Sirens and the screams of pain from the wounded, the cacophony from car crashes and blaring horns as drivers tried to avoid the mob that was trying to escape the terror added to the chaos that had replaced the festive atmosphere of mere moments before. Our way of life had once again been changed forever in the cruel micro-second between detonation and explosion.
The reaction of the command centers of the Philadelphia police and the federal agencies assigned to provide security was instantaneous. “We’ve been hit! We’ve been hit!” Multiple radio transmissions screamed from the radios of patrolmen stationed throughout the Mall.
Before the PPD command center could ascertain the location of the initial blast, a second explosion, this one so close to the trailer in which they sat that the force of the blast could be felt, momentarily drowned out the radio calls. Commissioner Regan and his command group watched the monitors that provided views from traffic and security cameras that blanketed the six-block area of the Mall and the surrounding streets. The command group acted with complete professionalism as they directed police and emergency personnel to the sites of the explosions. SWAT teams and snipers from all agencies were placed on high alert.
The video from both incidents was instantly reviewed and the information describing the traditional Pakistani clothing the suicide bombers were wearing was calmly relayed on the police frequency. The incidents had occurred within two blocks of each other, the first on 6th Street near Arch at the entrance to the Constitution Center, the second on Race Street near 5th. In both cases the analysis of the actions of the terrorists immediately before the explosions lead to the conclusion that the killers had not detonated the bombs. There had been no obvious sign of any action by either of the men to cause the explosions. Indeed, the location of the second incident on Race Street behind the Federal Reserve Building where there were no pedestrians and no significant property damage opportunity indicated that the killer had not yet reached his intended destination before the bomb exploded.
“Look for young men wearing Salwar Kameez, Sherwani, or Achnan, the traditional Pakistani dress and isolate them,” the Command Center alerted the snipers and foot and bicycle patrols across the Mall. The Secret Service had issued its warning to the personal details of the Vice President and the Secretary of State and other notables to divert from the Mall.
Ichowitz, who had stood silently at the side of the Commissioner as the tactical commanders gave their orders said, “Commissioner, the timing of the attack doesn’t make any sense.”
Commissioner Regan turned to his friend and asked, “What do you mean?”
“The awards ceremony isn’t scheduled to begin for another hour. If the bombs were set by a timer, why now?” he responded.
Patrolman Martin Kelly of the canine unit, with Roger, his specially trained companion, was stationed at the southeast corner of 5th and Market Streets watching the crowd looking for any indication of suspicious behavior. Roger began to growl and suddenly became agitated. Kelly scanned the mass of pedestrians now surging away from the Mall, away from the danger. As a young man emerged from the stairs of the Market Frankford subway station, Roger lunged towards him barking and snarling, nearly knocking Kelly off his feet. “Red alert! Red alert!” Kelly shouted into his shoulder microphone.
The young man’s eyes widened at the sight of the German shepherd that lunged at him. He smiled and pulled a wire from the jacket pocket of his hooded sweat shirt.
“Drop what you’re holding in your hand and put your hands on your head and get down on your knees!” Kelly shouted.
“Clear the area! Clear the area!” a bicycle patrol officer who had arrived yelled out to the crowd that had assembled near the subway exit as he unholstered his glock and pointed it at the suspect.
The young man shouted, “Allahu Akbar!” and pushed the button he held in his hand. Nothing happened. He pushed the button again and again. His eyes reflected the rage and frustration of his failure.
Kelly, his Glock in hand, and Roger moved on the terrorist, forcing him to his knees. Roger continued to bark and growl. “Cuff him,” Kelly directed the bicycle patrolman.
“Bomb Squad! We need the Bomb Squad!” Kelly shouted into his shoulder microphone.
Within minutes a van pulled up and a member of the bomb squad wearing a Nomex suit and ballistic helmet emerged. “Move back,” the Unit Leader ordered Kelly.
“Captain, he tried to detonate and failed,”
“Roger that. Take cover.”
“Ski, whatdaya see?” the unit commander asked the officer in the Nomex suit as he pointed his riot shot gun at the terrorist.
The bomb squad officer gently lifted the terrorist’s sweatshirt and stared at the explosive device strapped to his body. “Not good, no good; it’s timed, but I can’t be sure if I can kill it.”
“Want to abort?”
“Let me try to disable the timer.”
The terrorist watched the bomb technician cut away his sweatshirt to get a clear view of the device. John Glochowski, who had learned his craft during two tours of duty in Iraq with the United States Army’s Bomb Disposal Unit, gently touched the three wires, red, green and black, that came out of the timer with his gloved hands. He had encountered this configuration before. He carefully separated the wires and studied them as he removed a thin wire cutter from the belt around his Nomex jacket.
“You may want to start praying to Allah for both of our souls,” he said to the bomber as he cut the green wire. Glochowski held his breath. The timer stopped.
“Cap, timer’s stopped. Bring the blanket, we are hot, repeat hot! Got to make sure it’s not booby-trapped.”
“Roger that.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Jack Regan and Harlan Johnson were listening to the KYW radio reports of the suicide terrorist bomb attacks at the Independence Mall as they tracked the art thieves. Regan was nearly overcome by his desire to race to the Mall to find Liam. He realized that going anywhere near the chaos there would likely be futile, but the thought of Katey’s son being in danger was foremost in his mind. He had attempted to reach Ichowitz on numerous occasions on the rover. Regan assumed that Izzy had switched to a different frequency in light of the emergency.
“Mr. Regan,” Harlan said, pulling Regan out of his reverie.
“Sorry, Harlan.”
“Mr. Regan, the signal is getting stronger. I’m not sure, but I think we made the right decision by going in the direction of the Expressway. From what I could hear from inside the van, it didn’t sound like whoever is driving the rig is very experienced. A fully loaded eighteen-wheeler isn’t easy to maneuver. My guess is he’s driving pretty slowly. Maybe we can catch up.”
“Have you been able to get a call through to the Barnes?” Regan asked.
“No. The circuits must still be overloaded.”
“I wonder if the Lower Merion Police even know about the robbery. I’ll try to get Izzy on the rover again.”
Regan was approaching the turnoff for the Schuylkill Expressway. “Harlan, which way? East or west?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t tell the direction from this monitor.”
“I’m going to go east. Let me know if the signal gets weaker,” Regan said. When they got on the expressway they saw the traffic in the westbound lanes was in total gridlock. People were driving out of the city away from the terrorist attack.
“Mr. Regan, it looks like we made the right decision, the monitor shows the truck must still be moving, so it’s got to be going east.”
One of the adjutants on Commissioner Regan’s staff entered the command center and approached Ichowitz. “Detective, I’ve been monitoring the open frequency, there have been a number of messages from someone named Jack asking for you,” he said.
Ichowitz shook his head and said, “I forgot that I gave Jack one of the Fourth District’s rovers so that he could keep in touch with me,” he told the Commissioner.
Ichowitz immediately switched his radio to the open frequency and
said, “Jack it’s Izzy. Sorry I was off this frequency. Are you OK?”
“Izz thank god you switched back. Do you know about the Barnes?”
“Know what about the Barnes?” Ichowitz responded.
“Two gunmen made off with a truck filled with half of the collection.”
“Say again,” Ichowitz replied.
“Izz, they stole the art! Harlan Johnson and I are tracking the truck, we’re going east on the expressway. We think the van is going in that direction.”
“Commissioner, did you hear that?” Ichowitz asked.
Commissioner Regan nodded. “Ask Jack his location; I’ll try to get a cruiser or a helo to assist him.”
An art heist and a terrorist attack: a coincidence, or was there some connection? Ichowitz could not see how the two events were tied together, but he could not shake the feeling that somehow these random events were connected.
The reports from officers and emergency personnel on the ground indicated that there had been seven fatalities, including the two suicide bombers and thirty seven injured, ten critically as a result of the attacks. There was an unconfirmed report that Mayor Gallo had been killed in the initial explosion. The bomb squad had a third suicide bomber in isolation. Although they were successful in disconnecting the timing device, they had not yet been able to remove and secure the explosive. The officers were concerned that the vest bomb may be booby-trapped.
It had been forty-five minutes since the initial attack. Despite their best efforts the Mall area had not yet been completely secured. The crowd estimate, immediately before the attack, was that there were more than five thousand people in the area, either at the museums or assembling for the awards ceremony and concert.
As of noon, no one had claimed responsibility for the attack; however, the current working theory was that Al-Qaida was involved, either directly or otherwise. Homeland Security and the FBI raided the New Age Mosque fifteen minutes after the initial explosion looking for the Imam, Malik Ben-Ali and Bashir Amet his chief of security. They were not there, nor were they at their residences or anywhere in the area. There also was no evidence to connect the explosive devices to the Mosque. No residue of C4 or any bomb making materials were found there. The federal agents also had no idea of the whereabouts of the mysterious visitor with the bottle green eyes, who had last been seen limping down a subway concourse after he had interviewed the Homeland Security undercover agent several weeks before.
The federal agents also searched the warehouse on Lehigh Avenue, the last known location at which they assumed the suicide bombers had been trained. Once again, no evidence connecting the explosives to the Mall attack could be secured. All of the suspects were in the wind.
It was the peculiar timing of the attack that bothered Ichowitz the most. From the reports of the frustration of the third suicide bomber over his inability to detonate the bomb and kill the police officer who had confronted him, along with at least two dozen innocent bystanders who were exiting the subway station, confirmed Ichowitz’ belief that whoever had planned the attack set the time an hour or so before the Vice President along with the other dignitaries and the highest mass of innocent victims would be present. Why would Al-Qaida, or whoever was responsible, miss an opportunity to cause such devastation?
His radio chirped, indicating another call from Jack.
“Izz, were you able to get Liam’s picture out? Has anyone reported seeing him?”
“Jack, nothing. At least he doesn’t match any of the victims. Have you caught up with the van?”
“Negative, but the tracker signal is getting stronger.”
“What’s your 40?”
“Driving north on I 95. Are the police en route?”
“The Commissioner has ordered two units from Highway be diverted to you. You should see them driving south on 95 soon.”
“OK. Please let me know if anyone sees Liam.”
Ichowitz had been tasked by the Commissioner to coordinate with the Lower Merion Township Police investigation of the robbery at the Barnes. With all the confusion resulting from the Mall attack, and the high alert protocols, it took the police thirty minutes to respond to the 911 call. The detectives had a composite of the two armed men from the hostages. Based on the fact that the armed men arrived in a moving van identical to the van the legitimate movers used, the detectives believe it was an inside job, or at least that the robbers had access to information that provided them the schedule and other relevant details.
According to the statement from the Barnes curator, the estimate of the value of the stolen art works was truly unascertainable. It exceeded any known or quantifiable dollar value. Dr. Abernathy opined that the thieves must be extremely sophisticated if they believed they could sell the art on the black market. He suggested that it was more likely they would make some kind of a ransom demand on the Barnes, like a kidnapping.
THIRTY-SIX
Liam and his friend Ryan were waiting in the Hall of Statues at the Constitution Center for Ryan’s parents and his special needs eighteen-month-old sister. They promised to behave while Ryan’s parents made appropriate arrangements to transport the little girl. The Hall of Statues’ exhibit had been set up with remarkable detail by the curators to recreate the scene of the original signers to the Constitution. The curators laid out the exhibit so that visitors could walk among the Founding Fathers, something that delighted museum goers off all ages. The boys were making fun of the curious manner in which Ben Franklin and the others had dressed back in the 1700s and just enjoying life like typical children when the bomb went off.
“What was that?” Ryan asked
“Dunno,” Liam replied. The force of the blast was so severe it shook the room.
Within seconds a siren sounded and a voice came over the sound system repeating a warning that an emergency had been declared and everyone had to immediately exit the building.
As the other visitors to the exhibit hurriedly began to exit the museum, Ryan asked, “Liam, what’s happening?” Ryan’s voice had that plaintive sound like he was about to cry.
Before Liam could respond, a man in a blazer came into the room and said, “Young men, you have to leave the building now. It’s not safe for you to stay here.”
“But we promised my parents we’d wait here,” Ryan responded.
“I’m sorry, but you have to leave now. It’s not safe.”
Ryan grabbed hold of the Franklin statue as the guard approached.
Before the guard could get to his friend, Liam stepped forward and held up his hand. The stillness with which he held himself stopped the guard in his tracks.
“Ryan, we need to go now,” he said.
“But how will my parents find us? We promised to wait here,” Ryan said, the tears streaming down his face.
Liam held out his hand to his friend and said, “We’ll go to a place that’s safe and where they can find us.”
Ryan took his hand and the guard led them to an exit. Just as he opened the door the second explosion rocked the building. “Hurry, boys! Get away from here as fast as you can!”
They stepped out of the building into the chaos.
“I want to go back to my mommy!” Ryan cried and tried to open the door of the emergency exit from which they had emerged. There was no handle.
“No Ryan, we have to get away from here!”
“But my mother and father and Keri, what about them?”
“Your Dad will protect them,” Liam said and took his friend by the hand, leading him away from the Constitution Center and away from where the sound of the second explosion originated.
The boys ran down the steps. Liam looked at his compass watch and pointed to the street and said, “We need to go west,” he pointed.
“Where are we going?” Ryan asked.
“To my Uncle Mike’s,” Liam replied.
“But how will we find it?”
Liam pointed to his watch/compass and said, “Jack gave this to me. He taught me how to use it. He
promised me I would always be able to find my way home. Let’s go!”
And the two boys ran west on Arch Street away from the madness.
Jack and Harlan drove North on I 95 past the Allegheny Avenue exit. They saw the flashing lights of the Highway Patrol cruisers approaching from the southbound lanes.
“Mr. Regan, the signal is getting weaker. I think they must have gotten off at Allegheny Avenue.”
Jack nodded and switched to the left lane. He saw a break in the road divider about a quarter mile ahead. He ignored the No-U Turn sign and drove to the south bound lanes. The Highway Patrol Officers must have seen his maneuver and they slowed down and let him pass. The three cars took the Allegheny Avenue Exit when Regan got to the end of the exit ramp he asked, “Which way?”
Harlan pointed left towards the river.
Allegheny Avenue dead ended at the Delaware River two blocks east of the exit. The three cars pulled up at a gate to the Tioga Marine Terminal. Regan looked through the chain link fence at the yard and the river beyond it. There was a containerized freighter being loaded at the dock. In the yard were about 500 containers waiting to be loaded. All of the containers looked identical to the white trailer in which the stolen Barnes Art collection had been placed.
Jack called Ichowitz on the rover and filled him in on their location. He explained how they were able to track the van there.
“Jack, do you think the monitor will lead you to the correct container?” Ichowitz asked.
Regan looked over to Harlan who nodded. He conveyed Harlan’s response to Ichowitz, who channeled it to the Commissioner.
“Jack, the Commissioner has given you the green light to enter the yard and find the stolen art.”
Regan and the Highway Patrol officers quickly devised a plan to enter the yard and search for the container. The police officers called for backup.
Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk Page 21
