The son of his ghost further took him off guard by jumping him. Keegan drove his shoulder against the man’s chest, slamming him into the side of the car. The force of neither Keegan’s shoulder, nor the impact against the car had any effect on al-Haq—the twenty-five pound suicide vest had absorbed the blow. The two men tumbled to the ground with Keegan landing on top. This was inconsequential to al-Haq as he was not fighting, but rather concentrating on once again regaining control of the triggering device.
Al-Haq ignored any verbal commands given by either officer. He was rolled over onto his stomach by Keegan as his left wrist was being grabbed by the doomed cop and handcuffed. There was a peacefulness that engulfed his body and soul as he once again grasped the triggering device in his hand. He felt the lip of the safety device with his thumb and gently lifted it forward. He placed his finger on the trigger and knew his years of waiting for revenge would be over in a matter of seconds.
It was.
The explosion that ended al-Haq’s life had not been as loud as he had envisioned it would have been. Before falling into a permanent darkness he heard what sounded more like a soft pop than a loud explosion. But either way, he had fulfilled his destiny. He returned to the country that had taken so much from him and more importantly, avenged his own son’s death by killing the son of another. The last thought that al-Haq had on this earth was wondering how many Americans he would take with him and how rich his rewards were to be in the afterlife for his faithful service to Allah.
*
Louis Castillo was filling out a request for leave of absence report, which once signed by his supervisor, would grant him the rest of the shift off. Castillo couldn’t wait to see his daughter. As a freshman in college, this was her first time home since he and Sharon had dropped her off in late August and the longest period of time that he had ever gone without seeing her. Having just hung up the phone with Sharon, he was thrilled to hear that her flight was on time and that they were on their way home from the airport.
Castillo stood up and started towards his supervisor’s office when the phone rang. He turned around to answer it, but Frank Balentine got to it first. “Joint Terrorist Task Force, Agent Balentine.”
Castillo could only hear one end of the conversation, but knew Frank Balentine long enough to know when something was seriously wrong. Balentine’s face went suddenly pale as he feverishly put pen to paper at his desk.
“Holy shit…Oh my God!”
He motioned for Castillo to sit back down before he spoke again. “Okay, give me the exact location and how long ago did this happen?”
Castillo read over his shoulder as he wrote. ‘King’s Highway and Remsen Avenue, confines of the 67 precinct. 1820 hours.’
“We’re on our way.” And he hung up the phone.
Balentine sprang up from his seat as he spoke, “We need to get Wolf and Talbot up to speed on this right away.” Balentine threw on his on his blazer and headed towards his boss’s office.
“What happened, Frank?”
Balentine paused only long enough for a quick response before knocking on Wolf’s door. “A suicide bomber in the Six-Seven—about a half hour ago; a radio car pulled him over for running a red light.”
“Jesus Christ!” The reality quickly set in that all of the warnings they had been receiving were in fact now confirmed. He put a hand to his now dry mouth afraid of the response to the next question. “Any casualties?”
Balentine took a deep breath and confirmed that there were. “I don’t know how many, but dispatch told me that the Medical Examiner, Emergency Service, numerous ambulances, the bomb squad, and the fire department are all notified to respond to the staging area which is the parking lot of Brookdale Hospital. There seems to be some concern about a potential secondary device.”
“I’ll grab the car keys while you get the bosses. I know Brookdale Hospital all too well having worked in that area as a rookie. I’ll drive.”
“So much for leaving early tonight, Louie; we may be here for days. Do you think Sharon will be upset?”
Castillo shook his head. “No way; she may be retired, but she still has blue blood running through those veins. She knows the gravity of the threat.”
Castillo grabbed a set of keys as well as his department issued radio before throwing on his jacket and heading out the door with Balentine, Wolf, and Talbot. Inspector Talbot was able to shed a little more light onto the matter as they exited the building.
“I just got off the phone with the precinct commanding officer. It seems that their training auto pulled a car over for running a red light, and when they pulled the car over the driver got out wearing a suicide vest.”
“Do we know the identity of the cops involved,” Castillo interrupted. It was a cop thing; with so many brother and sister officers that every cops gets to know over the years they always pray it’s not someone they personally know.
Talbot would answer Castillo’s question before he would continue. “The Sergeant’s name is Tommy Galvin and the cop is a rookie; only a few months out of the academy, Timothy Keegan.”
Castillo’s heart sank just a bit as he recognized both names. Sergeant Galvin was a hero cop who only last year was shot in the line of duty while apprehending a serial killer…and Keegan…well, Castillo knew Keegan’s father from an investigation a very long time ago.
*
The last time Tommy Galvin had fired his gun in the line of duty a whirlwind of controversy had followed. Somehow, he knew that this time it would be different; it wasn’t a young drug dealer with roots in the community, it was a terrorist—a suicide bomber. It was Galvin’s quick assessment of the situation that had probably saved dozens, if not hundreds of lives, and instead only took one.
“Keegan, are you okay!” Galvin asked as he snapped his firearm back into its holster and ran over to Keegan.
“Yeah, Sarge. What did I miss? Why did you shoot him?”
Galvin knew that he wasn’t mistaken, but still, he wanted confirmation. He carefully moved the dead man’s thumb away from the trigger and closed the safety device. Holding the detonator gingerly in his hand, he and Keegan rolled the man on his back. Galvin slowly unzipped the top portion of the man’s black coat exposing the suicide vest.
Galvin could see the stagger in Keegan’s eyes and needed to refocus him. “Tim. Listen to me carefully. Do NOT make any radio transmissions or use your cell phone. The radio waves can set the bomb off. I need you to run inside the gas station and tell them you need to use the phone. Call the desk and tell the Lieutenant what happened and to call a mobilization to Brookdale Hospital. Have every available sector respond here for crowd control. Do you understand me, Tim?”
Clearly stunned, Keegan nodded. “Yeah, Sarge; sectors stay here, everyone else to Brookdale.”
“Tim, make sure the desk tells them not to use their radios or cell phones.”
“Okay.”
Keegan turned away to go and make the phone call when Galvin called out to him one more time. “Tim, this is what they’ve been warning us about at roll call. This could be the start of something bigger. Stay alert.”
When Keegan left to make the phone call, Galvin withdrew a switchblade from his rear pocket. Opening the knife, he pried off a side view mirror from a parked car in the gas station. He held the glass at arm’s length as he used it to inspect the undercarriage of the car for any possible secondary devices. Once he felt there was nothing underneath, he repeated the process underneath the seats of the car. Not seeing anything harmful, he gave a quick look inside; hoping to find any paperwork possibly identifying the suicide bomber.
He found two things of note. The first was in the glove box; it was the vehicle registration and insurance card. The second was a piece of paper over the driver’s side sun visor. It had a Brooklyn address on it. Both, Galvin felt, could be potential clues and a great help to the investigators.
Galvin heard the radio dispatcher broadcast the citywide mobilization to his location, warning
all units to respond with caution and to maintain radio silence once they were in the vicinity. Sector cars starting arriving on the scene as did his rookies from their foot posts, as well as cops from other commands. Galvin ordered the cops to set up a Crime Scene and to push back the curious onlookers who started to congregate. He ordered some of the cops to begin closing off and diverting traffic in every direction for two blocks before the intersection. He then had other officers go door to door to evacuate all residents within a two block radius. The workload was overbearing, but necessary and Galvin knew it.
Chapter 11
The ride, in spite of rush hour traffic, had taken less than twenty minutes. Castillo had run just about every red light and disregarded every other traffic regulation that he felt necessary in order to get there as soon as possible.
During the ride, with few facts available to them, they began to speculate that the bomber must have lived in the area. The holiday season had not yet begun and East Flatbush wouldn’t have exactly been a place one would think of as a terrorist target in New York City. As a group, the men decided it was likely a chance encounter rather than a planned attack.
As they approached the crime scene, there were the lights of emergency vehicles for as far as the eye could see—without doubt more than Castillo had ever seen in any one location since lower Manhattan on September Eleventh, well over a decade ago. There were dozens upon dozens of marked and unmarked police cars, Emergency Service Unit trucks, fire engines, and half a dozen ambulances. When they arrived, they found a very well organized crime scene. The gas station was void of all vehicles other than the marked police car and the blue Chevrolet Impala, presumably belonging to the suicide bomber.
Castillo observed the dead man from the outside of the yellow Crime Scene tape which was blocking off the entire gas station. He lay on his back with a handcuff fastened around one wrist; a wire device in his free hand with a blinking red light now emitting a faint glow in the night. Although Castillo had to remain a safe distance away, it appeared to him that the man had died with his eyes open. There was clearly a bullet hole above his left eye and a substantial amount of blood pooled around the head.
Castillo and Inspector Talbot walked across Remsen Avenue to an auto repair shop where a uniformed Inspector was giving out directives to his officers. It was a safe bet that this was the precinct commander.
Talbot put a hand on the man’s shoulder and introduced himself. “Hi Inspector, John Talbot, we spoke on the phone a little while ago.” Talbot went on to introduce Enton to the other men in his company.
“Of course. James Enton,” as Enton offered his hand first to Talbot, and then to Wolf, Castillo, and Balentine, in that order.
“Have we found any secondary devices?”
“So far, no. We have a fifteen minute ETA on the Bomb Squad. They’re coming from Rodmen’s Neck in the Bronx.” Enton was momentarily distracted when he saw a number of teenagers circumventing his officers to try to get a closer look at the crime scene. He called out to his officers in frustration. “Guys, this can’t happen. That device is still live. Nobody can get passed you guys, please!”
Enton, usually very calm, shook his head in frustration. “Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize,” Talbot was quick to respond.
“So as I was saying, the sergeant involved used a mirror to check underneath the car for secondary devices and found none. ESU did a secondary sweep and agreed that there doesn’t appear to be any, but obviously, we didn’t want to pop the trunk in case its booby trapped. In the mean time, we’re evacuating all homes in a two block radius, and as you can see, we’ve diverted all traffic. We’re just waiting on the bomb squad right now.”
Castillo was curious. “Did both officers fire their weapons, or just one?”
Enton gave Castillo a cautionary glance. “Well unofficially, I believe it was only Sergeant Galvin, but as you know, I don’t have any official statements as of yet to verify.”
“We’re going to need to talk with them right away.” He could see the skepticism on Enton’s face as soon as he had spoken the words. It was not without good cause, Castillo realized. A police officer involved shooting was probably the trickiest situation any high ranking police official had to handle—especially if someone is killed by the police.
As the police, they needed to find out as many facts as possible, but the District Attorney’s office is ultimately responsible for the prosecution, if a Grand Jury determines that the shooting was not within the bounds of the law. A police officer must answer any and all questions asked of him by a ranking officer narrowly related to his scope of employment. However, an officer still retains his Fifth Amendment rights in a criminal matter. So technically, any ranking officer who asks a question of an officer is compelling him to speak by nature of his job, therefore violating his right against self incrimination. If this was to happen and a Grand Jury indicted the officer, any and all statements would have to be thrown out. It’s for these reasons that the NYPD protocol is not to interview any officers involved in shootings until the District Attorney gives the okay.
Enton shifted his attention away from Castillo and instead on Talbot. “You know you can’t do that, John.”
“Here’s the issue at hand,” began Talbot as he motioned for he and Enton to walk away from the other officers. “I really can’t go too deeply into the facts, but we have a reason to believe this is only the first of a number of incidents and speaking to the officers is a matter of national security.” Talbot pointed to Wolf before he continued. “Robert Wolf is the Assistant Director in Charge of the Eastern District for the FBI. If you’d feel more comfortable hearing it from him, I’d understand. Either way, we need to talk with them. Wolf feels since Detective Castillo and I are from the NYPD, your cops would feel more comfortable talking to us rather than the FBI.”
Enton didn’t need to hear it from anyone else. “John, if you’re telling me it’s a matter of national security, that’s good enough for me. Come with me. They’re in the back of one of the ambulances over here. The rookie had his hand cut up a bit wrestling with the guy before Sergeant Galvin terminated the threat.”
*
“Thank you, Charlene,” as Keegan examined the blood seeping through the gauze that the EMS technician had just wrapped around his hand. It really didn’t even hurt, and it looked a lot worse than it was. Keegan had done far worse to his own hands during his days as a carpenter, but as soon as the union delegate saw him bleeding, he had insisted Keegan get treated for his injuries.
Charlene spoke with a thick West Indian accent and gave Keegan a heartfelt smile. “No problem, sweetie. I’m just glad I only had to bandage your hand and not try to put you back together.”
“Me too,” joked Keegan.
“All right, I’m going to leave you two guys alone back here to discuss what happened.” She gave Keegan a pat on the back and climbed out of the rear door of the ambulance and closed it behind her. Charlene was a seasoned veteran of New York City EMS and knew as well as anyone how serious a police involved shooting was. It was often right in the back of an ambulance where the officers would speak to one and other and make sure they had their facts straight. Trained in all sorts of medical training, she knew that the mind can play tricks on you, especially after such a traumatic event. She intended to afford the officers time in case they needed to discuss the events leading up to the shooting.
Once the door had closed, Keegan began firing the questions. He once again became upset with himself. “How did you know he was wearing a suicide vest? How come I didn’t?”
Galvin shook his head. “I’m not even sure myself. It all happened so fast, and when he put his hands out to you I saw a flashing red light and noticed that he had something in his hand. I just knew. You must’ve noticed it too and just don’t realize it. After all, you did jump him before he had a chance to detonate it.”
Keegan shook his head. He stared down, almost in shame, not wanting to meet
Galvin’s eyes. “No, I didn’t. That’s what’s really bothering me. I never had a clue. I heard you yell out to me so I knew there was a danger, but I had no clue what it was. I thought he had a gun that I didn’t see. Then when I shoulder tackled him, I felt the heaviness around his chest and thought it was a military flak jacket. I had no idea it was a suicide vest.” He shook his head before meeting Galvin’s eyes. “When you unzipped his jacket I almost shit myself.”
Galvin got up from the bench opposite Keegan and sat next to him. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank God you’re okay. Hell, thank God you, me, and a few hundred others are okay because of what we did as a team. Don’t be down on yourself. You’ve already accomplished more in a few short months than ninety-nine percent of the cops do in their entire twenty years…you just thwarted a terrorist attack. Not to mention the other collar that you made; stop beating yourself up over this.”
Galvin paused before continuing. His voice softened as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “What did he say to you right before you tackled him? It seemed to really take you off guard.”
Keegan shook his head and thought back. “It was really weird. He called me Lieutenant Keegan. At least I think he did?”
Just then there was a brief knock at the back of the ambulance door following it being abruptly opened. Cathy Quinn, looking a bit frazzled, was on the other side. “Oh my God, Tim, are you okay?” Clearly trying to clean up her statement, “You too, Sarge, I mean are you guys okay?”
A smile came to Keegan’s face, one which he was quick to displace before their supervisor figured out their relationship. He felt good to know how much Cathy genuinely cared about him though. He raised his bandaged hand, offering it to her for inspection. “Just a scratch.”
“Thank God. And you, Sarge; you’re not hurt, are you?”
Galvin had a knowing smile on his face. “No, Cathy; I’m fine. But we’re all going to have a busy night. You need to get back with the rest of the guys and do whatever Inspector Enton needs. Tell the guys that I want them to make us look good to the boss. From experience, I can tell you that Tim and I are going to be busy for quite a while here.”
Legacy and Redemption Page 12
