Free The Terrorist Next Door by Sheldon Siegel Page B

phone and his e-mail. No communications with Al-Shahid’s brother since Salaam left for London.”
    “Unless they used throwaways. Pull a warrant for Al-Shahid’s condo, too.”
    * * *
    Muneer Al-Shahid made Gold and Battle cool their heels for more than an hour while he consulted with two senior partners from the Chicago office of the gold-plated international law firm of Short, Story and Thompson LLP—the second largest in the world. A frustrated Gold used the time to call Fong, who hadn’t been able to identify the driver of the Mercedes. The forensic evidence from the museum was useless. Gold also checked in with his father, Assistant State’s Attorney Silver, and Katie Liszewski.
    At four o’clock, Muneer Al-Shahid and his high-priced legal entourage finally emerged from the old butler’s station and took seats on the Louis-the-Something sofa in the living room with hand-crafted crown moldings and a panoramic view of Lake Michigan. Muneer was taller and more muscular than his younger brother. He wore a powder blue oxford shirt made of fine Egyptian cotton, and his pleated gray slacks were custom-tailored. Gold figured the legal team was running him at least two grand an hour. Robert Stumpf was a gray-haired sage with a commanding baritone who oversaw the legal work for the Al-Shahid family’s business in the U.S. His partner, Larry Braun, was a tightly wound barracuda who chaired the firm’s white collar criminal defense practice. He bore a striking resemblance in appearance and temperament to his classmate from the prestigious New Trier High School in Winnetka, who happened to be Chicago’s mayor.
    Braun appointed himself as spokesman and invoked a patronizing tone. “Gentlemen, we are here in the spirit of cooperation. I would remind you that Mr. Al-Shahid is under no legal obligation to speak to you. For obvious reasons of attorney-client privilege, we can’t discuss anything relating to Hassan’s case.”
    The dance begins . “Understood,” Gold said. “We were hoping your client has some information about the individual who set off the bomb at the museum.”
    “I hope you aren’t suggesting Muneer had anything to do with it.”
    “We aren’t suggesting anything.”
    “I must also insist that this discussion be off the record.”
    Nice try . “Muneer isn’t the subject of a criminal investigation.” Not yet, anyway .
    Braun shifted to a condescending smirk. “You didn’t pull his name out of a hat. It took us a month just to get his visa to enter the country. His brother has been unjustly charged with a capital offense, which could make Muneer a person of interest.”
    So much for the spirit of cooperation . Gold was losing patience. “Your client can answer a few questions now, or he can do it in front of the grand jury. The State’s Attorney isn’t as accommodating as we are, and you won’t be able to sit next to him inside the grand jury room.”
    Braun responded with another of his seemingly endless repertoire of disdainful expressions. “I’ll allow Mr. Al-Shahid to answer a few questions, but he isn’t going to talk about his brother’s case, and we reserve the right to terminate this conversation at any time.”
    As if we’re going to water board him . “Fine.”
    Braun nodded to Al-Shahid, who responded on cue.
    “My brother is not a murderer,” he recited in flawless American English, as if reading from a script. “I don’t know anything about what happened at the Art Institute, the El station, Millennium Park, or the museum. Hassan is a peaceful man. I have nothing else to say.”
    Braun smiled triumphantly. “There you have it, gentlemen.”
    Gold was tempted to ask him if he’d written out anything else for his client to memorize. He shifted his gaze to Al-Shahid. “What have you been doing since you got into town?”
    “Organizing my brother’s affairs. Meeting with his attorney, his imam, and his academic advisor. I tried to see Hassan, but the authorities