The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3)

by Phelps, T Patrick

  The driver raised his gun and emptied its magazine through the passenger’s window towards Juan Cortez. Satisfied, the driver sped away, knowing that a police chase would be severely delayed. He needed to get to Badr’s office quickly; more quickly than he had planned.

  ***I***

  It was cooler than he wished. Though he did not know if the temperature might alter the expected and desired-after effects, he believed the cool weather would keep people too comfortable. If it were warmer, even hot, more people would be out in the streets and more would escape the heat by going inside. Inside, where he needed them to be.

  He turned the key of his car to “on” and waited for the touch screen display of the 2010 Lincoln Navigator to jump to life. There were only two things that he cared about; the time and the temperature.

  “Sixty-eight degrees,” he sighed. “Too cool. Much too cool for August.”

  The display told him only that his time was drawing to an end, though it could not remind him that he still had a choice. A choice was something that he believed he still had. Though his thoughts were cloudy and his head fuzzy, having a remaining choice was something he knew.

  “How many more minutes until I am free,” he thought, intentionally trying to force the fuzziness from his mind.

  A cell phone sat beside him on the vacant passenger’s seat. Though he was sure the phone's signal would be strong and battery near full, he grabbed it, flipped it open and pressed a few numbers, grateful to hear the tones. He didn’t expect his mentor to call for another few minutes, making him wonder why he was instructed to arrive so early.

  But now he only sat, despising the time he had left to sit in the car, parked across the street from his selected target. Aahill scolded himself for questioning why his mentor insisted on the time of 5:46 pm and not the time that Aahill had suggested.

  “Allah, keep me strong in my thoughts,” he said with his eyes closed. “Keep me strong.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  It was Detective Patrick Connor’s idea to have Kevin Washington’s parents near the scene. They were well hidden from view, seated in the back of a nondescript van, parked over a hundred yards from the tavern. Beside the Washington’s, Patrick Connor sat, peering through the windshield.

  “I still think you have this all wrong,” Kevin’s mother said. “Kevin is no terrorist. My God, he’s too simple to be one of them.”

  “I hope I’m wrong, Mrs. Washington. But if not, we want to take him alive.”

  “And you think that seeing us will make him stop blowing himself up,” Dan Washington asked.

  “Hearing you through the loud speaker,” Connor replied. “We’re not going to put you or your wife in harm’s way.”

  “He ain’t got the balls to be blowing himself up, Detective. Not that I wish he did. Just saying you got the wrong kid.”

  The streets outside the van were getting crowded as people ended their work weeks and headed for home or to have a few drinks with friends. The busier the streets became, the more evident the police and the FBI’s presence became to Connor. He hoped the authorities presence was noticed only by his trained and knowing eyes, but when Dan Washington asked him why the hell so many cops and FBI agents were in the area and challenged Connor’s statement about trying to take his son alive, Connor realized he had been duped.

  “Get me far enough way to get a cell signal,” he said to the plain-clothed officer, charged with driving the van. “Now!”

  It took driving only one block away before Connor’s phone grabbed a signal. He dialed Derek Cole’s number.

  “Cole, it’s Detective Connor. We’re in the wrong location.”

  “I already know that,” Derek said.

  “What the hell is going on, Cole?”

  “I’m standing next to the car Aahill is sitting in. Outside a restaurant named the Green Dolphin. Juan is down, not sure if he’s dead or not. I’m going to end this.”

  “Cole, wait for me. I’m ten minutes away.”

  “I don’t really think waiting is an option. If things go well, I’ll be sitting in a Lincoln Navigator parked directly across from the Dolphin. If not, make sure that Henderson and Cortez’s names are cleared.”

  “Cole, do not get into that car with Aahill. Cordon off the area and stay the hell away from the car.”

  Detective Patrick Connor heard no reply from Derek.

  ***I***

  Aahill was startled when the passenger’s door opened and a man he’d never seen before sat beside him.

  “Who are you?” Aahill asked.

  “My name is Derek Cole and I’m here to help you, Kevin.”

  “My name is Aahill. Did Badr send you?”

  “Aahill,” Derek said as he noticed the bulk poorly hidden beneath the light jacket Aahill was wearing, “Badr doesn’t want you to do this. He doesn’t want people getting killed. He asked me to help you take the vest off and to get away from here.”

  “Badr is going to call me. I don’t know who you are. No one is going to get killed. Get away from me.”

  “Aahill, the vest you’re wearing. What do you think it’s for?”

  “It’s a ceefore vest. Like before but with a ‘C.’”

  There was an innocence in Aahill’s eyes. A towering void of hatred and anger.

  “It’s a bomb vest, Aahill. They expect you to walk into that restaurant and blow yourself up, killing everyone in the place along with yourself. I know you didn’t know what they were asking you to do. I read the letter you left for your parents about your name being written alongside the great men. But Aahill, there is no list of names. That was only a story Badr and the others told you. They want you to kill yourself and as many innocent people as possible. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what they’ve told you, Aahill. But I know what that vest will do if you don’t take it off and get away from this car.”

  “They told me that I was the chosen one. That I had to make the announcement.”

  “Who is here with you?” Derek asked.

  “Rehan. I dropped him off up at the corner. He said to pick him up after I’m finished.”

  “Hold on one second, Aahill. I need to call someone.”

  “Are you calling Badr?”

  “No, Aahill. Not Badr.”

  Derek dialed Nikkie’s cell and was relieved when she answered before the first ring completed its sound.

  “Are you fucking crazy? Get out of the car, Derek.”

  “Listen,” Derek said. “Aahill is fine. He dropped his observer off at the corner behind me. Aahill, what does Rehan look like?”

  “He’s very tall and skinny. He’s wearing a Yankees' hat,” Aahill said.

  “Nikkie, look for a tall, skinny man wearing a Yankee hat near the corner.”

  Nikkie walked closer to the corner, scanning the streaming line of people for anyone matching the description. “I don’t see anyone standing around and no one in the area that matches the description. Derek, get out of the car.”

  “Listen, call Detective Connor. Tell him what’s going on and get an ambulance over to Juan. I can’t see him from where I am, but I saw him get shot. Do it now, Nikkie.”

  The look of deeply etched confusion filled Aahill’s face. As Derek was talking to Nikkie, Aahill started to look closely at the vest strapped to his chest. He noticed, for the fist time, the wires plunged into the white clay looking bricks. He followed the wires to a cell phone that was heavily taped to the side of his vest. He then felt the padlocks holding the straps together.

  “It’s locked,” Aahill said when Derek ended his call.

  “What’s locked, Aahill?”

  “The vest. Rehan strapped it on me before we left my new apartment and the straps have padlocks on them. I think I want to take it off now.”

  Derek tore open Aahill’s jacket and inspected the vest. Aahill was right. The vest was held in place by three straps around Aahill’s chest and one strap that ran around his crotch. Derek counted two padlocks holding all four strap
s together.

  “Aahill, listen to me. Did Badr or Rehan tell you to push any buttons once you were inside the restaurant?”

  “No. Just to put the bag with the glass and water on the floor, make the announcement, then I could leave.”

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

  “The one inside the heavy suitcase in the back of the car.”

  Derek scrambled over the two rows of seats. In the back of the Navigator he saw a lead-colored briefcase. “Aahill,” he called without removing his eyes from the briefcase, “what’s in this briefcase?”

  “Glass and water. I have to open it up and take the black bag out and bring it inside with me.”

  The sound of a cell phone ringing filled the Navigator.

  “That will be Badr calling me,” Aahill said.

  “Don’t tell him I’m with you, Aahill,” Derek said as he moved back to the front seat. “Don’t tell him anything.”

  Aahill flipped open the phone, pressed the green button, then said “Hello?”

  ***I***

  “Okay Badr. I know what to do…two minutes?…okay….Yes, I remember what to say…He’s going to call me?…What should I say to him?…Okay…Two minutes…I know…Goodbye.”

  ***I***

  “I have to go inside now,” Aahill said, his eyes mixed with fear and excitement. “Badr’s mentor is going to call me, and I have to be inside when he calls.”

  “Aahill, don’t go inside. I need to get that vest off you, now.”

  “Don’t touch me, Derek. I don’t believe what you said. Badr told me that my name is going to be written on the list of great men, and you are nothing but an infidel. You’ll see. My name will be on that list.”

  As quickly and as powerfully as he could, Derek punched Aahill across the chin, then followed his first punch with several others until he was certain Aahill was unconscious. He then jumped out of the car and began waving his gun above his head, screaming that everyone needed to leave the area. He ran into the Green Dolphin and fired three shots into the ground. “Get out, now,” he yelled. “Back door or front door, doesn’t matter. Get out and get away from here.”

  Nikkie ran towards him, her gun also in full view. She fired three shots into the air, and echoed Derek’s demands. “Get away from the area. Run!”

  She ran towards the Navigator, glanced inside and saw that Aahill was slumped hard to his left. Opening the doors of each business on the street, she screamed “Get out of the area. There’s a bomb in that car!”

  At first, the people in the area were shocked and terrified at the sight of two people, running around the streets, guns firing and waving for all to see. Then the recent memories of the explosions in the city took hold, sending a clear message to their legs: Run!

  Derek tried to keep track of the seconds in his mind as he charged the area, screaming his alert and firing his weapon in the air. When his counting neared 100, he charged towards Nikkie, grabbed her arm and pulled her towards where he had seen Juan shot.

  “Run your ass off, Nikkie, Run!”

  ***I***

  “Stop,” Detective Connor screamed as the van began turning left. He could see Derek and Nikkie running from business to business, yelling at everyone in the area and firing their guns into the air. Connor jumped out of the van and bolted towards them.

  “Cole!” he screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the yells and screams of too many people running for safety. It was then that he noticed the Navigator with the passenger’s side door left open. He turned and motioned to the officer driving the van to pull away. Connor moved quickly towards the Navigator, adding his demands of evacuation to everyone in the area.

  He was no more than 20 feet away when he heard his name called.

  “Connor, get away. It’s too late. Get away!”

  He turned and began to sprint. Behind him, he could hear the short, high pitched sound of a cell phone’s ring. Then everything went dark.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  August 16, 2014

  It was much cooler than he expected. Though the calendar insisted that the date was August 16, the cool, brisk air suggested a much later date. Derek sat on the concrete steps of the NYC Public Library and was taken by how few people were milling about the area. Though Ahill’s planned attack was, for a large part, thwarted, the mood in the city was a palpable mixture of anger and fear.

  As Derek sat alone on the library steps, he sensed he was being watched. A quick glance revealed that his senses were right.

  “Nikkie thought that I would find you here.” Detective Patrick Connor’s right arm was held close to his body by a pale white arm sling. Bandages covered most of the right side of his forehead.

  “I’ve only known her a couple of hours and she already knows me. Either I’m predictable or she’s a damn good investigator.”

  “Probably a little of both,” Connor said as he sat beside Derek on the steps. “You two saved a lot of lives yesterday.”

  “Didn’t save everyone,” Derek said. “Once I saw how that bomb was strapped and locked to Kevin’s chest and saw that the cell phone was the remote trigger, I knew I couldn’t save Kevin. Probably should have tried to destroy the cell phone but I panicked.”

  “If the story you told me was accurate and Kevin was involved with the IUIEEO, even if you were able to save him, they have enough power and influence to have been able to get to him before he said one incriminating word to the Feds. He was dead either by his bomb or by his handlers.”

  “Pisses me off,” Derek said, “that they targeted him out because of his limitations. They took advantage of him because they knew he’d be an easy target.”

  “Listen,” Connor said, “you and I will never understand how terrorist groups think and behave. But at least we gained some understanding of their methods. I’m telling you Cole, stopping that bomb from killing hundreds may have save thousands. Millions, possibly.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know all the details but Tareef said in his speech something about the IUIEEO earning a status of its own State. What the Feds are thinking is that this attack was the first of many. Like this attack was intended to send a message that would start a row of dominos falling. Already heard that the CIA is picking up chatter about events all over the world. I’m not privy to what intel they are getting but I don’t think we’ve seen the end of Tareef and the IUIEEO.”

  “He must be the most wanted man in the world. I mean, the CIA and every other agency in the world must be looking for him.”

  “Not sure about that,” Connor said. “He never said anything about terrorist attacks and unless we find someone willing to talk, I highly doubt he left any tracks that lead back to him. Is he a wanted man? Absolutely but he has friends in high places and I have to believe that he has some serious dirt on a whole bunch of world leaders. My best guess is that someone somewhere will take him out sniper style but that he’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.”

  “So,” Derek said “can you tell me what we just went through?”

  “You want the version the press will be dishing out or my version?”

  “You seem like a trustworthy guy. Let’s hear your take.”

  “FBI shut us down pretty damn quick. By the time I woke up after Aahill exploded, the Feds were already assuming responsibility for the crime scene. What I do know is that you prevented a much more serious attack than what you probably believe.”

  “I saw that leaden suitcase in the back. Not sure what was in there but can’t believe it held anything good.”

  “Spent fuel rods. Best guess from the NYPD Terrorism Task force was that the bomb would have spread the radiation those rods were pouring out and made a huge and dangerous mess. It wasn’t going to be a nuclear explosion by any means but we think it was intended to be a message.”

  “What message?” Derek asked.

  “That whoever was really behind this whole plot has nukes or is in bed with a country that does.”
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  “Iran?”

  “That’s the popular belief,” Detective Connor said.

  The two men sat in silence, both considering the possible reality of a terrorist organization with nuclear capabilities. “Badr Irani was found dead in his office a few hours after the bombing,” Connor said, disturbing the silence. “38 caliber bullet right between his eyes.”

  “They find anyone else yet?”

  “Tareef Omar gave a speech at the UN right before Aahill played his role then was driven to JFK, hopped a private jet and is probably somewhere in Syria, Iran or Iraq by now. The Feds and the NYPD are scouring the area for clues but haven’t found anyone else to talk with yet. Give us time, we’ll come up with someone.”

  Derek’s iPhone’s vibrations captured his attention. He slid the “Accept” bar over the right, and answered the call.

  “Time to kiss Detective Connor goodbye. You and I need to talk,” the caller said.

  Derek recognized Juan’s voice immediately. He gestured to Detective Connor that he had to take this call.

  “Listen Cole, I have to head back to the station. Give me a call in a couple of days and I’ll fill you in. Great job, Derek. You’re always welcomed in my city.”

  As he watched Detective Connor walk away, Derek turned his attention to Juan Cortez. “I’d love to find out what exactly we just went through.”

  “And maybe someday you will. But someday is not today. And before you ask, it isn’t tomorrow, either.”

  “Unwanted nuisance,” Derek stated after a long pause.

  “I was hoping you figure that one out.”

  “Kind of risky to give me that big of a clue right in front of Henderson. Unwanted nuisance: U N. Bold move. Took me a while to put it together.”

  “Then I was right when I said that you aren’t all that smart, huh?” Juan joked.