The Overlook

Hadley continued. “He’s a guy we’ve been keeping our eye on for a few years now. A real person of interest to us, you might say.”
    The name was familiar to Bosch but he couldn’t place it at first.
    “Why is he of interest, Captain?” he asked.
    “Mr. Samir is a known supporter of religious organizations that want to hurt Americans and damage our interests. What’s worse than that is that he teaches our young people to hate their own country.”
    That last part jogged Bosch’s memory and he put things together.
    He could not recall which Middle Eastern country he was from, but Bosch remembered that Ramin Samir was a former visiting professor of international politics at USC who had gained widespread notice for espousing anti-American sentiment in the classroom and in the media.
    He was making media ripples before the 9/11 domestic terrorist attacks. Afterward, the ripples became a wave. He openly postulated that the attacks were warranted because of U.S. intrusion and aggression all around the globe. He was able to parlay the attention this brought him into a position as the media go-to guy for the ever-ready anti-American quote or sound bite. He denigrated U.S. policies toward Israel, objected to the military action in Afghanistan and called the war in Iraq nothing more than an oil grab.
    Samir’s role as agent provocateur was good for a few years of guest shots on the cable-news debate programs, where everybody tends to yell at one another. He was a perfect foil for both the right and the left and always willing to get up at 4 a.m. to make the Sunday-morning programs in the East.
    Meantime, he used his soapbox and celebrity status to help start and fund a number of organizations on and off campus that were quickly accused by conservative interest groups and in newspaper investigations of being connected, at least tangentially, to terrorist organizations and anti-American jihads. Some even suggested that there were links to the grand master of all terror, Osama bin Laden. But while Samir was often investigated, he was never charged with any crime. He was, however, fired by USC on a technicality-he had not stated that his opinions were his own and not those of the school when he wrote an op-ed piece for the
Los Angeles Times
that suggested the Iraq war was an American-planned genocide of Muslims.
    Samir’s fifteen minutes ran their course. He was eventually discounted in the media as a narcissistic provocateur who made outlandish statements in order to draw attention to himself rather than to thoughtfully comment on the issues of the day. After all, he had even named one of his organizations the YMCA-for Young Muslim Cause in America-just so the long-established youth organization with the same internationally recognized initials would file an attention-getting lawsuit.
    Samir’s star waned and he dropped from public sight. Bosch could not remember the last time he had seen him on the box or in the paper. But all the rhetoric aside, the fact that Samir was never charged with a crime during a period when the climate in the United States was hot with fear of the unknown and the desire for vengeance always indicated to Bosch that there was nothing there. If there had been fire behind the smoke, then Ramin Samir would be in a prison cell or behind a fence at Guantánamo Bay. But here he was, living in Silver Lake, and Bosch was skeptical of Captain Hadley’s claims.
    “I remember this guy,” he said. “He was just a talker, Captain. There was never any solid link between Samir and-”
    Hadley held up a finger like a teacher demanding silence.
    “Never a solid link
established
,” he corrected. “But that doesn’t mean anything. This guy raises money for the Palestinian Jihad and other Muslim causes.”
    “The Palestinian Jihad?” Bosch asked. “What is that? And what Muslim causes? Are you saying Muslim causes can’t be legit?”
    “Look, all I’m saying is that this is a bad dude and he’s got a car that was used in a murder and zesium heist sitting right in front of his house.”
    “Cesium,” Ferras said. “It was cesium that was stolen.”
    Not used to being corrected, Hadley narrowed his eyes and stared at Ferras for a moment before speaking.
    “Whatever. It’s not going to make much difference what you call it, son, if he dumps it into the reservoir across the street or is in that house putting it in a bomb while we’re sitting here waiting on a warrant.”
    “The FBI didn’t