“And the people who gave you this list, who are they?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
“And why not?” Badr pressed.
“I’m sure you can understand the sensitive nature of this investigation. If there is a terrorist plot that involves innocent American lives…”
“And if this plot, imagined or real, does not include innocent American lives, does it lose its degree of sensitivity?”
“Listen,” Derek said, “I understand that you’re probably fed up with being asked questions, but my clients are very concerned that something is going to happen. Honestly, I don’t think they know any details about what is being planned, but the fact that they are expanding their numbers of feet on the street, tells me that they take this threat very seriously.”
“Who are your clients?” Badr asked, taking a step closer to Derek.
“As I said…”
“Tell me, who hired you?” he interrupted.
“I cannot tell you.”
“Tell me then, does it concern you that your clients, whom I assume are paying you, demand that their identity remains a secret? Does the fact that you are the fifth person who has visited me and has come with the same story bother you?”
“It does,” Derek admitted. “But that doesn’t afford me the privilege of breaking the confidentiality agreement I have with my clients.”
Badr stepped away from Derek, his eyes still pouring out intensity. He moved towards and sat in a chair directly across from Derek’s.
“Ask me your questions,” he said.
“Do you have any knowledge of any planned terrorist attack in Manhattan?”
“No.”
“Do you know of anyone who you feel holds beliefs radical enough to be part of a terrorist plot?”
“No.”
“Are you involved in any planning of any attack on American soil?”
“No.”
“Are you planning on saying ‘no’ to every question I ask you?”
“I haven’t heard all of your questions yet, nor have I heard you ask any questions that my honest reply could be anything besides ‘no.’ Tell me,” Badr said, “you have come at the bequest of your client to ask me questions regarding any potential information that I might have regarding a bombing that is planned to take place in Manhattan, and you have absolutely no proof that such a plot exists?”
“I didn’t say anything about the plot including a bombing,” Derek said. “Interesting that you jumped from planned attack directly to a bombing. I also didn’t say that the information I was given said that the attack, or as you suggest, the bombing, is planned for Manhattan. The city has five different boroughs, in case you weren’t aware.”
Badr’s eyes sharpened and a look of hatred mixed with fear filled them. He drew a deep breath before speaking in a calm, low voice. “Do not try to trap me with your assumptions. I simply assumed that the alleged plot included a bombing since bombings are what your government is more than happy to assign responsibility to my people. As for my mentioning of Manhattan as the location of your investigation, while you are correct that there is more to New York City than just Manhattan, to me and to millions of others, this island is the city.”
“I have interviewed hundreds of people during my career,” Derek said, his eyes matching Badr’s intensity. “And I have become pretty damn good at picking up what people say without actually saying anything. Let me tell you what I hear you saying: You may not know the details, but you do know something about a planned bombing in Manhattan. You probably aren’t involved in the planning at all, but you either know or suspect who is. You are pretty damn nervous about me being here and afraid of what questions I may ask. The fact that you didn’t ask me to leave your office as soon as I told you why I was here, despite the fact that I am the fifth person to meet with you about the same, as you say ‘alleged’ terrorist threat, tells me that you feel that it is safer for you to sit through my questions as opposed to kicking me out. You probably feel that if you told me to leave that my suspicions about you would go through the roof. I’d probably get some surveillance on you, get your home watched, maybe even have all your phone lines tapped and office bugged. May even hack your computer to see what you’ve been searching for and who you’ve been communicating with. What I am hearing you say, is that you know a hell of a lot more than you’ve told me or anyone else and that your knowledge scares the crap out of you.”
Badr sat motionless, his eyes fixed on Derek’s. After nearly a full minute of absolute quiet, he spoke. “I assume that you are a Christian, yes?”
“Catholic,” Derek answered.
“But still a Christian?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me, if someone who goes to your church commits a crime, is your minister to blame?”
“Depends on the circumstances. If the minister told the person that committed the crime that doing the crime would gain him or her favors with God, then, yes, the minister could be blamed. Should be blamed, actually.” The conversation was so similar to the one he had just had with Abdul, Derek began thinking that not only were both Badr and Abdul intentionally hiding something but had worked out how they would respond to questions asked by anyone in law enforcement.
“And if the minister was only teaching what the religion suggests, is he still to blame?”
“My religion doesn’t include any teachings that makes killing others an acceptable practice, so, your analogy doesn’t make sense.”
“And you feel that my religion does?”
“While I can’t say that I know a lot about the Muslim religion or its teachings, I have to say that based on what I’ve seen or read, that yeah, your faith seems to encourage violence against others. In fact, based on what I’ve seen from ISIS, your religion condones violence against others in your religion.”
“In every religion,” Badr continued, “there are divisions of those who adopt a more extreme posture; those who interpret the words that a religion is based off of more literally, more intensely, than do most others. My religion is not immune to these divisions, nor is yours. Tell me, if you can, how many people are killed in the name of your American religion each year?”
“American doesn’t have a religion. Not one in particular,” Derek said.
“But you do,” Badr said, sitting upright and pointing a finger at Derek. “Though you may not see it or recognize it as a religion, your country’s beliefs are its religion. It is guised under terms like ‘our country’s best interest,’ or ‘for the advancement of democracy.’ Your country’s religion speaks of protecting your assets and interests. You have formed strategic partnerships all to advance your religion. Democracy, capitalism, liberties; all are tenants of your country’s religion. You have millions of people marching in your public streets to support a woman’s right to murder her unborn child. You have systems and governmental agencies focused on ensuring that all your citizens are given equal rights, equal pay, equal opportunities. You have laws that punish those who prevent the advancement of others. You have heroes of your religion and villains as well. You make the lives of your movie stars your compass points. Look to your politicians and tell me, honestly, that they do not present themselves as leaders of a set of beliefs. The problem your country has with its religion is that you have allowed it to be spread too thin. It is weakened by trying to gain the favor of every citizen.
“You claim that a handful of people in my religion are terrorists, who kill innocent people by suicide bombings, mass killings, hijacking planes and flying them into buildings. Your country’s religious leaders prevent you from saying it, but I know that you view all of those who share my faith to be terrorists, supporters of terrorists or terrorists in the making. Yet, in the name of your religion, thousands are killed each year and your citizens never hear about the murders. Your government drops missiles from the sky on people who you see as a threat to your religion, then, when it becomes known that women and children were accide
ntally killed in the attack, you respond by sending the only blessing your country understands; you send your money. Your religious leaders send men with weapons into other countries at night to kill someone they have determined is a danger to your religion. Your religious leaders are in a constant state of protecting the powers that their believers granted to them with their votes, and they are willing to do whatever it takes to hold on to that granted power by doing whatever it takes to advance your religion. Anything, in the name of the religion.
“What are religions, Derek Cole? They are a set of beliefs, adhered to on faith and are in place to serve those who share the beliefs. So tell me now, how many people are killed each year in the name of your American religion, then tell me who are the real terrorists in this world?”
“You’re excellent at deflecting, Badr,” Derek answered after only a brief pause. “You try to justify keeping whatever information you have a secret by claiming that America and its citizens somehow deserve the effects of terrorism. As if we are only getting back a dose of our own medicine. I’m not going to tell you that America is innocent and has never butted our noses into another country’s business or that we have never put our own interests before the interests of others, but I completely disagree that we should be considered terrorists.
“Tell me, when something terrible happens in the world, who are the first to respond? We are. When other countries have an outbreak of disease, are hit with famine, drought, earthquakes, tsunamis or any other calamity that Mother Nature throws around, the United Sates of America is first in line to help.
“I guarantee that your home country has received aid in the form of money, medicine, equipment, whatever, a thousand times more than your country has returned to us. We are far from being terrorists. We are the envy of the world and you and people like you, can’t just be honest and admit that.”
“Envious of a culture as corrupt as yours? That is foolishness. Yes, I can admit that America is always ready to extend their hand to others when a disaster strikes. But you must admit that when that hand is extended, it is never brought back empty. You take a piece of the soul of every country you help. You take a piece of their liberty, of their freedom. You also leave insults, implying that the way one country governs its people is incorrect because it does not conform to the teachings of the American religion. Why is it,” Badr said, a slight smile forming on the corners of his mouth, “that America considers itself much smarter than the rest of the world?”
“I don’t think that we do,” Derek shot back.
“Then why is your rule of law the only rule of law that your leaders insist the rest of the world follows?”
“Because when other humans are governed by people who would rather cut off heads than allow people to live a life of freedom, we have an obligation to intervene.”
“An obligation to what?”
“To humanity.”
“No,” Badr said, leaning back into the chair. “Your obligation is to your American religion. Tell me, what is a terrorist? Is it someone who perpetrates acts of violence against others in the name of their religion? Is that how you would define a terrorist?”
“I would start by defining them as cowards, then add in a few choice words and end with describing a terrorist as an off-the-wall religious fanatic, who has been brainwashed by people in roles of authority, who are way too cowardly to fight their own battles. That’s how I would define a terrorist.”
“The people of authority you mentioned, were you intending to describe your own governmental leaders?”
CHAPTER NINE
Derek walked with a charged energy he had not felt in years. His conversation with Badr Irani served to only convince him that Badr was somehow involved in the possible terrorist plot. He knew that America wasn’t perfect, far from it, but believed it was still the best country in the world. As he moved his way through an increasing number of people and got closer to Times Square, he freely admitted that most of the politicians who ran his country were corrupt, out for their own interests or had no business being in positions of authority; but he also knew that his defense of America was spot on.
He wondered if Badr was sensing that Derek was getting too close to finding the people behind the planned attack and was trying to convince him that his fellow citizens were not worthy of being saved; that, if something was to happen, that the US Government was as much to blame as any radicalized Jihadist was.
When he was no more than a few blocks from his hotel, he sat down on a concrete wall that surrounded a fifty-plus story office building. He needed to not only collect his thoughts but also to determine what his next steps should be. He pulled out his notebook and remembered that he had only decided on two actions to take this day. Both were completed and offered no additional clues as to what to do next.
“Now what?” he said softly. “Go back and have another run with Badr or Abdul? Maybe get into that side room of Abdul’s and leave a spy pen behind? What the hell should I do next?”
Before he could grow more frustrated over having no idea what his next step in the investigation should be, Derek was shocked out of his thoughts by the sudden eruption of several police sirens. Though he hadn’t noticed them, there were three police cruisers within 100 yards of where he was sitting, and all three had flipped on their sirens and light bars and began tearing down towards the direction of Times Square. As soon at the cop cars were far enough away, Derek could hear several other sirens in the distance and all seemed to be headed towards Times Square or had already arrived at their destination .
He knew that if something major had happened or was happening in the area, the police would immediately clear the area of civilians and block off as much of the crime scene as possible. He leaped from his sitting place and began sprinting towards the direction of the sirens, believing that if he could get there before the police began cordoning off the area, he could be inside the cordon and have first-hand access to whatever had or was happening. As he sprinted towards Times Square, he continued to hear more sirens racing towards Times Square. He pushed himself despite knowing that he could be rushing to see nothing more important than one of the amateur Times Square performers causing trouble with a group of tourists. Still he ran and still he heard more sirens screaming their urgency into the heavy Manhattan air.
***I***
“Tell me why he visited you?”
“I told you already, I don’t know why he came to see me. He said my name was on a list.” Abdul’s face was already swelling to the point that seeing out of his right eye was becoming a challenge. He tasted his own blood as it trickled down his throat; the iron-tasting warm liquid turning his stomach sour as soon it finished its gravity-led descent. “I didn’t tell him anything. I told you exactly what I said to him.”
“It is not what you did or did not say,” the man said as he stood over Abdul, “it is the fact that he came to visit you that concerns us.” The man walked away from Abdul, who was seated in the only metal fold up chair in the warehouse. He had no concerns of Abdul trying to get away for the armed accomplices that brought Abdul to see him stood no more than six feet from his captive. “You said this man, this Derek Cole, was not the first to pay you a visit and to ask so many questions. Is that what I heard you say?”
“Yes,” Abdul replied, desperate to find the words that would save his life. “He was the fifth who came to me. All asking about an event. I told him that I have no knowledge of any planned event.”
“Again, dear Imam, what you said is not what concerns us. You have served us well these past few years. Though you failed at molding your candidate, your efforts have not and will not go unrecognized." The man turned and began walking away from Abdul towards the door at the far end of the warehouse. When the man reached the door, he stopped and called to Abdul. "You have children, yes?”
Fear ripped through Abdul’s body, tearing away any remaining hope that his life would be spared. “I have two boys,” he said submissively. “Two young boys
, devout in their faith.”
“And these two boys of yours,” the man said, his hand grasping the door handle, “you want them safe, yes?”
“What do I need to do?”
***I***
Derek reached Times Square before the police had finished cordoning off the area. Instead of finding yellow police tape, Derek saw that several NYPD officers were aggressively moving people away from the TKTS bleachers that sat in the triangle of Times Square and directly across from Derek’s first hotel, the Marquis. The people who weren’t pushed or shoved away from the area, retreated to a safe distance as soon as they saw the cause of the commotion. As others moved away, Derek moved closer.
He was kneeling on the ground; the vest, clear to see. His head hung low and his right arm and hand were held high enough for any in the area to see. Though Derek was not familiar with a bomb-vest nor how they worked, he could tell that the kneeling man was wrapped in a vest that, if exploded, may not cause substantial damage to the surrounding structures, but would certainly kill the vest wearer. In the man’s hand was a small trigger, its red plunger fully depressed.
Derek stood less than 100 feet away, studying the scene with an intense curiosity. If this was the planned attack that the FBI had hired him to help prevent, they grossly overestimated the possible collateral damage. The vest the man was wearing seemed more typical of what a suicide bomber would employ when trying to kill someone up close and personal. The explosives strapped to this man’s body were small in size and, though Derek’s knowledge of explosives was limited, he believed the small pack of C4 explosives would provide just enough of an explosion to kill the vest-wearer and anyone within ten feet.
As Derek moved closer to the vest-wearer, the man slowly lifted his head, revealing his bruised and bloody features.
“Abdul,” Derek whispered, then shouted, “Abdul!”
The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3) Page 5
