Free The Terrorist Next Door by Sheldon Siegel

for the inconvenience, but we believe the public will understand given the circumstances.”
    “What if you have an emergency?” Mojo asked.
    “Call nine-one-one.”
    “How can you do that if your phone’s been disconnected?”
    “For the time being, you’ll need to find a landline, a payphone, or a conventional cell.”
    Mojo took a flyer at Gold. “Have you heard anything from the individual who’s been detonating the bombs?”
    “No comment.”
    “Do you know the location of the phone that placed the call to the museum?”
    “No comment.”
    Mojo’s face turned red. “Do you ever intend to comment about anything?”
    Gold forced himself to keep his tone even. “We will provide additional information at the appropriate time.”
    * * *
    The young man closed his laptop and smiled as he watched the end of the press conference.
    Maloney has aged ten years. Gold has a permanent scowl. Most important: Chicago is shutting down.
    He resisted the temptation to taunt Gold as he reassembled the detonator sitting on the table before him. He had anticipated the shutdown of the throwaway cell phones. He had already begun the transition to other means of communication. He didn’t want to jeopardize his mission with a careless mistake or a reckless display of ego—especially with so much work still to be done.
    * * *
    “How bad did I sound?” Gold asked.
    “You gave the right answers,” Battle said.
    They were walking along Cornell Drive toward the Crown Vic, which was parked near the entrance to the museum’s garage. The crowds had dissipated. Traffic was light. Gold had been on his feet since eight a.m., and his adrenaline rush was fading. The three Tylenol caplets he’d swallowed during Maloney’s press conference were having no appreciable effect.
    Mojo’s familiar face was waiting for them at the Crown Vic. “Got a minute?”
    Gold feigned shock. “No camera crew, Carol?”
    “I wanted to ask you a question off the record. What haven’t you told me?”
    “It’s like any investigation. I’m not trying to prevent you from getting a story. I’m trying to catch a killer.”
    “So am I.”
    “That’s our job.”
    “Six people are dead, Detective. Three dozen have been injured. We have National Guard troops at gas stations. Businesses are closed, and people are staying home. You need all the help you can get.” Mojo’s tone turned uncharacteristically subdued. “I lost a cousin at the World Trade Center. I’ll do everything I can to prevent it from happening again—especially in my hometown. I thought we could start by calling a truce.”
    “Terms?”
    “I’ll call you first if he contacts me, if you’ll do the same for me. I can help you, Detective. I can also make you look like an incompetent jackass in front of a national audience.”
    True . “I’d like advance warning before you go on the air with anything about this case.”
    “I’ll try. Believe it or not, I’m more concerned about getting a terrorist off the street than pimping my ratings.”
    Gold believed her. “I’ll do the best I can to keep you in the loop, Carol.”
    “You can start by answering two more questions. First, what do you really know about the Islamic Freedom Federation?”
    Gold answered her honestly. “Nothing. It isn’t on any terrorist list. We don’t know who’s behind it, or if it really exists. It’s completely off the grid.”
    “Second, do you know if we’re dealing with more than one person?”
    “All I can tell you is that the FBI’s best profiler thinks we’re dealing with either one person or a very small group.”
    “Thank you, Detective.”
    Gold opened the door to the Crown Vic and sat down in the passenger seat. He leaned back and collected his thoughts. Then his BlackBerry vibrated. Maloney’s name appeared on the display.
    “We got an ID on the Mercedes,” the chief rasped. “It was leased by a guy who lives in Al-Shahid’s building. His name is Nasser Salaam. Third year law