Declan and Lexi entered the Islamic Cultural Institute of the Mid-Atlantic and were quickly greeted by a man who introduced himself as Jari.
“Special Agents Grey and Kadyrov, I presume?” he said.
Rather than just show up, Declan had called the minute the Institute opened and scheduled an appointment with the cultural center’s head, Dr. Khaled Ebeid.
Jari was dressed in a stylish and—from what Declan could tell—expensive, perfectly tailored gray suit, a tweed-style navy vest, and white shirt with matching navy tie. “Right this way.” He led them down the light blue halls, along the black-and-white-tiled floor to two large doors.
Jari knocked and, upon a positive response, turned the gold door handles and pushed in both doors. A dignified man in his early fifties, of Egyptian descent, if Declan was correct, sat behind a large antique desk.
“Dr. Ebeid,” Jari said, “may I present Special Agents Grey and Kadyrov.”
“Please have a seat,” Dr. Ebeid instructed. “Thank you. That will be all, Jari.”
Jari nodded and excused himself from the room, closing the doors behind him.
“Thank you, Dr. Ebeid, for making time in your schedule to speak with us.”
“Certainly. I am always happy to entertain those interested in our organization. This is why you are here, to learn about the work we do?”
Declan knew a fair amount about their organization, thanks to the agent assigned to learn everything the Bureau could about it. On the surface the organization functioned as a center to celebrate the Islamic culture, to be a focal point in Baltimore’s thriving and growing Muslim neighborhoods. Declan’s colleague described Dr. Ebeid as an unofficial Islamic diplomat to the region, an Islamic cultural attaché. Beneath the surface, however, the Institute had ties to extremist groups. The Bureau had a man deep undercover, but they were too far into the investigation to risk compromising his identity now. Thankfully, Declan had other sources to call on, and he had a feeling he’d need to.
“Actually we are looking for someone.”
Dr. Ebeid arched a thick brow. “Oh?”
“Yes. An Indonesian man newly arrived in America.”
“And you wish to recommend our institution to him?”
“We believe he’s already been in contact.” Lexi slid Anajay Darmadi’s wanted picture across the gilded desk to Dr. Ebeid.
Ebeid’s face hardened before he fixed a congenial smile on it. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He handed the picture back to Lexi.
Lexi cocked her head. “That’s odd.”
Dr. Ebeid didn’t bother asking why. He clearly wanted this conversation over with.
“We have an eyewitness placing Anajay Darmadi at a payphone in Canton on Saturday, shortly after he fled the merchant cargo ship he was smuggled in on.”
“Perhaps your eyewitness was incorrect. I’m sorry to say that, for many, people of Indonesian descent are indistinguishable.”
“No. We know it was Anajay. His fingerprints were on the phone,” Lexi said.
Whenever she spoke, a tiny muscle in Dr. Ebeid’s jaw flickered. He clearly did not appreciate a woman questioning him.
“I see,” he said.
“And can you imagine our surprise when the call he placed was to the Institute.” Lexi smiled.
“We receive many calls. Perhaps someone else used that phone to call the Institute.”
“Perhaps the Institute gets plenty of calls, but that payphone rarely gets used. There was only one call placed Saturday and it was to the Institute.”
“Well, he did not speak to me.”
“May we find out to whom he might have spoken?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to expose my employees to federal questioning.”
“I had a feeling you might say that, so I brought this.” Declan handed Dr. Ebeid a warrant allowing him to question all employees and to check the Institute’s phone records. He had a second warrant to check their organization-owned vehicles, but he wouldn’t play that card just yet.
Dr. Ebeid set the warrant down. “I don’t believe that will be necessary.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Lexi said with raised brows.
“As I recall now, there was a man who called here this weekend and spoke with Jari, asking about recommendations for a place to stay. Jari got the impression the man was in some sort of trouble, so he promptly ended the call.”
Amazing how his memory came right back. “Four minutes and thirty-two seconds doesn’t seem prompt.”
“He may have put him on hold for part of that time.”
“I see. And did Jari get his name?” Declan asked.
“He did not.”
Now it was time to play the second card. “Then why did you send a car to pick him up?”
Dr. Ebeid cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”
“A black Lincoln Town Car, like the ones you have sitting out front, picked Mr. Darmadi up within a half hour of his call.”
“Do you know how many Lincoln Town Cars there are in this city? You can’t possibly assume it was one of ours.”
“Fortunately, I don’t have to assume.” Declan pulled out the second warrant and handed it to Dr. Ebeid, knowing the rest of their team was in place just around the block, waiting for the call to proceed. “I’ll notify my team to begin their search. I assume Jari can give us the keys?”
Dr. Ebeid practically choked out his response. “This is an outrage.” He pressed the intercom button. “Jari, call Nidal down here immediately.”
“And Nidal would be?”
“The Institute’s lawyer.”
“Interesting a cultural institute would feel the need to keep a lawyer not only on payroll but physically on the premises.”
Dr. Ebeid didn’t respond.