I saw that coming and replied, "That's not what I had in mind." I informed him, "Look, Tom, I'm willing to act as bait-if we can come up with a good plan."
Walsh said to me, "We can discuss that later." He remembered to add, "I appreciate the offer." He changed subjects. "We have another murder that may be connected to Asad Khalil." He looked at me and said, "Captain Paresi told you about the Libyan taxi driver."
"Correct."
Walsh asked me, "How did you anticipate that?"
I replied, "As you know, that's Khalil's M.O." I added, "The last time he was here, he used a Libyan taxi driver to take him from JFK to a destination in New Jersey, where he murdered him in much the same way as he murdered"-here was my moment-"Amir on Murray Street."
Paresi said, "I never mentioned the name of the murdered taxi driver, or where he was murdered."
I agreed, "No, you didn't."
He, of course, inquired, "How did you know that?"
I wasn't going to tell him I had a chance chat with a cop on the beat; I wanted to stay on this case so I needed to maintain my aura of being informed and connected in high places, and I replied, "I have my sources."
That did not go over well with my two bosses, and Paresi said, "We'll discuss this later."
Walsh let it go and continued, "No murder weapon was recovered, but the medical examiner says that he found a puncture wound in the deceased's skull, and that the autopsy will probably reveal a deep puncture in the brain consistent with the type of wound made by an ice pick or a similar instrument." He added, "Death was not instantaneous. In fact, the victim exited his taxi and died on the street."
That didn't sound like the Asad Khalil that I knew. I mean, you really don't want your victims doing the zombie walk in the middle of the street while you're trying to put some distance between you and them.
My own brain, which works well enough, retrieved a piece of trivia-Leon Trotsky, an old Bolshevik who had fallen out of favor with his Commie buddies, was murdered in Mexico City by a guy working for the predecessors of the KGB. The weapon used was an ice pick-and Trotsky had lingered for days before dying. So if I was seeing Boris's training here, you'd think Boris would have remembered to tell Khalil, "We love that ice pick, Asad, but you gotta give them two or three pokes."
I made a mental note to discuss this with Boris if I got the chance. Or maybe Khalil.
Walsh continued with his crime scene briefing. "The police found no cell phone on the driver's body or in his taxi. We then attempted to retrieve the murdered man's cell phone records, and his house phone records, but we discovered that he had no house phone, and if he had a cell phone-which he undoubtedly did-it was either not in his name, or it was the paid-minutes type and no records exist." He concluded, "Dead end."
Poor choice of words, perhaps, but not surprising. As I've discovered, most Middle Eastern immigrants come from places where it's not a good idea to create records of your existence-and that mentality had carried over to America, which made my job a little more difficult.
Walsh continued, "We're making the assumption, of course, that it was Khalil who murdered this taxi driver… though it could be a coincidence."
I offered my unsolicited opinion and said, "Khalil murdered the taxi driver." I added, "That's why you have a BOLO out on Khalil and why his photo is in every police car in the city."
Neither Walsh nor Paresi asked me how I knew that, though by now they had concluded that John Corey was still plugged into the Blue Network. Well, I was, but with each year that passed since my disability retirement, my NYPD sources were fewer, and by now I'd called in most of the favors owed to me. Still, I could flash my shield and talk to a cop on the beat.
Walsh concluded, "NYPD Homicide is investigating this murder and will keep us informed."
Walsh filled us in on a few more odds and ends, including the not-surprising discovery that Global Entertainment in Lichtenstein and Hydra Shipping in Athens were sham corporations. INTERPOL and the national police of both countries were investigating.
In police work, intelligence work, and counterterrorism work, we always say, "It's important to know who fired the bullet, but it's more important to know who paid for it."
Indeed. And when you know that, you can guess at the bigger picture.
Who was backing Asad Khalil? And why? He could not have pulled all this off by himself. My knowledge of geopolitics is limited, but I did know that Libya and its weird president, Colonel Muammar Khadafi, were being quiet since we bombed the shit out of them in 1986. And since 9/11, they'd gotten even quieter. So they wouldn't risk backing their former psychotic terrorist-there was nothing in it for them except more bombs.
The next usual suspect was Al Qaeda, but I didn't see their fingerprints on this-unless there was something in it for them. Which brought me to quid pro quo.
It would appear that a terrorist organization with some resources had provided Asad Khalil with funds, sham corporations, passports, and intel about his intended victims-including me and Kate. But Asad Khalil's mission was his mission and not very large in scale or significant in terms of what it would accomplish in the war against the U.S. For sure it was insignificant when compared to 9/11. I mean, whacking Mr. and Mrs. Corey was not high on Al Qaeda's agenda.
Therefore, Khalil had to return the favor; he had to take out a big target for his sponsors-a building or monument, or maybe an important person or persons.
I was thinking about all this while Walsh was going on about this and that, speaking mostly to George Foster now. I was waiting for Walsh to get to the question of who might be behind Asad Khalil, and the possibility of a major attack, using a weapon of mass destruction. But that didn't seem to be on Walsh's agenda memo. Maybe later.
Walsh finished with George, who apparently had just been made the case agent in my mental absence. I had no real problem with that, but I was a little concerned about my future status on this case. Tom, nice tie.
Walsh said, "We have a piece of evidence I'd like you all to see." He took a remote control from the table and clicked on the television in the corner. In a few seconds, we were watching a bunch of assholes jumping out of an aircraft.
The first scene was obviously taken by a skydiver as he was free-falling, and it was a bit jumpy, as you can imagine. Nevertheless, I recognized the twenty or so idiots falling through space with their bodies in the Superman position, trying to join up to form a bucky ball or something. I thought I saw Craig flapping his arms and legs like a wounded duck.
Walsh was staring at the screen, and he asked me, "You do that?"
I replied, "Kate and I love it." I added, "You should try it." I'll pack your chute.
Walsh fast forwarded. This shot was taken from the ground with a telephoto lens, and I could clearly see a few colored chutes against the blue sky, then Walsh put it into slow motion, and I could now see Kate free-falling with Khalil hooked up to her. Then I saw myself free-falling toward Kate and Khalil, and then Kate's chute opened, and then mine opened.
The room was very silent, but you could hear people on the ground talking, then the distinct voice of a man saying, "Look!"
Walsh froze the picture and said to me, "You don't have to watch this."
I didn't reply and he continued in slow motion.
As the scene unfolded, Walsh asked me to provide a commentary, but I said, "I'll put it in my report."
I saw myself pulling my gun and popping off two rounds at Khalil, but the action was so far away that no one but me knew what I'd done.
Meanwhile, the voices on the ground got louder, and they sounded more excited as they realized something was wrong.
Even in slow motion and with the telephoto lens, it was difficult for the people on the ground, or in this room, to see or comprehend what was happening at that altitude. But I knew the moment when Khalil cut Kate's throat, and I did bring that to everyone's attention.