FORGOTTEN

by Hastings, Gary

  “Phil Beck is now an Inspector out in Staten Island and is being considered for a bump up to Assistant Chief. Are you sure we need to stir-up this can of worms, Patty?”

  “We have no choice, Commissioner. Butelli was working on a sensitive case in the Kings County Court system when he died, and it involves some attorneys including one Daniel Pellegrino.”

  “The guy involved in the Rodriguez case?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s the one and the same.”

  Pat continued to fill in the commissioner and the chief on the other details of the case including the incident with Maggie. They both offered their support and agreed that Pat was proceeding appropriately.

  “Do you think there’ll be any press on this case, Patty?”

  “Not if I can help it. It needs to be under the radar screen as long as possible. It seems that the incident with Maggie Parker on our trip to DC was directed at me. They found some pictures of me and notes regarding my activities in the suspect’s Charger.”

  “Damn! Keep your head down, we need you, Patty.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I think we should go ahead and give you a protection detail. We can’t be too careful.”

  “I’d rather not, because I don’t want them to know that I realize I was the target. It may help us identify them and make a collar.”

  “I disagree, Patty, but I’ll trust your judgment and experience.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep you posted.”

  Chapter 21

  Wednesday, February 2 - Day 15

  Chief of Detectives’ Office - One Police Plaza

  Borough of Manhattan, New York

  1600 Hours

  Pat settled down in his office and signed the order transferring the investigative team to the Chief of Detectives on a temporary basis. He had no idea how long this investigation would take. At 1600 hours his phone rang.

  “Pat O’Connor.”

  “It’s Flannery, Chief. We have Margaret Butelli with us and are headed back to One PP.”

  “Great! How did you do it?”

  “We lucked up and saw her leaving the house. We waited until we were out of her neighborhood and did a car stop after determining she wasn’t being followed.”

  “I hope she understands the drama.”

  “She’s excited that something is finally happening with her husband’s case.”

  “Great! Just come to my office.”

  “Will do.”

  In 15 minutes, Bryan Flannery and Detective Mary McDonald came into Pat’s office with Margaret Butelli. Mary was an attractive redhead who had been one of the lead detectives in the Rodriguez case. She was tall and shapely and had proven herself to be a meticulous detective.

  Pat stood up and shook hands with Margaret Butelli.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Butelli, I’m sorry we’ve had to inconvenience you.”

  “It’s no inconvenience to me, Chief. I’m so pleased you’re looking into Forrest’s death.”

  “We share your concerns and also have some questions. When you and I talked earlier, did you tell anyone else about my trip to Washington, DC?”

  “Not a soul. My children don’t even know about your work yet.”

  “We have reason to believe your home phone or your entire home may be bugged.”

  “Oh my goodness! Why would anyone bug me?”

  Pat shared the story about what was found in the black Charger and also shared some of the inconsistencies and problems with the overall investigation. She was intently interested and wanted to help in any way possible.

  “What do you need me to do, Chief?” Margaret Butelli asked.

  “We need to sweep your house for bugs without tipping our hand. We’ll send an undercover team in disguised as a repair crew to conduct the sweep. If we find a bug we can leave it up and use it to find out who’s behind all of this.”

  “This is a little frightening, but I’ll do anything you say.”

  “We certainly appreciate it. It could be important.”

  “While you’re here, I think the detectives need to ask you some more questions that may help us with your husband’s case.”

  “I’ll be happy to answer any questions.”

  After shaking hands with Pat, Margaret Butelli was taken to the conference room to be interviewed further by Mary McDonald. Pat suggested that it might be a good time for Dickie Davis to complete the instrument from Dr. Cooper.

  Sitting at his desk with a fresh cup of coffee, Pat reviewed the entire case in his head. Cold cases were often difficult, but a cold case which had never been investigated as a homicide was especially difficult. There were so many unanswered questions. He hoped by tomorrow afternoon’s meeting, they would have more answers.

  Chapter 22

  Wednesday, February 2 - Day 15

  Mid-Town South Patrol Area

  Borough of Manhattan, New York

  1830 Hours

  Pat and Dickie left the garage at One PP and headed out for the 20 minute drive to Pat’s apartment. It was pouring rain and miserable. Dickie was talkative, and Pat knew he was enjoying actually working on a case instead of just being his driver.

  “That list of questions from Dr. Cooper was really interesting, Chief. I interviewed Margaret Butelli, and I could almost see from the questions that this case should’ve sent up red flags.”

  “I was impressed with the doctor’s insight. He seemed to have a passion for getting things right.”

  “That’s good. I’m sure he sees a lot of nut cases from the Secret Service.”

  “I’m not exactly sure about all he does, but I know suicide bombers are part of it. I think he probably evaluates the nut cases, as you called them, and makes a very educated prediction of the threats they pose to the President or other protectees.”

  “It was nice of the Secret Service to help us. I know you have connections.”

  “You think?” Pat joked, knowing his relationship with Maggie Parker was no secret.

  “Yep, I’m a trained observer.”

  “Make a right turn at the next intersection, Dickie.”

  “What’s up, Chief?”

  “Let’s see if this white van and that yellow cab turn with us.”

  “Do you think we have a tail, Chief?”

  “We both know how the yellow cabs zip around this city and this one is just crawling along behind us. I saw the white van pull out when we left One PP. Okay, they’re still behind us. Take a left turn.”

  “Gotcha, Boss.”

  “Okay, Dickie, that settles it. We better call for reinforcements.”

  Pat picked up the radio microphone.

  “Car 3, Central, K.”

  Many NYPD dispatch transmissions ended with K to keep officers from talking over each other.

  “Car 3, go ahead, K.”

  “Do you have Emergency Services Units on the air in Mid-Town?”

  “Any ESU trucks on the air in Mid-Town, K?” the dispatcher barked.

  “Truck 1 and 2, we’re on Broadway.”

  “Car 3, we have trucks 1 and 2 on Broadway.” The dispatcher relayed.

  “Car 3, 10-4, have them go to Tactical Channel George.” Pat instructed.

  “10-4, Trucks 1 and 2 contact Car 3 on Tactical Channel George.”

  Pat changed the radio channel to the Tactical Channel George so he could speak direct with the Emergency Services Units. The elite Emergency Services Unit handled SWAT functions, tactical arrests and heavy rescue. They were like the Special Forces of the NYPD and drove big fire-truck-sized vehicles with special equipment and weapons.”

  “Truck 1 is on George.”

  “Truck 2 is on George. Go ahead, Chief.”

  “We’re on 37th Street and have picked up two vehicles that are following us. One is a white panel van, and the other is a yellow cab. Also, I’ve been the subject of an apparent attempted threat on my life a few days ago, and these perps should be treated as armed and dangerous.”

  “Tru
ck 2, 10-4. Where do you want us?”

  “Are you familiar with the loading dock area behind the old Center Theater on 50th Street?”

  “10-4, Chief.”

  “If you guys will respond there, I’ll try to bring them to you. The parking lot should be vacant.”

  “10-4, Chief, we’ll be set up in five minutes.”

  Pat knew the closed Center Theater had an L-shaped parking lot and that if he were followed in there, the perps would be trapped. The adrenaline was starting to pump.

  “What are we going to do, Chief?” Dickie asked.

  “We’re going to stall a little and then lead these scumbags right into the sights of our ESU boys.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go about five blocks further south and then make a right turn and we’ll circle back to the Center Theater.”

  “Car 3, Truck 1 and 2 are in position.”

  “10-4, we’ll be there in three minutes, if they stay with us.” Pat informed the waiting officers.

  Dickie made the circle and the white panel van and the yellow cab slowly followed. Dickie made the final turn on to 50th Street and checked the rear view mirror.

  “They’re still with us, Chief.”

  “Good. Turn down the street on the left. It dead ends into the parking lot of the Center.”

  “Car 3, they’ve taken the bait and we’re turning in now.”

  “10-4, we’re ready.” The ESU supervisor responded.

  It was still raining hard. Dickie gunned it into the side street and then into the L-shaped parking lot. The ESU teams were out of their vehicle with Hecklor and Kotch MP5 sub-machine guns and Colt M-4’s at the ready. Dickie pulled beside the truck and Pat and Dickie jumped out and got behind the big truck. The white panel van and the yellow cab turned the corner only to see the big ESU truck. They stopped dead in their tracks, just as the ESU driver turned on the flashing red lights and super bright halogen spotlights. They started to back up, but the second ESU truck blocked them with lights activated as well. ESU Lieutenant Howard took charge on the PA system.

  “This is the New York City Police Department. You are under arrest. You have guns trained on you, and if you make any movement not directed by me, you will be immediately shot. Listen very carefully and do exactly what I tell you to do.”

  The atmosphere was tense. Pat hardly noticed it was still pouring rain. He was always impressed with NYPD’s ESU and glad they were on his side.

  “Driver of the white van, roll down your window. With your left hand, remove the keys from the ignition and throw them out the window!”

  The driver quickly complied.

  “Driver of the yellow cab. Roll down your window. With your left hand, remove the keys from the ignition and throw them on the ground!”

  He also quickly complied.

  “I remind you that any movement not directed by me will be considered hostile action and you will be shot and killed. Listen very carefully to my instructions and execute my orders upon the command of ‘Do it now.’”

  Pat knew that the ESU Lieutenant was deadly serious and had no doubt he would do exactly what he said he would do. Pat could not wait to find out who these clowns were. He had no doubt that following him was the biggest mistake they had ever made.

  “Diver of the white van, with your left hand, open the driver’s door from the outside, while keeping your right hand up with your palm toward the sound of my voice. Do it now!”

  The driver stepped out of the van with both hands up. He was a white male with short brown hair wearing a black jacket with a grey sweatshirt and blue jeans. Once out of the van Lieutenant Howard gave additional commands.

  “Walk toward the sound of my voice. Do it now!”

  He walked about 30 feet and received another command. “Stop! Now get on your knees.”

  The suspect knelt and then received another command. “Lie down on the pavement and put your hands behind your head. Do it now!”

  The suspect complied by lying down in the filthy parking lot as he continued to be drenched by the pouring rain. This procedure was repeated until there were six suspects on the ground. Four were from the van, and two from the yellow cab.

  With the suspects on the ground, the ESU teams checked each vehicle to make sure they were clear. When they checked the van, they got a surprise. The radio crackled. “We have heavy weapons in the van looks like we have an MP-5 and a sniper rifle.”

  Pat was dumbfounded as to who could put together this much manpower and provide this kind of firepower. It didn’t seem possible that he would be such an important target to someone.

  Lieutenant Howard continued his commands. “I remind you again that any movement not authorized by me will get you shot. You will be searched and handcuffed one at a time. Do nothing unless you are directed.”

  An ESU team approached from the rear. One member pointed an MP-5 at the suspect while the second officer cuffed and secured the perp. Once cuffed, the suspect was asked to walk backwards. Once they reached the truck, the suspect was searched. The first suspect was searched and the officer immediately located a gun. He removed the holstered Glock .40 caliber and continued the search. As he emptied the perp’s pocket he removed a black case. He opened it and saw a small gold badge. It read; “US Department of Justice Federal Bureau of Investigation.” The ESU Officer reacted.

  “This guy has FBI creds. Why in the hell were you following our Chief of D’s with all this damn firepower?”

  The agent said nothing.

  “We have an FBI Agent here, Chief.”

  Pat responded quickly on his portable radio. “Bring him to me!”

  “10-4.”

  The ESU officer escorted the suspect with the agent’s credentials to Pat O’Connor. Pat was visibly angry, and it showed in his red face.

  “Are you an FBI Agent?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Are all of you FBI Agents?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Why were you following me?”

  The agent did not respond. Pat repeated the question several times and still got no response. Lieutenant Howard approached Pat.

  “How do you want us to respond, Chief?”

  “Since they don’t want to explain themselves, treat them like perps. Cuff them and search them, and get a patrol wagon down here. I’ll make some calls.”

  Pat was soaked to the bone and fuming with anger. He sat down in his black Chrysler and picked up his cell phone. He called Angie Wilson’s husband, Mike, who is the Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the New York FBI Office.

  “Hello, this is Mike Wilson.”

  “This is Pat O’Connor.”

  “Hi Pat, how’s it going?”

  “Not so good at the moment Mike. My ESU units are holding six people at gun-point who claim they are FBI Agents.”

  “Why are you holding them, Pat? What were they doing?”

  “They were following me. Mike I would appreciate it if you could shed some light.”

  “I don’t have a clue, Pat.”

  “Well, we’re behind the old Center Theater on 50th Street. If you get here in the next 30 minutes, we’ll wait for you. If not, they’ll be a collar for obstructing.”

  “Please, don’t do that, Pat. I’m on my way.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here, Mike.”

  Chapter 23

  Wednesday, February 2 - Day 15

  Rear of the Center Theater - 50th Street

  Borough of Manhattan, New York

  1920 Hours

  Each of the thoroughly drenched alleged agents were disarmed and placed in the rear cage area of an NYPD Prisoner Transport Van. All of their equipment was intentionally mixed together. They were asked several times why they were following the Chief of Detectives, but refused to answer any questions.

  In exactly 20 minutes, Pat saw Mike Wilson walking up in his blue FBI raid jacket carrying an umbrella.

  “What in the hell is going on, Pat?”

&nbs
p; “When my driver and I left One PP tonight, we picked up a tail from these rocket scientists. We made a few turns to make sure they were following us. I had a similar incident in New Jersey a few days ago, and that guy ended up in the morgue, courtesy of the New Jersey State Police. I wasn’t about to be outgunned. I led them into a trap of sorts, and we ended their plans.”

  “I have no idea why they would be following you, Pat, of all people. Can I talk to them?”

  “Sure, they’re cuffed and stuffed in the back of the prisoner van.”

  Mike Wilson walked over to the marked NYPD van and found the six agents soaked, cuffed, and thoroughly humiliated. He recognized a supervisor and pulled him out of the van to talk. Pat nodded to the guarding officer, indicating it was okay. He had always trusted Mike Wilson, and on more than one occasion, they had successfully worked together. To his knowledge, Mike had never lied to him.

  After about 10 minutes, Mike walked back over to Pat O’Connor.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Pat. The supervisor told me they were working a lead out of the Newark Joint Terrorism Task Force regarding the attempt on your life and that of the Secret Service SAIC, Maggie Parker. They were told to shadow you in case another attempt was made.”

  “Did it ever occur to them that I should be notified?”

  “They assumed you knew.”

  “Well, you know what they say about assuming. This time their assuming got them in the crosshairs of some real cops. I have over 35,000 cops in New York. If I need protection, I would think I could cover it. No offense, but the last people I would want protecting me would be a bunch of desk jockeys from the FBI. It’s not a time for amateurs, Mike.”

  “Enough with the insults, Pat.I get your drift. What’s next?”

  “All of their gear has been boxed up. I hope they know the serial numbers to their weapons. Otherwise, you will have to sort through them. We’ll cut them loose.”

  Mile Wilson let out a long, deep breath.

  “I appreciate it, Pat.”

  “We’ve always been friends, Mike, but I need to meet with you and your boss in my office at 0900. I will not tolerate this FBI bullshit.”