Election Day: A Harry Cassidy Novel

by Henry Hack

  * * *

  Walt Kobak, watching Red Baker on the television set in the den of his Maryland townhouse, turned to his wife and began to rise from the sofa. Before he could say a word, Louise Kobak said, “I know, dear. You have to go into the office and you have no idea when you’ll be home.”

  He smiled and said, “I could be home sooner than you think. If this thing turns out half as bad as Baker made it sound, Nelson may fire me for sure this time.”

  Things did turn out very bad indeed – twenty-seven dead including five congressmen on the Minutemen’s list. Eighty-four more were injured in varying degrees. The President again did not take to the airwaves. He did not fire Walt Kobak. He did not even call him. No one in law enforcement had any ideas how to stop the Minutemen, which did not stop Red Baker from blasting them viciously in his next broadcast.

  John McKee, who with the other members of the Task Force were watching Red Baker’s broadcast, yelled at the TV screen, “Fuck you, you rotten drunk!” John threw his half-filled coffee container at the TV striking Baker’s image square on the nose.

  “Good shot, John,” Alicia Johnson said. “Glad you weren’t using the ceramic mug.”

  They all relaxed a bit silently acknowledging John’s and their frustration with the situation. And deep down, they were forced to acknowledge the correctness of Baker’s accusations. They felt powerless and had no clues to the whereabouts of the Minutemen.

  Joe Ramos said, “I just got word from ADIC Negron that Senator Hanlon and three congressmen are going to speak at a high school auditorium in Queens in two weeks. Their tone will be defiant and they will attempt to turn this tide of defecting politicians with their speeches. The cardinal of the archdiocese of New York will join them and also speak.”

  “That will be a major security challenge,” Danny Boyland said, “and a choice target for the Minutemen.”

  “Which is why the security detail will be heavily beefed-up and will include all of us. If the Minutemen choose to attack, we have to win the fight. We have to kill and capture as many as we can.”

  “I hope they keep the publicity on this to a minimum,” George Washington said.

  Joe Ramos shook his head and said, “The ADIC got his information from the New York Post. It’s possibly all over the networks and cable news channels right now. We could probably see it if our TV screen wasn’t covered with Inspector McKee’s coffee.”

  * * *

  As soon as Minuteman Jonathan Tuttle finished reading the article in the Post, he placed a call to Dennis Nolan and informed him of its contents. As soon as he hung up, Dennis rounded up the other Committee members and passed on the information saying, “This may be our next big chance. If we can get in there and take out this group, I believe the majority on our list will fold their tents and head for the hills.”

  “I agree,” Chris Steadman said. “But how do we attack this school? Send all our field troops to New York? They are sure to shut this site down with all they have.”

  “Let’s get the four guys we sent to New York who took care of Brennan,” Colonel O’Grady said. “They know the area well.”

  When the four joined the Committee a few minutes later, Chris passed around the letter for them to read. When they finished, he asked, “Any ideas?”

  The face of the Minuteman known as Herman the German lit up in a big, bright grin and he said, “Oh yeah, I have a great idea. Let me call a good friend of mine from Queens, a friend who has probably been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

  * * *

  Harry Cassidy had been troubled ever since the massacre at the Actor’s Guild Auditorium in Los Angeles. They had killed too many people to justify taking out the five targets on their list. Not to mention the scores of injured, two of whom recently died. It seemed as if they were upping the ante quite a bit and the article he had just read in the paper sent a tremor through his body. What a perfect target for the Minutemen! A senator, three congressmen and the cardinal of New York. He wondered how the Task Force was reacting to, and preparing for, this event. He reached for the phone, touched it, and then withdrew his hand. He was not in the game, he reminded himself. He turned to the sports pages.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Christopher Steadman waited until Herman Muntz left the room before he said, “I’m concerned.”

  “About this operation?” asked Dennis Nolan.

  “Yes, and about recent events.”

  “We’re listening, Chris,” said O’Grady with a smile. “Get it all out there.”

  “Okay. First, about Red Baker. I know he is doing a great job for us and that Triple N has dramatically increased their viewership thanks to him….and us. But I don’t like the way he is baiting law enforcement. That could really work against us.”

  “How?” asked Nick Santucci. “I mean he is a known cop-hater, but no matter what he says, he’s not giving any secrets away.”

  “I know, but what if he stirs up Harry Cassidy?”

  “Chris,” O’Grady said, “I think you are a bit paranoid about Cassidy. Remember, he does agree with us.”

  “Yes he does, but I still am concerned he may be dragged into the fight. The fact that we took out the FBI guys and the collateral damage in L.A. may not sit well with him.”

  “I think your fears are unfounded,” Charles Knorland said. “He is still on the sidelines as far as we know.”

  “Why not call Phil MacDonald again and see what he knows?” suggested Nolan.

  “I will. My other concern is this upcoming event in New York. Herman and Jeremy are going to reach out for help from his friend in Queens. Who is this friend? What are his motives and capabilities? Can Herman control the operation?”

  “Good strategic and tactical questions,” O’Grady said. “After Herman establishes contact, let’s get him back in here to answer those questions.”

  “Any more concerns, Chris?” Santucci asked.

  “Not right now.”

  “Good,” O’Grady said. “I’ll go talk to Herman and tell him to come back in here only when he’s ready with answers and a tentative plan.”

  Two hours later, Herman and Jeremy came into the Committee’s conference room. Chris, having called Phil MacDonald in their absence, was feeling better based on Phil’s assurances that Harry was still not involved in the law enforcement effort. “If he was,” Phil had said, “I’d better have a case of scotch sitting on my front porch or on its way to me.”

  “So tell us Herman,” Chris said. “Tell us all about your friend and your plan.”

  “My friend is William Stutzer. He’s a hater of everyone who is not white, Christian, and a right-winger. He is the branch chairman in New York of a biker group known as The Brothers in White. They have plenty of firepower stolen from the military including RPG’s, stun, smoke and fragmentation grenades, and fully-automatic rifles. They also have a big Humvee, painted white, and re-enforced with steel plates and bullet-proof windows.”

  “What the hell are they preparing for, World War Three?” Knorland asked.

  “No, the Second Revolution, which they see we are beginning,” Herman said.

  “What’s the plan?” O’Grady asked.

  “They are scouting out the location now,” Jeremy said.

  “And the security detail hasn’t been there yet and probably won’t be for a couple more days,” Herman said. “When they get back to me with their assessment, we’ll start work on the plan. Then I think Jeremy and I should fly out there immediately to size up the target ourselves.”

  “I agree,” Chris said. “We have ten days until the rally. Let’s get the plan right.”

  * * *

  The three defiant New York congressmen who refused to back down and quit their races were a model of strength and courage not only to their constituents in Brooklyn and Queens, but to all the citizens in the state. They hoped their steadfast position would also bolster the flagging wills of their fellow politicians. US Senator James Hanlon, also on th
e hit-list, had been so impressed that he volunteered to join them at the podium.

  The three congressmen were Jewish and of the Never Again mind-set, which had engendered support from not only their own faith, but from the Christian faiths as well. Thus the promised appearance of Cardinal Shanahan, with prominent rabbis from the city, was a well-appreciated show of strength, support and determination against the tactics of the Minutemen.

  Their courage, however, had made their police protection extremely difficult. Even new Mayor Sidney Kroger had implored them to turn down their heated rhetoric on previous speaking engagements and to minimize the advance notice of their appearances. All three had refused to budge and chided the Mayor, a fellow liberal Jew, for his lack of backbone. Kroger responded by having his police commissioner contact them again to no avail. And when Charlie Carson told them that appearing together was a particularly bad idea, Congressman Westman said, “That should allow you to concentrate your guys from three locations to one. Shouldn’t that make your task easier?”

  “Good observation Congressman, but in this case, no. That high school and grounds are a lot bigger than the ordinary public schools. My guys and the FBI agents will be spread out thinner than usual because the number of other targets who will be in the city during that period will be much higher than normal.”

  “I’m sure we will be fine,” Westman said. “Your department and the FBI have done wonderfully, so far. We all appreciate it.”

  “Well, obviously I cannot dissuade you from going through with this,” Carson sighed, “so give the bastards holy hell.”

  “You know we will, and so will the rabbis. And I’m sure the cardinal can muster up some fire and brimstone, too.”

  * * *

  After reviewing Stutzer’s faxed notes on the target location, Herman and Jeremy flew out to New York to meet with him. They chose two of the cleanest looking members of the biker group to join them for the next two days in surveilling the inside and exterior of Cardinal Cooke High School. Posing as delivery men and casual strollers, they were able to piece together an accurate location of the auditorium and the perimeter for entrances and exits.

  During this summer recess there were only a few personnel in the entire building, but one elderly uniformed security officer challenged Jeremy’s presence with the words, “Hey bro, where do you think you are going?”

  Noticing the company patch on the officer’s uniform, Jeremy said, “Brother, I’m from the head office of Protect-All and I’m checking out how many more guys we’ll need for the big affair coming up.”

  “I don’t know, Boss,” the officer said. “The cops and Feds are gonna be here in a couple of days. Maybe you should hook up with them.”

  “I certainly will…uh, Mullins,” he said squinting at the faded nameplate above the officer’s left front pocket. “Now, could you show me around the place?”

  “My pleasure,” the beaming Officer Mullins said. “Follow me.”

  * * *

  Five days before the rally at Cardinal Cooke High School, while the NYMPD and FBI’s security plans were still in their infancy, the Committee approved the attack plan put forth by Herman and Jeremy. It would be a lightning strike designed to take out only the four left-wing politicians with minimal, if any, collateral damage – a smash-through, machine gun fire and a quick withdrawal.

  The plan should work if everyone stuck to his role as detailed at the last meeting in the headquarters of the Brothers in White. William Stutzer shook hands with Herman and Jeremy and the three raised their steins of beer to forty bikers in the room, “To victory!” Stutzer shouted.

  They all raised their steins, bottles and cans and shouted back, “To victory!”

  Herman thanked them and said, “Jeremy and I will be at a nearby motel and in contact with Will. Until the big night, I wish you all pleasant dreams of a glorious triumph.”

  They all drank again and shook hands all around. After Herman and Jeremy left the building, Stutzer motioned his two lieutenants to join him in his office. Will Stutzer had been given the opportunity of a lifetime. He had no intention of following this pansy-assed limited strike plan – no intention at all.

  Although Stutzer had been born a Roman Catholic, he long ago abandoned that faith for that of the white supremacists. He answered to no god and hated those persons who sympathized with Jews, Blacks and liberals, as much as, or perhaps more, than the Jews themselves. So excited was he by the prospect of killing three prominent Jews, a senator, and a cardinal, he requested and received fifty additional members from the New Jersey and Connecticut chapters of the Brothers. They would attack with almost a hundred heavily armed men, metal-plate reinforced jeeps and trucks, and army ordnance which had been stolen and stockpiled over the past few years.

  The observation of the school revealed that the auditorium where the speeches would be made was an added-on structure attached to its western side. The windows were low, their bottoms just three feet above ground level. The wall beneath the windows consisted of standard construction with brick facing. About seventy-five yards from the wall, across a grassy sports field, the outer perimeter of the grounds was bound by an eight-foot high chain-link fence. There was a pair of gates in the fence secured by a chain and padlock that opened onto the adjacent street. They would cut the lock, open the gates and charge across the field in armored vehicles right through the auditorium wall. More men would follow on motorcycles and cars, and after they accomplished their mission, they would leave the same way. The RPG’s would probably not be necessary, but would be brought along just in case.

  Stutzer figured that a very strong law enforcement contingent would be assigned to the rally. This bothered him not at all – in fact he relished the thought of taking out as many hated cops as he could if they dared stand in his way.

  * * *

  The night before the August 3 event Harry picked up the phone and dialed Lizzy.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you. Is everybody geared up for tomorrow night?”

  “You bet, including yours truly.”

  Harry’s heart sank a bit toward his stomach and he said, “You’re going to be at the high school?”

  “Yes, along with a few hundred other agents and cops. We’ve been planning hard the last few days.”

  “Where will you be stationed exactly?”

  “I don’t know yet, but Pete told me the Task Force, including John McKee, will be stationed inside. The FBI on-site supervisor is Mark Negron’s right hand man, and both the Queens’ patrol and detective commanders will also be there to supervise the NYMPD contingent.”

  Harry relaxed a bit as he thought of the extensive coverage to be in place and he said, “I guess the powers that be don’t want another incident, the election is only about three months away.”

  “That’s what I understand. Supposedly the word came straight down from the President to Walt Kobak and Commissioner Carson personally that they must draw a line in the sand, and this was the time and place to do it.”

  “I’m sure the Minutemen would be foolish to try anything with that measure of protection, but in any case you be careful out there. Wear that body armor.”

  “Ugh! On a steamy New York August night. But it will be on. That and a bunch of other orders have been drummed into my head these past few days.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you on television. The networks will be there carrying the speeches live.”

  “Yeah, and I hear they are being a pain in the ass security-wise.”

  “They always are, my dear. Good luck out there tomorrow, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Uh, you still sitting this one out?”

  “That I am. No one has called me lately.”

  “Maybe they are waiting for you to call them.”

  “Let’s hope the Minutemen are through with their killing. Maybe the strong police presence will work to convince them they cannot get to any more of the
ir targets.”

  “I hope so, too. Bye.”

  * * *

  At 4:00 p.m., Herman Muntz placed a telephone call to Stutzer and asked, “All set?”

  “All set.”

  “Good, we are going to grab an early dinner then stroll by the place and see what we can see. I’ll get back to you with whatever we observe.”

  “Ain’t nothing you’re going to see that’ll stop us now.”

  “I’m sure you’re correct, my friend. I’ll call you around seven one way or the other.”

  After a somewhat heavy dinner of sauerbraten at Herman’s favorite German restaurant in the Middle Village section of Queens, Herman and Jeremy decided to walk the mile and a half to Cardinal Cooke High School to aid their digestion. When they turned a corner for the final one block walk, their path was blocked by two heavily armed NYMPD police officers who stood on the sidewalk. Their patrol car was in the middle of the street, lights flashing blue and red.

  “Where are you two going?” one cop asked.

  “To the high school for the rally,” Herman said.

  “Do you have tickets?”

  “No.”

  “It’s already a sell-out.”

  “Any chance of hearing the speeches outside the building, like on speakers?” Jeremy asked.

  “I don’t know,” the cop replied.

  “Can we get there and see for ourselves?” Herman asked.

  “Sure,” the other cop said, “but you have to produce identification and allow us to thoroughly search you for weapons.”

  Herman and Jeremy looked at each other and shrugged. Herman said, “Sure, Officers. No problem.”

  They produced New York driver’s licenses with phony names and non-existent addresses which one officer copied down on a yellow pad while the other one thoroughly searched them. As they were given the go-ahead to proceed Herman said, “Guess you guys have to really pull out all the stops for this one tonight?”