Legacy and Redemption (23 page)

Of course, as it was his men (Sergeant Galvin and Officer Keegan), who set the chain of events in motion by killing the first suicide bomber without any additional casualties. Santoro and the NYPD would be looked at as heroes. He also knew that being a hero one day didn’t buy you any extra graces with the public. If the Keegan cover up spun out of control, Santoro know it was likely the end of his thirty year career.

Santoro answered the phone on the first ring. “Hey Charlie, thanks for getting back to me so soon.” Santoro displayed humility as there was no need to thank the Chief whose obligation it was to answer to the Police Commissioner.

“How’s everything looking with the take down of the sleeper cell? Are we getting our fair share of credit?”

It wasn’t much of a surprise for Santoro to hear, that while the NYPD was credited with the take down of the first of the suicide bombers, Washington’s take was that this had been an ongoing investigation and that there was never any danger to the United States and its citizens yesterday on Thanksgiving Day. He nodded his head to himself as he listened to the explanation, still tapping the pen against the oversized desk.

“Okay, Charlie, here’s what I want you to do. The FBI has called a press conference for two pm. Once they’ve addressed the media and put whatever official statements out there, I’ll need a couple of hours to digest their story. I want you to announce a press conference at One Police Plaza for five pm. We are going to play up the heroics of Galvin and Keegan. Of course, we’ll have to keep the Chicago angle out of it, but rather focus on how two NYPD cops thwarted the first ever suicide bomber on American soil. If any member of the press asks if that incident led to the other arrests, I’ll be vague without ever saying no. Let them draw their own conclusions and maybe one or two will see the truth for themselves.”

Santoro drew a deep breath threw his nostrils before he continued.

I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

“When you announce the press conference, I also want you to put out a statement that we are transferring the two officers involved to the Joint Terrorist Task Force. Make sure that they fully understand that Tim Keegan is the son of Lieutenant James Keegan. They loved the story when he graduated from the academy, maybe they will really run with this as well. You know the angle; hero cop following in his father’s footsteps.”

After some more consideration, “as a matter of fact, I’m sure there are a few reporters who owe you a favor or two. See that they run a separate story about Keegan and the transfer. The top story on the news will obviously be the terrorist cell, but the papers are always looking for a story behind the story; something that every other journalist may not focus on which would give their network or newspaper an edge in ratings or sales. Maybe even some of the reporters can ask me a question or two about the transfer, and I can play it up even more.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” With that, Santoro hung up the phone. He skipped the pen across the four foot width of the desk and watched at it didn’t survive the edge. It was a calculated play, and he knew it. If he played his cards just right, Keegan might gain some media attraction and get distracted by it. He might even really want to follow in his father’s footsteps in the JTTF. From everything that Santoro had heard about the rookie, he seemed to be a real good young officer.

On the other hand, if Santoro had misplayed things, he may have just given Keegan an even bigger audience to share his concerns—the New York City media. Santoro knew the ins and outs of things that Keegan did not. Keegan would have to sign an affidavit of confidentiality once he arrived at 26 Federal Plaza later today. This was an insurance policy; a carefully calculated move by Santoro.

Santoro drew the comparison of a murderer going into the confessional to confess to a priest. The priest now knew the truth—as Keegan soon may—yet be prohibited from repeating it. In the priests case, under the sanctity of the confessional, in Keegan’s under penalty of law. Santoro was comfortable to bet that Keegan, while curious to find out the truth, had no desire to spend time in a federal prison to find that truth out. It was a big gamble for Santoro, but one that he knew he had to make.

Considering the events over the last forty-eight hours, Santoro had been in near constant contact with the Commanding Officer at the NYPD’s end of the JTTF. There’d be no need to use Inspector Phil Marks as an intermediate. Santoro removed the cell phone from his belt, looked through his recent call log for the number of Inspector John Talbot and pressed connect.

Talbot picked up on the third ring.

“Hey John, Commissioner Santoro here. I transferred Galvin and Keegan to your office effective immediately. They’ll be there in time for Wolf’s debriefing at noon. What I want from you is as soon as they show up, shove that confidentiality affidavit in their face and get them to sign it…even before they take their coats off. Is that understood?”

After a very brief pause, “Good. Thanks, John. What’s the latest that we have on the sleeper cell?”

Talbot gave an up to the second update before hanging up.

Santoro knew that Talbot must have wondered about the strange request. The affidavit is usually signed on the first day, but not before you set foot in the office. He also knew that Talbot was a rising star; a company man with higher aspirations than Inspector and such a trivial request would not garner an ounce of resistance from Talbot.

Yes, after a bit of deliberation, Santoro realized that he handled things just right…just like he usually did. Ambushing Keegan with the affidavit, before he had a chance to consider the implications, was a grand strategic move; Galvin may know that it’s coming, but he’d bet his career that Keegan didn’t…and upon reflection, maybe he just did.

Twenty-Third Floor—Twenty-Six Federal Plaza, New York City

Federal Bureau of Investigations

Office of the Joint Terrorist Task Force

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tommy Galvin had barely read the affidavit before signing it. Keegan gave it a quick glance, but seeing as Galvin, a man he admired and trusted, signed with no problem, Keegan simply followed suit. The men were met by Louis Castillo, who gave them a very preliminary update and showed them around the office.

Galvin and Keegan shook hands and were introduced to nearly a dozen people whose names Keegan had forgotten almost as quickly as the next person was introduced. Everyone they had been introduced to met them with admiration and smiles; some with pats on the back. Keegan remembered what he had been told by so many; ‘Washington will put whatever slant on this that best suits them.’ But here in the office of the Joint Terrorist Task Force, people knew the truth, and they were greeted accordingly.

Keegan looked around thinking how clean the office looked; at least compared to a police precinct—his only true point of reference. The office had short gray carpet and off-white walls. It was a fairly large space broken up into smaller cubicles, where each individual detective worked. Each of the cubicles had a modern white-topped desk with its own computer. Even the chairs were of a better quality and more comfortable than one would find in a precinct. On the walls were some wanted posters as well as television sets tuned into a variety of news stations. There was even a small kitchen in the back of the office with a refrigerator, microwave oven, and a coffee machine.

Once the initial tour was given, the officers were taken downstairs where a photograph was taken and they were each issued a federal identification card, which, along with a fingerprint scan, doubled as a pass key for all locked doors in the building. The men were each given a lanyard where they would display these identification cards at all times while inside the building.

They stepped off the elevator back on the twenty-third floor and approached a set of double glass doors which bore the insignia of the FBI. Keegan, although having seen the insignia hundreds of times before, never really took a good look at it before. He paused momentarily and took in the scales of justice within the shield and the words
fidelity, bravery, integrity
on a ribbon flowing below it.

Galvin and Keegan stopped at the doors. Galvin offered a smile. “Go ahead, use your card.”

Keegan scanned his identification card through the card reader, supplied a thumb print, and pushed open the heavy glass door which warned
Authorized Personnel Only
. The men, still escorted by Castillo, headed down to the last office on the left. Keegan read the door plate on the big wooden door as he approached:

N.Y.P.D. Joint Terrorist Task Force

Commanding Officer—Inspector John Talbot

Executive Officer—Captain Joseph Haber

A sudden chill ran down Keegan’s spine. For the first time, it had occurred to him that he was probably entering the very same office where his father once called his own. Talbot welcomed the men to the JTTF and gave a quick glance at his watch. Talbot cut the formalities short as he noted that the debriefing was set to begin shortly and the men needed to get to the conference room.

Keegan sat at the large wooden conference table, flanked on either side by Sergeant Galvin and Detective Castillo. The room was large and served as both a conference room and a command center, Castillo had explained. There were black leather chairs all around and numerous large screen televisions mounted to the wall. Keegan watched in awe as many of the televisions were showing live feeds of New York City; others—far less interesting, were showing various news stations such as CNN, MSNBC, and even Al-Jazeera.

An array of FBI agents and NYPD detectives began filing into the room and filling the vacant chairs encircling the highly polished conference table. Many, if not all, had brief cases which they set on the desk in front of them. Keegan silently noted to himself—for no particular reason—that of all of the over two dozen law enforcement officials present, there were only two women. He wondered how Cathy would feel about that.

Once the seats around the table were taken, other agents sat on chairs set off to either side of the room, setting their own attachés under their chairs. Keegan waited patiently for the debriefing to begin, unsure of what would be said. Inspector Talbot and another man were talking in the front of the room.

Finally, Talbot sat down at the first seat to the right of the head of the table. He moved the telephone over and opened a thick folder. A hush fell over the law enforcement officers who had been quietly talking among themselves. Castillo turned to Galvin and Keegan and whispered. “That’s Robert Wolf, the Assistant Director in Charge. He’ll be the one to give the briefing.”

Wolf grabbed a remote control which had been stationed at the podium in the front of the room. All of the televisions went dark as did the room’s lighting. The FBI’s logo on a large screen in the front of the room began to fade away.

“Good morning, ladies and gentleman,” Wolf began. “We had a good day yesterday…a real good day,” a broad smile came across his face. Wolf motioned in Keegan and Galvin’s direction. “Much of it was due to Sergeant Tom Galvin and Police Officer Tim Keegan who were transferred to the JTTF this morning to work the case with us.”

A few welcomes and small accolades were sent their way before Wolf would continue. The smile morphed into a much more sober look as he began. Wolf pressed a button on the remote. On the giant screen, appeared two pictures side by side; one an arrest photo from 1994…the second, the same man with a bullet hole in his head taken the other night. “We’re all aware of what happened here in New York City on Tuesday evening. A terrorist named Nazeem al-Haq, a.k.a. Tariq Azir, was stopped and subsequently killed by the NYPD.” Wolf once again stared in their direction acknowledging their heroics.

“At first glance, it looked as if this were a random act of revenge as al-Haq had a picture of Officer Keegan on him, and as it turns out, Keegan’s father had arrested al-Haq twenty years earlier for terrorist activities.”

Wolf was slow to pan the room, meeting as many pairs of eyes as he could to stress the importance of what he was about to say. “Thank God that we didn’t simply rest on those assumptions.”

“The diligent work of the men and women of the JTTF…,” his extended index finger panned the room. “…you guys and gals, right here in this room, ran with the ball and kept on digging until you uncovered a large scale terrorist plot; a coordinated series of suicide bombers, which if it hadn’t gone unstopped could have had casualties in the thousands.”

Wolf loosened his navy blue tie and opened the top button of his cream colored shirt. He forwarded to the next photo. The photo depicted a man of mid eastern decent whose left eye was substantially swollen. He took a sip of water from the bottle in front of him and continued. “Our first lead took us to Chicago where our brother agents arrested Murad Zein. Zein attempted to go for a suicide vest when officers kicked in his door, but thankfully, our officers were not only safe but used great restraint in taking Zein into custody alive. Zein turned out to be a valuable commodity. After a short interrogation, he unveiled the rest of the plot as well as the operatives for us.”

Keegan deliberated on what Wolf was selling them here.

It wasn’t exactly an interrogation. He only spoke to me after what he said about my father not being killed by his people.

Keegan hung on to those words for a few moments. The idea that the NYPD could have gotten his father’s murderer wrong—or worse, intentionally hid the truth—was very disconcerting to Keegan.

Why would Zein lie? It doesn’t make any sense.

Keegan knew that he couldn’t focus on that right now as the words which Wolf was speaking was significantly more important at the present. He looked up at the screen to see the next pair of photos being displayed. Wolf had introduced the two men as Libyan nationals; brothers who were both apprehended yesterday morning in a pre dawn raid in San Francisco. He further explained that when Ali and Akeem Benliz were taken into custody, a stolen U-Haul van loaded with one hundred pounds of plastic explosives was recovered from an alley behind their residence.

Keegan’s thoughts were half with his father’s assassination and half with Wolf. He did his best to concentrate as Wolf detailed the arrest of Malik al-Jafri at a Hotel 6 in Dallas, but his mind kept wandering back to where he knew that it shouldn’t be right now.

Keegan tuned back into what Wolf was saying…this time determined to remain focused. He looked Wolf in the eyes and studied his pale features as he spoke. “Our last apprehension was both good and bad. Saleem Mihdhar was taken into custody without any incident and a twenty-five pound suicide vest was recovered.” Wolf paused and a scowl came to his mouth. “Unfortunately for us, as Murad Zein went for the suicide vest when we kicked in his door, Saleem Mihdhar instead went for his computer. He must have heard the agents coming and rather than go for the vest, he sent out an email warning the others.”

Wolf raised his eyebrows. “On the upside, none of the bombers seemed to have received the email in time to flee. Unfortunately, the man Murad Zein said was the mastermind, Ahmed Hatif, did. We didn’t discover the email until about eight hours later, so Hatif had a huge head start on us to begin with.”

Wolf once again hit the remote and another mid-eastern man appeared on the screen. His face was thin with a long black beard. His eyes were as dark as coal; not just in color. One of the other FBI agents began to pass out an assortment of photos and information about the man as Wolf spoke.

“We hit the Brooklyn apartment where Hatif had been staying, but it looks like he’s long gone. We found a couple of parking summonses, and from that, we were able to find the type of car that he has.”

Galvin leaned in to Keegan and whispered, “Just like the Son of Sam case.”

Keegan shook his head and agreed, pretending he understood the reference.

I’ll have to remember to look that case up later to see what parking tickets have to do with a serial killer.

Keegan rechanneled his attention back to Wolf. “A nationwide alarm was broadcast for the 2010 black Chevrolet Equinox listed on the summonses. We had agents throughout New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut, check all of the airports and train stations. About six hours ago, we hit pay dirt in Yonkers. The vehicle was recovered there.”

Wolf advanced the frame to another photo. “You can clearly see from the surveillance camera installed at the Amtrak station that it is, in fact, Hatif. The attendant sold him a one-way ticket to Rouses Point in upstate New York; he paid in cash. Rouses Point is only about a mile away from the Canadian Border. We dispatched agents to the train station, but we were a few hours too late. Once again, his image was captured on surveillance, but he was gone. Early this morning, the New York State Police took a report for a stolen vehicle from a private home a short distance from the train station. A nationwide alarm has been placed on that vehicle as well as all indications point to Hatif.”

Wolf had a somewhat defeated look as he added. “It seems pretty clear that he fled the United States into Canada. Murad Zein had told us their M.O. was passage in through Canada, so it would make sense that they would also use Canada as a means of egress.”

Keegan was thumbing through each picture as was Galvin. Wolf then began to close the briefing session. “So we have apprehended, or killed, each member of the sleeper cell with the exception of Hatif, but at this point it’s a safe bet that he is long gone. Through the proper channels, we notified Canada and INTERPOL. If we get lucky, he’s still in Canada. But more than likely, he’s had plans to get back to the middle-east already planned out in the event of something like this happening to him. Hatif has joined Sheykh Muhammad Hajjar on the FBI’s top ten list with a two million dollar bounty on his head.” A photo of Hajjar was passed out as well. “Hajjar is thought to be the mastermind of the plot.”

Wolf ran a hand across the back of his neck. “These guys were fairly well organized. We really got lucky…of course, that won’t be our position to the public. We recovered two hundred pounds of U.S. military grade C-4 explosives…that means four hundred pounds is still out there and unaccounted for.”

Did he just say US military grade? What the fuck?

Keegan and Galvin looked at each other; both clearly confused by this revelation. Wolf had apparently seen the look in their eyes as well and offered to them, “gentlemen, you guys just got here today. I’m sure Detective Castillo will catch you up on things, but the short story is that six hundred pounds of C-4 was stolen from the military during a transport.”

Castillo put a hand out and nodded in acknowledgement that he would catch the men up to date regarding the stolen explosives.

“Thank you, Louie,” before Wolf continued wrapping up the session. “We’ve had engineers take a look at the Golden Gate Bridge, and they feel that the terrorists did have enough explosives to take the bridge down, or at very least severely damage the info structure if placed in the correct locations. I’m assuming the terrorists were well aware of this. While it looks like this is behind us, we need to step up security to post 9/11 levels. We’ve notified local police throughout the country to have posts at both ends of every bridge; we’ve increased security at the airports, train stations, and subway systems. If nothing else, we hope this will deter any future attempts.”