The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3) (8 page)

BOOK: The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3)
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“Badr Irani. He is the Imam of a UN sponsored mosque. I met with him just before Abdul blew himself up.”

“So you were sent to visit two mosques, and the other area mosques were probably divided up between the other 11 private eyes. We received complaints from around 15 mosques in the area. Each one with the same complaint: sick of being targeted and demanding that the Police Department leave them alone. We told them we had nothing to do with the investigators visiting them, but I don’t think any of them believed us.”

“Badr said that he had five visitors. Any from your team visit him?”

“We don’t make a practice of visiting people unless we have reasonable evidence to suggest they might be involved in something. I’ll check with my team, but I can almost guarantee that no one from the NYPD visited anyone name Badr Irani.”

“So either Henderson, Cortez or any of the other 11 on the case made the visits,” Derek said.

“Who’s Cortez?” Connor asked.

“Henderson’s partner. I met with him and Henderson up in Yonkers yesterday.” Derek thought back on his visit with Cortez and the note that Cortez put in the folder for him. He thought about telling Detective Connor about the note but decided to hold off until he felt he could fully trust him. “Didn’t Henderson bring a partner with him when he met with your team?”

“Said he was lead investigator on the case. Claimed that the FBI was spread thin tracking down leads all over the country and that they didn’t have the manpower to assign him a case partner. I guess that’s why he hired you and the other 11 private investigators.”

“He never mentioned a Juan Cortez?” Derek asked.

“Never,” Connor replied. “But that doesn’t concern me. It is not uncommon for the FBI to only send their lead agent to meet with local authorities. They don’t like to show a sign of force that may be interpreted as them wanting to take over. They’ll show up with one, maybe two agents, then, when the shit hits the fan, agents come crawling out of the woodwork. We know that where’s there one agent, there’s a whole lot more where that one came from. Why are you so concerned that Henderson didn’t mention Cortez?”

“Something that happened after I left them in Yonkers,” Derek said.

“You gonna share what happened?”

Derek paused for several seconds before remembering what Juan Cortez wrote in his note: “Trust no one.”

“No reason in particular,” Derek said. “First time working with the FBI and am more curious about their procedures than suspicious.”

Detective Patrick Connor sat silently, staring at Derek while tapping a Bic pen on the notebook in front of him. “Not sure if you’re keeping something from me or not, but I wouldn’t blame you if you are,” he said. “So tell me, what’s your next step in your investigation?”

“Honestly,” Derek said, relieved that Connor didn’t push the issue of Derek’s curiosity over Henderson not mentioning Cortez as his partner, “I’m not sure. Abdul did ask me to make sure his kids were safe, so I guess that will be my first priority.”

“We already have two uniforms out to pick them up. If we feel they are in danger, we’ll protect them.”

“Trust no one,”
Derek said to himself.
 

“I’m sure you will, but I have this annoying sense of obligation. Abdul said that
my
visit caused his death and asked
me
to make sure his kids are safe. Seems like I need to take an active part in their protection.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Connor said. “But not exactly sure how you think you can take an active part in protecting his kids. You don’t have the manpower or a facility that can provide protection. Nor do you have any idea if they are in any danger, who they may be in danger of, or why they may be in danger. How about this,” Connor said as he stood, “once we pick up the kids and the wife, if Abdul was married, I’ll contact you. You can come down and see them and see for yourself that they are safe? Will that satisfy your sense of obligation?”

“Probably not,” Derek said. “But it will have to do for now.”

“Listen Cole,” Connor said, his eyes fixed on Derek’s, “we don’t know what we’re dealing with here so, while I can’t tell you to stop your investigation, I can ask you to keep me informed with any progress you make. I’ll share what I can with you but need to stick to our protocols. Deal?”

“Deal. I’m not a fan of protocols but I trust that you and I are on the same team.”

“What’s your problem with protocols?” Connor asked as he and Derek walked out of the interrogation room and towards the bank of elevators.

“When I was a cop in Columbus, protocols got my wife killed.”

“Didn’t know you were a cop and, sorry about your wife.”

“Eight years as an MP in the Army and a little over five as a cop.”

“That’s good to know. Will make it easier for me to convince my captain to share case information with you. Still not sure how protocols were responsible for your wife’s death?”

Derek gave Connor a 30-second overview of the day Lucy, his wife, was killed in the bank robbery. He told Connor how he could have ended the standoff but was forced to follow protocols.

“I know that protocols didn’t send the bullet into Lucy’s head,” Derek said as the elevator doors opened, “but they sure prevented me from eliminating the possibility of it happening.”

“Can I assume that you won’t be following any protocols in this investigation?” Connor said as the elevator doors began to close, separating him from Derek.

“When it comes to stopping terrorism, there aren’t any protocols
to
follow.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Derek was no further than 100 feet from the midtown police department before his iPhone began to vibrate in his pocket.

“Cole, it’s Special Agent Mark Henderson. We need to talk.”

“Yes we do,” Derek replied. “Where and when?”

“Which hotel are you staying in?” Mark asked.

“I’m sure you know that already.”

“Dispense of the conspiracy bullshit Cole. Can you meet me near the Freedom Tower? Small deli on Barclay Street. 45 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.” Derek paused. “Will Cortez be joining us?” he asked.

“He won’t be joining us. I’ll fill you in. 45 minutes.”

“See you then.”

***I***

The deli on Barclay Street was no wider than 20 feet but extended much further than Derek expected. At least 30 feet past the deli counter, several tables were positioned against the left-hand wall. Special Agent Mark Henderson sat alone at the last table, his back against the rear wall and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re early,” Mark said.

“For you to say that means that you were even earlier.”

“I see that you’ve met Detective Connor,” Mark Henderson said as Derek sat down across from him.

“Yes, we had a rather explosive introduction.”

“Abdul Huda took himself out of any equation that we had placed him in.”

“One of the last things he said was that my visit caused his death. That sounds to me like his death wasn’t his idea,” Derek said.

“What else did he say to you?”

“Just to make sure his kids are safe. NYPD is looking for them and told me that they would bring them into a station and determine what measures are needed, if any, to keep them safe.”

“Good,” Mark said. “Probably have nothing to worry about, but trying to convince kids that they’re safe after finding out that their dad just splattered himself all over Times Square may be a tad difficult.”

“I take it that Abdul’s death changes your instructions for me?” Derek asked.

“First,” Mark said, after checking to make sure that no other patrons were close enough to overhear Derek and his conversation, “tell me what was said between you and Detective Connor.”

“He just wanted to know about my involvement and why Abdul called out my name right before he blew himself up.”

“What else?” Mark pressed.

“He knows that the FBI hired me for this case and he told me that you guys hired a total of 12 private investigators. I found that interesting since you told me that I was the only freelancer on the case.”

“You’re the only one that I wanted to hire. Based on what just happened in Times Square, looks like I was right. The other private investigators have done nothing but piss people off. They haven’t turned up anything of value. That’s why you’re the only freelancer still on the case.”

“Not sure if I believe you,” Derek said.

“Doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. I know it's the truth.”

“Where’s Cortez?” Derek asked. The suddenness of the conversation change seemed to catch Mark off-guard.

“He’s off the case. I don’t think he would try but if he does try to contact you, tell him nothing, then let me know that he contacted you.”

“Sounds like Special Agent Juan Cortez isn’t viewed as being very special by the FBI anymore.”

“Can’t give you the details, Cole,” Mark said, again checking his surroundings for anyone or anything that looked suspiciously interested in the conversation. “Just know that he is off the case and that DHS is very interested in speaking with him.”

“Is he a suspect now?” Derek asked, feigning surprise.

“Like I said, I can’t get into any details. He’s off the case and if he makes contact with you, you need to let me know right away. Is that clear?”

“About as clear as my role in this case,” Derek fired back. “The folder you gave me had three pictures and a listing of all the mosques in the area. Nothing else. Pretty much a waste of time. I visited Abdul and Badr and now have no idea what I am supposed to do next. Abdul’s dead, as you know, so I am drawn to want to find out more about his death. Badr is not a fan of mine, nor of America in general, so I don’t know how much more info I can get from investigating him.”

“There was another picture included in that folder. Any leads on who that man is?”

“None. When I visited Abdul, there was someone waiting for him in another room that Abdul was very nervous about. When I asked to talk to the other man, Abdul made no bones about not wanting me anywhere near him.”

“Think that could have been our guy?” Henderson asked.

“No idea. And now that Abdul’s dead, I can’t really ask him about his mysterious visitor.”

“I have more information for you, Cole,” Henderson said as he checked for a third time for any nosey people nearby. He stood slightly and removed another manila envelope that he had been sitting on. “A little bit more on Badr and Abdul. I think your idea of finding more about Abdul’s demise is a good one. The information in this folder may be of assistance. Again, you’re on your own for the most part and I need you to keep your involvement with DHS under your hat.”

“Curious,” Derek said.

“What’s curious?”

“Why it’s so important to you that I don’t mention that I was hired by the FBI.”

“Matters of Homeland Security, Cole. I can’t say much more than that.”

“That’s a pretty tired reason, in my opinion. A very popular reason, granted, but pretty damn tired.”

Before Henderson could respond, his government issued Blackberry sounded.

“Give me a minute, Cole,” he said as he answered the call while walking out of the deli. It was two minutes before he returned to the table. His face had changed from one that held a calm expression to one filled with worry and fear. As he tossed a 20 dollar bill on the table, he told Derek, “I have a situation I need to address. I’ll be in touch.” With that, Special Agent Mark Henderson walked briskly through the deli, out of the door and into the busy streets of Manhattan.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The August sun was finishing its travels and was preparing to allow darkness to invade the city. As he stood, crammed against one of they many vertical poles on the subway, Derek kept his right hand covering the slight bulge beneath his shirt. He hadn’t opened the folder that Mark Henderson gave him yet, as he wanted to do so in the most secure area he could think of. As the doors of the subway opened and people filed out in a surprisingly orderly fashion, he followed the line of travelers up the escalators and out into the streets of Times Square.

As he walked through Times Square and towards his hotel room, Derek could see that the area where Abdul had gone to see Allah was buzzing with activity. Yellow police taped cordoned off a large area around the TKTS bleacher area, as several men wearing FBI or NYPD shirts were inspecting the ground and surrounding area for clues. Derek walked as close to the cordoned-off area as he could before a uniformed officer stopped his progress.

“Never seen yellow police tape before?” the officer snapped. “Move along. Nothing left to see here.”

Derek walked around the cordoned-off area and made his way through the front doors of the Marquis. He paused when reaching the bank of doors and glanced around the area. He wanted to see if anyone was following him and to be seen by anyone who might be following him. After several seconds, he walked into the lobby, headed to the “floor assigned” elevators and pressed the button that would send him to the 23
rd
floor.

As the elevator doors opened, Derek walked towards his reserved room, attentive to see if anyone was watching him from any of the lower floors, all of which were visible from the open hallway. Seeing nothing of interest, he passed by his room and made his way to the nearest stairway. He knew when he accepted this case from the FBI, his comings and goings would be monitored. But after witnessing Abdul’s demise, Derek felt that the FBI watching him would be low on their list of concerns.

As before, he inconspicuously made his way down to the lowest level of the Marquis then exited the rear of the hotel. Choosing to take a longer route back to the Sheraton, it took Derek nearly 30 minutes to make the relatively short walk from the Marquis to his hotel.

When he finally entered his room at the Sheraton, the day’s events caught up with him. Pouring himself a tall glass of scotch, Derek sat at the end of his bed and simply stared out of the window overlooking Times Square. It was just a few hours prior that he stood in front of Abdul, heard Abdul blame his visit for his death, and then watched the man he had spoken with just a couple of hours earlier end his life in a cell-scattering explosion. He hadn’t heard from Detective Connor about Abdul’s sons.
 
For some reason, he could not fully understand, he felt responsible for them. Abdul asked him to make sure they were safe, but beyond trusting Detective Connor and the NYPD to ensure their safety, Derek had done nothing to honor Abdul’s final request.

BOOK: The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3)
12.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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