Date: Sun, 1 Apr 2007 12:47:13 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 8, Adult Friends, 8/?

Arrest Record, Part 8
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

NOTE: Sorry, but there was no room to include any sex
in this chapter, as the pace of the investigation has
picked up dramatically. There will be some sex in
Chapter 9.

	By the weekend Harold, Ed, and I were pretty
discouraged, as nothing seemed to be happening. We
began speculating whether there was another cell about
which we knew nothing that was operating in our area.
Maybe the death of Taylor and the arrest of Harris had
suggested that something was terribly wrong, and our
adversaries had shifted their emphasis.
	"Those fuckin' guys are paranoid," Ed said. "They
won't believe that Taylor died in an ordinary traffic
accident. They'll think the CIA knocked him off."
Harold nodded. I sighed. We were sitting in the back
yard that balmy Sunday afternoon, having decided to
take the day off because we were both discouraged and
tired.
	Inside the house the phone rang. I went to answer it.
It was Phil, our supervisor:
	"Hey, Jack, I'm calling from home. I just got a call
from our port liaison officer. They're holding a
suspect in the port of San Diego." He went on to
explain the situation to me and to say that a
Gulfstream IV would be waiting to take us to San
Diego. I told him we'd pack and be ready as soon as
possible.	After hanging up I went outside to explain
the situation to the others.
	"Let's get inside. We have to be dressed and packed
right now." Inside we hurriedly showered, the three of
us having time only for a quick rinse, and once we had
dried ourselves we began to get ready.
	"A customs officer caught a guy coming off a cruise
ship in San Diego. It was just a routine thing, as the
guy was in with a long line of passengers coming off
the cruise. Normally, cruise passengers just fill out
the blue card, the customs declaration, and they go
right through. However, this officer decided to have
the guy open his suitcases. He just had a bad feeling
about this guy, maybe because the guy had a beard and
looked about 25 years old. You know, the terrorist
profile. Well, the agent couldn't believe it when he
saw what was in the suitcase."
	"What was it?" Ed asked.
	"Packed in among the clothing were about a dozen
canisters that didn't like souvenirs cruise passengers
pick up at gift shops. The customs agent, Adams,
immediate drew down on the guy and told him to step
away from the case. The guy tried to run, but there
was only one exit and two other agents tackled him
before he got to the door."
	"How did the guy get on the cruise ship with all that
stuff?" Harold asked.
	"I don't know specifically but he probably booked a
cruise just like any other passenger. We'll get the
details when we get there." By this time we were ready
to go, and we loaded our cases into the trunk of the
Honda and drove to the local airport ICE uses for its
flights to avoid the congestion of large commercial
airports.
	Flying across the country on a commercial airliner
can be an ordeal, but on the Homeland Security
Gulfstream, it was very pleasant. Ed and Harold dozed,
and I mostly read a book, because there was little to
discuss during the flight. Several sandwiches had been
packed in the refrigerator for us, and we washed them
down with soft drinks. Upon our arrival we were met by
two ICE Agents, Adams and Spicer, who drove us to
their office in an official car. On the way they began
briefing us:
	"I saw this guy, who seemed younger than most cruise
passengers, and he also seemed nervous. I wondered
what he was doing alone, since most cruise passengers
have their families with them. He had two cases with
him and never let them out of his sight or even put
them down. The one in his right hand seemed heavier
than the other. Well, when I asked him to put them on
the counter and open them, he started sweating. That's
when I thought I had a live one. At first I figured
him for a smuggler, and expected to see some baggies
of white powder. When I saw those canisters I didn't
know whether to shit or go blind. He rabbited, but
Spicer and another agent, Rawson, took him down before
he got to the exit."
	"Where did he board the cruise ship?" Harold asked.
Spicer answered:
	 "His papers showed that he'd boarded the ship right
in San Diego, and we checked with the cruise line to
verify this. It checked out. My hypothesis is that he
did board the ship, and then picked up the canisters
in one of the three ports in Mexico where the ship
docked to let the passengers spend a day ashore."
	"Isn't there some sort of security on cruise ships?"
arold persisted. "My parents went on a cruise and they
told me they had to pass through a metal detector each
time they returned to the ship."
	"Sure there is," Spicer answered. "It's pretty
perfunctory. "All the ship security officers are
looking for is to make sure no passenger brings a
knife or gun aboard on his person. Some passengers buy
bolo knives as souvenirs, and the security officers
hold them for them until they dock back in the States.
Canisters didn't really attract their attention much.
We're trying to locate the security officer who
handled this guy and his name's Amir, by the way, and
get some details. It might be difficult because most
of the ship's crew is from Southeast Asia or the
subcontinent, and they don't speak English well."
	"Sounds pretty sloppy to me," I interjected.
	"You're right," Adams confirmed. "They are sloppy.
Anyway, their main concern is that nobody hijacks
their ship, like happened to the Achile Lauro back in
1986. They look for AK-47s, that sort of weapon.
	"The terrorist know this, and I'm sure that's why
they chose this method of smuggling in those
canisters. Now we don't know what's in them. We've got
them locked up, and Amir hasn't been very cooperative.
He's a naturalized American citizen, by the way. He's
from the Middle East. You'll meet him soon."
	"I'm sure you searched him," Ed said.
	"Sure did, right down to his underwear. He had
nothing special on him, a wallet, money, passport,
house keys, and the usual stuff."
	"I guess he speaks English, but with an accent," I
suggested.
	"You could cut it with a knife," Spicer agreed. By
this time we were pulling into the parking lot, and we
got out and entered the building. We went into an
office and Spicer phoned to have the suspect brought
from the holding cell. Amir was about 5'2" with a dark
complexion, and wore a black bear. I estimated his age
to be about 30. We all went into the adjoining
interrogation room, where Ed told the suspect to
remove his clothing. He did, down to his boxer shorts,
but then stopped.
	"All of it," Ed ordered. Reluctantly, the suspect
dropped his shorts. I nudged Harold.
	"Okay, get dressed," Ed told him. As he dressed, I
asked him:
	"Your name's Amir Khalil?"
	"My passport says that," he replied, which was not a
direct answer, and I asked:
	"Is that your real name?"
	"My passport says it is." He was being evasive, and
the looks on the others' faces showed that they had
picked up on this fact. I looked at Ed and Harold, and
nodded toward the door. We went back into the office,
leaving Amir with Adams and Spicer.
	"He's circumcised and his pubic area's shaved," said
Harold.
	"His name's not Amir, an at this point it doesn't
matter what it really is," I said.
	"We've got the find out what he planned to do with
the canisters," Ed said. At this point two new
arrivals entered the office. We recognized them as
agents of the 911 Task Force, whom we'd met some days
before when they'd flown off with Abdul.
	"We're interested in Amir," the taller of them told
us. His words made me very anxious. We wanted to
question Amir but if they took him, we might not know
what they had gotten out of him for weeks.
Communication between ICE and the 911 Task Force
wasn't always prompt. They operated in a world of
their own.
	"We were about to start interrogating him," Ed told
them. "He brought in some canisters and we'd like to
know what they contain and where he was going to
deliver them." Both newcomers looked thoughtful for a
moment and then the shorter one spoke:
	"Okay, we don't have to take him right now. Give it
your best shot, but we'd like to sit in on the
interrogation, if you don't mind."
	"Don't mind?" I asked. "We'd love it. Maybe you can
spot something we missed. The more minds involved in
this, the better."
	"Okay, it's settled, then," Ed said, and led us back
into the interrogation room.
	"What's in those canisters?" I asked Amir as Ed
picked up his wallet and began exploring the pockets
and compartments.
	"I don't know," Amir replied. "He never told me."
This was a good beginning. At least he was answering
my question, although he still might be faking
ignorance.
	"Who is `he?" I probed further.
	"The man who gave me the suitcase," he answered.
	"Where did you meet him?"
	"In Cabo San Lucas, in a hotel," Amir replied. This
was better. He was fleshing out his answers, not just
replying in monosyllables. I had a feeling that Amir
was not as fanatical as some of his cohorts, and not
eager to give his life for Allah. I decided to test
this premise.
	"How long have you been in America?" was the next
question I put to him.
	"Almost five years," he said. That accorded with the
stamp and visa in his passport, which I'd been
scrutinizing while questioning him.
	"You like it here?" I asked.
	"Yes, I have a good job. I'm a chemical engineer,
make good money, have a nice car." I wasn't surprised
at his answer. He had apparently built a good life for
himself in America, and had become attached to this
country.  I pressed on:
	"As a chemical engineer, can you give me your
educated guess what these canisters contain?"
	"Not chemicals," he replied. "Those are Level IV
containers." I knew exactly what he meant. Level IV
containers were the utmost in safe and secure
containers, designed to hold only the most deadly and
virulent biological agents. A glance at the others
told me that they too understand the significance of
Level IV.
	"Now tell me where you were to deliver them," I said.

	"I was told to go to several cites across the
continent, check into specific hotels, and that I
would be contacted each time. Whoever contacted me
would give me instructions for delivery." The
situation had suddenly grown more complicated. I saw
that we couldn't just hold Amir and expect to roll up
his contacts. We'd have to induce him to work for us.
I thought it was time for a conference. Outside, I
turned to the taller of the two 911 Agents:
	"Look, we've got a chance to get several birds with
one stone. What's you name anyway?"
	"Ted," he said.
	"Look, Ted, if we can get Amir to go to these hotels
and wait to be contacted, we can roll up the network.
They probably have sleeper agents around the country
who were in place and just waiting to have the
canisters delivered to them."
	"That's a big IF," his partner said. "Oh, by the way,
you can call me `Paul.'"
	"I know it's tricky," Ed added. "I think we all got
the impression that Amir is pretty happy with the good
life he's leading. He's been here five years, and
maybe he's not as willing to die for Allah as when he
first arrived."
	"I think I know what you're going to propose," Ted
said. "We've never done anything like this before. We
just take the guy and milk him dry. We've never run
anyone against his own people. They're too fanatical."
Ted was bright, very bright. I decided to put it
squarely to him:
	"I know," I said. "You take these guys to an
undisclosed location, squeeze what you can out of
them, and then they get a bullet in the head or
dropped overboard with a hundred pounds of lead wired
to their bodies. We've got a better possibility here.
This guy doesn't seem fanatical. Look at the way he
came out with the answers. I think he knows that if he
cooperates he might get a deal out of us."
	"He wants to live," Ed confirmed.
	"This might be the only such opportunity we get in
years," Harold contributed. He, too, was caught up in
the possibilities of this situation.
	"Problem," Paul announced. "Nobody's ever gotten out
of our hands alive. We can't afford to let them live."
	"He isn't quite yet in your hands," I countered. "You
haven't started to work on him. There's no evidence of
forced interrogation to cover up. How about running
this by your boss and hearing what he says?"
	"I'll phone Phil in Washington and get his support,"
Ed told the group. This was a good move. It was clear
that this was going to have to be decided several pay
grades higher than ours. Ed went into the other office
while Paul picked up the phone on the desk to call his
boss. It only took five minutes for our instructions
to come through. We were, until further notice, to
detain Amir in this facility and try to obtain as much
information from him by polite questioning while his
fate was being decided at a much higher level.
	We returned to the interrogation room, where Amir was
no seated in a chair. I put another question to him:
	"Do you have a security check for when they contact
you at each hotel?"
	"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "I am supposed
to say `I think of Allah every day' at the end of the
conversation when my contact telephones me." I
exchanged glances with the others, as this was a very
encouraging sign.
	"And if you don't say that," I asked, "what happens?"
	"My contact knows that I've been compromised and
hangs up."
	"Can you write a list of the cities you're supposed
to visit and the name of the hotel in each one?" I
asked him.
	"There is no need," he answered. "I have the
itinerary written in my notebook. It's in my
suitcase." This was better yet.
	"Get his notebook and make five photocopies of that
schedule," I told Harold. To Amir I said:
	"Are you supposed to fly or drive to each
destination?"
	"My instructions are to drive. There is an
unacceptable risk going by the airlines. I have a car
in the long-term parking opposite the dock." He added
that it was a white Buick and gave us the plate
number. Now came the crux of the matter:
	"Are you willing to work with us," I asked, "And help
us capture the people who contact you?" There was a
long pause before Amir opened his mouth. This was
make-or-break time, truly the turning point in his
life. Finally he took a deep breath and said:
	"I suppose I must. I have gone so far that there is
no turning back." I was overjoyed to hear this, but
kept a deadpan face.
	"Are you hungry or thirsty?" I asked him. "We want
you to be comfortable while we work out our plan."
	"Yes, I am hungry. I would appreciate something to
eat, something simple, as long as there's no pork. I
am a believer, you know."
	"I can get us some chicken sandwiches on toast at the
snack bar, if that's okay," suggested Agent Spicer.
Amir nodded, and Spicer left to fetch the food. Ted,
Paul, Ed, Harold, and I stepped outside, leaving Amir
with Adams to watch him.
	"Maybe we've got a plan, but a lot could still go
wrong," began Ted, a worried look on his face.
	"I know," I agreed, "but go on. Let's examine the
problems and see if we can work around them."
	"Okay, for a start, the other side might have had the
dock under surveillance. If so, they already know that
Amir didn't leave with the other passengers, and we
might already be fucked. Second, if they've got any
tradecraft at all, they could place surveillance at
any point on his itinerary, to see if he's traveling
alone or makes contact with anyone else, such as us.
Thirdly, what happens when we arrest his first
contact? Is he supposed to report in that he received
the delivery safely? This plan could fall apart at any
point."
	"That's all true," I agreed. I was interrupted by the
phone, which I picked up. It was Phil, with fresh
instructions for us. Another phone rang, and Ted
answered it. After we'd hung up we compared notes:
	"We got the okay from Phil and he says that Ted's
people would be contacting him to authorize him to
work with us." Ted nodded affirmatively as I spoke.
"One proviso: Under no circumstances are we to allow
Amir to carry any of the canisters or to have any
access to them. These Level IV canisters are made in
the United States, and we'll be getting replacements
filled with an inert substance. These dummies will do
perfectly when Amir meets his contact, if he does."
	"That's what our bosses said too," Ted confirmed.
"They also picked up on the possibility that we may
have already been compromised if the dock was being
watched, but there's no way to tell. We'll just have
to go with what we've got." At this point Harold
returned with the notebook and the copies of the
itinerary. He picked up at once on the excitement in
the room.
	"Here you go," he said as he handed the papers to me.
"I guess we're going to move?"
	"Yes we are," I told him, and proceeded to fill him
in on the plan we had so far.
	"I guess we'll be going with him, in plainclothes?"
Harold asked.
	"Yes, right now the idea is to follow him at a
distance in unmarked cars. We'll have a GPS
transmitter installed in his car, so we won't have to
keep him in sight. That's just in case someone has him
under surveillance for a tail."
	"We'd better not tell him that we're using a GPS,"
Paul suggested. "He seems to be cooperating, but if we
told him about the tracking system he might give us
the slip by placing it in another vehicle while he
takes off in a different direction."
	"That's right," Ed agreed. "We're taking quite a
chance here, and we've got to keep every edge we can."
	"Phil said we're authorized to draft extra help for
this," I continued. "If they're willing, we'll have
Adams and Spicer change into civvies and do the
trailing for the first stage of the trip. Ted and Paul
can take a car and follow them or they can go in their
own plane. Ed, Harold, and I will take the Gulfstream.
Let's see what the first stop is." I looked down at
the papers in my hand.
	"Right here, San Diego," Harold piped in. "I looked
at the list while I was making copies."
	"He's supposed to be contacted at the Best Western
downtown," I said. "Tomorrow morning. That gives us
just enough time to set it up. It's almost eleven
now."
	"I guess two of us will stay in his room with him at
all times," Ed suggested. "The other can take nearby
rooms. We'll keep in contact using the portable radios
so as to keep the room phone free. That way we can
take down whoever shows up."
	"We have to take this guy with as little commotion as
possible," I said. "The take-down has to be
low-profile because we don't want the media to get
hold of it. That would screw up the whole thing." All
nodded agreement. We were all armed, but we knew that
there was to be no shooting.
	"Sounds good," Ted agreed. The plan was shaping up.
"I'll see to getting the GPS in Amir's car."
	"I'd better get out to the Gulfstream," Harold said.
"I asked that the transcripts be faxed to the machine
on the plane." I was gratified at Harold's initiative
and nodded to him. He left.
	A couple of hours later Ed and I were with Amir in
the room he'd taken at the hotel. Harold, Ted, and
Paul shared the next room, while Adams and Spicer had
taken a room down the hall. Ed and I would take turns
sleeping. The others would catch their sleep as well.
If anything happened we'd rouse them by radio. Harold
had given me the transcripts, pointing out the most
important passages.
	"It looks like the plan's a go," he said. "Karim got
a phone call telling him that the courier with the
canisters was on his way and that he'd get another
call instructing him as to how to make contact in a
few days."
	Now we waited.

Continued in Part 9