“I need to take a closer look,” Carrie said.
“There’s a box of gloves in the first drawer to the left.” Ismail pointed at a desk to his right.
Carrie tossed a pair of gloves to Justin, another pair to Nour, and wore a pair herself. She opened the evidence bag, took out the wire and analyzed the cut.
“Magnifying glass,” she said.
Ismail, not used to taking orders from a female, hesitated for a second, before handing it to her. Carrie noticed the wire had a precise cut, which had stripped the thin insulation clear from the copper conductor.
“Check this out.” She lifted up the piece of evidence. “It’s a perfect cut. No ripped insulation, no pressured ends and no incision to the conductor.”
“What does this mean?” Abdul asked.
“When you slice a cable or a wire, in a rush, with a knife, there’s no way you can get a perfect cut like this. The police didn’t do this. It was done by a professional blade, die blade most likely. An auto repair shop would have some machine that can do this. Maybe that’s where they cooked the bomb.”
“Wait a second,” Nour said. “You’re telling us the terrorists screwed up when they prepared this IED?”
“No, I’m telling you this,” Carrie placed the wire back in the evidence bag, “this was done intentionally. I don’t know if an Alliance member was working for the police or he felt some kind of remorse and wanted at least this part of the bombing to fail. But I know this cut was done on purpose.”
“Makes sense and would explain the ‘why,’” Justin said.
“What ‘why’?” Abdul blinked in confusion.
“The reason why the suicide bomber didn’t detonate his bomb before the police got to him. He couldn’t. If this wire was damaged on purpose, sabotaged that is, there was no way for the suicide bomber, or anyone else for that matter, to cause the blast. Right?” Justin said, looking at Ismail.
“Well, yes, that’s possible,” Ismail replied, but without much conviction. “The Semtex is intact and so are the blasting caps, the detonator, and the cellphone.”
A door cracking behind them brought the conversation to an abrupt pause.
“Sorry, so sorry,” a young woman said, as she hurried toward them, carrying a white evidence box on her hands. “This is the cellphone of the bomber, Ismail.”
“Thanks, Aisha,” Ismail said.
The woman left without saying another word.
“Let me see that,” Justin said. He dipped his hand into the box and pulled out a flip model LG cellphone. “This is it?” He waved the cellphone.
Ismail nodded. “The only fingerprints we recovered were those of the truck driver.”
Justin drew out a small evidence bag containing the cellphone’s lithium-ion battery. A small note was taped to the back.
“What does this say?” Justin pointed at the note.
“It says ‘drained,’ meaning the battery was drained when it reached our lab. That’s a technician’s handwriting.”
“When did the police bring the bomb here?”
“Around midnight.”
“Were you here when it happened?”
“Yes, it was my night shift.”
“So, how come the battery was dead within six hours from the time of the blasts? Did anyone use the cellphone?”
“Of course no one used the phone. It’s evidence. And I have no idea why the battery was dead.” Ismail shrugged.
“Where are you going with this?” Nour asked.
“If the bomber was expected to use the cellphone, this cellphone, to trigger the explosion, don’t you think the terrorists would have made sure they charged the battery, before giving the cellphone to the driver?”
“Yeah, I guess they should have.”
“The phone was new, right?” Justin asked Ismail.
“Yes, brand new. Never used. No numbers found in its directories.”
“So, three weird coincidences: A suicide bomber who’s practically an amateur, a bomb wire sabotaged, and dead batteries on the explosives’ remote control. Someone was trying really hard not to make this bomb go off.”
“What are you saying?” Abdul asked. “Are you saying the Alliance didn’t want this car bomb to explode?” Abdul asked.
“I’m not saying that, but everything seems to point towards that conclusion,” Justin replied. “I still don’t have an answer to their objective. However, the target of the Alliance has to be something bigger than a massacre in the Old Town market. Terrorists must have in mind a plan much greater than these explosions.”
Nour gave Justin a stern glance and bit his lip. Shut up, his glance said, you’ve already said too much.
“We’re working to figure out what that may be,” Nour said, “but, at the moment, we have no clues and no ideas.”
No, Nour, I’m not talking about your President. I mean the purpose of this driver was more than to deliver the unexploded bomb.
“Thank you for your great help,” Justin said and shook Ismail’s hand.
“I think we’re done here,” Nour said. “We appreciate your valuable assistance.”
“Yes, no problem. It was my pleasure,” Ismail replied.
Abdul said. “I’ll take it from here.”
Ismail returned to his desk.
“You didn’t tell us what this target is, the one bigger than a car bombing in Tripoli’s busiest market?” Abdul whispered, as they walked through the narrow hall.
“I’m going to let my boss do that.” Justin glanced at Nour. “Carrie and I need to catch up on a few things.”
Nour rolled his eyes. “We have no time to waste,” he grumbled. “We still have to investigate the scene at the market and find witnesses.”
“Is it OK if we follow you in the Nissan?” Justin asked both Nour and Abdul.
Nour replied with a frown, while Abdul spread his palms.
“If you can stand the heat…” he replied and tossed his car keys to Justin, “the air conditioning is gone.”
“Nour?”
“Fine,” he replied in a flat tone, “but I need a complete briefing as soon as we return to the embassy.”
“Sure thing,” Justin replied.
“Ignore the radio,” Abdul said. “And follow us closely.”
Justin nodded. “I know where we’re going. We won’t get lost.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ismail reached for his phone, after glancing around and making sure he was alone in his office. “They just left,” he said quietly, after the colonel answered his call.
“And?” Colonel Haydar said.
“They figured out the sabotaged wire and the drained battery.”
“What? What? How could… Why did you let them?”
“I had no choice.” Ismail moved the phone away, to save his eardrums from bursting. The colonel’s was shouting at the top of his lungs. “They asked to see the evidence, and I showed it to them.”
“What do they think?” the colonel’s voice was a bit calmer, though still very loud.
“They think the Alliance is preparing another attack, more important than these car bombs.”
“Did they say what other attack?”
“No, I don’t think they know. I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
“You trust in me and you trust in Allah. That’s all you must know.”
“Yes, of course.”
“This wasn’t a very good idea,” Justin said, after they headed toward downtown Tripoli.