Wanting for Independence: Chapter 26
A/N: Sorry for leaving you hanging on Monday; I was hanging out at a conference and too busy to write (sad, I know). Good news is that now that I don't have exams to study for or presentations to prepare, I should be able to dedicate some more time to writing (yay!). Bad news (for you, not for me) is that I'm leaving for vacation in Tanzania next week to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro (yes, my life is this awesome), and I doubt I'll have much in the way of internet while climbing a mountain, so you'll be getting a brief (hopefully very brief) hiatus. I will return to you as soon as possible.
NCIS Special Agent Kazim Gardezi thanked the helicopter pilot before removing his headset and stepping out onto the Presidio of Monterey, the site of the Defense Language Institute and the current home of Private Alexander Khalid, Kaseem Khalid's younger brother and, with any luck, a key to what exactly the Khalid family dynamics were.
Waiting for Gardezi at the end of the helipad was a uniformed Army staff sergeant. "Special Agent Gardezi?" the non-commissioned officer asked.
"Yes," Gardezi replied, pulling out his credentials for the staff sergeant to examine. After a cursory glance, the staff sergeant gave a perfunctory nod and returned his gaze to Gardezi.
"I'm Sergeant Mike Kann, Private Khalid's squad leader," he introduced. Gardezi nodded.
"What can you tell me about Private Khalid?" he asked. The kid wasn't under investigation, but it always helped to have as much information about the people you were going to talk to as possible.
"Good kid," Kann said with a nod. "Good student, a bit quiet. Doesn't do anything stupid." Gardezi nodded slightly; as a former NCO himself, he knew the qualities Kann was talking about.
"Did he get leave for his brother's funeral?" Gardezi asked as they began heading toward the barracks. Kann nodded.
"You're lucky you caught him," he confirmed. "His ride leaves at noon to take him to the airport. Brother's being buried in Ohio tomorrow. What's this about, anyway? NCIS got so little to do that you gotta talk to privates whose brothers get killed?"
"I can't comment on an ongoing investigation," Gardezi replied. From the outside, it did look a little ridiculous, but there was no point in waving the terrorism flag until they had more information.
The barracks where the language students lived were nice, much nicer than the barracks Gardezi stayed in while he was in the Marine Corps, nicer even than the barracks he stayed in when he was attending the same course in the wake of 9/11. Of course, the Corps always seemed to get the short end of the stick when it came to accommodations. At least the kid wasn't in the Air Force; Gardezi wasn't sure he could handle seeing how easy they had it.
They found Private Khalid in his room, neatly folded clothes stacked on the bed and an empty green duffle bag on the floor, waiting to be filled. "Private," Kann greeted, and immediately, the kid snapped to attention. At least the Army still had some discipline.
"Sergeant," Khalid replied.
"This is NCIS Agent Gardezi," Kann introduced. "He's going to talk to you about your brother."
"Sir," Khalid acknowledged.
"At ease, Private," Gardezi commanded, and Khalid relaxed into parade rest, his hands clasped behind his back. Gardezi turned to Kann. "I have it from here," he said, dismissing the staff sergeant. Kann gave a nod before ducking out of the room.
"I'm Special Agent Kazim Gardezi, Naval Criminal Investigative Service," he introduced, showing the private his credentials. "I need to ask you some questions about your brother, Kaseem. Please, sit."
Khalid sat obediently on the bed, leaving Gardezi the single chair in the single-person barracks room. "What does NCIS have to do with Kasey's murder?" Khalid asked.
"We think it has to do with another murder we're investigating in DC, so the DC team took over the investigation from the DC police department. They asked me to come talk to you because I'm stationed in San Diego." And he was on the anti-terrorism team, but again, it was best not to wave that terrorism flag too soon. "How often did you talk to your brother?"
"Since I got here, maybe every couple of days. I didn't always have my cell phone when I was at Basic, so it wasn't as often then."
"You got your cell phone at Basic?" Gardezi asked in disbelief.
"Only for a couple of minutes on Sundays, if I didn't get in trouble," Khalid replied. Gardezi just shook his head; it was certainly a different world from his basic training. He hadn't even been allowed a first name or personal pronouns.
"So you and your brother were close, then?" Gardezi asked, getting back on track.
"Yeah," Khalid said, suddenly sad. "He was always looking out for me. When he was still living in Columbus, he came by all the time to take me out to ice cream or just hang out and talk. Same with Sarah. Our sister. And then when he moved to DC, he called a lot, made sure I was doing okay in school and everything. He was the first person I talked to about enlisting."
"What'd he think about it?"
"He thought it was a great idea," Khalid said automatically. "Thought it was a great way to give back and help get college paid for." He shrugged. "I'm not as smart as he is. I couldn't get my college paid for the way he could. And I don't think I want to spend four years sitting in classes, not right now."
"What did your parents think?"
Khalid frowned as he thought about that. "My mom cried," he finally said before shrugging again. "My parents had other kids back in Somalia, and one got killed when he joined the war. I think she thought that would happen to me. I think my dad was disappointed, but he didn't really say anything. I think they're okay with it now, now that they know I'll be speaking Somali and helping Somalis. I'm going to be attached to a SF unit for a few years and then I want to train to do civil affairs. I think that's the best way to help."
"I was a linguist for my first tour in Iraq," Gardezi said with slight nod.
"Did you like it?" Khalid asked, a touch of trepidation in his voice. Gardezi remembered that feeling, when he was at that same base in the same language program, wondering if he had made the right decision by leaving college to join the Marine Corps right after 9/11, right when the Corps needed Arab-Americans the most.
"It's hard work," Gardezi replied. "Rewarding, though." He decided not to mention the looks of betrayal he got from the Iraqis as they rolled through Baghdad during the invasion, the questions of how he could turn his back on his own people to put on an American uniform and fight against them.
If they hadn't driven his family from Iraq when he was a kid, it wouldn't have been an issue.
"How was your brother's relationship with your parents?" Gardezi asked to change the subject.
"Non-existent?" Khalid asked after thinking about it for a few seconds. "I mean, Kasey moved out to go to college when I was still really young, so I don't have great memories of him being at home, but when he came to visit when he was living in Columbus, he never really talked to them much, just a 'how're you doing?' thing. They really freaked out when he became Catholic, but I don't know why, because I think they had to have already known that he wasn't going to the mosque. There aren't a lot of mosques in Columbus, after all. By the time he moved to DC, he stopped visiting at all. I don't think he's even talked to them since then, and that was three years ago. I asked him about it once, and he said that my parents aren't the same as the ones he had. At the time, I thought maybe he was saying that he was adopted or something, but I think maybe he just means—I mean, meant—that they were just different than they were when he was a kid."
"Right," Gardezi said with a nod.
"I spent spring break out in DC a couple of years ago, after Grace was born," Khalid continued. "She was a couple of months old, and Kasey said that he didn't know how he would be able to function if anything happened to her."
"Your parents lost three kids in Somalia."
"Four," Khalid corrected. "But that was before the war. There was a baby after Mariam, but she died when she was a couple of months old. I think Kasey said it was malaria or something. Apparently that happens a lot in Somalia. But yeah. Maybe that was why Kasey said they're so different."
Gardezi nodded slightly. "What did your parents do back in Somalia?" he asked.
"Uh, I'm pretty sure my mom stayed at home. I think my dad was a banker or something."
Gardezi wrote that down in his notepad. "He's going to be buried in Ohio?"
"No, Cora said he's going to be cremated. I don't know what she's going to do with the ashes. Maybe spread them around Columbus? They really liked it there. There's going to be a memorial service there, that's why I'm flying out." He checked his watch. "Sir, do you mind if I keep packing? I gotta leave for the airport in less than an hour."
"I'll let you get back to it in a minute," Gardezi promised. "Do you mind if I get a DNA sample? Just in case maybe your brother really did mean that he was adopted."
"Oh. Okay." Gardezi pulled out a cheek swab and collected a DNA sample to courier over to Headquarters for analysis before expressing his sympathies and leaving the private to resume his packing.
A murder victim that may not have been who he claimed to be, a son who didn't understand who his parents had become, a brother who already missed his sounding board and source of advice, a DNA sample that may answer at least one of those questions.
This was going to be a fun phone call back to his boss.