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"What else?"
"We think we know where your guy came ashore."
"Al-Yamani?"
"Yep. On Monday the Coast Guard plucks this guy out of the drink down near the Florida Keys. He's lost so much blood they don't even think he's going to live. Well, yesterday afternoon he wakes up and starts telling a pretty interesting story. The guy's a Brit who lives on Grand Cayman. He gets hired to captain this really expensive boat that just so happens to be owned by one of the five thousand members of the Saudi royal family."
Rapp shook his head. He could already see where this was going.
"The Brit," continued McMahon, "takes the boat over to Cuba and picks up a guy who he's supposed to take to the Bahamas. A couple hours out of port the Brit gets knifed in the back and thrown overboard for dead.
"The Coast Guard thinks this sounds like drugs, so they call in the DEA, and here's where we get lucky. The agent the DEA sends to talk to the Brit is part of the Joint Terrorism Task Force out of Miami. The DEA guy arrives at the hospital, just after reading the alert we sent out about al-Yamani, and he puts two and two together."
Rapp was now sitting on the edge of the chair. "He's sure it was al-Yamani?"
McMahon shrugged. "The only photos we have of the guy are shit. They're grainy, and he's got a big beard and a turban. You know the song."
Rapp did. "Let me guess he was clean shaven with a high and tight haircut."
"Exactly."
"Did the guy remember a limp?" asked Rapp.
"He wasn't sure, but he did remember that the man stumbled a bit when he got on board the boat."
Rapp was already trying to come up with a way to lean on Cuba. They would have to trace this guy's steps, and hopefully catch him getting on a flight for Cuba that originated in a country they had a good relationship with.
McMahon wasn't done. "The Coast Guard put out an alert for the missing boat, and lo and behold, it had already been discovered on Wednesday morning by a game warden at the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge."
"Where's that?"
"Near Cape Canaveral."
"Great. We don't have a shuttle launch this week, do we?"
"No. I already checked on that."
Rapp frowned. "Why Cape Canaveral then?"
McMahon shrugged. "I don't know. We've alerted NASA and the local authorities, but so far nothing else has turned up. I do have something on another front, however."
McMahon started sifting through some files. He found the one he was looking for and opened it. Holding up a black-and-white photograph, he asked, "You recognize this guy?"
Rapp looked at the security photo. "No."
"Well, you should. We never would have found him without you."
He looked at the photo again. "I still don't know who it is."
"That young man who, incidentally, is passing through customs at LAX is none other than Imtaz Zubair, one of your missing Pakistani scientists."
"When did he enter the country?"
"On Monday."
"And you have him in custody?"
"Unfortunately no."
