”

“Who’s the one?” Liam said.

“Eugene Wilson.”

“That’s John Sommers. Eugene Wilson is John Sommers.”

“Well, he was booked as Eugene Wilson and he was sent over to Oahu Correctional this morning awaiting extradition. There’s note that he has an Illinois warrant outstanding under an alias. There’ll be no bond for him.”