There is no connection whatsoever between Kevin and arms sales,” Mr. Lubin says.
The F.B.I. has declined to comment on their broader investigation into the activities of Mr. Mohsen and Mr. Malik, and there is no indication that federal authorities are investigating Mr. Ingram as well. Nevertheless, court papers being filed in preparation for the upcoming trial, as well as conversations with defense lawyers, paint a stranger picture yet of Mr. Ingram and his post–Wall Street crowd.
The story, as laid out in court papers, begins in December 1998, when a small-time Florida diamond dealer named Randy Glass was arrested for fraud. Faced with a 20-year sentence, Mr. Glass made a bid to shorten his time by offering Mr. Mohsen up to A.T.F. agents as an arms smuggler.
The A.T.F. was interested and an elaborate sting was set up, with Mr. Glass going undercover to catch Mr. Mohsen—and his alleged contacts—in the act.
Mr. Mohsen seemed an odd target for a federal undercover operation. Short, burly and bald, with a brash dealmaker’s bark, he was born in Egypt and has lived in the United States for more than 30 years. The 57-year-old Mr. Mohsen sees himself as a globe-trotting middleman. He speaks nine languages and has, over the years, brokered a range of mostly middling deals, such as diamonds in Sierra Leone and wheat in Egypt. According to his lawyer, he had never been convicted of arms smuggling.
On Dec. 7, 1998, the 49-year-old Mr. Glass called Mr. Mohsen at his Jersey City home and invited him down to his house in Boca Raton, court papers show. There, Mr. Glass told Mr. Mohsen of his high-level contacts in the military and of his access to surplus military equipment: Stinger missiles, Cobra helicopters and assorted parts, surface-to-air missiles and more. Mr. Mohsen, with his numerous overseas business contacts, would be perfectly placed to find a buyer, Mr. Glass allegedly told him.
According to his lawyer, Mr. Mohsen was intrigued on several levels. As a businessman, it looked like a fine opportunity to make a buck. But Mr. Mohsen, an American citizen, also loved the idea of clandestinely selling weapons to U.S. allies abroad.
"It’s just like Oliver North,” he said excitedly to Mr. Glass, according to one person familiar with his case.
On Jan. 21, 1999, Mr. Glass drove a van full of inert Stinger missiles to a hotel parking lot at the Meadowlands, court papers reveal. One person familiar with the case said that Mr. Mohsen was thrilled—he grabbed a few missiles, struck a martial pose and had an accommodating undercover agent snap a picture of him.
Off the bat, he mentioned an associate of his in Egypt with solid contacts with the embattled Democratic Republic of the Congo, a source said. But that deal fell through, sources say, when a cease-fire was struck in July 1999.
It was during this time, in early 1999, that Mr. Mohsen was introduced to Mr. Ingram, also a Jersey City resident, through a mutual acquaintance, according to a source familiar with the matter.
Up to that point, Mr. Ingram’s life had followed a starkly different track. He’d had a successful eight-year run at Goldman Sachs, then became head of the mortgage-backed securities desk for Deutsche Bank. But in September 1998, he’d been forced out of that job following a market downturn. He left, however, a rich man: With the help of Jesse Jackson, Mr. Ingram, who is black, negotiated a settlement—from $10 million to $20 million, some speculate—in return for scrapping a wrongful-termination suit. After 11 years on Wall Street, Mr. Ingram—just 43—was now on the hunt for new projects.
He started a bond-trading house on the Internet and invested in a number of Harlem restaurants. And, soon after meeting Mr. Mohsen, he set up a Jersey City–based construction company called B.I.A.—one black, one Italian and one Arab (Mr. Ingram; Rocco Romero, a relative of Mr. Mohsen’s wife; and Mr. Mohsen, who ran the company).
Mr. Mohsen led Mr. Ingram into several unsuccessful investment endeavors overseas—a telecommunications project in Somalia, oil in Egypt. In one case, Mr. Mohsen was given $30,000 in cash by Mr. Ingram to explore buying a factory in Egypt. But sources close to Mr. Mohsen say that he was living more off the expense money given to him by Mr. Ingram than from any business gains.
“They were looking to make a quick, tax-free buck,” says one source close to the case. “But none of the deals worked, and the construction company was a sinkhole.”
In July 1999, Mr. Mohsen was introduced to Mr. Malik, 52, a Pakistani national who ran a chain of liquor stores in Jersey City. According to a source familiar with the case, Mr. Malik said he had a connection to sell arms to Pakistan, which until last weekend was subject to a U.S. military-aid embargo because of its ongoing production and deployment of nuclear weapons. According to a government affidavit, Mr. Malik had military contacts abroad. These contacts wanted to know, as well, if the government would accept heroin as a form of payment, the affidavit states.
Mr. Malik and a Pakistani associate, Raja Ghulam Abbas, together with Mr. Mohsen, met with Mr. Glass and undercover federal agents over lunch at the Tribeca Grill in lower Manhattan on July 14, 1999. Mr. Malik and Mr. Abbas were interested in securing 200 to 300 Stinger missiles for their client, court papers show, at a cost of around $32 million. Mr. Mohsen’s lawyer contends that the clients represented Pakistani military officials. A spokesman at the Pakistani embassy says that Pakistan has no information on the case.
In June 2000, Mr. Abbas, a Jersey City businessman, wrote to the chief of general staff of the Pakistani army: “We are now in a position to offer you the complete range of equipment and spares—including Stinger missiles, 1999 version, with latest dedicated night sight; spares for all types of Cobra helicopters; the TOW missile and any miscellaneous items from radar to guns. All for a very attractive package.” The letter went on to say: “We would like to be of service to you and Pakistan at this critical time and request that you provide us an opportunity to serve our nation.”
At times, a deal seemed close. But the $32 million sale that Mr. Glass and his F.B.I. handlers so desperately sought never went down.
Finally, on June 6, Mr. Glass’ handlers at the F.B.I. and the A.T.F. ran out of patience. After two and a half years, it was time to shut down the sting. On June 12, Mr. Mohsen and Mr. Malik were again lured to the Miami warehouse full of arms, and A.T.F. agents swooped in for the bust.
Also on June 6, according to the government’s account, an undercover agent called Mr. Ingram and said he had $2 million coming in from arms sales that he needed laundered. Mr. Ingram got on a plane to Florida. On June 12, he too was arrested as he prepared to fly the cash overseas to London.
Law-enforcement authorities would not comment on their interest since Sept. 11 in Mr. Mohsen, Mr. Malik or Mr. Abbas, who remains at large.
“My client was under the impression he was working for military intelligence or the C.I.A.,” said Mr. Mohsen’s lawyer, Valentin Rodriguez. “His goal was to help the government and maybe find some terrorists along the way. The bin Laden connection is the craziest thing I ever heard.”
Richard Lubin, Mr. Ingram’s lawyer, denies that Mr. Ingram was ever aware of Mr. Mohsen’s arms-dealing activities. Certainly Mr. Ingram—though a close friend and associate of Mr. Mohsen—was not around during the arms talks, nor was he known to have contact with Mr. Malik or Mr. Abbas, according to the government’s case.
His primary interest was money-laundering. According to one source close to Mr. Mohsen, when Mr. Mohsen first introduced his partner to Mr. Glass on June 7, 1999, in Florida, he referred to him as his money manager. On June 18, they met again at Mr. Ingram’s offices at the World Trade Center, where Mr. Ingram facilitated a $100,000 transfer for the undercover Mr. Glass.
Two months later, he and Mr. Mohsen met with Mr. Glass and other government agents at Mr. Glass’ Boca Raton residence. “I’m a financial engineer,” he was recorded as saying, and he tried to persuade them to deposit $80 million in an offshore account for him to manage. Let’s see what you can do with $250,000, Mr. Glass and company countered.
Taking their $22,500 commission, Mr. Mohsen and Mr. Ingram celebrated that night at a neighborhood strip bar, spending $3,800 on bottles of Dom Perignon, before retiring for the night on the Ingee, Mr. Ingram’s 44-foot Sea Ray vessel.