Legacy and Redemption (30 page)

The bomb sniffing dogs did a walkthrough of the entire store to make sure that there were no explosives missed by the members of the Emergency Service team. Castillo was confident that there wouldn’t be any more as all six hundred pounds of the stolen C-4 was now accounted for. He was right.

Castillo briefly spoke with the Brooklyn North Duty Captain and informed him that it was all clear and safe to lift the evacuation and break down the crime scene in front. The Captain did as Castillo advised. The uniformed members of the department informed those civilians who had been forced to leave their homes that they could return. They also pulled down the yellow crime scene tape that had been tied around street signs and trees cordoning off a two block zone.

Many people had been standing and watching the controlled chaos, but only one of them knew what was really going on. Many asked the officers what had happened but the officers—as they had been advised to do—didn’t offer any satisfactory answers. Most of the crowd had begun to disperse and went about their normal mid morning business. A few remained on the scene—Ahmed Hatif was one of them.

Louis Castillo returned inside the restaurant. The decision had been made from Washington to let the scene be processed by the NYPD rather than the FBI forensic team. The rational had been that they would first build a local case for the possession of the explosives, and then down the road, the FBI could take over and prosecute a conspiracy charge federally if Ahmed Hatif was ever captured.

Frank Balentine and the members of the Crime Scene Unit were downstairs beginning to process the scene and gather evidence. With all of the explosives now removed, the painstaking part would begin. Everything had to be memorialized with photographs and documented by members of the NYPD’s Crime Scene Unit.

An incident of this magnitude meant there would be no cutting corners. Everything had to be documented just right, and Castillo knew that the other members of his team and the Crime Scene guys would be there for many hours…but this didn’t apply to Castillo. As it was his last day as a member of the New York City Police Department, he wasn’t really any longer a part of the case. The heavy lifting was now put on his partner, Frank Balentine. It would be Balentine’s job to tighten the case up. Balentine would, in all likelihood, remain at the office for the better part of the next twenty-four hours, while Castillo’s tour…and career, came to an end at three pm.

Being alone on the main floor of the restaurant, Castillo took advantage and called his home. Sharon picked up on almost immediately.

“How did it go, Louie?”

A smile came across his face before he would answer. “We did it, Sharon. We found the rest of the C-4. The case is down! I can’t tell you the weight that’s been lifted off my shoulders.”

“I know, my love. This case has become your obsession for months now; but you persevered. You stayed with it from beginning to end and saved many lives. You’re a true hero, Louie.”

Castillo was quick to dismiss the praise. “Sharon, you know that it was Tim Keegan who figured this out, not me. In fact, I’m not sure if we catch any of these guys without that kid’s help.”

Sharon forged forward in honoring her husband’s work. “That maybe so, Louie, but you still did a lot of work and took down this terrorist cell. Even with the information that you had, it didn’t mean that you’d be able to stop the attacks…and you
did
stop them! You’re a hero in my book,” she proclaimed before switching gears. “What time are you going to get home? Our dinner reservations are at six, and then everyone is coming back here for the New Year’s Eve party.”

Castillo glanced down at his watch and noted that it was 10:50. “I’ll be out of here by three, and should be home well before four. That’s plenty of time for me to take a shower and get ready to go out for dinner.”

“And help me straighten out the house,” corrected Sharon.

“And help you straighten out the house,” repeated Castillo with a chuckle. “Love you, Sharon. Let me go so I can help Frank with this mess here.”

“Love you too. See you in a little bit…
Mr. Castillo
.”

“That has a nice ring to it,” he commented before saying goodbye.

Castillo appreciated the cop humor. The joke in the police department is the best promotion that you will ever receive is the day you are promoted from whatever your rank was, to Mister. That meant you were now a civilian. You did your time, came out alive, and could begin collecting your pension for as long as you drew a breath.

Castillo went downstairs while Frank and the Crime Scene Unit were busy processing the scene. Castillo pointed to a digital camera set on top of a freezer next to the open wall. “Frank, hand me the camera, and I’ll check out the truck and take some pictures.”

Before Balentine could even respond, one of the Crime Scene detectives interjected, “Just make sure you don’t disturb any prints. We haven’t processed the truck yet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Castillo responded as he grabbed the camera and ascended the stairs. Reaching into the inside pocket of his overcoat, Castillo retrieved a pair of rubber gloves put them on. He opened the front door, and the cold air hit him. The sun was now high in the sky, but by Castillo’s best estimation, the temperature was still only in the mid twenties.

Castillo threw open the sliding door of the truck, and he climbed inside. Doing his best to not disturb anything, yet still thoroughly search the vehicle, Castillo found nothing of interest. He peeked under the seats and in the glove box. The rear compartment was completely empty. Castillo stepped down from the truck and slammed the door closed.

Castillo methodically walked around the truck taking pictures from every angle, making sure to include a street sign or other landmark in the background to reflect the vehicles location in the pictures. Once he was finished, he removed the rubber gloves and discarded them in a metal garbage can at the curb. Castillo noted how the majority of the onlookers had now dispersed, but there were a few more tenacious ones who remained. Castillo stared in their direction momentarily before heading back inside to escape the abrasive weather.

Castillo blew on his frigid hands in an attempt to warm them. He walked downstairs and joined the rest of the officers at the site where the explosives had been hidden. He set the camera back down on the freezer and addressed one of the Crime Scene detectives. “I’m done in the truck. I took a few pictures and peeked in the obvious spots. There was nothing of interest in there. You guys can process it whenever you’re ready.”

The detective, who had been in the middle of a sketch, paused and shot Castillo a hard glare. The detective was not far off from Castillo’s age. He was slender, in his late forties, clean shaven, and had a full head of sandy brown hair. The detective slapped the clipboard against his khaki cargo pants before responding. “We’re not processing that here. It’s freezing out there. If we don’t have to freeze our nuts off, we don’t.”

Castillo threw up his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” It took all kinds to be cops, Castillo thought.

Maybe the guy had his day off denied or something.

“Not offended…just not freezing if I don’t have to. Call for a heavy duty tow and have it removed to the
Seven-Five
. They can put it in one of the ESU truck bays at the stationhouse and we’ll process it there when we’re finished here.”

He turned away from Castillo without another word. Castillo could see the back of his dark blue jacket was worn and faded; the letter M in Crime Scene was peeling from the top. Castillo felt the detective had probably been in the unit for quite some time. Not wanting to get into a silly argument with another cop when he only had four hours left in his career, Castillo dismissed the man’s attitude.

He unclipped his cell phone from his belt and began to place a call. After a moment with no ringing, Castillo withdrew the phone from his ear. He replaced the phone back in his clip. “Frank, I’m not getting a signal down here. I’m going to go to the car and call department tow and give the
Seven-Five
a heads up to clear out a spot from the precinct garage for the truck to be processed.”

“Sounds good, Louie. Do me a favor and call Inspector Talbot while you’re in the car. He wanted me to let him know when the explosives were removed and the streets were reopened. I haven’t called because I don’t have a signal down here either.”

“No problem, Frank.”

Castillo climbed the stairs a little slower this time as his leg began to ache. He stepped out of the store and headed for the unmarked police car. The cold air immediately attacked.

Yeah, I think Sharon and I will definitely move someplace warm
.

*

Ahmed Hatif had repositioned himself to the same side of the street as the restaurant and remained out of site behind the parked bakery truck. Once he saw the detective with the wire framed glasses reemerge by himself, Hatif knew what he was going to do. The detective began to walk in the opposite direction from where Hatif was positioned.

Escape was not his concern, as today had been his day to die anyway. If he did get away, so be it. If the other officers from inside the store came running out that would be okay too. He would kill as many of them as possible before they would eventually kill him. Either way, the detective who denied him of his destiny would still be dead.

The detective put his head down and began to dial a number into his phone as he limped ever so slightly along the side walk. The man was completely engaged with his phone and Hatif was confident that sneaking up behind him would not be an issue.

Hatif quickened his pace and withdrew the .45 caliber handgun from his rear waistband. The rage grew with every step he took. Hatif had failed Allah in carrying out the suicide attack, but he would not be deprived of his revenge. Shooting the man in the back of the head would not be good enough though. This was now personal. He wanted the man to see it coming and feel the terror. He knew there would be instant recognition once the man saw his features, but he needed to cause him pain first.

Hatif was now within a few feet of the detective. He was close enough to hear his words as the man spoke into his cell phone. Hatif held the silver .45 by the frame and lifted it over his head. He brought the gun down with as much force as he could possibly muster, striking the detective on the back of the head. The detective crumbled to the ground. Hatif kicked him square in the ribs, again, as hard as he could. “Turn around and face me!” he commanded as he repositioned the semi-auto in his hand. He held it inches away from the detective’s head. The man looked up at him, their eyes met. Wanting to savor the moment, he slowly began to squeeze the trigger.

*

Louis Castillo dialed the number to the seventy-fifth police precinct and asked to speak with the desk officer. “Hi Sarge; my name is Detective Castillo, I’m with the Joint Terrorist Task Force. Crime Scene wants us to have the truck from Linden Boulevard towed to your command for processing. Would you be able to ask Emergency Service to make sure that a bay is cleared out for them?”

After a brief pause, “Thanks. I’ll call department tow now.”

As Castillo concluded the conversation he heard footsteps running up behind him. Castillo could sense the imminent danger, yet there was no time to respond. A crushing blow rained down across his skull, knocking him to the ground. He was dizzy and staggered; he felt consciousness slipping away. A second blow crushed against his chest, he felt his ribs crack. Castillo tried to get up, but he was unable; still feeling woozy. He heard the yelling, but it was inaudible. He looked up and saw Ahmed Hatif and the gun pointed at his head…and then he heard a single gunshot.

With twenty-seven years in the New York City Police Department, and less than four hours to go before his retirement, the lights went out on Detective First Grade Louis Castillo. The husband and father of one was an unsung hero to the NYPD. His final official act as a New York City Police Detective had been seizing hundreds of pounds of explosives, destined to kill and maim innocent people as they celebrated the New Year in New York City’s Times Square.

*

Sergeant Tom Galvin had been ordered to come into work early to assist with the breaking case. He was to report directly to 26 Federal Plaza by noon. While Galvin was a loyal and dedicated officer, he still wanted to be where the action was. Having left his apartment an hour and a half before he was directed to report for work gave, Galvin the luxury of being able to stop by the Halal restaurant on Linden Boulevard and see the scene for himself.

Galvin pulled up across the street from the site. He stepped on the clutch, threw his Jeep into first gear and switched off the ignition. His view of the restaurant’s entrance was blocked by the bakery truck. As Galvin exited the jeep, Louis Castillo suddenly emerged from behind the truck with a cell phone to his ear. Galvin turned back to the Jeep and pressed the remote to lock the car doors.

When he turned his attention back to Castillo, his heart skipped a beat. While his view was obscured by the truck, he saw an arm extend from behind the concealment; in it, was a large handgun. The gun came crashing down on Castillo; who immediately collapsed. Galvin began to run; trying to navigate through the traffic on the busy roadway. He grabbed for his nine millimeter and ripped it from his holster but there was nothing more that he could do.