Jihad

CHAPTER 121

It took Robert Gallo about two hours to download a full copy of the computer drive from the hotel Ambassador Jackson had found. By the time he was done, Angela DiGiacomo had already determined that the man believed to be Marid Dabir had used a fake name and address to register at the hotel. The name — Burkha Akhtar — didn’t correspond to any known alias used by al-Qaeda, let alone Marid Dabir. It did, however, match a name that had been cited by German intelligence in reports two years before of possible al-Qaeda activity in Germany. It was another coincidence, tantalizing but not quite conclusive.

“Kinda like my mom’s meatballs,” said Gallo as he discussed it with DiGiacomo.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re kinda like my grandma’s, but not quite.”

“Any time you want good meatballs, just let know.”

“Maybe I’m overinterpreting this, but did you just invite me to dinner?”

DiGiacomo flushed, but then shrugged. “Maybe.”

That “maybe” powered Gallo for the rest of the day.

“See, they’d be in two different places at the same time,” Gallo told Johnny Bib, showing the credit card charges for the flights. “Why would you be making reservations to fly from Cleveland to Boston when you’re in Des Moines?”

“You’re sure he’s in Des Moines?”

“Angie checked it out. She called his hotel.”

Johnny Bib turned to DiGiacomo. “True?”

She nodded.

“Maybe it’s his wife or another relative.”

“No wife,” said Gallo. “And his relatives are all back in Texas.”

“We think he gained access to the motel’s computer and took the credit card numbers from there,” Gallo said.

A grin came to Johnny Bib’s face. He snatched the memory stick with the data on it and was about to bolt from the room, probably to tell Rubens, when Gallo stopped him.

“Wait, we’re not done. See, I checked out where the reservation was made from. Turned out to be a computer in a library in Ohio.”

“Good.”

“Another reservation came from there that same day, almost at the same time. This one’s for a flight from Boston to Ireland.”

“Better!” chirped Johnny Bib.

“It’s on there,” said Gallo as his boss flew from the room.

“Do you think he was always strange?” asked DiGiacomo.

“I don’t think he’s that strange,” said Gallo. “Comparatively.”