here? Were they watching her right now? She fought to keep breathing, to suppress the panic that threatened to overtake her. Fumbling in her purse, she clutched her cell phone. Her fingers stumbled to dial 911.
Two hours later in her office, Zehra had calmed down. Of course, it had taken the police over an hour to arrive. She was scared but knew that a vandalized car was low on the list of emergencies for them. They promised to look into things, warned her to lock the car, and to be careful. Blah, blah, blah.
A cup of tea helped her to focus on what she had to do.
She called the prosecutor, Steve Harmon. She’d tell him about Dr. Stein’s test and ask to have the case dismissed against her client. With all the weird, scary things going on, Zehra wanted out badly.
When he answered, Harmon panted, out of breath. “I started walking up the last ten flights of stairs to the office.” He paused. “Trying to stay in better shape. I spend so much time chained to this damn desk.”
“Steve, are you familiar with a test done to determine if DNA testing is accurate?”
“Never heard of it.”
Zehra explained what she knew and how Dr. Stein had tested the DNA sample, supposedly from Ibrahim El- Amin. “He said it’s not that hard to plant phony DNA evidence at a crime scene.”
“I know this is part of your job, but I can’t throw it out. Reason one is I think your guy is guilty as hell. Reason two is my boss, the elected county attorney. How do you think he’d look going in front of the cameras to dump the murder charges-the only break we’ve had in all these disappearing Somali cases. And reason three is, I ain’t gonna lose this one.”
“I know and it’s not because I feel sorry for my client, believe me. I can’t stand the guy, but think about this: what if you’ve got the wrong guy? This new testing procedure looks pretty impressive. And you combine that with the alibi witness we’ve found … don’t you see, Steve? You’ve got the wrong guy. You have a duty to let him go.” Zehra’s voice rose.
“If you were any one of a dozen other defense lawyers, I’d hang up now. But, here’s what I can do. Let me see the test results you’ve got, and I’ll check it out. If the test is legit, we can look at the DNA samples that match your guy. I still know it’s gonna be damn tough to get my boss to back-off on this case.”
“I can understand but think about justice. You can’t prosecute the wrong guy just because it’s politically easier.” She started to shout at him. “You just-can’t.”
Harmon didn’t respond for a few minutes. “Look, Zehra, don’t give me that crap,” he said. “I’ve also got the FBI and some federal agencies breathing down my neck, too. Everyone’s looking to wrap this whole mess up with a conviction. You’ve worked here. You know what it’s like.” Harmon paused and spoke again in a softer voice. “If the DNA was faked, we’ll deal with that. But for now, I say he’s guilty.”
She sputtered some more, then gave up. “Okay, okay. I’ll get the info on the test to you right away and contacts for the doctor.” After she hung up, Zehra looked out her window. It wasn’t like her to blow up, but the pressure, the threat, all of it had just exploded out of control. It scared her.
Zehra’s next step would be harder. She’d have to tell her client.
Before she could go to the jail, Zehra had to appear at ten o’clock in court for the sentencing of another client. She planned to go from that hearing to the jail. If she were lucky, she could meet El-Amin before lunch, when the entire jail was shut-down for two hours.
Zehra left her office, carrying her briefcase and purse. The air felt thick and humid. She looked up to the heavy, dark clouds moving overhead, followed by low rumbles from the west. She smelled an electric freshness that confirmed coming rain.
Good-her oasis on the balcony needed rain badly. With her busier-than-usual work schedule, she hadn’t been able to water as much as they required.
She thought of El-Amin. Would she be able to convince Harmon before the trial started? She had about a week. Maybe, considering the new evidence of the phony DNA, the judge would give her a continuance. Of course, El-Amin would have to agree to that.
Zehra shook out her hair, trying to shake out all the conflicting ideas. Just another day in the life of a public defender, trying to juggle a dozen balls in the air at one time.
When she thought of Mustafa, Zehra felt a little lighter on her feet. Of course, it was too early to say, but compared to all the other guys she’d met lately, he shone like a prize. He was a bright spot among all the heavy problems that pressed in and her loneliness lifted a little.
At Hiawatha High School, Dr. Michael Ammar met with the principal, Robert Sandford, who was squeezing hand springs for exercise. His feet rested on the desk before him. “The left hand’s the most important, because you grab the shaft of the golf club with that one. The left’s gotta be the strongest.”
Michael nodded, bored and anxious to see the students. With the launch coming up in a few days, he didn’t have time for this waste. He felt a dribble of sweat work its way down the side of his chest. There were so many things left to be done. In spite of all his meticulous planning, certain events threatened the entire launch. He’d had to protect the network. Take care of loose ends. Make sure people didn’t talk. And, of course, there was the room in the school he had to prepare immediately. That’s where the glorious jihad would begin.
“Thanks so much for your help with the projects for the science fair. As you know, we’ve had a longstanding agreement with Health Tech to send their scientists here. It’s worked out great. We really appreciate it.”
“I enjoy it, and I want to help these young people understand the importance and excitement of science.” He glanced at his watch. “I should get into the lab now.”
“Yeah, of course. Well, thanks again, Doc.”
Michael left and hurried across the high school complex to the lab room on the far west end. Jim Miller, the head engineer who ran the physical plant, almost collided with Michael as they both rounded a corner.
“Hey, Doc, what’s the rush?”
“I’m late for the class.”
“I s’pose with the fair coming up, you’re all working overtime.”
“Right. Well, I have to run.” They liked him and appreciated his work, but he didn’t want to get too friendly with any of them. Besides, he had lots of work to get done before he left tonight-for the science fair and the other, final preparations.
When he reached the lab, the usual teacher, Ms. Hall, was wrapping up her class. She brightened when Michael entered the back of the room. Hall stopped talking. “Here he is now.”
All twenty-two students turned and applauded for Michael. He half raised his hand and felt slightly embarrassed.
Ms. Hall said, “So, I want the last four chapters finished by next Monday. I’ll give you extra time because I know so many of you are presenting for the fair. Dr. Ammar,” she looked up at him, “are you ready to handle this crew?” She laughed.
“I’ll take them all on,” Michael said.
After she left, he assigned each student who was participating in the fair to show him their progress. The students scraped out of their desks, pushed and shoved each other in fun, and went to the lockers on the side of the room. They started to remove their projects.
One of the most intense kids, Sergio, came up to Michael. “Do you want to see the heart sections I’ve displayed?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
Sergio pulled him to a table in the far corner. Lifting a box off the floor, Sergio removed a remarkably life-like model of the human heart. “It’s plastic material I can mold by hand. When it sets, it looks pretty real, doesn’t it?”
Michael marveled at the model. All the chambers, muscled walls, and arteries looked accurate.
“See,” Sergio explained, “this first model shows the heart with the arteries blocked.” He pointed to an area in the upper chamber. Turning around, Sergio lifted another model out of the box. “This one here’s been surgically repaired. And in between each model, I’m gonna put up the videos I got off the web that show the actual surgery. Lots of blood and guts,” he laughed.
“That should cause people to stop smoking,” Michael said. He pulled back his cuff to see the time. There was so much work to do down stairs, he couldn’t spend a lot of time with the students today.
One by one, Michael hurried around the room to check each project. He offered advice to many, congratulated others, and pointed out problems in projects that didn’t look complete.
He had come to like the young people to a degree, but they all had been corrupted by the materialistic culture
