Fortunes Obsession (21 page)

their North American operation.  They had been extremely patient, putting their people in place and waiting years before they struck.  The World Trade Center incident was only the beginning.

     Soon after he came to America, he met Bey, who was in command of all operations in North America.  He was jealous of Bey's urbanity and good looks and very much disliked taking orders from him.  Many times he had imagined killing him and watching his handsome face writhe in pain as he died.  The other fellow they had met with in Detroit, this Mahdi, was a representative of the powers in the middle east and was based at the United Nations, which was both an excellent cover and a good place to receive messages from overseas.  Most of Bokaar’s time in America had been spent painstakingly developing sources for explosives.  He was for the most part, unsupervised and had led a lazy life recently in the New Jersey house, which had been leased under an assumed name and paid for in advance with cash.  He had become bored with it and was glad that he would never be going back.  He was looking forward to working in Florida.  The weather in the northeast was growing chilly and he abhorred winter.

     He entered the Lear jet and sat down in a comfortable passenger seat.  The pilot already had his instructions and there was no need to carry on a conversation.  He lay back and thought of his escapades the night before.  He must thank that bastard Fahd the next time they did business.  He was anxious to get to know this man better.  He seemed to have access to many beautiful women.  This man, he really envied!  He fell into a deep sleep.

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 Larry Yamashita parked his grey Ford sedan in front of Bokaar's house.  He really had no expectations of finding him there but it was a start.  There was no warrant issued to search the premises, so he peeked into the windows and walked around the house into the yard.  Although this was in a way, trespassing on private property, one had to take certain chances in police work.

No lights were on in the house and it appeared to be empty.

     Police work, despite the action shown in movies, was mostly boring, meticulous, fact gathering and dead ends were found more often than not.  Yamashita walked up and down the block, ringing door bells, seeking information from anyone who might have known the fat man, whose name was unknown to him at this time.  The few neighbors that were home, didn't know anything about him either. They didn't even know his name.  He spoke to no one and most of the neighborhood children were frightened of him.  He had kept his lawn and grounds in constant chaos, during the months he lived there.  Weeds sprouted and grass grew high, before the landlord finally came and made it presentable.  The talk in the neighborhood was of the helicopter that flew low over the block on Sunday and of the ruckus that brewed on the fat man's lawn.

Yamashita asked if anyone had called the police and they all had the same answer.  They didn't want to get involved.

     Yamashita was disappointed.  He had found nothing he did not already know.  He picked up his car phone and called Mike Clark.

     " Mike, I was just thinking.  Someone had to get a permit from the county to fly a helicopter so low.  Why don't you check and see if anyone got one for yesterday?  If they did, it might give us a lead.  I'm going to do some more local legwork. I'll call you in a half hour.  If you have something, I'll track it down."

     Yamashita checked with local storekeepers and neighbors on the next block who backed up on the fat man's house but got more of the same. He entered his car with a feeling of frustration and futility. He picked up the phone and called Clark.

     Mike Clark sounded elated.  " Bingo, Larry. I've got a guy named Fernando Cruz who runs a helicopter service out of Teterboro.  Says a guy called him and wanted him to hover over a particular block as part of a sales promotion.  Cruz says he thought something might be fishy.  It sure didn't resemble a promotion.  In fact there were a couple of people who seemed to be scuffling on a lawn.  He was considering calling the local police but thought better of it.  He was afraid it would screw up his license.  He says he can see you right now if you can get over there."

     Clark gave Yamashita the address and soon the grey Ford was speeding toward Teterboro airport.

     Cruz' company, " Can Do Copters Inc." was located in a hut on the airport grounds.  Adjacent to the hut was a small hanger which contained two helicopters.  Two men who appeared to be mechanics were working on one of them.

     Yamashita flashed his badge.

     " FBI. I'm looking for Mr. Cruz....know where I can find him?"

     One of the mechanics, a large man with a black bushy mustache,  walked over to the agent.

     " I'm Cruz. I've been talking to your guy on the phone. I don't know what this is about but I run a legitimate operation. Come in my office."

     The two men walked into the shack.  There was a desk, behind which was a worn leather chair.  A pot bellied stove, unlit, stood in a corner of the room. The walls were used as a giant bulletin board.  There were invoices, orders and weather maps tacked up every which way.  A coffee maker sat on a chipped, rusting filing cabinet.

     Cruz poured himself a cup.  " Want some coffee?" He asked.

     " Sure," Yamashita said, " I'll take it black, please. No sugar."

     Cruz sat behind the desk. " Okay. What's this all about. Am I under some kind of suspicion?"

     " Not at all," Yamashita said. " We'd just like you to cooperate with us and tell us everything you know about the job you had Sunday."

     Cruz walked over to the wall and took down a sheaf of papers that was tacked up.  He spread them out on the desk.

     " Guy calls me up about a week ago.  Says he wants me to hover over this house in Paramus. Sales promotion he says.

Sends me payment in full a week in advance. He even sends it over Federal Express so that it clears before the job.  I fly my copter over the place he tells me and I think I'm in the wrong place. Nothing seems to be going on.  I see a commotion going on and I fly as low as I can to see it.  I see two men and a woman scuffling on the lawn.  A Caddy is standing by the curb. It was kind of a red color.  I guess you call it Maroon. One of the guys goes down and the other guy and the girl get in the Caddy and take off.  I was going to report it to the local police but to tell you the truth, I was afraid of getting into trouble.

When I got the call from Agent Clark, I figured I was in deep shit for sure."

     Yamashita looked through the sheaf of papers and found what he was looking for.  A copy of a check which was from Trans Orient Silk.  He asked Cruz to make him copies of all of the papers and Cruz instructed him to wait while he went to an adjacent office.  When Cruz was gone, Yamashita looked on the wall to see the nature of other jobs done by the Can Do Copter Co.  They seemed to be very legitimate.  Most of their work was hoisting work, such as lifting cooling towers to the tops of high buildings.  There was also a good deal of legitimate promotional work, such as bringing Santa Claus to a mall or bringing performers to some sort of happening.

     Cruz was back in ten minutes with copies of his entire file.

Yamashita gave him his card and shook his hand.

     " Thanks for your cooperation Mr. Cruz.  If you hear from

this guy again, Please call me or Special Agent Clark."

     Yamashita left the airport and decided to go back to Paramus and check more houses.  There weren't enough people home to satisfy him.  He especially needed the houses across the street who might have directly seen something that would be endemic to his case.  He stopped for lunch at a diner near the neighborhood and ate slowly, reading the newspaper and killing time.

    Late in the afternoon, he went back to the neighborhood and commenced ringing doorbells.  He was about to leave the house directly across the street, when an old woman, her hair in curlers opened the door.

     " Whadya want?  I told you moonies once if I told you a thousand times.  I ain't interested. So scram. Got it?"

     Yamashita didn't know whether to laugh or to be angry. He decided to do neither.  He smiled and in his best Bureau manner, flashed his badge.

     " Good afternoon ma'am. I'm Special Agent Lawrence Yamashita of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and if you'll give me a few moments of your time, I'd like to ask you some questions about the man across the street."

     " The fat greaseball you mean.  Come in. I'll give you an earful about him.  I knew something was fishy about that guy."

     Yamashita stepped into a musty living room with furniture that was covered by sheets.  The woman pulled one of the sheets aside and bade him sit down.  He sat on the musty smelling upholstery and she commenced speaking with no prompting at all.

     She told him in great detail, taking much more time than was necessary, the details of the events he already knew about.  He was about to close the interview when the woman added something he hadn't heard before.

     "  And then, later that night, the limo comes back and out walks a tall blonde woman in a mini skirt and black net stockings.  The fat guy comes out and drools all over her.  She goes into the house with him and the limo goes away.  Next morning, the limo pulls up again and the driver goes to the door and rings the bell.  Out comes the fat guy and the girl, carrying suitcases.  They all get into the limo and take off. I swear, I can't wait to see what happens next."

     Yamashita looked at the large bay window facing the street and saw that the woman actually had a small folding chair there so that she could sit and watch the house across the street.

     " I don't suppose you got a license plate number from the limo. Did you? "

     She gave him an incredulous look. " Nah.  What would I do that for? I didn't know nothin' was wrong. They was New York plates though."

     Yamashita thanked her for her help and gave her his card.

     " I want you to call me if you see any activity at all across the street."

     He drove to headquarters and huddled with Mike Clark, giving him all the details he had discovered.

     Clark said, " I think there are two things we have to do. We

have to get a warrant to search the house in Paramus and we have to get a John Doe warrant out on the chauffeur of that limousine.

     Yamashita shook his head. " That's hairy.  It's a New York Car.  If we get a warrant from a state judge here, we don't have enough to extradite.  Let's go to a Federal judge.  We've got suspected terrorism here, plus attempted kidnaping."

     " Okay," said Clark, " Let's go into Greg and throw it in his lap.  He'll get legal to do it right and find a judge he likes for this kind of thing."

     The two agents walked down the corridor to Millard's office.

      **************************************************

      Peter and Lance thought that Tuesday evening would never come but here they were, planning their latest intrigue.

     " Let's go over it again.  We pick up Dara at your place.

We drive to within a block of Fahd's building.  You take the car and park near La Cote Basque.  I'll have my cellular with me and you'll have yours with you.  When you see Fahd enter the restaurant, call me.   Dara and I will hopefully get past the doorman and break into Fahd's apartment.  You'll call me again when they leave and pick us up where you dropped us off."

     Peter nodded affirmatively as they pulled up to his building.  Peter was down with Dara within minutes.  She wore jeans and running shoes.  Peter wondered if she should dress more elegantly and appear to be heading for a date with Fahd.  The doorman wouldn't know Fahd had left as Dara supplied the intelligence that he always left from the garage level, which was

out of the sight line of the front entrance.

     Peter pulled out and waved to his two co- conspirators. The traffic was unusually light for a weekday evening and he pulled up to within two hundred feet of the restaurant.  He was in a spot marked, "NO PARKING- NO STANDING".  He hoped that no police were in the area so that their plan could go off unencumbered.

He kept looking at the cellular phone in his hand waiting for it to ring.  Finally, after what seemed like an endless wait, the phone rang.  He heard Dara's voice.

     " He's left the garage.  We have no way of knowing whether he's picking someone up or not.  My guess is that he has another girl already.  I know this guy like a book. Don't get worried if he doesn't show up for a while.  He always eats there.  I love you, call us as soon as he arrives."

     Dara and Lance adjourned to a local restaurant, which was within a block of Fahd's apartment.  The restaurant was a small luncheonette, perfect for a quick bite.  They each ordered a sandwich and placed Lance's cellular phone on the table in front of them.

     Peter was starting to worry, when he saw the limousine pull up to the restaurant.  Fahd's driver opened the back door and extended his hand to a stunning, tall brunette, who appeared to be Indian or Pakistani.  Fahd followed and the girl took his arm as they entered the restaurant.  When the limousine left, Peter called Lance' cellular number.

     " Okay guys, the eagle has landed.  Get cracking and good