Fatal Convictions

55

Alex waited several days while Khalid mended before asking his client to meet with his lawyers and provide answers to most of the questions they had been asking. The imam brought Nara with him to the conference room at Madison and Associates.

For Alex, Khalid’s appearance was a grim reminder of how dangerous this case had become. The imam’s right eye was swollen nearly shut with a large half-moon of black-and-blue bruises around the outside and four stitches just above the eyebrow. His right upper lip was twice its normal size. Khalid winced when he took his seat and shifted around a little until he got comfortable. “It only hurts when I breathe,” he quipped. Fortunately, the X-rays had shown no broken bones.

By contrast, Nara looked composed and well rested. She wore a light blue blouse with a matching skirt and heels that accentuated her long, slim figure. She had used just the right touch of makeup to highlight her alluring eyes and full lips. Alex caught himself staring at her as she talked. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see that Shannon was giving him a disapproving look. Jealous?

He had to admit that having Nara around had become less of a burden after their talk on Sunday. Now, sitting in the same room with her, he had to force himself to concentrate on the case.

There had been no further developments in the tepid investigation of Khalid’s beatdown. Alex’s firm had issued a press release explaining that Khalid had been assaulted in the parking lot of his local Harris Teeter. Neither the press nor the police seemed to care very much.

Once Alex and Shannon convinced Khalid that the conference room was not bugged, he agreed to detail the connections between the Islamic Learning Center, the Islamic Brotherhood, and Hezbollah.

The mosque in Norfolk was part of a grand strategy to build at least one flagship mosque in every major American city. According to Khalid, the Islamic Brotherhood had helped fund the mosque through a spiderweb of charitable organizations and NGOs it secretly controlled. Though Khalid didn’t know for sure, there were rumors that the Brotherhood received much of its funding through a maze of international NGOs that could be traced to various donors in Saudi Arabia and certain terrorist groups. You can’t build a $13-million mosque in Norfolk, Virginia, without some outside funding, Khalid explained.

Khalid had been asked to help lead the mosque because he was a prestigious professor at Old Dominion University and because he had been a high-profile leader in Lebanon. In the beginning, the Islamic Brotherhood also paid a stipend to other mosque leaders such as Fatih Mahdi.

Shortly after the mosque was completed, Khalid had a falling-out with the Islamic Brotherhood. The Brotherhood wanted to grow the attendance by using the tactics they had used in other cities, the same tactics used by Hezbollah in Lebanon. Brotherhood members would go door-to-door in the inner city and find families in need. They would provide groceries and assistance with rent. They would claim that Allah had sent them to bless the family. They would say that Christians, Jews, and Muslims were all pretty much the same theologically, all people of the Book, all worshiping the same God. They would tell single moms that Islam would teach their sons discipline and help them stay out of trouble in school.

“Mosques are being built all over the United States in this manner,” Khalid explained.

“What about yours?” Shannon asked.

“Not ours,” Khalid said. “Ours was different. From the beginning, we appealed more to university students and restless young professionals and those who had grown tired of the materialistic Christianity of the West. By that, Alex, I mean no disrespect.”

“None taken,” Alex said.

“We had professionals from as far away as Richmond and even northern Virginia who would come to our Friday salats,” Khalid explained. “When I began preaching serious reform, the Islamic Brotherhood withdrew all support. Yet at the same time, moderate Muslims started showing up in force. There were, of course, those in the mosque who were disappointed by my teaching. At first, the whispers were quiet. But after the Israeli-Hezbollah war of 2006, my critics started making their displeasures known.”

“Was Fatih Mahdi one of your critics?” Shannon asked.

Khalid thought about this for a moment, which gave Nara a chance to interject. “Most definitely,” she said. “Fatih was one of the most outspoken critics. He’s been vehemently opposed to many of my father’s teachings. And I’m sure-though Father has never said this to me-that Fatih was also extremely upset that my father would allow me to speak so openly about women’s rights.”

“It is true,” Khalid admitted. He was contemplative, not angry, speaking in the way family members talk about a loved one who has run into hard times. “But Fatih would always talk to me privately before he criticized me publicly. Even when we disagreed, we were friends. More like brothers. I cannot believe that Fatih is to blame for what has happened.”

“But you know he recruited for Hezbollah when we lived in Beirut,” Nara protested. “He’s still part of the Brotherhood. Even today, he’s recruiting for mosques all over the United States.”

“I know,” Khalid conceded. He said it with a tone that indicated the facts did not change his mind.

“It’s one of the challenges with my father,” Nara explained, as though her dad were not in the room. “He always sees the best in everyone. He can’t imagine that anyone would have anything but his best interest in mind.”

“Well… somebody was out to get him,” Shannon said. She flipped a page in her legal pad and took a sip of bottled water. “Can I ask a few questions about the flow of money?”

She spent the next several minutes questioning Khalid about church procedures and how he protected his passwords. Alex listened appreciatively for a while. This was Shannon at her best. Taking notes. Uncovering nuances. Drilling down for details that might escape others.

When she started asking about access to Khalid’s work computer, Alex began losing interest. He was busy studying Nara as she intensely followed the conversation. He had so many questions about her. What kinds of things made her smile? What did she like doing when she wasn’t crusading to free her father? Were there any men in her life? Was there anything she feared? How deeply committed was she to the Muslim faith?

When Shannon turned her focus to the recipient account in Lebanon, Alex began to focus again. They had to find out who owned that account. Yet even if they did, there was no way they could subpoena an account in a foreign country.

Khalid seemed like he wanted to share something but kept holding back.

“What is it?” Shannon asked. “Do you know something about this account?”

The imam looked at his daughter and shifted painfully in his seat. He winced, either from the pain of his bruises or the subject matter at hand-Alex couldn’t tell. “I’ve thought a fair amount about this,” he said. “I still have one very close friend inside the Hezbollah organization who plays a key role in the financing of the Islamic Brotherhood.” He pursed his lips and breathed in through his nose, as if he didn’t want to say anything else right now.

“What’s his name?” Shannon prodded.

“They need to know,” Nara said. “It’s the only way they can help.”

“Can we keep his name confidential?” Khalid asked.

Shannon looked at Alex. If Khalid gave them the name of a friend who could help, they would be duty-bound to procure that testimony by whatever means possible.

“I can’t promise anything,” Alex said. “But we’ll try.”

Khalid thought about this. “I would rather exhaust all other channels first,” he said. “The men who control the financing for the Islamic Brotherhood are ruthless and unforgiving. I am not willing to jeopardize my friend except as a last resort.”

“We’re already at last resort,” Shannon said. “In fact, we passed last resort about two weeks ago.”

“Then I’ll contact him myself,” Khalid said, “and see if he’s willing to get involved.”

Alex and Shannon wanted to play it differently. “Let me contact him,” Alex said. “He’s got to know that your freedom is on the line.”

But Khalid wouldn’t yield. Alex and Shannon both tried to dissuade him, but they were wasting their breath. The Mobassar family had stubborn down to an art form.

When the meeting was over, Nara pulled Alex aside in the hallway. “I’ll get that name for you,” she said.

“If you do, and if he’s willing to testify, we may have to go to Lebanon to depose him,” Alex said.

“I’ll go with you,” Nara said.

The intensity in her dark eyes was nearly impossible for Alex to resist. If he did go to Beirut, it would be smart to have someone with him who knew her way around. But his instincts were on red alert. The fifth admonition on his grandfather’s list read This is a law firm, not a dating service. Don’t get emotionally attached to the clients. But there was a spark of adventure in Nara’s eyes, and she was hitting all the right chords.

So Alex began doing what lawyers did best-rationalizing. Technically, Nara wasn’t even his client; Khalid was. And Alex was doing this for Khalid.

At least that would be his story when he explained it to Shannon. He pushed aside the mental picture of the framed yellow legal paper with his grandfather’s handwriting on it. “Why not?” he said.***

Two days later, Nara came through on her end of the bargain.

“His name is Hamza Walid,” she said. “My father talked with him. Walid’s lawyer should be giving you a call.”

Alex smiled. It was the first real break in the case in weeks. “I’ve heard Beirut is beautiful this time of year.”