Fortunes Obsession (23 page)

     The other items he found were sent to various labs in the building and in Washington.  They would have to wait a day or so for the results.  He returned to his office and waited for Yamashita to return with the chauffeur.

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Special agent Lawrence Yamashita waited in the shadows of Fahd’s garage.  It was ten minutes to ten and if Fahd was indeed a creature of habit, his limo would enter the garage presently.  He was told that the chauffeur would park the limo and take the elevator to Fahd’s apartment.  There was, therefore, no chance of running into Fahd. 

     The black Mercedes limo pulled into the garage right on schedule.  The chauffeur parked it and walked toward the elevator.  He was intercepted by Yamashita, FBI identification in hand. “ Good morning, I’m special agent Lawrence Yamashita of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  You are under arrest for the kidnaping of Dara Morgan.”

     Mustafa’s knees fairly buckled under him as Yamashita read him his rights.

“ I just work for Mr. Fahd.  I take lady to New Jersey.  Mr. Fahd say leave her there.  I know nothing. I am working man. I have wife and family. I do nothing wrong.”

     Yamashita had Mustafa bend over the hood of the car while he patted him down.  He took Mustafa’s wallet from his pocket and removed his driver’s license.  He noted his correct name and address and copied them onto the warrant.  He cuffed Mustafa, hands behind his back and marched him to the waiting vehicle, where a second agent waited.  He climbed in the back with his prisoner, whom he now knew as Mustafa Rashid.  They rode silently back to headquarters, Mustafa weeping audibly.

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     Fahd looked at his watch.  It was not like Mustafa to be late.  He called Mustafa’s apartment in Queens and found that he had left an hour ago.  He was annoyed that he had to descend to the garage unescorted by his chauffeur, who would be carrying his briefcase. 

     When he reached the garage and saw the Mercedes parked and locked, he was puzzled.  There was only one elevator from the garage, so Mustafa could not have passed him unless he went around to the front of the building. He walked to the front and inquired of the doorman as to whether Mustafa had come through the front door.  He received a polite but negative answer. Fahd started to grow concerned that somehow, Mustafa had been taken by the terrorists.  He could not comprehend for what reason.  Bey and his lot knew that everyone was expendable to him, so a ransom

demand was out of the question.  Still puzzled, he hailed a cab and departed for his office.  When he reached his office, his secretary informed him of this Mr. Corman, who had come in seeking silk fabric.  She gave him the phone number and he retired to his office.  Strange, he thought, in all of the years he had been using this front, no one had ever come in off the street looking for silk. He dialed the number and got an answering machine.  There was no name given in the recorded message.  Fahd left a message on the machine, with his office number, stating that he would like to speak to Mr. Corman.

     He suddenly had a splitting headache.  Things were happening that just didn’t add up.  He decided to call Bey in Detroit and find out what was transpiring.  Bey’s wife told him he was out of town indefinitely and did not leave a number where he could be reached.

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     Mustafa sat in a wooden chair, sweating profusely.  He was already feeling guilty about leaving that nice Dara woman with the fat man and was tempted to tell all.  Fahd’s threats in reference to his other family in Iran were holding him back.

Yamashita spoke softly.  “ Mr. Rashid, are you a citizen of the United States of America?”  Mustafa was confused.  Fahd had given him so many pieces of paper, that he had forgotten what he was supposed to be......”Yes, I think so.”  Clark who was assuming the role of bad cop, raised his voice. “ What do you mean, you think so? Do you have any proof?  How about a voters card?”

Mustafa smiled weakly. “ Yes, a voter’s card. I have one at home. I know I do.”  It was Clark’s turn to smile. “ When is the last time you voted, Mr. Rashid ?”  Mustafa was digging his hole deeper.  “ If I tell you everything, will Mr. Fahd find out? You see, I have family in Iran and he will have them killed.”

The agents sensed victory here.  Clark’s voice softened measurably. “ There is no need to be afraid, Mr. Rashid. We will protect you to the fullest extent of our ability and at this time will not turn you over to the Department of Immigration and Naturalization.  I can’t promise that we won’t do that eventually but we can protect you from Fahd and his threats.”

     Mustafa, little by little, put together the story of Ibrahim Fahd.  He talked of the silk business and confessed that even he knew it was bogus.  He spoke of Fahd’s terrorist connections and of his trips to Bokaar’s home in New Jersey.  When he got to the part about delivering the call girl to Bokaar for the evening, they asked if he could identify her so that they might question her.  He told them that she was a high priced call girl that Fahd often used and that he could easily put them in touch with her.

They taped Mustafa’s entire statement and were grateful when he stated, on tape, that he did not wish to have counsel present.

Mustafa was brought to a secure room that served as kind of a holding cell.  The next step was to interview the girl and go to Teterboro airport and try to find out where Bokaar had departed for in the private jet. It was decided that they would shadow Fahd, rather than pick him up.  Two male agents and one female agent were put on the surveillance detail and departed for Fahd’s office.  Phone taps would be put on Fahd’s business phone as well as his home phone.  The agents were, more than ever, satisfied that they were on to something.

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     Fahd was frightened.  He felt as if someone or something was closing in on him.  He decided to go to Puerto Rico immediately.

He phoned Sarita and was disappointed when he found out she could not leave until their previously agreed departure date.  He explained to her that he had to leave immediately and that he would pick her up in San Juan at the previously agreed time. He explained that he would have liked to fly beside her but that business was pressing.  He arranged for her to receive her tickets and booked himself a flight for this very afternoon. He told his secretary that he was off for Los Angeles and departed for the

airport in a cab. The fear ran through him.  After years of operating smoothly, everything seemed to be falling apart. Things were not right.  Mustafa, ordinarily reliable , was missing.  A strange man was nosing about his office.  Bey was not to be found.  Bokaar's phone was disconnected. Yes, it would be good to lay low in Puerto Rico for a time.

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     The agents sat listening to Mustafa relate everything he knew.  It was decided to put him into protective custody for a few days after the interrogation.  He did not know where Fahd was traveling to on Friday, but he did know who the girl was that was to accompany him and where she lived.  An immediate stakeout was put on Sarita  Bonda's apartment and two agents were to stake out Fahd's office without tipping off their presence to his secretary

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     Ali Bokaar walked away from the Learjet, carrying a large, heavy suitcase.  He sweated profusely as he walked to the front of the reception building in the small, suburban airport.

He was in a foul mood when Collins and Bey pulled up in a rented Lincoln Town Car.

They looked cool and confident as they emerged from the car.  Bey introduced Collins to Bokaar and Bokaar ignored Collin’s outstretched hand as he snarled at Bey.

"  Everything in New Jersey was fucked up.  I was lucky to get out of there without the whole thing being blown.  Someone followed Fahd's car to my house and took the girl back from me just

as I had her in my clutches."

     Bey stared at him with rage. " You stupid bastard.  I told you the girl would get us in trouble.

When are you going to start thinking with your head instead of your prick,  you filthy son of a whore."

     The heavier man looked at Bey as if he wanted to kill him but controlled himself as he thought of Bey's rank in the organization and the consequences of harming him.  He threw his large and bulging suitcase in the trunk and sullenly sat down in the  back seat of the car.

     Collins felt a great deal of discomfort in the presence of these men and was feeling sorry that he ever got involved with them. Sometimes his lust for revenge reverted to his old naval officer’s mentality but the bad feelings always returned quickly.

     No one spoke during the long trip to Cocoa Beach.  The sound of the fat man's labored breathing and that of the air conditioner were the only things audible in the car.

     Bey contemplated their mission while he drove.  He was stuck with a loose cannon like Bokaar and an insane American who could crack at any moment.  The story of Bokaar and the girl disturbed him very much.  His efficient, analytical mind could easily put together a scenario of evidence from that incident which could blow the whole operation.  Bey wanted the operation to succeed for many reasons, not the least of which was that he enjoyed living in America  and bringing up his family there.  He had built a family and community life in Michigan, with members of the large Arab-American community there.  Most were law abiding, decent citizens who perceived him as the same.  He certainly did not want to go back to the powder keg that was the middle east and make a life for his children there.  They were born in America and were American in so many ways.  Sometimes, Bey actually questioned the cause he so avidly supported.

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     Ibrahim Fahd inspected the villa .  It was on a small promontory overlooking the ocean and afforded a magnificent view . Outside the master bedroom was a swimming pool which was an imitation jungle watering place surrounded by lush vegetation.  It was entirely secluded and afforded a venue for nude swimming with the women he brought.  He thought of the last time he was here with Dara and thought of her long, tanned body and her long natural blond hair falling loose down her naked back.  His mind inflamed with rage.  He was not a man of forgiveness when it came to his women.  He would have liked to find her and her new lover and dispose of them both.....permanently.  However, he was a man of great practicality and had avoided such episodes meticulously in his years of avoiding any trouble with the police.

There were two permanent servants in the house, Rosita and Carlotta.  They were known to him for years and were trustworthy and close mouthed.  He poured himself a large glass of Puerto Rican rum and added pineapple juice and ice and sat naked by the pool, tanning his body and sipping the drink while thinking of the pleasures of Sarita.  The rum took effect and any nervousness he felt about the events of the past few days were replaced by thoughts of lust.

Soon, he fell asleep on the chair.

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Two FBI agents, a man and a woman, tailed Sarita Bonda to Kennedy Airport and

watched her check in at American Airlines.  As soon as she checked in at the gate for the San Juan flight, one of them was on the phone.  The FBI in New York contacted special agent Eduardo Romero in San Juan, who would pick up the trail at the airport.

     Special Agent Mike Clark was polite as he spoke to Dara in the Pittsburgh area.

     "  We don't mean to pry, ma'am but we are on the trail of Mr. Fahd and he seems to be in the San Juan area.  Could you help us with this?"

     Dara again recoiled in shame, realizing she would have to admit that she had been to Fahd's villa as his mistress.  She realized, however, that she could be a big help in his apprehension.

     " I know exactly where he's going.  He has a villa.  It's near the El Conquistador hotel.  I don't know the exact directions but it's no more than a mile or two from the hotel on a cliff overlooking the ocean."

     Agent Clark thanked her and got on the phone to Romero's office.  Romero already had a description of Sarita Bonda and would be waiting to follow her.  He gave him the additional information in case he lost the trail.

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                                      Larry Yamashita felt a perverse thrill talking to the Madam of one of New York's most exclusive call girl operations.  He explained at length how he had found her and assured her that he had no interest in her operations, only in finding terrorists that were certainly a threat to America's security.

     Margaret Long was a stately looking woman in her early fifties who possessed all of the social graces.  One would think she was a pillar of society.  She took a long drag on her cigarette and thought of the consequences of betraying her best customer.  He was probably going to jail though and she might lose him anyway and she thought of the girls he had beaten and tortured