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Authors: Sheldon Siegel
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pocket.”
“We can’t prove Al-Shahid pulled the trigger or disposed of the body.”
“That’s why you’re such a good lawyer. You’ll get the jury to put the pieces together.”
“A witness would help.”
“That’s going to be hard to find.”
“That’s why you’re such a good cop.”
Gold scowled. “The case against Al-Shahid for Paulie’s murder is a slam dunk. Al-Shahid was inside the house. He tried to run after he set off the bomb. End of story.”
“Earl’s going to argue that Al-Shahid didn’t intend to kill anyone. Supposedly, he wanted to make Chicago PD, the FBI, and Homeland Security look bad. Earl claimed Al-Shahid was going to phone in a tip to the Trib saying somebody had built a bomb factory under their noses.”
“That’s crap.”
“I agree, but he still has no incentive to let Al-Shahid talk to us.”
“This is his only chance to cut a deal. Tell him you’ll consider taking the death penalty off the table if he cooperates.”
“I can’t do that for a cop killer.”
“It doesn’t have to be binding.”
“I don’t lie about plea deals—especially to a smart lawyer on a capital case.”
“I’m not asking you to lie.”
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Bluff. Put something on the table to get us an interview. Or tell him you’ll go easier if Al-Shahid implicates an accomplice.”
“I’ve tried. Earl insisted that Al-Shahid acted alone. We’ve been through his phone records, e-mails, and texts.”
Gold was about to respond when his BlackBerry vibrated. Fong’s name appeared on the display. “What?” Gold snapped.
“I need you to meet me in Hyde Park. A bomb just went off in the underground garage at the Museum of Science and Industry.”
Chapter 10
“THIS IS A DISASTER”
“Three dead, eight injured,” Fong said. “This is a disaster.”
Gold’s lungs burned as he pointed at three body bags laid out in front of the charred shells of three cars whose original colors were impossible to discern. “IDs?”
“A mother, a father, and their eight year old son. Visiting from Nashville. They were in the Chevy. They were pulling into the space next to the Mercedes when it exploded.”
At one-fifteen on Monday afternoon, Gold and Battle had found a somber Fong in the middle of an army of Chicago PD uniforms, FBI agents, firefighters, EMTs, and the museum’s security force. They’d assembled on the first level of the underground garage, about fifty feet from the escalators leading up to the majestic domed lobby of the Beaux Arts masterpiece in Jackson Park. At the moment, nobody was admiring the stately Ionic columns, the elegant copper roof, or the expansive front lawn of the only building still standing from the 1893 World’s Fair. The cement ceiling was blackened. The injured had been taken to the hospital. The museum had been evacuated.
“What about the Mercedes?” Gold asked.
“Working on it,” Fong said. “The VINs were removed—even the secret ones. We’ve provided everything we know to your people.”
The ever-competitive Gold hoped Chicago PD would ID the car before the feds did. “Detonator?”
“Another throwaway cell. Purchased at a Target in Rosemont. The call was placed by another throwaway purchased at a Radio Shack in Mt. Prospect.”
“We’ve cut off access to Verizon, Sprint, and U.S. Cellular.”
“He switched to AT&T.”
Dammit . “How many more bombs have to go off before we cut off access to all of these phones? We need make this happen now.”
“It’s done.”
Finally . “Where was the call initiated?”
“A cell south of downtown and east of the Dan Ryan.”
“That’s half of the South Side. He could still be in the neighborhood. I’ll get every available officer out looking for him. I need to get a statement from everybody who was here today. And I want to look at videos. Who’s in charge of security?”
Fong pointed at a middle-aged man with a military posture and
“We can’t prove Al-Shahid pulled the trigger or disposed of the body.”
“That’s why you’re such a good lawyer. You’ll get the jury to put the pieces together.”
“A witness would help.”
“That’s going to be hard to find.”
“That’s why you’re such a good cop.”
Gold scowled. “The case against Al-Shahid for Paulie’s murder is a slam dunk. Al-Shahid was inside the house. He tried to run after he set off the bomb. End of story.”
“Earl’s going to argue that Al-Shahid didn’t intend to kill anyone. Supposedly, he wanted to make Chicago PD, the FBI, and Homeland Security look bad. Earl claimed Al-Shahid was going to phone in a tip to the Trib saying somebody had built a bomb factory under their noses.”
“That’s crap.”
“I agree, but he still has no incentive to let Al-Shahid talk to us.”
“This is his only chance to cut a deal. Tell him you’ll consider taking the death penalty off the table if he cooperates.”
“I can’t do that for a cop killer.”
“It doesn’t have to be binding.”
“I don’t lie about plea deals—especially to a smart lawyer on a capital case.”
“I’m not asking you to lie.”
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Bluff. Put something on the table to get us an interview. Or tell him you’ll go easier if Al-Shahid implicates an accomplice.”
“I’ve tried. Earl insisted that Al-Shahid acted alone. We’ve been through his phone records, e-mails, and texts.”
Gold was about to respond when his BlackBerry vibrated. Fong’s name appeared on the display. “What?” Gold snapped.
“I need you to meet me in Hyde Park. A bomb just went off in the underground garage at the Museum of Science and Industry.”
Chapter 10
“THIS IS A DISASTER”
“Three dead, eight injured,” Fong said. “This is a disaster.”
Gold’s lungs burned as he pointed at three body bags laid out in front of the charred shells of three cars whose original colors were impossible to discern. “IDs?”
“A mother, a father, and their eight year old son. Visiting from Nashville. They were in the Chevy. They were pulling into the space next to the Mercedes when it exploded.”
At one-fifteen on Monday afternoon, Gold and Battle had found a somber Fong in the middle of an army of Chicago PD uniforms, FBI agents, firefighters, EMTs, and the museum’s security force. They’d assembled on the first level of the underground garage, about fifty feet from the escalators leading up to the majestic domed lobby of the Beaux Arts masterpiece in Jackson Park. At the moment, nobody was admiring the stately Ionic columns, the elegant copper roof, or the expansive front lawn of the only building still standing from the 1893 World’s Fair. The cement ceiling was blackened. The injured had been taken to the hospital. The museum had been evacuated.
“What about the Mercedes?” Gold asked.
“Working on it,” Fong said. “The VINs were removed—even the secret ones. We’ve provided everything we know to your people.”
The ever-competitive Gold hoped Chicago PD would ID the car before the feds did. “Detonator?”
“Another throwaway cell. Purchased at a Target in Rosemont. The call was placed by another throwaway purchased at a Radio Shack in Mt. Prospect.”
“We’ve cut off access to Verizon, Sprint, and U.S. Cellular.”
“He switched to AT&T.”
Dammit . “How many more bombs have to go off before we cut off access to all of these phones? We need make this happen now.”
“It’s done.”
Finally . “Where was the call initiated?”
“A cell south of downtown and east of the Dan Ryan.”
“That’s half of the South Side. He could still be in the neighborhood. I’ll get every available officer out looking for him. I need to get a statement from everybody who was here today. And I want to look at videos. Who’s in charge of security?”
Fong pointed at a middle-aged man with a military posture and
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