“Who?”
Rising tension filled the office. Moose thought Albadi might explode if you thumped him.
“Who?” Wynn asked again. “Tell me about your family. Do you have sons?”
Albadi said something, but Moose didn’t hear it. Moose again stepped across doorway and glanced inside. Albadi, near tears, nibbled the inside of his lips.
“Do you have sons, Sadi?” Wynn asked again.
“No, daughters.”
“Only daughters?”
“Yes.”
“How old are they?”
“13 and 15. Good girls, Sir. Good girls.”
“Ask him point blank whether he knows anything about the shooter,” Wynn told Cengo, putting the conversation between the Iraqis back in Arabic.
Wynn might be doing this to give himself more time to think, to watch Albadi, or to see if putting the discussion back into Arabic would cause Albadi to adjust his story.
C
