Free Cobra Clearance by Richard Craig Anderson

called the court clerk next. The clerk’s acid response was to demand a number for the judge to call. The desk phone rang forty-three minutes later. The judge was indeed friendly, but averse to authorizing the request over the phone. He was also at a party. He gave a Manassas, Virginia address. The three men piled into George’s car, and after a delay caused by a serious auto accident they finally reached the judge. Then they raced back to Bureau Headquarters.
    It took another twenty-eight minutes to make the appropriate calls to the wireless carrier, but finally the data began to appearon George’s terminal. George let out a low whistle. “Hmm. Look at where those calls are coming from.”
    â€œInteresting,” Michael said as they huddled around the screen.
    â€œYou think?” Levi reached into a pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Call it.”
    â€œHeads,” Michael said. “And tails. I want this guy. I think I can connect.”
    Levi said as he pocketed the coin, “You’ve got it. First thing tomorrow.”
    The taxi pulled to the curb under a sunlit sky. It wore a mustard-colored paint scheme, and ‘Halay Taxi Way’ was emblazoned in red on its doors. Michael stepped from the curb, opened the rear door and told the driver, “Library of Congress, please.”
    The young, very black driver rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Another staffer.” He flipped the meter and dropped the transmission into drive, then checked his mirror before pulling into traffic. If he noticed the dark green 750Li BMW five lengths behind that was also pulling from the curb, he showed no reaction.
    Michael ignored the driver’s attitude and gave him the onceover. Tall. Slender. Long tapering fingers. “What part of East Africa are you from? Eritrea? Djibouti?”
    The driver examined his passenger in the mirror and replied with a noticeable accent, “Ethiopia.” Then he said curtly, as if explaining to a child, “E-theo-pee-
ah
.”
    Michael refused to rise to the bait. “Ah yes. Ethiopia. That land of the great Haile Selassie.”
    The driver’s face lit up and his smile revealed stunning white teeth. “
Yes.
”
    Michael said quietly, “Selassie—the Lion of Judah.”
    The driver closed his eyes and whispered reverently, “The Lion of Judah.” He opened his eyes in time to avoid crossing in front ofan oncoming car, and looked at his passenger with great curiosity. “How do you know of this man?”
    â€œHow can I not? Ethiopia is a great land, made up of a great people.”
    The driver laughed out loud and turned his head until he could study this rare white man. His eyes were filled with a new light and his smile shone bright. “You are only saying this to me,” he teased.
    â€œNo. It is. You are.” After a brief pause he said, “Pull to the curb for a moment, please.” The driver complied and turned around. Michael knew that the dark green BMW was also pulling to the side. He reached inside his suit jacket and produced a copy of the composite sketch, and held it up to the driver.
    The young man regarded him. “You are police, no?” When Michael nodded, the driver flicked his eyes at the sketch. “I do not know this man.”
    Michael said, “Thank you,” and pointed to the street. “Change of destination. 600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Proceed, please.”
    Beads of perspiration popped across the driver’s forehead. “F.B…I.?
    â€œProceed, please.” They traveled the next few minutes in silence. When they drew close to the Bureau, Michael directed him to a parking facility secured by a ten-foot high chain-link fence. There was an armed security officer at the gate and George stood next to the officer. The officer waved the taxi through. He also let the BMW in, and Levi parked it a short distance from the taxi.
    Michael said to the taxi driver,