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“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.”

56

The problem with any high-profile case was that sooner or later all the excitement and attention degenerated into hard work. Alex and Shannon spent the two months after the preliminary hearing interviewing witnesses, reviewing documents, and working on a motion to suppress key parts of the prosecution’s evidence.

In addition, Alex obtained court approval to take the videotaped de bene esse deposition of Hamza Walid in Beirut, Lebanon, that could be used at the trial. Alex arranged the deposition through a Beirut lawyer named Nijad Abadi. Though Abadi would not let Alex speak with Walid directly, Abadi did say that he thought the deposition would be worth Alex’s time. He also insisted that Alex not take the deposition until just before trial, in case the parties worked out a plea bargain that might make the deposition unnecessary. Alex hoped Walid would be able to provide the missing details linking Fatih Mahdi with both the Islamic Brotherhood and Hezbollah.

Shannon spent large chunks of her time trying to move Ghaniyah’s personal-injury case forward despite the strident opposition of two defense attorneys, one hired to represent Country-Fresh, Inc., the company that owned the produce truck identified by Shannon, and a second hired to represent the driver.

The company’s lawyer, a cranky, old-school practitioner named Mack Strobel, was a plaintiff lawyer’s worst nightmare. Mack never agreed to anything. He fought every motion and defended every deposition tooth and nail. He was especially condescending and combative with young lawyers and saved his greatest disdain for young women. The first time Shannon met him, during a court hearing over one of the many objections Mack had filed to her discovery requests, he treated her as if she had just graduated from elementary school. Even when she won the hearing, it didn’t seem to put a dent in his superiority complex.