Cheng knew Wazir Ibrahim was going to have a lot more questions than that. He kept his answers for the driver short. He told him to bring Wazir Ibrahim home. There was a restraining order in place to keep Wazir away from his wife, so Cheng made sure that the driver knew to tell Wazir that his wife had gone to her sister’s. As far as who had gotten him out of jail and had sent a cab to pick him up, Cheng simply told the young Somali to describe him to Wazir. That would be all that was necessary. He doubted Wazir Ibrahim would ask any more questions after that.
The Snow Dragon operation consisted of six cells. Each cell paired one of the engineering students with a battle-tested Somali who would act as muscle. The cell members reported to a handler who went by the name Henry Lee. Lee’s real name was Ren Ho and he was a deep cover operative the Second Department had placed inside the United States more than thirty years ago. It was Lee who had informed Beijing when Wazir Ibrahim went missing. When the taxi driver described his benefactor, Cheng had no doubt Wazir Ibrahim would assume it was his handler, Henry Lee, who had bailed him out of jail.
Per their agreement, the taxi driver hailed Wazir Ibrahim when he walked out of the jail and then drove him on a long, circuitous route, while Cheng ascertained whether the FBI was following.
When he was satisfied that no one was tailing them, he returned to the Ibrahims’ neighborhood, parked his car two blocks away, and broke into the house from the alley. He drew all the blinds and then texted the taxi driver that it was safe to bring Wazir home.
As the cab pulled up in front, Cheng sent his final text explaining where the driver could find the envelope containing the balance of his tip. Cheng then removed the phone’s battery, sat down at Ibrahim’s dining table, and waited.
There was a thin layer of dust on everything, and he wondered if Ibrahim’s marital woes revolved around housekeeping.
He looked up as he heard Wazir’s key open the front door. Stepping inside, the Somali man reached for the light.
“Leave it off,” Cheng ordered.
Wazir obeyed the instruction. Closing the door, he removed his shoes as he peered into the semidarkness. “Is that you?” he asked.
Cheng reached over and gently nudged a small dimmer switch behind him. A light over the table began to glow and softly illuminated the dining room.
Wazir Ibrahim stopped halfway there. “You’re not Henry. Who are you?”
“I’m Henry’s boss. Come here and sit down,” said Cheng.
He looked nervously from side to side. “Why isn’t Henry here?”
“You disappeared, Wazir. No one knew what happened to you. We were worried.”
“But why are you here and not Henry?”
“Because Henry is a manager. He doesn’t do search and rescue. I do.”
“You’re the one who got me out of jail?” Wazir asked.
Cheng nodded. “I need to know what happened and what you told them. All of it.”
“It’s time for prayers. May I pray first?”
“You can pray in a moment. Right now, I need you to explain everything that happened. I need to know exactly what the police know.”
Wazir took a deep breath and began to recount his tale. “Because we are refugees and receive government assistance, we are required to meet with a social worker. Our social worker convinced my wife to file charges against me.”
“For beating her.”
The Somali was not remorseful in the least. “Yes. If my wife does not obey me, I am entitled to beat her.”
“Did you admit that to the police?”
“No.”
“Good. What else happened while you were in custody?”
Wazir lowered his head.
Cheng tensed. It was obvious Wazir had done something he was ashamed of. “What else happened while you were in custody?”
“Some men I know brought girls to Nashville.”
“What men?” asked Cheng.
“Somali men, from Minneapolis.”
“What kind of girls did they bring?”
“Young girls, pretty girls.”
Cheng’s feelings of unease continued to grow. “How old were these girls?”
Wazir refused to look at him. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Look at me, Wazir. And don’t lie to me. How old were these girls?”
The Somali man slowly looked up and met the man’s gaze. “They were very young.”
“Too young?”
Wazir turned his eyes back down to the ground. “Yes,” he replied.
“And the police know this?”
“They asked me a lot of questions about it.”
Cheng kept his demeanor cool. “What did you tell them?”