Tom Walsh consulted his folder and said, "Before we get to that murder, let me just say that we don't know when or how Asad Khalil entered the country, but it's probable that he took the most direct route and flew into LAX, using a false passport and visa from an Arabic-speaking country." Walsh further informed us, "A man like this, with the right foreign resources, could easily pass muster at passport control."
Correct. The best point of entry would be an airport-LAX-but Khalil would not be traveling as a Libyan national; we had no diplomatic relations with Libya and their two-plane airline didn't fly here. So he'd arrive via some other airline, and on his U.S. entry card and his customs declaration card he'd state the purpose of his visit as tourist-a business trip cover story is too easy to check out. And if he was asked any questions at passport control, he'd keep his answers simple and not go on about his lifelong desire to see Disneyland. Also, he'd have a confirmed hotel reservation with him, though he would not stay at that hotel. The passport control officer, after consulting the computer list of known terrorists, personae non gratae, criminals, and other assholes, would stamp the passport and say, "Welcome to the U.S. Next."
Walsh said, "We are checking video security tapes at a number of airports." He continued, "Our office in Santa Barbara paid a visit last night to Sterling Air Charters at Santa Barbara Airport. This is the company that owns and operates the Citation jet that Khalil used to fly from Sullivan County Airport to Republic Airport on Long Island."
He scanned an e-mail in his hand and said, "At about seven A.M. on Saturday morning, a man who identified himself as Christos Demetrios showed up at the Sterling office. He had a reservation made by his company in Athens, Hydra Shipping. He met his pilot and copilot, and they departed on time, flying first to Pueblo, Colorado, where they refueled and went on to Huntington, West Virginia, for another refueling, then on to their destination at Sullivan County Airport, where they landed at six-thirteen P.M. local time. Mr. Demetrios-who the Sterling employee and the pilots identified from our photo as Asad Khalil-rented a car, and the two pilots went to a local motel with instructions to be ready to fly out the next morning, Sunday, sometime after ten A.M., destination Buffalo."
Walsh thought a moment and said, "Our agents who spoke to these two pilots at their motel last night reported that the pilots found Mr. Demetrios to be somewhat distant, maybe aloof, but that he showed no signs of nervousness at Santa Barbara Airport, or on the way to Sullivan County." Walsh concluded, "Considering that he'd beheaded a man just a few hours before the pilots met him, and that he was on his way to his skydiving rendezvous with John and Kate, I'd say we are dealing with an extreme psychopath."
And what was your second clue, Tom?
Walsh continued the cross-country odyssey of Asad Khalil. "And when Khalil re-boarded the aircraft in Sullivan County, he'd just… attacked Kate, and the pilots said he appeared quite at ease… and he was smiling."
Walsh seemed amazed or impressed that Khalil wasn't agitated after his skydiving assault, making me realize that Walsh didn't quite understand the messianic nuttiness of Asad Khalil. I mean, the guy was on jihad and he was enveloped in a celestial light or something.
Walsh went on, "The only thing the pilots noticed out of the ordinary was that their passenger no longer had his duffel bag, which we assume held his skydiving gear. Also, he changed the flight plan from Buffalo to MacArthur Airport, then changed it again in mid-air to Republic." Walsh concluded, "He knows how to keep the authorities off his tail."
It's a fact that serial murderers gain more confidence after about the third murder. They also get better at it. But then the learning curve starts to flatten and the level of confidence turns into carelessness. I wasn't sure where Asad Khalil was on this curve, or even if he fit the profile of a common serial killer. So we shouldn't wait for him to make a careless mistake; we had to get into his head, the way we'd done last time, and be waiting for him. No problem. Right?
So far, the only real mistake that this bastard made was not killing me when he had the chance.
Tom Walsh looked at me, George Foster, and Vince Paresi and said, "Victim seven. A Libyan-born male, name of Farid Mansur." Tom Walsh is a modest man, but sometimes you just have to blow your own horn, and he informed us, "I assumed that Khalil had a local contact in California, and recalling his M.O. of eliminating his contacts, I asked our office in LA to check with every police department in southern California to see if there had been a recent homicide or suspicious fatal accident involving anyone of Middle Eastern background."
Walsh glanced around the table to be sure we appreciated his genius, and we all dutifully nodded at the boss's brilliance.
Walsh continued, "The Ventura County Police reported a body found with no ID under a bed in a Best Western hotel near the Santa Barbara Airport. Also under the bed was men's clothing, covered with blood, which we are in the process of matching with Chip Wiggins's blood." He added, "The room was registered to a Farid Mansur, and the police put this together with a missing person report filed by a Libyan-American lady, Mrs. Hala Mansur, whose husband had gone missing on Friday, and she IDed the body. A background check of Mr. Farid Mansur reveals that he associated with other Middle Eastern immigrants who have come to our attention." He added, "Farid Mansur was strangled with what was probably a piano wire garrote."
Maybe Khalil couldn't find his ice pick.
Walsh said, "We have no idea what Farid Mansur passed on to Asad Khalil, but we can assume it was the usual false IDs, money, weapons, and maybe the skydiving gear, plus some information about Wiggins."
"Don't forget the saw," I reminded him.
Walsh gave me one of those looks, then assured us, "The LA office is following up by questioning Mansur's friends as well as investigating his purchases, his phone calls, and so forth." He concluded, "If we catch a break there, I'll let you know." Walsh asked us, "Any questions? Or comments?"
Paresi asked, "What do you want me to do about the local Libyans?"
Walsh replied, "Stick to the surveillance. No street interrogations and no invitations to come in to talk to us."
I said to Walsh, "Captain Paresi told me about your idea to put out a text message to Kate's phone saying we had some informants in the Libyan community."
Walsh avoided eye contact and said, "Standard disinformation." He added, "Actually, I think that was John's idea."
"No, no," I said. "You thought of it."
Tom Walsh moved on to other subjects, and we kicked around a few thoughts, then Walsh looked at us and said, "We must now assume that Khalil is poised to strike again. We don't know where, when, how, or who-but based on Khalil's attack on Kate, his murder of Gabe, and his threat to John, let's recognize that the Task Force has become his target."
George Foster went from white to gray, and even Paresi, who's usually cool and macho, looked a little unsettled. I mean, this was not abstract with seven dead and Kate lying in a hospital.
Walsh looked at me and said, "You are definitely a target. So maybe you should lay low. Like, stay home while Kate recuperates."
I saw that coming and replied, "That's not what I had in mind." I informed him, "Look, Tom, I'm willing to act as bait-if we can come up with a good plan."
Walsh said to me, "We can discuss that later." He remembered to add, "I appreciate the offer." He changed subjects. "We have another murder that may be connected to Asad Khalil." He looked at me and said, "Captain Paresi told you about the Libyan taxi driver."
"Correct."
Walsh asked me, "How did you anticipate that?"
I replied, "As you know, that's Khalil's M.O." I added, "The last time he was here, he used a Libyan taxi driver to take him from JFK to a destination in New Jersey, where he murdered him in much the same way as he murdered"-here was my moment-"Amir on Murray Street."
Paresi said, "I never mentioned the name of the murdered taxi driver, or where he was murdered."
I agreed, "No, you didn't."
He, of course, inquired, "How did you know that?"
I wasn't going to tell him I had a chance chat with a cop on the beat; I wanted to stay on this case so I needed to maintain my aura of being informed and connected in high places, and I replied, "I have my sources."
That did not go over well with my two bosses, and Paresi said, "We'll discuss this later."
Walsh let it go and continued, "No murder weapon was recovered, but the medical examiner says that he found a puncture wound in the deceased's skull, and that the autopsy will probably reveal a deep puncture in the brain consistent with the type of wound made by an ice pick or a similar instrument." He added, "Death was not instantaneous. In fact, the victim exited his taxi and died on the street."
That didn't sound like the Asad Khalil that I knew. I mean, you really don't want your victims doing the zombie walk in the middle of the street while you're trying to put some distance between you and them.
My own brain, which works well enough, retrieved a piece of trivia-Leon Trotsky, an old Bolshevik who had fallen out of favor with his Commie buddies, was murdered in Mexico City by a guy working for the predecessors of the KGB. The weapon used was an ice pick-and Trotsky had lingered for days before dying. So if I was seeing Boris's training here, you'd think Boris would have remembered to tell Khalil, "We love that ice pick, Asad, but you gotta give them two or three pokes."
I made a mental note to discuss this with Boris if I got the chance. Or maybe Khalil.
Walsh continued with his crime scene briefing. "The police found no cell phone on the driver's body or in his taxi. We then attempted to retrieve the murdered man's cell phone records, and his house phone records, but we discovered that he had no house phone, and if he had a cell phone-which he undoubtedly did-it was either not in his name, or it was the paid-minutes type and no records exist." He concluded, "Dead end."
Poor choice of words, perhaps, but not surprising. As I've discovered, most Middle Eastern immigrants come from places where it's not a good idea to create records of your existence-and that mentality had carried over to America, which made my job a little more difficult.
Walsh continued, "We're making the assumption, of course, that it was Khalil who murdered this taxi driver… though it could be a coincidence."
I offered my unsolicited opinion and said, "Khalil murdered the taxi driver." I added, "That's why you have a BOLO out on Khalil and why his photo is in every police car in the city."
Neither Walsh nor Paresi asked me how I knew that, though by now they had concluded that John Corey was still plugged into the Blue Network. Well, I was, but with each year that passed since my disability retirement, my NYPD sources were fewer, and by now I'd called in most of the favors owed to me. Still, I could flash my shield and talk to a cop on the beat.
Walsh concluded, "NYPD Homicide is investigating this murder and will keep us informed."
Walsh filled us in on a few more odds and ends, including the not-surprising discovery that Global Entertainment in Lichtenstein and Hydra Shipping in Athens were sham corporations. INTERPOL and the national police of both countries were investigating.
In police work, intelligence work, and counterterrorism work, we always say, "It's important to know who fired the bullet, but it's more important to know who paid for it."
Indeed. And when you know that, you can guess at the bigger picture.
Who was backing Asad Khalil? And why? He could not have pulled all this off by himself. My knowledge of geopolitics is limited, but I did know that Libya and its weird president, Colonel Muammar Khadafi, were being quiet since we bombed the shit out of them in 1986. And since 9/11, they'd gotten even quieter. So they wouldn't risk backing their former psychotic terrorist-there was nothing in it for them except more bombs.
The next usual suspect was Al Qaeda, but I didn't see their fingerprints on this-unless there was something in it for them. Which brought me to quid pro quo.
It would appear that a terrorist organization with some resources had provided Asad Khalil with funds, sham corporations, passports, and intel about his intended victims-including me and Kate. But Asad Khalil's mission was his mission and not very large in scale or significant in terms of what it would accomplish in the war against the U.S. For sure it was insignificant when compared to 9/11. I mean, whacking Mr. and Mrs. Corey was not high on Al Qaeda's agenda.
Therefore, Khalil had to return the favor; he had to take out a big target for his sponsors-a building or monument, or maybe an important person or persons.
I was thinking about all this while Walsh was going on about this and that, speaking mostly to George Foster now. I was waiting for Walsh to get to the question of who might be behind Asad Khalil, and the possibility of a major attack, using a weapon of mass destruction. But that didn't seem to be on Walsh's agenda memo. Maybe later.
Walsh finished with George, who apparently had just been made the case agent in my mental absence. I had no real problem with that, but I was a little concerned about my future status on this case. Tom, nice tie.
Walsh said, "We have a piece of evidence I'd like you all to see." He took a remote control from the table and clicked on the television in the corner. In a few seconds, we were watching a bunch of assholes jumping out of an aircraft.
The first scene was obviously taken by a skydiver as he was free-falling, and it was a bit jumpy, as you can imagine. Nevertheless, I recognized the twenty or so idiots falling through space with their bodies in the Superman position, trying to join up to form a bucky ball or something. I thought I saw Craig flapping his arms and legs like a wounded duck.
Walsh was staring at the screen, and he asked me, "You do that?"
I replied, "Kate and I love it." I added, "You should try it." I'll pack your chute.
Walsh fast forwarded. This shot was taken from the ground with a telephoto lens, and I could clearly see a few colored chutes against the blue sky, then Walsh put it into slow motion, and I could now see Kate free-falling with Khalil hooked up to her. Then I saw myself free-falling toward Kate and Khalil, and then Kate's chute opened, and then mine opened.
The room was very silent, but you could hear people on the ground talking, then the distinct voice of a man saying, "Look!"
Walsh froze the picture and said to me, "You don't have to watch this."
I didn't reply and he continued in slow motion.
As the scene unfolded, Walsh asked me to provide a commentary, but I said, "I'll put it in my report."
I saw myself pulling my gun and popping off two rounds at Khalil, but the action was so far away that no one but me knew what I'd done.
Meanwhile, the voices on the ground got louder, and they sounded more excited as they realized something was wrong.
Even in slow motion and with the telephoto lens, it was difficult for the people on the ground, or in this room, to see or comprehend what was happening at that altitude. But I knew the moment when Khalil cut Kate's throat, and I did bring that to everyone's attention.
Then you could see Khalil going into free fall, and I saw his chute opening, and I could see now that he'd steered himself toward the woods.
Khalil was out of the frame, and I looked back at where the cameraman had centered his shot, which was me steering toward Kate. Then our chutes collided and collapsed, and there was a lot of shouting on the ground and someone screamed.
Next you could see my collapsed chute sailing away after I jettisoned it, then Kate's chute, too, sailed off when I released it. And then there we were in free fall again.
It would appear to the uninitiated that Kate and I were falling to our deaths, but the skydivers on the ground understood that a collapsed main chute was actually worse than no chute.
Paresi asked me, "What the hell is happening?"
I explained, "I had to get rid of our main chutes to get us on the ground quickly before she bled to death." I assured him, "Our emergency chutes will open." That's why I'm here.
Paresi mumbled, "Jesus…"
Kate and I were free-falling for what seemed a very long time before Kate's emergency chute popped, followed by mine. Even in slow motion I could see now how fast we were falling with the small chutes, and I unconsciously braced myself for the impact. I wouldn't want to do that again.
I saw Kate hit the ground first, then before I hit, the cameraman must have stopped filming, because the next scene was of the ambulance racing toward where we'd landed, then a new scene of me in the distance kneeling over Kate. Then all I could see was the backs of people in jumpsuits running toward where the ambulance had stopped, and I could hear a lot of excited shouting.
The cameraman was now moving quickly through the crowd as he filmed, and I could see brief glimpses of myself and the three EMS people gathered around Kate. The cameraman seemed intent on working his way closer to where we were trying to save Kate's life, but I don't know if he got that close because Walsh shut off the TV.
We all sat there for a few quiet seconds before Walsh said, "You did a good job."
I didn't reply.
Paresi said, as if to himself, "I can't believe that asshole did that."
Walsh suggested, "Let's take a fifteen-minute break."
I stood and walked out of the room and headed toward the elevators.
I got on the elevator and rode down by myself. I closed my eyes and I was falling through space… falling at two hundred miles an hour, and my wife was spurting blood into the airstream, and my heart pounded in my chest.
You bastard. You arrogant bastard.
"You only get one chance at me, asshole. You had it, and you blew it. Payback's a bitch."