The Last Patriot

Salam laughed. “All along, the FBI has been panicked that he was one of theirs and now it turns out he’s one of yours.”

“We’re still putting this together-”

Ozbek interrupted his colleague. “The man you ID’d in that photo is Matthew Dodd. He faked his death and disappeared a little over five years ago.”

“About the time he converted to Islam,” offered Salam.

“If what you’ve told us is accurate, then that does seem to fit the timeline.”

“As does recruiting me and setting up the Glass Canyon operation.”

Ozbek nodded, slowly. “Give or take.”

“Then that’s it. You’ve got your proof,” stated Salam. “I’m innocent. You can get me out of here.”

“Identifying Dodd as your handler is one thing. Proving he was, as well as proving that someone other than you killed Nura Khalifa, is something else.”

“But you can help me,” insisted Salam. “If you tell the FBI that Matthew Dodd was my handler, it’ll help prove that I’m telling the truth.”

“We don’t have to tell them anything,” replied Rasmussen.

Ozbek waved him off. Putting his elbows on the table, Ozbek clasped his hands together and rested his chin on his thumbs. “We might be able to help you,” he said, thinking, “but first you have to help us.”

“With what?” asked Salam.

Rasmussen looked at him. “Don’t be stupid, Mr. Salam.”

Once again, Ozbek waved him off. “We’ve got a pretty good idea where Dodd is. We may even know who his target is-”

“Is it Dr. Khalifa?” interrupted Salam. “Was Nura right about it being her uncle?”

“We have reason to believe that Dr. Khalifa is already dead and that there may be another target.”

“So Nura was right,” said Salam, more to himself than to the CIA operatives.

“We don’t know that Dodd killed him,” replied Ozbek. “Not for sure. Not yet. But we believe that there is something larger at play here, and we need to know what that something is.”

Salam looked at his interrogator. “And you think I can help you figure it out?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Ozbek. “But you might be able to point us in the right direction.”

“By giving you the same information I gave to the FBI?”

Ozbek nodded.

Despite having been duped by his so-called FBI recruiter, Andrew Salam wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was far from it. “How do I know that you won’t take the information I give you, find Dodd and feed him into a wood chipper somewhere, then deny we ever had this conversation?”

“You don’t really have much choice,” said Rasmussen. “You’re going to have to trust us.”

Salam laughed once more. “Yeah, right. The way I see it, I’ve got lots of choices. I can talk to the FBI, D.C. Metro Police, or wait until I’m finally given a lawyer and then talk to the press. If anybody doesn’t have much of a choice here, I think it’s the CIA.”

Rasmussen was ramping up with a retort, but Ozbek pointed toward the door. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

“What?” replied Rasmussen.

“Let us have some time alone,” said Ozbek. “Go get a cup of coffee or something.”

Rasmussen sat there for a moment in disbelief. Then, with a grunt, he stood and exited the interrogation room.

Once the door had closed, Salam said, “I thought you guys were okay at first, but he’s starting to turn into an asshole.”

Rasmussen’s specialty was operating in the field, not an interrogation room, and Ozbek let the remark go unchallenged. Reaching into his jacket he removed a new digital camera and powered it up. “The last time we were in here you asked about your dog,” he said as he handed the device to him. “I thought you’d want to see these.”

Salam’s face softened as he scrolled through the pictures. “So the police did take care of him.”

“Not really,” said Ozbek. “They were a lot more concerned with ripping your house apart. They were going to put him in the pound, but I got it all sorted out. He’s with one of your neighbors now.”

“Which one?” Salam asked apprehensively.

“The older guy across the street.”

“Who? The veteran with the P.O.W. flag?”

“Yep,” said Ozbek. “Any problem with that?”

“No,” replied Salam. “He’s a good guy. He did a couple of tours in Vietnam. I don’t think he cared for me much when I moved in, but he came around and has always been polite. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now-”

“What’s your thing with dogs anyway?”

“I’ve got a black lab.”

“Nice dog,” said Salam. “Smart.”

“Yes, they are,” replied Ozbek. “Listen, Andrew, you need to know that the FBI have uncovered e-mails between you and Nura Khalifa as well as some other pieces of evidence that suggest you two were having a relationship.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“The evidence suggests that Nura had met with you to tell you that the relationship was over.”

“But there was no relationship,” insisted Salam. “It was strictly professional.”

Ozbek shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.”

“What other pieces of evidence do they have?”

“Whatever they are, it seems to point to an if I can’t have her no one can motive for murder.”