The Reformers: A Matt Blake Novel (The Matt Blake legal thriller series Book 2) (12 page)

“Can you give us any specifics on this NFL outfit, Matt?” Bellamy asked. “You said that your client never met any of them but heard of them through fellow writers.”

“Yes,” I said, “I’m convinced that Al doesn’t know any of the NFL people, and Ben agrees.”

I looked at Bennie, who nodded.

“Matt,” said Jack Logan, “you said that your guy only knows about this group through his fellow writers. Do you mean the other two mall bombing defendants?”

“No, not just them,” I said. “I’ll let Diana fill you in on what’s she’s found through her research on a book she’s writing.”

“As Matt explained, I’m writing a book about writers who are critical of radical Islam. I haven’t completed my research yet, but so far I’ve come up with 36 writers, whom I’ll call
reform writers
.  That number includes our client and the other two mall bombing defendants. Of the 36 reform writers who I’ve identified, 27 of them are dead, and only three died of natural causes. So that means that 24 of these writers were murdered.”

“Holy shit,” Bonnie Logan said, “there really is a war going on. In your research, Diana, have you come across anything about this secretive NFL group?”

“No, absolutely nothing that refers to the acronym or that even mentions a violent group of anti-jihadists. These guys just wrote about their opinions on radical Islam and got murdered.”

“And I should remind everybody,” I said, “that my client and the other two defendants are facing a possible death penalty. I think the radicals would like to tally them up on their kill list.”

“Okay,” Bellamy said, “let me summarize this crazy meeting. You’re telling us that the cases against the three mall bombers are frame-ups, for the lack of a better word. You think they’re being framed because they’re reform writers, critical of radical Islam. And then you told us about some weird mysterious group that’s known as the NFL, but you can’t give us one name or location. And you’re telling us that this secretive organization is waging jihad against the jihadis, which would explain a lot of incidents in the past few months.”

“That about summarizes it, Rick,” I said. I looked to Dee and Bennie and they both nodded their heads.

“Well, I have to admit—and I’m paid to be skeptical—that you’ve convinced me that the case against your client, and the other defendants too, just reeks of reasonable doubt. If I were a juror, I’d vote not guilty right now.”

“Me too,” said Bonnie and Jack simultaneously.

“You’ve convinced three very skeptical law enforcement people that your guy and the other two are clean.”

“So I have a suggestion, Rick,” I said. “Give my client immunity and you can probe his brain till you run out of questions.” I was making an obvious pitch in favor of my client, but I thought it made sense from a Homeland Security point of view.

“I’m thinking ahead of you, Matt, but if I gave this guy immunity, and actually I’m not sure I have the power to do that, we may lose him. If I were your client I’d be worrying about getting beheaded the moment he steps out of prison. If I were him I’d find a place to hide.”

“So why don’t you give him a place to hide, Rick?” Diana said, totally overstepping her bounds, but it was fine with me. 

“I hear what you’re saying, Diana. You’re suggesting the Witness Protection Program, the place where you married your handsome husband.”

“Why not?” I asked. “You agree that my guy’s not guilty, and actually I think you agree that he’s flat-out innocent. So what the hell good does it do the country to keep him in jail, where his life’s in constant danger?”

“I’m taking this to the White House,” Secretary Bellamy said. “I’ll be in touch with you guys soon. I can’t thank you enough for coming forward with all this stuff.”

***

I felt good. Actually I felt great. Rick Bellamy is a persuasive guy, and I was sure he could convince the President to spring Al Yamani and the others from jail and put them into the Witness Protection Program. I couldn’t wait to talk to Georgi Rice and Jerry Blackwell, my fellow attorneys for the defense. I just knew I had to wait until I got the final word from Rick Bellamy.

So without a trial or a plea, it looks like I’ve done the job for my client, with the able help of Dee. This is going from a criminal case to an FBI investigation. But something told me that I wasn’t over with Al Yamani yet. I had no idea where the case was going now.

I’d soon find out.

Chapter 26

“Hello Buster, it’s Rick Bellamy, how are you?”

“Hi, Mr. Secretary. Good to hear from you.”

“The name’s still Rick, for Chrissake. I need to see you and CIA Director Carlini. I want FBI Director Sarah Watson to meet with us too.”

“My God,” Buster said, “sounds heavy.”

“It
is
heavy, my friend, quite heavy. We’ll meet in my D.C. office tomorrow at 10 a.m.”

***

I was happy that I saw my old friends Matt and Diana Blake. I think of them as old friends. They’re two smart and brave patriots, and they helped expose the
Sideswipe Conspiracy
, the most gigantic terrorist plot we’ve ever faced. Before I became head of Homeland Security, I got to know them well when I ran the counterterrorism operation in New York. I’m also happy that President Reynolds agreed to release the three mall bombing suspects into the Witness Protection Program.

Matt Blake was absolutely right. After he presented his case to me and the Logans I was convinced that the defendants were not the actors in the bombings. But besides pleading a case for his client, Matt opened a new set of issues that I’ve been trying to wrap my head around. A secret anti-jihadi group? Holy shit. I’ve got to find out if the CIA or FBI knows anything about this. As a cabinet secretary, I have a need to know everything that’s going on in the FBI and CIA. But if a matter is just under research, they usually don’t bother me with the details until they have something solid. But I need to know what they know,
now
.

My first call was to Buster. He’s the smartest, craziest CIA agent I’ve ever met. He and I are also old friends, having worked on a lot of cases together when I was with the FBI. To make sure I followed protocol, I then called Bill Carlini, Director of the CIA, and my friend Sarah Watson, FBI Director. Agent Gamal Akhbar, which is Buster’s real name, is an amazing spook, which is how he refers to himself. Bill Carlini says that Buster’s a “human action figure,” and I think his assessment is right on. He has two speeds, extremely fast and faster. Buster’s mother is from Lebanon and he looks Middle Eastern. He speaks fluent Arabic. If anybody knows anything about this strange NFL group, it’s Buster.

We met around the table in the conference room next to my office. We needed no introductions, because we’re all old friends and working colleagues. I told them about Matt Blake and his client as well as the other two bombing suspects. With Sarah Watson’s enthusiastic agreement, the President released them to the Witness Protection Program. I read from my notes and went into minute detail about the frame-up as Matt Blake so expertly presented it.

“So there we have it, folks. These three men were framed and faced possible death penalties because they were targeted as ‘reformers’ by the radicals. But that’s only the first part of what I have to tell you. According to all three of the former bombing defendants, there is a group that is engaged in a war with radical Islam. Although none of them has ever met anyone from the organization, they all agreed that its name is the NFL, not as in football, but as in
Not For Long
. According to these guys, this NFL group is big and secretive. As I said before, they’re supposedly waging war on the radicals, a sort of jihad against jihad. So here is my question. Has any one of you heard about this group?”

All I got were blank stares and shaking heads.

“Hey, guys, I’m not standing on ceremony. If you knew something about these people I wouldn’t expect you to tell me until you had plenty of information. Buster, you look confused, which is a look on your face that I’m not familiar with.”

“This beats the living shit out of me, Rick. You’re saying that this outfit is a large bunch of reformers, and that they’re waging war on radical Islam? I thought I knew at least a little bit about everything involving Islam, but this is the first I’ve heard about this NFL group.”

“Buster,” I said, “I know that you have operatives scattered through the radical community. Nobody has told you anything about this?”

“Not a word, Rick. This is all news to me. Are we sure it’s true? From what you said about those bombing suspects I wouldn’t expect them to lie, but could they have their facts wrong?”

“From what we know,” I said, “or what we think we know, the actual anti-jihadi violence didn’t begin until a few months ago. All three of the bombing defendants were interviewed by the FBI, and we’ve come up with nothing new. If this is all true, this group brings a new meaning to the word ‘shadowy.’ They’re friggin invisible.”

“Let me take an opposite tack, Rick,” Director Carlini said. “Could it be that the active imaginations of these three novelists have started to overstep reality?”

“Well let’s take a look at some interesting facts, Bill,” I said. “In the past three months there have been a rash of unexplained attacks on radicals—on leaders, on gatherings, on mosques. Nobody has claimed responsibility as we usually see when a Sunni against Shiite attack occurs or vice versa. Just a bunch of extremely violent attacks, but not suicide bombings which we’re used to seeing. These actions look like precise military operations. Agent Jack Logan, my successor at the Counterterrorism Task Force, filled me in on a recent attack on a mosque in lower Manhattan. It was pulled off with automatic machine gun fire by at least five shooters. Although the cops showed up within two minutes, the gunmen were gone. Very precise, highly disciplined, and incredibly violent, with 95 people killed in that one mosque.”

“Something new has appeared on our radar, and we have no idea who or what it is,” Bill Carlini said. “Buster, I think it’s time you had a meeting with our old friend Imam Mike from Brooklyn. Maybe he can shed some light on this bizarre story.”

Chapter 27

“Bill Carlini likes to call me “super spook.” I prefer just to be called Buster. I’ll admit that I take my job as a CIA agent seriously, and I’ll admit that I’m good at what I do. I don’t like surprises, and that’s my job as a spy, to avoid surprises. I do this by trying to keep a few steps ahead of the bad guys. But after our meeting with Rick Bellamy I was stumped. How the hell can a clandestine gang of people operate without me knowing about it? I have a strong team of insiders, operatives who know what they’re doing, and who know how to listen for information. But not one of my people seems to know about the NFL outfit. Maybe Imam Mike can enlighten me.

Imam Mike is an actual Muslim cleric who runs a mosque in Brooklyn. His real name is Muhammed Bushariff, but he prefers to be called Mike. Mike became disenchanted, to say the least, with the radical bent of his religion. He gradually became fed up with the constant violence, and especially the killing of innocent people. His daughter was good friends with the sister of the quarterback for Notre Dame. The poor guy was killed in a terrorist bombing at a football game. That did it for Mike. It pushed him over the edge. He turned sides and is now the most important mole we have inside the Muslim community, probably the most important insider we’re ever had. Mike’s job, as he’s defined it, is to keep his ears open and let us know what’s going on.

Anytime I meet with Mike, it’s never at an official place, and certainly never at 26 Federal Plaza. Rick Bellamy or I would usually meet with Mike at the Bethesda Terrace Restaurant in Central Park. I always looked forward to our meetings, because Mike had become a master of disguises. He’s a frustrated spook. Well, to be accurate, he
is
a spook, a damn good amateur spook.

I brought Jack Logan with me. As Rick Bellamy’s successor as Director of the FBI Counterterrorism Task Force, it was time that Jack Logan got to know our star inside operative.

Jack and I were seated by an outside wall overlooking the Bethesda Fountain. It was a beautiful spot, and also good for having a private conversation. The sound of the water muffled voices.

A tall blond woman approached our table. She wore a tasteful blue dress with fake pearls around her neck. She seemed to have a hard time negotiating her high heels.

“Hi Buster,” said the woman, with a falsetto voice. “I take it that this is Jack Logan.”

Jack spit his soda across the table. Mike’s disguises are often good for a laugh.

Mike sat down after shaking our hands.

“So, beautiful, I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said. Jack just shook his head.

“You’re following in the footsteps of a great guy,” Imam Mike said to Jack Logan. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jack. As Buster can tell you, anytime you need to see me, just call—on your secure line.”

“So, Buster, was there something specific you wanted to see me about?”

“Ever hear of an organization called the NFL, Mike?”

“Of course. I’m a big Giants fan, but you know that already, Buster.”

“No, not the football league. It’s an acronym that stands for, as best we know,
Not For Long
.”

Mike looked down at his plate. I noticed a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. He rubbed his nose.

“Can you tell me any more about them?” Mike asked. “
Not For Long
is a pretty weird name.”

“Here’s all we know, Mike, or all we
think
we know. They may be a group of, to use a phrase, anti-jihadists. We’ve been told that they’re a secretive bunch, and their mission seems to be to combat radical Islam. We have suspicions, none of which we can prove, that this group may be behind the recent attacks on radical Islamists and mosques. We think that this NFL outfit may be responsible for the big shooting at the New York Islamic Center recently. We’ve been told that they’re an extremely violent group, but their tactics are different from what we’re familiar with from the jihadis. They don’t use suicide bombers. They use precise and disciplined military tactics. The Islamic Center shooting is a case in point. With at least five men using automatic machine guns they mowed down a crowd of 95 people as they were saying their dawn prayers. The cops were there within two minutes, but the shooters had vanished. We’re seeing something that we’ve never seen before. I was hoping that you may be able to shed some light on this. Have you heard any discussions at your mosque about the NFL or a violent group of reformers?”

“Not a word, Buster. You know I always keep my ears open. But I haven’t heard anything about what you just said.”

Mike wiped some more sweat off his forehead.

“If what we’ve been told is true,” Jack said, “and at this point we don’t know if it
is
true, don’t you think it’s strange that people aren’t talking about these attacks?”

Mike shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands, palms-up, as if to say, “beats me.”

We had just finished our lunch.

“Please keep your ears open, Mike. And as always, keep your head down. See you soon.”

***

“So what did you think of Imam Mike, Jack? He’s a guy you’ll be talking to a lot.”

“Buster, why don’t you tell me what
you
thought about our meeting.”

“I asked you first, Jack. Impressed, unimpressed?”

“I’m no Bennie-the-Bullshit-Detector, but I have been an FBI agent for almost 20 years. I know a bit about judging a person I’m talking to. So do you Buster.”

“So what’s your opinion, Jack?”

“I think he was bullshitting us. You’ve known this guy a lot longer than I have, but I know when witness isn’t being straight with me. Mike was sweating, rubbing his nose, and kept looking down at his plate. As soon as you asked him about the NFL, he stopped looking you or me in the eye. This man is holding back on something, I’m telling you. Okay, now give me
your
opinion, Buster.”

“I have the same opinion as you, Jack. Yes, I’ve known Mike for a long time, and I’ve grown to trust him as much as any operative I’ve ever met. But you’re right. He’s holding back on something. He knows something that he wasn’t sharing with us.”

“Buster, do you think Imam Mike may be somehow involved with this group? If you use the word ‘reformer,’ I guess that would apply to Mike.”

“Yes, he’s actually referred to himself as a reformer when talking to me. My instincts tell me that Mike knows a lot about this outfit. And he’s not letting on.”

“You and I have been investigators for a hell of a long time, Buster. If we both think we’ve been snowed, I’ll put money on it.”

“I agree, Jack. But here’s my next question, and I’m guessing it’s yours too—why? Why is Mike lying to us?”

“I’m going to take a guess, and my gut tells me it’s the right guess. I think Imam Mike is one of them, maybe not the muscle end, but I think he plays for the NFL.”

***

I felt like shit. In my line of work when you find an inside guy, a mole, it makes your life easier. And it makes the country’s security a lot safer. And when you find a mole whom you’ve learned to trust over the years, it’s like a gift from God. But now I can’t be sure that I can trust Imam Mike. I felt like I was on a boat next to a dock in a storm. And my hands were tied behind my back. And somebody cut the lines.