Act of War - Brad Thor Page 0,90

for a flight to Nashville on the same day some Asian guy with a bogus cover story is sniffing around a murder scene just hours before the murder happens?”

“Probably not a coincidence,” offered Urda.

Hoffman nodded. “Which is why I put together a photo lineup and included one of the stills of your guy Deng from the CCTV footage at Nashville International. Guess which one the neighbor picked out?”

“Deng.”

“Yup. Says he’s positive, except the guy he saw banging on the front door today had glasses.”

“What about the brother-in-law? Does he know anything?”

“No. He and Wazir didn’t really have a good relationship. We showed him the photos, too, but he didn’t recognize anyone.”

“Have you had a chance to question the wife?” Harvath asked.

“Not yet,” said Hoffman, “but we’re working on it. She’s on her way back to Nashville now.”

“So who bailed Ibrahim out of jail?”

“His bond was put up by a local operation called Lumpy’s. The agent who did all the paperwork said he had a phone call claiming to be from the director of some Somali benevolence association. The caller allegedly stated that he had heard Wazir had been locked up, but didn’t know any of the details. He stated his mosque had taken up a collection to help him.

“The bond agent pulled up the info in the county system and relayed it to the caller. He told him what the rap was and how much it would cost to get him out. A while later, some Somali showed up with the entire thing in cash, plus the bond agent fees, and that was that, Ibrahim got sprung.”

“Do we know who the Somali that showed up with the money is?”

“He’s a taxi driver,” Hoffman replied. “We’ve got detectives with him right now. He says some Asian guy paid him three thousand dollars to drop off the bail money, sign the paperwork, and drive Ibrahim back here.”

“Which makes him one of the last people to have seen Wazir Ibrahim alive,” stated Urda.

“And he’s scared shitless, believe me. The detectives have put the fear of Allah into him. He’s been totally cooperative.”

“Have they given him the photo lineup?”

“They did,” replied Hoffman. “Same results. He picked Deng right out, but also said he was wearing glasses.”

Urda looked at Harvath. “So Deng switches boarding passes in order to come to Nashville, bail this Somali out of jail, and kill him. Why? Who is this Ibrahim guy?”

Harvath drew closer to the pair so that no one could overhear their conversation. “He’s got to be connected with the Nashville cell somehow. Why else send Deng all the way here from China?”

The FBI agent nodded. “But if this was just about whacking some guy, why not pay one of the U.S.-based triads to do all of this? Plus, if you’re going to croak him the same day you arrive in town, what’s with the hotel room? Why hang up your clothes as if you’re planning on sticking around?”

They were excellent questions and ones Harvath didn’t immediately have the answers to. He was about to ask Hoffman something else when the same detective from earlier stuck his head in.

“Hey, Mike,” he said. “It looks like we have a partial description of the suspect’s vehicle.”

“Talk to me,” Hoffman demanded.

“An officer canvassing the neighborhood talked to some residents about a block down. They said they saw an Asian man with glasses driving a black SUV this afternoon. He parked down by them and walked up the block in this direction.”

“Do we know what kind of SUV?”

“Either a late-model Mercury Villager or a Lincoln Navigator,” the man replied. “I want to give them the photo lineup to see if they pick out your guy. Do you have it here?”

“No. It’s in my car on the passenger seat. Go ahead and grab it. Let me know what they say,” said Hoffman.

The detective flashed him a thumbs-up and left the house.

Special Agent Urda turned to Harvath. “What do you want to do? Sit on the hotel and hope he comes back, or put out a Be on the Lookout and rope in Nashville PD and the state police?”

“This guy is a murder suspect,” Hoffman added. “If one of our officers rolls up on him, they deserve to know who they may be dealing with.”

Hoffman was right and so was Urda, to a degree. The cops and state police needed to know that there was a dangerous suspect on the loose. The search also needed to be expanded beyond the hotel.

Harvath relented. “I’ll go along

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