Legacy and Redemption (19 page)

Feller quickly stood up and thanked Keegan before escorting him out of the room. “Officer, thank you so much for everything that you’ve done for us here today.” Feller put one hand on Keegan’s shoulder and presented a firm handshake with the other. “I can’t let you sit in there any longer. Not only is the information classified, but if he refocuses back on you we may lose him.”

Keegan returned the handshake. “I understand.”

“Keegan, if this does pan out the nation will owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Feller called for one of his assistants to escort Keegan to a waiting area. As he walked away, Keegan could hear Murad Zein shout through the door. “Keeeegan, you will see that every word I have said is true. Find your own truth.”

Feller opened the adjacent room and invited Agent Brock and Castillo to join them in the interrogation room. Before they could enter, Bob Wolf and Frank Balentine scurried into the office. Wolf looked at Castillo. “Did we miss anything, Louie?”

Castillo could only shake his head. “You’re not going to believe any of this.”

With the additions of Robert Wolf and Frank Balentine, the interrogation room had become too small. Richard Feller made the executive decision to move the interrogation to a small conference room down the hall. While Zein would no longer be chained to a desk, his handcuffs and leg restraints would remain in place.

Castillo, the only non FBI personnel, sat with the others at the large cherry wood conference table. The conference room was very similar to the one back at 26 Federal Plaza where Castillo worked back in New York. From the large screen televisions mounted on the walls, right down to the same dark gray carpeting and black leather chairs. Castillo began to wonder if there was a specific interior designer that the FBI used nationwide.

Richard Feller sat at the head of the table with Bob Wolf to his right and Feller’s man, Brock, to the left. The other agents, who had been watching the meeting between Zein and Keegan with Castillo from behind the one way mirror, filled in the rest of the chairs. Castillo sat in between Wolf and Frank Balentine, trying to catch them up on the gist of the interview so far. Castillo had been conscious to omit the part regarding the murder of James Keegan years ago. His reasoning was twofold; it didn’t pertain to the impending terrorist attacks, and maybe more importantly, Robert Wolf had been close friends with James Keegan. The last thing Castillo wanted was a federal investigation into Keegan’s murder.

The conference room door opened and a rear cuffed Murad Zein was escorted by two additional agents. Feller directed Zein be seated in the open chair between Agent Brock and another agent. “Cuff his left hand to the arm of the chair so his right hand is free in case he needs to right anything.” While Wolf outranked Feller, he decided to let Feller run the interview as he had already established a rapport with the prisoner.

“Yes sir.” The agents did as they were told and left the room. Brock opened a fresh bottle of water and placed it in front of Zein. He removed the pack of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket and held it out to the prisoner. Zein took one and held it in his mouth for Brock to light. He took a long drag and then set in down on the ashtray which had been set in front of his place at the table.

Feller motioned to Zein and waved his arm. “Okay Murad, we are all ears. The floor is yours.”

Zein nodded methodically. “I’m sure you are.”

He took another drag from the cigarette then a drink of water. He seemed to want to keep his audience waiting.

“If it had not been for Nazeem’s misplaced passion, we would have killed many people; perhaps thousands. Nazeem’s role was to go to your Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City. He was to be wearing the vest, and at about fifteen minutes before noon, he was to run into the middle of the parade and detonate it. His desire was to detonate it among the marchers from the NYPD as a symbolic gesture for his false imprisonment twenty years ago. Sheykh Hajjar was fine with his request as to him; any dead American is just as good as another, whether they were cops, bankers, women, or children.”

“Let me stop you there,” interjected Feller. “Since Nazeem has passed on, is there someone else in New York going to make an attack at the parade?”

“Or anywhere else in New York?” Bob Wolf was quick to add.

Zein shook his head. “No. New York was left up to Nazeem.”

“Okay, continue.”

“At the same time, well I should say at the same moment because of the different time zones, a man named Ali Benliz will be driving a van with nearly one hundred pounds of C-4 inside. His brother Akeem will be driving a stolen eighteen wheel truck. Akeem will drive the truck onto the Golden Gate Bridge and come to a sudden halt right next to the first suspension tower. He will turn the truck blocking as many lanes as possible. Ali will be right behind him and block the remaining lanes. Ali will be on the outside, closest to the suspension tower and detonate the C-4 once traffic has built up significantly behind them. It is our belief that an explosion of this magnitude will be enough to take down the bridge—a symbol of American arrogance—and kill many Thanksgiving Day travelers. Ali and Akeem share an apartment not far from the University of San Francisco. I do not know the exact location.”

Agent Brock wrote down the names of the two men as fast as he could and handed the paper to one of the other agents, who quickly left the room. Identifying these men and locating them was of the essence. Everyone in the room—perhaps with the exception of Murad Zein—would agree with that.

Zein laughed as the American ran out the door. He inhaled deeply from the cigarette, the tip glowing a bright orange. Zein blew the smoke slowly into the air, making an occasional smoke ring as he did. “Should I continue or would you like me to wait for him to come back from the bathroom?”

Castillo could sense the arrogance the prisoner was taking in. He knew he had a captive audience who hung on his every word.

“Please continue,” Feller politely requested.

“You Americans love your American football so much. What do you call your team from Dallas…the Cowboys? You call them America’s team. America’s team is playing a game at noon on Thanksgiving at their home stadium in Texas, yes? Well, at the same time the Golden Gate Bridge will be crumbling into the Pacific Ocean, Malik al-Jafri will be entering the stadium also wearing a suicide vest. He will be wearing a Dallas Cowboys winter parka over it. Once security tries to search him, he will run past them and detonate it inside the lobby of the arena. We have been assured the reverberations in an enclosed area will sustain maximum damage and casualties. If we get real lucky maybe the stadium will collapse. You will find Malik staying at a Hotel 6 in Dallas.”

Once again, Brock scribbled and once again another of the agents fled the room.

“Run little mouse…run,” Zein mocked.

“Okay, Murad. Where else?”

Zein shook his head. “That is all that was going to happen on Thanksgiving…New York, Arlington and San Francisco.”

Wolf was quick to jump in. “You said Bloomington before and you had a vest as well.”

Zein rolled his eyes in a mocking gesture. He slowly drank from the bottle of water and asked Brock for another cigarette which he gave him. After a slow draw; “Did you want to know the second phase as well?”

It
was
a two-phased attack! Just like the guy in Germany said.
Castillo knew that his instincts about the man had been correct.

“Yes, please,” said Wolf, playing to the prisoner’s ego.

“Well, originally we were going to hit again on the day after Thanksgiving. What do you call it…‘Black Friday’? But we decided against it. Sheykh Hajjar and I decided that the Sunday after your Thanksgiving would be the next phase. We would let you think that we were finished. I was to detonate my suicide vest in O’Hare International airport at three pm as the Thanksgiving Day travelers were overcrowding the airport to get back home after your holiday.”

Zein paused and looked at Brock. “Save your ink, you have already caught me.”

He flicked his ever growing ash into the ashtray and took one final long pull. Castillo felt that as he was nearing the end of the information that he could supply, he was dragging it on to make himself seem more important.

“The last of my brothers here for the Jihad that was to sacrifice their life is named Saleem Mihdhar. Saleem will be going to the mall of America in Bloomington on the busiest shopping Sunday of your holiday season. His suicide vest will be detonated at three pm as well.”

“Do you know where we can find him?”

Zein nodded back at Feller. “I do. But Saleem and I snuck into the country together from Canada. I think I will make you work to track him down.”

Now it was Castillo who had a question. “Why is it that we heard about the attacks in New York, San Francisco and a city in the mid-west, Chicago, but never heard anything about the other attacks?”

Zein looked at Castillo with arrogance. “They are letting you speak?” When Castillo ignored the question, Zein continued. “This was all my planning. I put this entire operation together. Each man involved had contact information for two other men and the overall leader. This way if one faction was caught, the other faction could still continue. I split the factions up into each man having as contact for a person in each faction. This way if you did stop one, we would still have attacks on two different days.”

Castillo had a hunch that there was more to the story, “With you being the overall leader?”

“I was, until Sheykh Hajjar betrayed me.”

Castillo could sense that he had found a soft spot. “How did he betray you?”

“I put the entire plan together. I was supposed to be the one running the operation here in your country, but the Sheykh changed his mind; after all of my work, he decided that I should be the one to wear the vest in Chicago.”

The missing piece of the puzzle,
Castillo silently concluded.

“Who was supposed to wear it? Is he now the man in charge of the operation?”

“Yes. His name is Ahmed Hatif. He is in Brooklyn…in New York City.”

The restaurant!

“Is there a restaurant that he uses as a front or owns?”

“No, he may have used an Arab friendly place for a meeting, but nothing more. He was the one to give out the C-4. He met me in a Halal Restaurant on the north side of Chicago when he gave me the explosives for my vest.”

Feller took the reins back. “Is there anything more that you can tell us?”

“I have told you everything that I know about the Jihad.”

Castillo was busy finishing his own notes when it became apparent that Zein was about to start speaking again.

Zein was still furious at Sheykh Hajjar, and having brought up the fact that Hajjar had replaced him, seemed to stoke his anger. “There is one more thing.”

Castillo tuned back in to Zein as he continued.

“I know where you could find Sheykh Hajjar.”

A stunned silence overtook the conference room. This was a bigger revelation than anything Zein had said to this point and it were as if time had stood still. Everyone, including Wolf, Feller, and Castillo stared at Murad Zein; both hanging on his next words and searching for credibility.

“Do you have a map of Kabul and the surrounding areas?”

It had been a very long couple of days for Louis Castillo. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and take a nap on the plane ride home. The Boeing 737 was filled to capacity as Castillo looked throughout the cabin. He couldn’t spot an empty seat. Most of the passengers were going to New York, most likely to visit relatives for the Thanksgiving holiday. Castillo noted a young couple seated directly in front of him with two small children. Considering the short notice, and the fact that Robert Wolf had cited national security, Castillo was fairly certain that there was a family of four stranded back at O’Hare International Airport due to them commandeering the seats. While he felt bad for a family being delayed, he did realize that it truly was necessary for the men to get back to New York as soon as possible.

The waning afternoon sun was bright as it shone through the plane’s window. Castillo reached across Tim Keegan and pulled down the shutter, closing the sunlight out. He reclined the blue fabric seat as far as he could. He stretched his legs forward until they met the seat in front of him, hoping his bad leg wouldn’t stiffen as it had on the trip there. Castillo closed his eyes hopeful for an undisturbed flight as he reflected on all that had been learned in Chicago.

Frank Balentine, who was seated across the aisle next to Robert Wolf, was the first to disturb him. “Louie, you usually get a good feel for these guys. Your instincts were right on the money about the guy in Germany. Do you think everything that Zein told us was true; including the whereabouts of Sheykh Hajjar?”

Castillo reluctantly put the seat back in its upright position before answering. He suddenly had the feeling this was going to be a ‘working’ plane ride rather than a relaxing one. “I do, Frank. There was just so much detail in what he was saying. He gave names and locations. Then when we showed him the satellite photos of the area which he described, there was clearly activity there.”

Balentine nodded his head. “Perfect location for an Al Qaeda camp, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Castillo took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It’s out of our hands now, but I’m sure that the military will surveil the area a bit more with any spy satellites that they can, now that we’ve passed the intel on to Washington. It also looks more like a Taliban group than ISIS…at least we know who we’re dealing with; that can’t hurt.”

Keegan was very much out of his element, but clearly wanted to learn more. “So that’s it? You pass on the information and never know if it pans out or not?”

Balentine fielded the question. “I’ll put it to you like this, Tim. If anytime within the next few months, you hear that we’ve captured or killed Sheykh Muhammad Hajjar you can safely assume it was from this meeting. The government’s been looking for him for nearly a decade and has no idea where he is. The catch will be that the government, in their official statement, will say it was a very long investigation, never mentioning the FBI, or God forbid the NYPD, was really responsible for breaking the case. The CIA will take full credit.”

Keegan thought about Balentine’s response as a stewardess approached, temporarily ending the conversation. Castillo observed her to be in her late twenties with short dark hair and striking blue eyes. She wore a white blouse and a navy blue skirt. Castillo laughed to himself as he caught Keegan staring at her hips as she served soft drinks and a snack to Wolf and Balentine across the aisle. Castillo yearned for a gin and tonic, but he knew as he was flying armed, that would be prohibited. He’d have to settle for a soft drink when she asked.

After handing Castillo a can of soda and a cup of ice, she turned to Keegan. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Keegan presented a big smile. “No thank you, Christine,” after reading her name plate.

The stewardess returned the smile, although Castillo felt it was more manufactured than natural. As she walked away, Castillo took a quick peek himself and looked at Keegan. “What about the girl in the towel in your apartment?”

Castillo could see Keegan turn a bit red before answering. “I was just being friendly.”

“Sure you were,” with a slight laugh.

Keegan quickly moved past the minor distraction and got back to the topic. “So you guys are telling me that no matter what, we’re not getting credit here?”

This time it was Castillo answered. “We would be acknowledged privately or otherwise. Let’s just pray we get the bad guys…all of them, and that nobody gets hurt this weekend. That’s what’s important here.”

Keegan shook his head. “You’re right. It’s just that this is probably as big a case as I’ll ever come so close to. And my dad…well this is what he did. He prevented terrorist attacks. If I may have prevented one just like him…”

Castillo cut Keegan off—practically snapping at him; his annoyance unconcealed. “Stop trying to be so much like your father. Try to be Tim Keegan not James Keegan! Step out from behind his shadow and be your own man.” After a brief, yet awkward pause, “Do yourself a favor and make your own path on this job…and in your life.”

Castillo immediately regretted not having masked his frustration. Frank Balentine gave him a look from across the aisle, letting Castillo know he came off way too harshly.

“Look, Tim, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit tired. These have been a long couple of days here, and there are thousands of lives at stake. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you.”

Keegan accepted the apology. He even seemed to be considering the conversation, but just couldn’t let it go. After a period of uncomfortable silence; “Louie, you said that you believed everything Zein had said.”

Castillo answered, “Yes.” As soon as the word had passed his lips, he realized the trap that he had fallen into.

“So you also then believe that my father wasn’t killed by the mid-eastern extremists?”

Castillo would do his best to back pedal and clean it up. “No, I meant I believe everything about the planned attacks.”

Keegan tilted his head slightly. “So why wouldn’t you believe what he said about my father then?”

“Tim,” Castillo began as he folded his hands together.

I have to remember not to clasp my hands. Sharon tells me I do that all the time when I lie.

He parted his hands a placed one on Keegan’s shoulder. “I know it must’ve been hard for you growing up without your father. To read about and live with the way in which he was murdered; to have to live it all over again in the police academy. You’ve heard that he was one of the best cops in the history of the department and you want to emulate him. Why would you take any credence in what a terrorist just told you?”

“Well, for one thing, you just said yourself that you believe everything he had to say. Secondly, why would all of that be true, but the one thing that doesn’t matter to anyone other than me is a lie. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Look, the NYPD and the government closed out your dad’s murder with a drone strike years ago. The case is closed. His murderer is dead.”

Castillo grew a bit anxious as Keegan wasn’t so easily dissuaded. “The government lies if it serves in their best interest to do so. Frank just said so and you agreed.”

Castillo once again clasped his hands.

Stop doing that!

“Why would they lie about something like that?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

Castillo shook his head. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“I don’t know.” Keegan thought further before he continued, “In the academy, they taught us about Freedom of Information Law. I can start there by looking through the old case and maybe even finding out about the guy they said murdered him. I can see if he really was in the United States at the time my dad was killed.”

Castillo made it clear that he was openly opposed to Keegan’s proposal. “FOIL requests can take a very long time. Let’s worry about the issue at hand here. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”

Keegan suddenly lit up. “Hey Louie, you work in the JTTF. You can get the file for me so I can look through it without having to file a FOIL petition.”

Castillo knew of course that Keegan was correct, but he also knew that he could never do that for him. If he showed the younger Keegan the case folder, or even if he obtained it through the FOIL petition, it spelled trouble for Castillo as he was the investigating officer on another case involving James Keegan. He also knew that the cases had been cross referenced. Castillo did his best to sound sincere. “That’s a great idea, Tim. Once this case is behind us, I promise I’ll find the case on your dad’s assassination,” he lied. Castillo prayed this would buy some much needed time and maybe Keegan would forget about it.

Castillo took out his wallet and removed a business card. After he removed a pen from his inside jacket pocket, he turned the card over and began to write. He handed the card to Keegan. “This is my cell phone number and my home number. Give me a call if there’s anything that I can do for you, but Tim, you really should let this go. Murad Zein is a terrorist. He lies.”

Keegan accepted the card and studied it briefly. “Thanks, Louie. I’m going to file the FOIL anyway. Like you said, it takes a while.”

Castillo took a deep breath; clearly the kid wasn’t going to back down until he found out the truth. Castillo just had to coax him in to finding out the truth which Castillo had contrived so many years ago.

With ten minutes to go before landing, Robert Wolf woke Castillo. His leg was throbbing and he grimaced slightly as soon as he tried to move it. He looked across the aisle. “What’s up Bob?”

“I’m having a car pick us up at Kennedy. Inspector Talbot is waiting for you at our office. You and he have to go see the Police Commissioner as soon as we get back.”

Wolf turned to Keegan, “Tim, I spoke to a supervisor from your precinct. I know we kidnapped you from your house, so they’re having one of the cops from your command pick you up and take you home.”

Once the plane safely came to a stop, the stewardess escorted the law enforcement officials off the plane first. Shortly after they debarked the plane, Keegan saw Cathy Quinn waiting for him at the gate. His eyes widened and a smile appeared on his face. Castillo leaned in and whispered softly to him, “What about Christine?”

Keegan was momentarily perplexed. “Who?...oh, the stewardess. Very funny,” he commented before walking over to Quinn.

Castillo watched as the two embraced. It reminded him of a romance he once had long ago when he was a rookie cop. That romance was also with a rookie cop who now happens to be his wife. Castillo hoped maybe the girlfriend would be the distraction that Keegan needed for him to stop asking so many questions. Cathy Quinn nodded hello to Castillo as she interlocked her arm through Keegan’s and they exited the terminal.

Castillo called out to Keegan as the couple walked away, arm in arm. “Hey Tim, don’t forget to get over to the morgue before you head home.”

“On my way there right now, Louie.”

The ride along the Belt Parkway and then the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel into lower Manhattan had taken just over a half hour. Castillo figured they made good time considering that they were dealing with the end of rush hour traffic in New York City. The dark sedan pulled to a halt in front of 26 Federal Plaza. Wolf turned around from the front seat before exiting the car. “Louie, make sure to fill in Inspector Talbot with all of the details before you speak to the PC. Frank, you and I have a lot of notifications and paperwork to get started on. I hope somebody put a fresh pot of coffee on.”

As soon as Castillo opened the car door, a blast of cold air struck him. He figured that it had to be at least twenty degrees colder here in New York than it was earlier this afternoon in Chicago before they got on the plane. With wind chills in the upper twenties, it was much colder than it would normally be for a late November evening.

Castillo was methodical in getting out of the car. While his leg did ache; he made it seem a bit worse to allow for some distance between him and Wolf. Castillo contorted his face and flexed his leg almost in an exaggerated manner while placing a hand on Balentine’s shoulder for support.

“You all right, Louie?” Wolf paused momentarily until Castillo acknowledged that he was fine. Looking back at Balentine, “I’ll meet you upstairs, Frank. I have to call Washington to see what they’ve learned about all of the names we gave them.”

Castillo tightened the strap on his dark grey overcoat to combat the winds. As soon as Wolf was out of earshot, “Frank, I need you to do me a big favor.”

“I’m listening.”

“When you get to the office try to avoid Talbot for a little while. I don’t want him to know that we’re back already. If he does see you and asks for me, just tell him I misunderstood and thought I was supposed to meet him at Police Headquarters.”

“Sure, Louie, but why?”

Castillo shook his head, feeling uneasy. He didn’t want to meet Balentine’s eyes, but he knew he had to. “I have to speak to the Police Commissioner in private, before Talbot gets there.”

“I didn’t realize that you knew Commissioner Santoro.”

“I don’t…but he’ll want to hear what I have to tell him.”

Castillo could sense the disappointment in his longtime friend’s expression. His eyes widened and his red cheeks went pale. A visible shudder also ran through Balentine’s body although Castillo couldn’t figure if that was out of disappointment in Castillo or from the biting winds. “You can’t hold anything back from Talbot, Louie. This case is too big. You heard what was said at the debriefing in the beginning of the case. This is a one hundred percent information sharing investigation. There’s too much at stake for secrets.”