Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [79]
“Probably,” said Davidson with a shudder. “I can’t watch him clip his nails. It creeps me out.”
“If that’s the worst of his behavior, then you’ve got it pretty good.”
“That’s the thing. It isn’t just one quirky thing with him. It’s a million. And they all add up.”
“And that’s why you don’t like doing surveillance with him?”
“Damn straight,” replied Davidson. “The guy’s an investigative genius, but there’s something just not right about him. It’s like if Magnum PI and Rain Man had a baby. You saw how he wouldn’t leave the van.”
“So?”
“So Judge Wapner probably comes on in ten minutes.”
Vaughan shook his head. “The guy’s a little eccentric. So what? You need to lighten up.”
Davidson smiled. “Give it another hour. You’ll want to beat the guy to death with the heel of your shoe.”
He doubted it and they walked in silence the rest of the way to the Bronco and climbed in.
While Davidson did a radio check, Vaughan received an e-mail from one of the forensics specialists going over Nasiri’s taxi. The piece of plastic that had been recovered at the scene of the hit-and-run was indeed from a radiator header, and the radiator header in Nasiri’s cab was new. Everything they were telling him jibed with what the Pakistani mechanic from the Crescent Garage had told them.
The bad news was that there was no blood, hair, or tissue anywhere on the outside of the vehicle. Worse still was what the tech told him next.
Skirting the poisonous tree issue had not been easy. The only thing Vaughan could do was to ask his forensic pal to search the interior of the cab, as well as the trunk, for traces of any chemicals. He said he was looking for any sign that Nasiri had washed down his cab with solvents in an attempt to hide evidence of the hit-and-run. His real hope was that they would come back with hits for TATP or the precursors for the compound. The bad news from forensics was that the cab contained no traces of chemicals whatsoever.
Vaughan shared the bad news with Davidson as they pulled away from the curb and headed toward the alley.
“I’m not surprised,” replied Davidson. “If that stuff is as volatile as you say it is, they’re not going to want to move it until they absolutely have to. If Nasiri was transporting anything, it was bottles of peroxide and cans of drain cleaner; all nice and sealed.”
Vaughan didn’t like it, but he had to agree. “So we’ve still got nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? You’ve got Josh Levy’s balls in the palm of your hand.”
He held up one of the cameras and looked at it.
“Now, Josh may think his balls are made of brass,” said Davidson, “but I still think you should drop them out the window delicately. Nobody likes to have their balls busted.”
“Are you done?” asked Vaughan as he rolled down his window.
“Since you asked, you have to admit that even though he wanted to stay in the van, Josh really does have big balls.”
“Is that all of them?”
“All of my ball jokes?”
“Yeah.”
“For the moment.”
“Good,” said Vaughan. “I’d like to concentrate on what’s happening at the mosque.”
“Like Captain Hook.”
Vaughan nodded.
As they rolled up to the stop sign half a block from the alley, Davidson snapped the clip on the metal clipboard wedged between his seat and armrest. “You know what that is?”
“No. What is it?”
“The sound of no hands clapping.”
Vaughan shook his head. “Can we please concentrate on what we’re about to do?”
“So you’re asking me to give you a hand with this part?”
“You know, Levy probably isn’t the one I’m going to beat to death with my shoe tonight.”
“All right. I get it,” said Davidson. “You lawyers have no sense of humor. How fast do you want me to drive down the alley?”
“Fast enough to look like you know what you’re doing and are just cutting through.”
Davidson put his left hand over his eyes and waved his right index finger over the speedometer before landing on a speed. “Okay, got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. You’d better put your thinking cap