the mosque.”
Paul shook his head. “He didn’t ask you to go to Somalia?”
“No. He told us we must attend our schools. That was the most important thing,” Abraham said.
“Are you sure he didn’t talk to you about becoming a freedom fighter in Somalia?”
“Nope.”
Paul looked at Simmons. She shrugged her shoulders. He asked the boy, “What are you supposed to do at the school?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something very important for Allah. We were instructed not to tell our parents about anything.”
“Did you?”
“No, because the scientist isn’t Somali and my parents don’t trust many people outside of their tribe.” He glanced at the teacher. “I didn’t know what to do, so I told Ms. Simmons.” Tiny drops of sweat popped out over the boy’s forehead.
“You did the right thing, Abraham,” she told him.
Paul asked, “So, you were supposed to go to the mosque. When?”
“At the end of the week. Then, we’d have to go to school every day without missing any classes. The end of the week, Friday, is the holy day for Muslims.”
“Sure” Paul said. “What were you going to do at the mosque?”
Abraham shook his head. They all stood in silence. Paul wrestled with the facts. They were thin-some scientist told the boys to go to school. So what? Was this connected to the other missing Somali boys?
“But I know where he works,” Abraham said.
“Huh?” Paul looked at him.
“Well, I saw his briefcase that he always brought with him. It had the initials, ‘M.A.’ on the top and the name of his company on it too.”
“You remember the name?”
“Sure, Health Technologies.”
A grin burst across Paul’s face. “Great work! I should recruit you for the FBI. You remember anything else? What’d he look like?”
“Uh … tall, skinny dude. Wasn’t Somali. He looked Arab. Big nose, smooth skin, good looking. I don’t know.”
“That’s okay. Are you scheduled to meet him again?”
“Only if I want to participate. I’d like to.”
“In the next few days?”
“Yeah.”
Paul thought for a moment about using the boy as bait to lure the scientist in, but decided it was too risky. “Health Technologies, huh? I can follow up on that.” He thanked both of them, left the school, and climbed into his car. He pulled out his Blackberry and keyed in Health Technologies. He found their website and address in Arden Hills, a suburb on the north side of the Twin Cities. He checked to make sure he had FBI identification, and left the school. There probably weren’t too many Middle Eastern men employed there. It should be easy to find Mr. A, the scientist.
He tried Conway’s number again and received his gruff voice mail. Depending on what Paul found when he arrived at the company, he’d call for back-up if necessary.
Twenty-Seven
At the elevator in the basement of her building, Zehra pounded on the button to retrieve it. She rode it up, rushed inside her condo, and locked and chained the door.
She tried to calm herself. Gasped for breath but couldn’t seem to get enough. She felt as if she were choking. This was too close. What should she do?
To distract herself and calm down, she filled the old copper watering can her parents had given her when she first moved in. Her condo had an unusually large deck, which she’d crammed full of pots. Gardening had always given her a respite, a spiritual retreat.
Zehra sprinkled the spinach and chives then watered the begonias. It was easy because her hands shook. Gardening magazines urged her to buy worms for the soil. They created a richer environment for the plants and even disposed of garbage.
They were right of course, but the thought of all those worms crawling around her deck made her queasy.
The missing imam.
Zehra punched BJ’s number on her cell in speed dial. He answered. She told him everything as fast as she could get the words out.
“Chill, girl. I’ll be over.”
“But, BJ, we lost our main witness.”
The trial was scheduled to start next Monday. Now, what would they do for the defense? The fake DNA test might not be enough to win, depending on the other witnesses and evidence.
Like a dog sensing things before humans could, Zehra felt a gathering storm. Someone had to fake the DNA … who? And why? Now, the imam was missing. Who were the people recruiting the young Somali boys? Paul had been right-this was bigger than the murder case. She felt alone and vulnerable.
She thought of Mustafa and emailed him. Since BJ wasn’t able to make headway with these people, after Mustafa’s work in the community, maybe he could help. Zehra explained how she’d gone to the mosque and found the alibi witness missing. Did he think he could open any doors for her? To her surprise, he responded immediately. Maybe, he told her. He agreed to meet her later.
Zehra unlocked the lobby door downstairs to let BJ come in. He couldn’t do much and Zehra knew that, but just having him with her for a few hours helped. He assured her he’d stick around. He hugged her so close that she could hear his heart thumping and that made her feel relieved.
“What really spooks me was the guy from the mosque. He kept asking if he could find me.” Zehra’s voice didn’t sound like her own. “Do you think he’ll come after me again? Here?” She started to shake.
“I’ll be here as much as you need me,” BJ said. “I’ll call my old partner and get him to have a squad hang around here.”
Zehra felt like crying. BJ’s presence calmed her. She sniffed back a few tears.
In ten minutes, Mustafa arrived, and Zehra was happy to leave the condo She introduced the two men. BJ said he’d let himself out. Zehra climbed into the front seat of his Mercedes. He turned off the air and opened the windows to let warm summer air surround them. It felt good, and Zehra relaxed a little. His car had a manual transmission, and she watched his strong hand maneuver the stick, shifting with confidence. They must find the imam
“I have done some work for the Somali community at Cedar-Riverside but they are closed to outsiders, even other Muslims. I don’t know if I can help much.”
She told him of the faked DNA evidence.
“I have never heard of that. It is true?”
“Yeah, and the research I’ve done says it’s not too hard. Someone would have to prepare it ahead of time. Luckily, most criminals get caught because they aren’t too bright. It’s the ones who are smart who worry me. Obviously, someone thought about the murder ahead of time and prepared the fake sample to frame El-Amin.”
“You think he is innocent?”
She turned in the seat to face him. “After a few years of defending criminals, I’ve come to distrust most of what they tell me. But the evidence here sure makes him look innocent.” She paused, wanted to tell him so much more. “Sorry, I have a lawyer’s duty to not reveal confidential info from my client.”
Mustafa nodded, and the sun glistened off his shiny hair. “I’m always honest about everything. It is written in the Qur’an.”
