next block. Picking up his briefcase, he exited the SUV and walked back the way he had come.
Though he couldn’t see them, he could feel eyes watching him. Old women behind curtains, cautious neighbors peering out to see who the stranger was.
Being Chinese made operating in the United States quite easy. Not many people saw him as dangerous, or even potentially dangerous. Being Asian seemed to automatically disqualify him as a threat. It was a prejudice that he played thoroughly to his advantage.
Arriving at Wazir’s address, he walked up the cracked walkway to a set of uneven stairs to the front porch. He removed a business card from his pocket, pressed the doorbell, and waited. No one came. He leaned over and peered through the front window. Nothing. He leaned back and rang the bell again.
When no one answered, he opened the frayed screen door and knocked. He waited again, but still no one came. He moved back to the window and was about to use his car key to rap on the glass when he heard a voice nearby say, “She’s not home.”
Cheng turned to his right and saw a Hispanic man in his late twenties who had stepped out onto the porch of the house next door. “Pardon me?” Cheng replied in perfect English.
“Mrs. Ibrahim,” the man said. “She’s not home. She went down to her sister’s in Shelbyville. That’s who you’re looking for, right?”
Cheng smiled and walked to the edge of the Ibrahims’ porch to better chat with the neighbor. “Actually, I’m looking for Mr. Ibrahim,” he said. “Wazir.”
“You’re not here from Social Services?”
“No, I’m not.”
Suddenly, the neighbor appeared more reserved. “Are you a lawyer?”
Cheng smiled even more broadly. “No. Insurance. Mr. Ibrahim filed a claim at work. We have an appointment to go over it.”
“What kind of claim?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential.”
“Are you really an insurance agent?”
Cheng handed him his card.
“Well, you may have to reschedule your appointment,” the man said.
“Why is that?”
“Wazir’s in jail.”
That wasn’t good news. In fact, it was very bad news. “Jail? Why would Mr. Ibrahim be in jail?”
The man jerked his head, indicating Cheng should leave the Ibrahims’ porch and join him on his. When he did, the man said, “Mrs. Ibrahim had him arrested for domestic violence.”
Cheng acted shocked. “Really?”
The neighbor nodded. “He beat her pretty good.”
“When did this happen?”
“It’s been going on for a while. Someone at the Community Center finally convinced her to file charges.”
“No,” said Cheng. “I mean, when did he get arrested?”
“A day or two ago, I think,” said the neighbor. “I just got back and heard about it. No one is surprised. Wazir’s a pendejo. A total dick.”
Cheng let all of this sink in. “The Nashville police have him?”
The young man nodded. “He can’t afford to bond out, so he’s fucked until his trial.”
The idea of Wazir Ibrahim sitting in jail and possibly coming to the conclusion that he should make a deal by giving up a plot much bigger than a wife-beating charge was very troubling. It was good Cheng had come. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
Thanking the neighbor, he left and returned to his SUV. He had to figure out a way to get to Wazir.
Going in as a visitor and warning him to keep his mouth shut would be dangerous. The same could be said for paying another inmate to deliver the message. It would take too long to set something like that up. That didn’t leave him with a lot of options.
Cheng had slipped into two jails and a prison before, but all three of those had been in third world countries, not a heavily guarded, high-tech facility in a major American city. There was only one way he was going to be able to get to Wazir Ibrahim and that was to assist him in getting out. The sooner, the better. But he was going to need help.
He drove around until he found a business hotel with free Wi-Fi. Sitting outside in his vehicle, he opened his anonymous browser, took a deep breath, and ran everything through his mind. Cobbling together operations on the fly was a necessary part of fieldwork. Clear thinking was imperative. If you moved too quickly, many things could go wrong. The same could be said for moving too slowly. The key was striking the right balance.
Confident that he had come up with an exceptional plan, he opened his eyes. There were two things he needed. The first was a bail bonds operation.