by Henry Hack
“There are only three cops I ever liked or trusted and two of them – Bill Kelly and Mike Cassidy – are dead. The third one, Mike’s nephew Harry, is retired and out of the picture. Maybe if I give him a call he can steer me in the right direction.”
“Okay, do it now.”
Back as his desk, Red manually flipped through his ancient rolodex, refusing to cede that function to the infernal computer. He knew Harry had been let go from Sheldrake from their last conversation, so he dialed his cell number. When Harry answered Red said, “How have you been you old has-been beat cop?”
“Red Baker, you old cop-hater. To what do I owe this honor?”
“Believe it or not, I want your advice. Shut up and listen. I’ll give it to you quick.”
When Red had finished his rapid-fire summation, Harry said, “The FBI should get all that evidence. I can call Kobak.”
“I hate the Feds worse than the NYMPD.”
“Let’s get it right to Charlie Carson then.”
“You mean your current police commissioner, your protégé who stabbed you in the back to get your job?”
“Come on Red, you know that’s bullshit. The current mayor did me in. Charlie’s a real good, classy guy.”
“Okay, call him and set up a meeting for uh, intelligence sharing as you cop types say.”
“Meaning, I assume, your normal liquid lunch?”
“Yeah, and Carson will want to imbibe too, after he hears what I have to say. Make it after the lunch crowd leaves. Say the Sage Bar & Grill at 2:30?”
“Let’s hope Charlie’s available.”
“Oh, he’ll be available after you tell him what it’s about, but only tell him I might have some info on the murders.”
Harry disconnected from Red and mulled over the situation. He had followed the murders and bombings with great interest. He could find no fault in the targets and tactics of the Minutemen. No collateral damage was a big plus. Could they actually do it and turn the country around? The big question was, of course, what would the politicians do – cave in or fight back? And if they fought back they wouldn’t do it themselves, they would call on all his law enforcement brethren to do so. He truly hoped it wouldn’t come to that, thinking of his FBI daughter.
Harry didn’t like keeping Charlie in the dark, but it was Red’s show. Let him tell it the way he wanted to. He dialed Carson’s private number. Charlie picked up halfway through the first ring and when Harry said, “Hi Charlie,” he responded “Holy Shit!”
“Excuse me?” Harry said with a chuckle.
“That’s why I answered the phone so fast, I was reaching for it to call you.”
“Well, here I am. What’s up?”
“Can you meet me for lunch?”
“We’re already set up at the Sage at 2:30.”
“What?”
“Red Baker called me to ask you to join us for a drink.”
“That old cop-hater? What does he want from me?”
“He wants nothing. Only to give you some information which he claims to have on the murders and bombings.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Charlie said. “I’m getting my balls broken by the mayor over Aronson’s murder every minute.”
“Well, let’s see what the old drunk has to say. Oh, why were you reaching out to me?”
“Tell you when I see you at the Sage. Gotta run now.”
“Hey, wait. Let’s get there at 1:30 so we can eat and chat a bit before Red shows up.”
“Good idea. I need food before I try to match drinks with that friggin’ old drunk.”
* * *
Harry and Charlie both arrived at the Sage within a minute of each other and chose a corner booth where no one was within earshot. Over thick pastrami sandwiches and glasses of draft beer, the two old friends caught up with each other’s lives and the lives of their family and friends. When the chit-chat was over, Harry asked, “Are things as bad as I hear they are in the Department?”
“Yeah, and getting worse every day. The mayor is cutting back staff and money and now he’s really after me over Congressman Aronson’s unsolved murder.”
“Who’s working it?”
“Boyland and Webb from Nassau Homicide and half the Long Island FBI Office.”
Harry smiled and said, “Ah, Danny Boy and Spider Webb – two of the best.”
“That they are, but they aren’t getting anywhere on the investigation.”
“How about the other nine murders throughout the country?”
“Nada. They have no suspects either. Different guns were used in all ten cases.”
“Which probably means whatever group is doing this is pretty big. Any ideas from anyone yet?”
“No, maybe Red Baker will tell us.”
They sipped their after dinner coffee in silence awaiting Baker’s arrival. A couple of minutes before 2:30, Red walked in the door, spotted them and slid into the booth next to Harry as he motioned for the waiter.
“Hello gentlemen,” he said not offering his hand to shake.
They both said hello and Carson started to say something but Red held up his hand and said, “Drink, first,” telling the bartender he wanted a double Jameson’s on the rocks and a pint of Guinness to wash it down.
“I see you haven’t changed, you old Irish drunk,” Harry said.
“Why stop doing what I like at my age? And besides, when you two see what I have to show you, you’ll be wanting a whiskey or two yourselves. Here, read this one first,” he said withdrawing a letter from his inside coat pocket and handing it to Harry.
“Let me get out and sit next to Charlie so we can read it together.”
After they read the letter Charlie said, “What do you think, Red? Does this make you believe these guys – the Minutemen – are responsible for the murders and bombings?”
“Hard to say based on that one, but wait till you read this one,” he said, dumping the second letter and the evidence items on the table.
When Charlie and Harry finished their reading and examination of the items, Charlie said, “Holy crap, I’ll have that Jameson’s now.”
“Me too,” Harry said.
“I could always use one more,” Baker said raising his hand to get the waiters attention.
“How long will it take to confirm the hair samples and the bomb chemicals are the real thing?”
“The quickest way would be to send all this to the FBI. They have been designated the lead agency on this investigation. We should get the results in a few days.”
“And of course, you will let me know those results right away, won’t you Mister Commissioner?”
“Well, Red, I….”
“My readers will be expectantly awaiting them.”
“Readers? You’re not going to publish these letters, I hope? My god Red, you can’t put this out there!”
“You fucking-ay bet these are going out there. This is the story of the century. You or your mayor or the President can’t stop us from publishing this. Remember the First Amendment?”
“Okay, let me get back and get the ball rolling.”
“By the way Commissioner, you are the only person in law enforcement I trust, and you’re the only one I want to deal with on this.”
“I’m flattered, but would you care to tell me why?”
“The only living cop I ever trusted is sitting right here with us. Harry Cassidy vouched for you 100%, and that’s good enough for me. You would be advised to keep him in the loop.”
“Red,” Harry said, “I appreciate your words, but I am out of the loop. I no longer have police powers.”
“Well, you can be an advisor to the commissioner here. Better yet, he can make you a deputy commissioner overseeing this caper.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Carson said. “I do have a DC position for domestic terrorism, and like a few other DC spots, they are open due to budget cutbacks.”
“I’m sure that even the asshole mayor of our fair city wouldn’t object to filling this on
e at this time,” Red said.
“I’ll ask him,” Charlie said, “assuming you want to do this, Harry?”
“Let me discuss it with Susan. She just landed some contract work with her old firm which should keep her in New York for a few months. We are seriously considering relocating.”
Baker and Carson both stopped sipping their drinks and opened their eyes wide in surprise. Red recovered first and said, “I never thought you would ever leave New York. What’s going on?”
“I’m unemployed and can’t find a job and Phil MacDonald has convinced me it’s the logical thing to do now.”
“Our former mayor?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, let me tell you what his feelings of the situation are.”
When he finished Charlie said, “It really doesn’t surprise me at all. I’ve heard similar remarks from the business community.”
“Hey,” Red said drinking the last mouthful of Guinness, “I got a column to write. And I assure you my business will be rolling in dough when I get this exclusive out there. And Charlie, don’t forget to call me as soon as the lab results come in.”
“Sure Red, after all, you brought them in.”
Red Baker smiled a rare smile and said, “I can see Harry was right about you, Commissioner.”
After Red left Harry said, “You really charmed that old donkey. Even got a smile out of the cantankerous cuss.”
“Thanks to you, old friend. Oh, you said Susan had employment for a few months?”
“That’s right.”
“So you’ll be in the city awhile too? You seemed reluctant about coming to work for me. Am I missing something here?”
“Retirement seems to be suiting me fine. The fire to jump into the fray no longer burns bright. I’ll be happy to sit this one out.”
“Okay, I’ll find out if that position can be filled and if so, I’ll give you a shout. You can decide for sure then.”
“I’ve already decided. I’m done.”
They shook hands and left the Sage. As Charlie Carson walked back to One Police Plaza, he wondered just what the hell was going on with his old friend. Harry had never ducked a fight before in his life. And Charlie, now faced with the biggest challenge so far in his tenure as police commissioner, needed that old friend and terrorist fighter – needed him bad.
Chapter Twelve
Mark Negron, assistant director in charge of the New York FBI field office, sat in Commissioner Carson’s office and had just finished reading both letters. He looked up and said, “I think you would agree I should get the letters and the evidence down to Washington forthwith.”
“That’s what I figured you’d want to do. Our chopper will be here in ten minutes to ferry you over to JFK.”
“Thanks, I’ll call Director Kobak and then get right to the airport.”
When Mark called Walt Kobak, Walt requested that the letters be faxed to him so they all could discuss them. As Walt was reading the letters, Mark called his office and directed Agent Joe Ramos, the supervisor now in charge of the Joint Terrorist Task Force, to respond to police headquarters with Mark’s overnight bag, which was always packed and ready to go. Walt finished reading the letters and asked Mark to put him on the speaker phone. He said, “Here we fucking go again!”
They smiled despite the seriousness of the situation and Charlie said, “I wanted Harry to come on board to assist on this and he politely turned me down.”
“He turned you down? What the hell did you offer him, a janitor’s job?”
“No, a deputy commissioner’s position for terrorism, assuming the mayor provides the budget for me to fill it.”
“I’m glad he turned you down. If Mayor Asshole goes for the bucks, put someone else in – John McKee immediately comes to mind. I need Harry down here with me. This is a nationwide case and he would be invaluable helping us lead the investigation.”
“What makes you think he’ll go to D.C. when he won’t work here where Susan is?”
“I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“Walt, money and fame do not motivate our friend any longer – if they ever did. He seems content to live in peace in retirement.”
“What a crock of bullshit! Cassidy never backed down from a fight in his life. I know him like a book. I’ll make him a federal agent with full police powers like we did for Pop Hunter.”
“Who is now dead at the hands of the Romens. Maybe that’s what’s on Harry’s and Susan’s minds. Pop and Vera never got a chance to enjoy the golden years together.”
“I still can’t believe it. Harry’s at least ten years younger than Pop was. He’s got a lot of fight left in him and we both know he is the man for the job. Let me have his cell phone number. I’ll call him after we finish here.”
“Well, I hope you have better luck than I did. Maybe there’s something else going on with him that he didn’t tell me. He seemed to be holding something back.”
“I’ll let you know how I make out with that tough, old beat cop one way or the other, but I’m positive I’ll be able to get him to come on board.”
* * *
“Hello there my old buddy,” Walt said when Harry answered his cell phone.
“And hello there to you, too, Mr. Director. How are you doing?”
“Oh, just fucking fine. As you know we have a new bunch of crazies out there killing people and blowing up property and threatening to do more. That’s all.”
“Piece of cake for a great terrorist fighter like you.”
“No, it’s not a piece of cake, but it could be an easier case to crack if the best terrorist fighter this nation has ever produced – I believe he is called Hopalong Cassidy – would mount up his beautiful white horse and gallop down to D.C. to join me in the fight.”
Harry felt the juices stir in his body as the urge to do just that began to rise to his brain, but he suppressed the feelings and said, “Thanks Walt, but I’m going to sit this one out.”
Walt Kobak couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t believe it when Charlie Carson told him of Harry’s decision, but here it was right from his lips. He said, “Before you tell me you are not a cop anymore, I’m prepared to swear you in as a federal agent with full nationwide police powers.”
“Just like we did for Pop, who’s now quietly resting in his grave.”
“Harry, I ….”
“Walt, I’m a grandfather now. Timmy is six months old already. I want to see him grow up to be a man. I want to dance at his wedding.”
“Are you telling me that you are afraid of dying? Of getting killed in a battle with these Minutemen jerks?”
“Yeah, I am. I was shot on two occasions and the first time I almost checked out. You remember that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, and I’d never think of you as a coward or afraid of a fight. But the very fabric of our nation is on the line here. If these guys succeed, our nation will be destroyed.”
“If these guys lose, Walter, my grandson will grow up a slave in a socialist state.”
Walt Kobak drew in a deep breath to convince himself he heard what he had just heard. Was Harry Cassidy rooting for the bad guys? When he regained his composure, he said, “Can you explain that comment?”
“Yes, I believe I can, but I don’t believe I have to. You are a bright, intelligent man. You know what’s going on in this country as well as I. And you know if the left-wing liberals achieve their super majorities in five months, this great nation is doomed.”
“But we’re in law enforcement, we are duty bound to….”
“No,” Harry interrupted, “you are duty-bound. I am not. I am Mr. Cassidy, private citizen of what I hope will continue to be the greatest country on the planet.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t crossed swords with that pompous, liberal jerk in the White House. I read what he’s doing to your manpower and budget. I read where he is imposing restraints on your crime fighting ability and investigative techniques
. Let me tell you something old friend, after the next election the FBI will be the enforcers of socialist dogma. The FBI, the BATF, and the IRS will be the new terrorists – and they will be unbeatable.”
“Wow, you sure said a mouthful there. I don’t think I ever heard you say that much in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Was I correct?”
“You just might be, but I hadn’t thought of the consequences of the next elections as you have. If that happens, I would not want to be a part of it. I would resign – if the pompous bastard doesn’t fire me first.”
“Don’t wait. Resign now. Charlie Carson is experiencing what you are experiencing. He’s about ready to throw in the towel.”
“Dammit! You make a convincing case, but we got killers out there….”
“They’ve killed ten specific targets and killed the leaders of the LFFJ. They have killed no wives or children – no collateral damage. If their demands are not met, they’ll probably kill more in the same manner. So far, I’m not upset.”
“What do you think those demands will be?”
“I don’t know,” Harry lied feeling terrible about it. “They said they’d communicate them to Red Baker after the Sentinel publishes the letters this Friday.”
“Three days away. Okay, I won’t bug you anymore. Let’s see how things pan out. But if things change, if these Minutemen get out of control, you’ll give me a holler, right?”
“Sure, and now I have a favor to ask.”
“Ask away.”
“When Joe Ramos puts the New York Task Force back together, as I’m sure he has figured out he will be ordered to do, I don’t want my daughter Lizzy assigned there.”
“Ah, Elizabeth Cassidy, one of my best and favorite special agents. Lizzy Cassidy, the embodiment of that one fearless crime fighter – her dear old dad. And burning with the fire and drive that once consumed her famous old man. She will be one pissed off agent if she is told that.”
“If?”
“Well, I can swing it – if you come down and join me.”
“You’d hold my daughter hostage on me?”
Walt had never heard so few words spoken with such venom to him by anyone, much less by an old friend. Oh, he had heard Harry say words in that tone to the Savior and to bin Yousef, but they had been his enemies. If he had any doubts about Harry’s convictions, those words erased them. He said, “Of course not, Hoppy. I’ll get the word to Mark Negron. But you know your daughter is one smart cookie. She’ll know exactly where it came from.”
