The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3)

by Phelps, T Patrick

  “So,” Nikkie said as she waved towards the waitress, “how’s your week going?”

  What started as a quick release of tension-laden laughter, evolved into a tear evoking, belly laugh. “I’d say this week is one for the record books. On the bright side, however, I haven’t been shot, pushed down a flight of stairs or beat up.”

  Nikkie gently touched Derek’s chin and pulled his face so that she could look into both of his eyes. “That bruise happen all by itself?”

  “That, believe it or not, was part of a plan. Let me catch you up to speed.”

  “Mind waiting for my drink and our guest to arrive? I don’t want you to have to repeat yourself.”

  “Guest,” Derek said. “Don’t tell me Crown is joining us.”

  “Fortunately for us,” Nikkie said. “Crown doesn’t like the city. Detective Patrick Connor should be here any second now.”

  As if on cue. Patrick Connor approached the booth, shook Derek’s hand then sat across from Derek and Nikkie.

  “Last time I saw you,” Connor said, “we were wiping the remains of Abdul off your face. What have you been up to since?

  “Not too much, You know, same old same old.”

  The waitress brought Derek another scotch, took drink orders from Nikkie and Connor, then left the three alone.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning. The real beginning. Not the story you told me in the midtown station.”

  ***I***

  By the time Derek had finished telling Patrick and Nikkie the details of his last few days, the August sun had set, and the dinner crowd filled the small, midtown tavern. As he spoke, Patrick asked questions while Nikkie took notes.

  “So,” Nikkie said after Derek’s conversation seemed to reach an end, “Juan Cortez never got back to you after you left the diner in Connecticut?”

  “Right.”

  “And, Crown didn’t discover any information from her FBI hack that suggested that he had been apprehended?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Wait a minute,” Patrick said. “What do you mean Crown’s FBI hack?”

  “She found a cross tension point. I have no idea what that means, but she was able to get into the Columbus FBI office’s news stream.”

  “I think you mean a cross attenuation point. And, you know that hacking a governmental network is highly illegal?”

  “Figured it was, but you have to know Crown to understand how little she probably cares about staying on the good side of the government.”

  Their attention was pulled away from discussing how Crown would crumble whichever Federal penitentiary she would be sent to if her actions were ever discovered by Derek’s vibrating iPhone that was placed in the middle of the table.

  “Speak of the devil,” Derek said, flashing the phone to Nikkie and Patrick. “Crown must have known we were talking about her.”

  “That may not be a joke,” Nikkie said. “She probably bugged us somehow.”

  Derek answered the phone, smiled, then placed the phone back in the middle of the table.

  “Can you all hear me?” Crown said through the speaker phone.

  “Yes. Loud and clear.”

  “Knowing that you’re all not a bunch of shit-headed idiots, I assume that you’re not in a public place, like, I don’t know, a midtown tavern in the heart of Manhattan?”

  “Well, actually…”

  “Finish your drinks, shove a few nachos into your faces, and call me back when you’re in a private area. Don’t make me wait long. I may actually have something better to do than to sit around in the office and talk with you three.”

  ***I***

  Derek, Nikkie, and Patrick Connor sat huddled around a small table in the corner of a Sheraton Hotel lobby. Though the lobby was busy with guests milling about, none seemed at all interested in the three.

  “Okay Crown,” Derek said, “we can talk now.”

  “Have you filled Nikkie and Detective Connor in on everything that has happened so far?”

  “I have,” Derek said.

  After asking some questions to Patrick and Nikkie, Crown was satisfied that Derek had given them every last bit of important detail. She then proceeded to fill Nikkie and Patrick Connor in on everything she had discovered. Once she was happy with their retention of details, she turned things back over to Derek. “So what mastermind plan have you three come up with?”

  “Patrick is going to inform his captain about what I’ve discovered,” Derek started. “His captain will inform the FBI.”

  “And if what Derek is thinking is accurate,” Connor said, “the NYPD will be instructed to pull all uniforms and presence from a one or two block radius of the tavern. They either will want to take Aahill out themselves or…”

  “Or let Kevin Washington blow himself and everyone in that tavern up to Allah,” Nikkie said.

  “If no such issue is given, then we will have the full force of the NYPD on the streets to prevent any bombings.”

  “But we have to assume, based on everything that we’ve experienced so far, that the FBI won’t be asking anyone, let alone the NYPD to assist. So,” Derek said, “we need to stop Kevin in case the FBI chooses not to.”

  “There’s a problem with that,” Connor said. “The agents will be on the lookout for Aahill as well as for you and me. If they see you casing the area, they will pick you up.”

  “And if they do allow Aahill to carry out the bombing, they will probably need to shut you up as well,” Nikkie commented. “We have no idea just how high this corruption, if there actually is any corruption, goes. If Aahill is allowed to detonate, they will do whatever they can to keep things quiet.”

  “I can’t believe that every agent on the case is involved in a possible cover-up. No way,” Derek said.

  “You’re probably right, but it only takes a few high-ranking officers to pull this off. Look at what happened to Henderson. Based on what Crown is finding out, the FBI is making him out to be a traitor to the country. Unless we are completely wrong about everything, Henderson was just doing his job.” Patrick Connor sighed deeply. He had been involved in his fair share of corruption during his 16 years with the NYPD, but nothing that even came close to what he was involved in with this case. “And the thing that we haven’t considered yet, is even if we are able to stop Aahill, there’s probably a dozen other Muslims lined up behind him, ready to take his place in the express line to 72 virgins in Heaven.”

  “Not every Muslim is a terrorist, Detective.” It was the way Nikkie said it that gave both Patrick and Derek pause. “That’s right, I’m a black woman whose father was a Muslim. Think you have challenges overcoming stereotypes?”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Patrick said. “It’s just that the only terrorists we seem to be fighting around the world are Muslims. I don’t believe that all Muslims are terrorists or potential terrorists.”

  “My father was a Muslim from Syria,” Nikkie continued. “He and my mother met in the 80’s when my mom was in Syria for her job. My father was a teacher at the University, teaching, believe it or not, History of Religion, and my mom worked for an international IT Services company as a project lead. Her company won some big contract to refresh the University’s entire fleet of servers, workstations and printers. Same old story: they meet, fall in love, get married and live happily ever after. The only problem, my mom is an Anglo-Saxon Christian, and my dad, a black Muslim.

  “They were married for around 7 years, bouncing between Syria and my mom’s hometown of San Diego when I entered the scene. I spent most of my early years in San Diego, but visited Syria every couple of months. My dad’s visa got pulled after some of the professors in my dad’s university were accused of funding a terrorist organization in Palestine. Never knew why my father’s visa was pulled but, according to my mom, everything changed after he got put on a list of terrorist supporters.

  “I was 13 when 9/11 happened. My memories are a bit cloudy but I remember hearing my mom talking to my dad on the ph
one, saying that everything would be different now. That he needed to find a way to get out and maybe they could start a life together in Europe. What I didn’t know was that my father was very active in the counter-radical Islam movement. He had moved to Palestine and devoted his days working with troubled youths, trying to prevent them from being recruited by the terrorist group du jour. I guess my mom was afraid that something bad would happen to him with the rise of al Qaeda and how my dad wasn’t afraid to make his work and beliefs public.

  “The last time I spoke with my dad, I was 22 years old. Just graduated with a degree in Criminal Justice and International Relations from UCLA and was being recruited by the CIA, FBI and a few private firms. I remember telling him how excited I was about my future. The last thing he said to me was that he was proud of me and that I should never forget that people are all too willing to surrender liberties and personal freedom for the illusion of security. He told me that justice is an absurd concept since it means vastly different things to different people and that the only justice that I should focus on is the justice that allows people to live their lives without the forced intrusion, demands or expectations of those with power.

  “My father was beheaded in a public street in Palestine. His crime was blasphemy. My mom and I never found out who sentenced him to death or who carried out the execution. All we received was an email with a disturbingly graphic photo of my father’s body, along with a note from someone who my mom thought was once a friend of his. His friend told us about my father’s crimes and that he shamed Allah and all of Islam and that he received justice.”

  Nikkie called over the waitress, ordered another gin martini then sat in the shared silence of the table. After several seconds, it was Derek who spoke.

  “You know,” he started, “I didn’t know that I had hired you. Crown called me a couple of days ago and let me know that you were now part of the team. I still have no idea what I’m paying you, but, whatever it is, I’m sure I got you at a bargain. I’m sorry for what happened to your dad, and I’m sorry if we’ve been grouping all Muslims into the same category.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nikkie said, her smile, genuine. “We have a problem with those that have hijacked this religion. No one doubts that. At least, no one who is willing to face facts and be honest about things. In my opinion, and this is just my opinion, our religious leaders had better step up and make a very public stand against radical Islam, or we may be facing a whole new problem.”

  “What problem are you talking about?” Derek asked.

  “Look at Germany during the second world war. Very few Germans were actually part of the Nazi party, but nearly everyone in the world grouped all Germans into the same boat as the Nazis. Same thing is happening with the Muslim religion. We have around five percent of Muslims who follow a radical Imam and subscribe to radical beliefs, but the majority of the world’s population secretly holds ill feelings against all Muslims. And some aren’t so secret about how they feel about us. People are afraid to offend a Muslim for fear of what might happen as a result. Believe me, I’ve heard many people saying that the US and World Leaders should turn the entire mid-east into a parking lot. In other words, kill every one, and let God sort them out. That means killing a whole lot of peaceful people who wish they could practice their religion in peace.

  “Most of my friends and family pray every night to see the day when people of all religions worship side by side. But every time a bomb blows up and kills people somewhere in the world, that dream gets less and less likely.”

  “To me,” Derek said, “this is all building up to something that won’t be good. I get the feeling that a Holy War is in the making. The world against the Muslims.”

  “It’s happened before,” Nikkie said. “And you’re right, things are moving towards that direction. See, the more alienated Muslims feel from non-Muslims, and the more people group all Muslims into the same ‘Nazi-like’ bucket, the less choices Muslims will have. Unless things change, Muslims will feel that the only choice they have is to join the Jihad.”

  “Not sure if I agree,” Patrick said. “Nothing against Muslims, but from what I’ve seen, governments bend over backwards to make sure that they don’t say or do anything to offend Muslims. A terrorist group blows up a bus, and government leaders say it was extremists that were responsible. They say this despite the fact an Islamic group proudly claims responsibility.”

  “I think that governments do that because they are afraid of publicly joining the words ‘Islamic’ and ‘terrorists’ together. The more people hear those two words being used together, the more Muslims will begin to believe that the world is against them. Everyone knows the religion of these terrorists, and so does every Muslim in the world. The challenge is trying to prevent all Muslims to associate themselves with terrorism and terrorists groups.”

  “What scares the crap out of me,” Crown said, her voice startling Derek, Nikkie and Patrick who had forgotten that they were still on a live call, “is that this Aahill was once Kevin Washington, and it seems like he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Those shit-headed terrorists preyed on him, duped him into believing a line of bull and, unless something happens, have him primed and ready to blow himself up in a crowded Manhattan bar. That’s what scares the shit out of me. How many more Kevin Washington’s are there out in the world?”

  “That is a disturbing thing to think about,” Derek said. “Based on the little I know about Kevin and his family, he was raised by parents who went to work every day, strived for their version of the American dream, raised their kid as best they could and were happy when their kid seemed happy. Sounds like the majority of American families.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” Nikkie said. “Kevin’s parents just gave up on him. They probably recognized that their son had some issues and didn’t hold out much hope for him. Kevin probably went home after meeting Badr and was confident and happy. His parents were probably just happy that their son seemed to find something that gave him direction. Hard to blame them without knowing all the details.”

  “And unless we not only stop Kevin, but also prevent the FBI from killing him, we’ll probably never find out the truth about his family.”

  “Nikkie,” Patrick said, “ I don’t suppose you have any solutions to the world’s problem with radical extremists?”

  “Sure,” Nikkie said, a smile filling her face, “but my solution will never work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let me ask you, Detective. How effective are your anti-gang groups?”

  “How good at what? Arresting gang members?”

  “At eliminating them?”

  “Not very good at all. I’m not a part of the gang task force, but from what I’ve heard, gang membership is increasing all over the country. We save a few kids here and there, but we lose more every day.”

  “And what causes a young man or woman to join a gang?”

  “Again, not my field of expertise but I’d say they join a gang for protection. If the neighborhood they live in is controlled by a gang, then they either join or risk whatever consequences the gang has for people who don’t join.”

  “Close, but you’re missing a few things. First, young people join a gang because they feel they have no viable future in the world. A gang offers them companionship, a sense of belonging, a massive dose of feeling important and, believe it or not, a future. People think that only bad kids join gangs; that a gang is filled with losers who, even if they didn’t join a gang, are destined for a life of poverty and crime. But that’s not true. There are geniuses among their ranks. Kids with enormous talents and potential. But, these kids couldn’t find hope outside of a gang. So, they choose the safety of belonging over a life of limitless hardships and disappointments. They know that joining a gang is a horrible thing to do, but they feel that joining will at least give them something.

  “Some join out of fear. Some fear for their own safety or the safety of their families, and some fear the r
etaliation if they don’t join. You’ve seen the images of terrorists parading into a town, gathering up men and small boys and executing them in horrible ways. And you’ve heard that women and girls are taken as sex slaves. Imagine the fear that people feel. It’s no wonder many join a terrorist group so that they don’t face the same fate as so many others.

  “People think that we need to be more tolerant and that tolerance will make things better. But tolerance is only good when the people you are showing tolerance for are prepared to show tolerance towards you. With the case of radicals, tolerance is a scream that has no echo.”

  “So, your solution?” Derek asked.

  “Eliminate poverty. Eliminate barriers that keep people in the same life-conditions as their parents. Young Muslims join the Jihad, not out of some divine calling, but rather out of desperation. When you have nothing, you have few reasons to stay in a life that promises only more of the same. These radical groups are gangs who follow their interpretation of the divine. The more rigid the rules of membership are, the more attractive these groups are. People join because they instantly feel significant, powerful and, in the case of these Jihadist groups, holy.

  “It is not the Muslim religion that is so radical; it is the leaders of these gangs. Power-hungry people with incredible charisma.”

  “I don’t like the chances of us ever ending poverty,” Derek said. “Jesus said that we will always have the poor.”

  “And we always will. And we will always have people who want to take advantage of others. There will always be those who thrive on power, who see more value in owning something than in human relations. You ever watch the show, ‘Game of Thrones?’”

  “One of my favorites,” Patrick said.

  “Same thing has been going on for all of humanity’s existence. The lust for power and to advance a belief system. The poorer people are, the easier it is for those with power to exploit them. And once the wrong people are in power, all it takes is to change what the young citizens are learning and....Bam! You have yourself an army of people radicalized to do whatever they are told. Not because they think it is the right thing to do, but because they either don’t know any other option or don’t believe any other option is open for them.”