Solomon's Gold

CHAPTER 53

It was a warm evening outside the police station where Amin was being held. The streets were filling with people out for a pleasant stroll. Nick would have preferred a snowstorm, instead of the spring-like weather. Snow and cold would have kept potential victims off the streets. Nick had no doubt that the third man was plotting carnage. The only way they were going to stop him was to get the surviving terrorist to talk.

So far, Amin had refused to say anything. He sat cuffed to a table in an interview room, mumbling prayers to himself. No one had bothered to clean him up. Hamid's blood was still on his clothes and in his hair.

Nick and Selena stood behind a one-way observation window, looking at the prisoner. The room was crowded. An FBI agent had shown up at the apartment and was now standing with them. A police lieutenant named Holland, a detective sergeant from the station, and someone from Homeland Security were also present. Nick would not have been surprised if more people from the alphabet soup of intelligence and security agencies showed up as well.

"Has he asked for a lawyer?" Nick said.

"Not yet," Holland said. "It wouldn't do him any good. He's being held under the Patriot Act. He doesn't get a lawyer even if he wants one, at least not yet."

"His buddy is out there planning something," Nick said. "We have to find a way to get this guy to open up."

"SWAT teams are on site at all three of the places marked on that map," Holland said. "Half the force is out there watching for anyone suspicious. The mayor has been informed. He's made it clear that if we start profiling, heads will roll."

"Meaning that stopping a man carrying a bomb who looks Middle Eastern could cost someone their badge," Nick said.

"Welcome to New York," Holland said.

The FBI agent pointed at Amin.

"All this guy does is repeat that stupid prayer. Maybe we need to get rough with him."

"We do that, the ACLU will be all over us," Holland said.

Selena looked through the glass. "I have an idea."

The agent looked at her. "You have an idea, lady?" His voice was dismissive.

Oh, boy, Nick thought.

Selena looked at him. "Lady? Is that what you called me?"

"You'd rather be called something else? Babe, maybe?" He grinned at her.

Selena stepped close, reached up with her thumb and forefinger, and pinched a nerve center near his neck. He grimaced in pain, paralyzed.

"Ahhh… Let go."

"You can address me as ma'am. Would you like to hear my idea?"

"Yeah, let go."

"Let go, what?"

"Let go, ma'am."

"Are you sure?" Selena said.

"Yeah, let go. Please."

"It always pays to be polite to a lady," she said.

She gave a final squeeze and dropped her hand away. The FBI man reached up and rubbed where she'd been pinching. His face was beet red. He turned to Holland.

"I want her arrested. She assaulted a federal officer."

"You'd like me to arrest her?"

"You saw what she did."

Lieutenant Holland looked at his sergeant.

"Get this asshole out of here."

"My pleasure, sir."

The detective gripped the FBI man's elbow and moved him toward the door.

"You can't do this. I'll have your badges for this."

He was still protesting when the door closed behind him.

"I enjoyed that," Holland said. "I've seen that guy before. He's from the local field office. Thinks he's Hoover's gift to law enforcement. That was a neat trick you pulled, ma'am."

"It's Selena to you, Lieutenant. I hope you don't get in any trouble over that."

"Don't worry about it," Holland said.

"What's your idea, Selena?" Nick asked.

"Look at him." She nodded at the glass. "He's having a pretty bad day."

They all looked at Amin. He looked dazed, lost. He looked scared. Flecks of Hamid's blood clung to his face.

"He's not much more than a boy," Selena said.

"He was ready to put on a suicide vest," Nick said. "He was one of the people who planted the gas in the hotel."

"That's true," Selena said, "but right now he's scared out of his mind. He probably thinks he's going to end up in a CIA black site somewhere. We can use that to our advantage."

"How?"

"My idea is that we get an imam in here to talk to him. Someone we know isn't one of the radicals. It's against religious law in Islam to take your own life. It's the extremists who have talked people into believing that blowing themselves up is something that makes God happy. Maybe an imam could convince him otherwise, and that it might be a good idea to talk with us."

Nick looked at his watch. "I don't think we have a lot of time. Let's try it. Let me make a call."

He called Harker.

"Director, I need a friendly imam in New York, preferably Shiite."

Elizabeth didn't ask why. "Wait one," she said.

"Freddie, I need some information."

How can I help, Director?

"I need the name of a Shiite imam in New York City, someone who isn't a radical. It has to be someone who has no ties at all to terrorism."

Processing.

Elizabeth waited.

Ali Zaidi is the imam of a mosque located on 14^th St. in lower Manhattan. He is considered a voice for moderation and peace. Would you like his phone number and address?

"Yes, Freddie."

She listened and repeated what Freddie said back to Nick on the phone.

"Got it," Nick said. He disconnected.

Half an hour later, the imam was in the station. An hour after that, they knew what Dayoud was going to do.