The Last Crusade: A Harry Cassidy Novel Page 17

  Harry flipped his cell phone closed and said, “I told you so.”

  “Yeah, you were right, but I’m glad we called him.”

  Harry was able to get Nick transferred to the unit two weeks later, and he meshed with the other members right away. He easily picked up the new stuff, both professionally and personally. “I think the broads down here are snootier than those in midtown,” he told Harry one late afternoon as they were having a couple of beers in a local bar.

  “Are you doing research for a book?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea. It could be called, My Trail of Broken Hearts in the Big Apple.”

  “A better title could be, Buxom Broads who Dumped me,” Harry said. “That should be good for about five-hundred pages.”

  “Very funny, wiseguy, but speaking about good-looking broads…”

  “Are there any other kind?”

  “You know, you may be the boss, but you’re really breaking my balls here. I have some valuable information for you, but now maybe I’ll just keep it to myself.”

  “Let me buy you another beer to atone for my needling.”

  “Now you’re talking. You have unsealed my lips. Remember that dynamite looking sergeant from Internal Affairs you were tapping a few years ago?”

  “Susan Goldman?”

  “Whatever happened to her?”

  “She resigned from the Department. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I saw her in the hall the other day by the ADA’s offices. She looked at me like she might have placed my face. If it wasn’t her, it was her twin sister.”

  “That was probably her all right. She got her law degree and hooked up here. I had forgotten all about it.”

  “Maybe there’s the potential of a re-union. There’s nothing like a good roll in the hay after a long absence.”

  “You have a short memory. Remember how she ratted me out?”

  “Oh shit, yeah. The tape recorder under the bed. How the hell could I forget that?”

  “Because you always think with your little head, Nicky. That’s why.”

  “You two ever square that up?”

  “As a matter of fact, we did. At Rita’s urging, I called her and forgave her for what she did to me.”

  “Did you bang her right after that? Nothing like hot make-up sex, right?”

  “You never cease to amaze me, but no, we did not have make-up sex.”

  “It’s never too late, you know. She looked real good.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “Good boy. Go for it.”

  On the walk back to his apartment, Harry thought long and hard about Susan Goldman. Here she was a few hundred yards away in the same building. Should he follow Rose Becker’s suggestion to re-unite with her? Should he ask her to lunch? Had he really forgiven her? He realized if he had to ask that question, the answer had to be no. He recalled their brief affair—oh, how he had loved her—or was it just lust?

  He flopped on the sofa when he got home and turned on the TV. Susan, I don’t know what to do. So for now, he would do nothing.

  The decision to do nothing, a popular option for many of the top brass in the police hierarchy, worked for two days. Upon his return from lunch, a pink message note on his desk read, “ADA Goldman would like to meet with the investigators and the new squad commander re the Hong Kong case. Please call her at Ext. 4617.”

  There it was—fate had intervened. He picked up the phone and her secretary put him through. “ADA Goldman here,” she said.

  “Lieutenant Cassidy, returning your call.”

  “Lieutenant Cassidy? Is this Harry?”

  “Hello, Susan.”

  “Returning my call? I didn’t call you.”

  “Your note says you want to meet with the new squad CO on the Hong Kong case. That would be me.”

  “You? That’s right, you were ready to make lieutenant the last time we saw each other at the cemetery. When can we get together? On this case, I mean, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said, noticing the coolness in her voice. I’ll track down my two detectives. What’s good on your schedule?”

  “I have court in the afternoon, so let’s say before lunch, about 11:30?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  The Hong Kong case involved a series of shipments, in vast quantities, of a device called a “cube,” from China into New York. The cube was a small, compact electronic device, which when connected to a cable TV box, enabled it to receive all the premium and pay-per-view channels offered by the local cable company, free of charge. This descrambling device, which sold on the street for two hundred dollars, resulted in an estimated revenue loss to Apollo Cable Systems of thirty to fifty million dollars per year in New York City alone.

  Apollo’s security director, Howie Mills, a retired NYMPD detective, said his department had been unable to stop the influx of the devices throughout the city, and their engineers had been unable to electronically defeat the device no matter what countermeasure they tried. With the help of the two detectives assigned to the case, Jimmy Collins and Bill Fitzpatrick, several dozen arrests were made, but only of low-level dealers. In order to stem the tide, they all realized either the production facilities in China had to be shut down or the shipments had to be confiscated when they arrived in New York.

  Harry had sent the two detectives to China, accompanied by two security investigators from Apollo, with all expenses paid by the giant cable company. Their investigation revealed the next shipment of fifty thousand cubes had already left the port, and would arrive in New York in two weeks. Collins had informed Goldman, hence the request for the meeting.

  At the appointed time, they all met in a conference room near Susan’s office and got right down to business. “There’s coffee on the sideboard, gentlemen,” she said.

  Susan reviewed the case up to this point, and then asked, “How do you propose to proceed?”

  Jimmy Collins, the lead investigator on the case said, “We’ll hit them at the pier after the boat is docked, and seize all the cubes. We’ll arrest the whole crew for possession of electronic theft devices, and interrogate them about the source of the manufacturing operation.”

  “Do you agree with this plan, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Fitzpatrick asked, obviously annoyed.

  “The charges are too weak, but there are stronger ones on the books—Federal ones…”

  “Oh, no,” Collins said. “You’re not going to hand our case over to the Feds, are you?”

  “We need the laws. I’ve researched this case thoroughly, and I’m convinced this is the way to go. Lieutenant?”

  “I’m sure she’s right, guys. How do you want to proceed?”

  “I’ll set up a meeting with the US Attorney, and we’ll go from there.”

  “And from there they give it to a dozen agents who’ll steal it from us,” Collins said.

  “Or screw it up as well as steal it,” Fitzpatrick said.

  “That won’t happen,” Harry said. “I guarantee it. This is our case. The Feds will assist us. They will not take over.”

  “Strong words,” Susan said.

  “I have friends in high places across the street at 26 Federal Plaza.”

  “Oh? How high?”

  “Let’s just say you can’t go any higher. You go meet with the US Attorney, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Fine, then I guess this meeting is over. Lieutenant, would you remain here a moment?”

  “Sure, Ms. Goldman. I’ll see you two back in my office in a few minutes,” he said to Collins and Fitzpatrick.

  After the detectives left, Susan closed the door and sat back down at the table across from him. She said, “You were transferred here and you never called me to go for coffee…or lunch…or anything.”

  “Susan, I…”

  “No need to say anything, Harry. I didn’t deserve a call anyway after
what I did to you.”

  “I forgave you. You know that.”

  “I know you did, but you didn’t forget, did you?”

  “No, I…”

  “Because if you had forgotten, you would have called.”

  “Yes, I would have. I guess I’m just a thick-headed cop who couldn’t get past it.”

  “We had a helluva New Year’s Eve though, didn’t we?” she said with that smile that had always made him weak in the knees.

  “Yes, it was the best. Damn, I should have called you.”

  “Do you have your cell phone with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Take it out and call me—now.”

  He smiled and dialed her office phone. She picked up the receiver and said, “I hope this is the call I’ve been waiting for.”

  “I hope it is, too. Will you have lunch with me today?”

  “Why, of course, Lieutenant Cassidy. A woman gets awfully hungry after two years.”

  They went to lunch at a Greek restaurant about three blocks from the building. After ordering, Harry said, “So Ms. Goldman, where do we go from here?”

  “I’m willing to go all the way this time—if you can answer one question for me. Answer truthfully, and pull no punches.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Have you truly forgiven me for betraying you? Have you completely buried it?”

  “That’s two questions, but I’ll answer them both. I betrayed my shield, and you betrayed me. But I want you to keep something in mind, something Rita reminded me of before I called to forgive you, and which I had almost forgotten. You truly felt you were doing the right thing by pursuing me. You were wearing your sergeant’s hat, and rightfully so. I was upset because you, my lover, turned me in. I shouldn’t have been. It’s time to close that chapter, and as you say, bury it forever.”

  “Good. It’s settled then.”

  “What’s settled?”

  “Us. Our future. We take up with each other again, slowly, and see where it goes.”

  “Okay by me,” he said.

  Susan suggested they go back to Mario’s in Elmont, their place, on Saturday night, but Harry disagreed. “I think we should find a new place, somewhere here in Manhattan, somewhere the past won’t resurface so rapidly. We can always go back to Mario’s later on.”

  “You’re right. We buried the past.”

  “Not all of it. Let’s never forget the brief, wonderful time we had together.”

  “How could I ever forget that? I was so in love with my Officer Cassidy.”

  “And I with the gorgeous Sergeant Goldman.”

  “Seems a long, long time ago. Things moved so fast. All of a sudden you were in a shoot-out in Jackson Heights.”

  “We have a lot of catching up to do and I’ll tell you all. There will now be plenty of time to do it.”

  13

  A few days later Harry got a call from John McKee who invited him to a sort of re-union/farewell party for the Task Force members who had worked the OBL-911 case.

  “I’ve already called Pop and Nick,” he said. “I think we’ll all be able to make it.”

  “Tell me when and where, and I will be there.”

  “July 15, at Raymond’s Restaurant on Worth Street, at noon.”

  “Okay, but what’s with the farewell?”

  “Walt Kobak is moving down to DC—a nice career move for him.”

  “Who’s taking over the unit?”

  “Yours truly, and I just got word I’m making lieutenant in a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s great news. I’m real happy for both of you.”

  “Thanks, Harry. See you then.”

  They were all there at Raymond’s and FBI Assistant Director Jim Driscoll stopped by for a drink or two, and stayed for over an hour. They reminisced over their past successes against OBL-911. Nothing major seemed to be stirring and terrorism attacks had happened infrequently around the globe. There would always be crazies out there, but little damage and loss of life had occurred, and the attacks were minor and sporadic.

  Each of them in turn stood up, and brought the others up to date on what was going on in their lives and careers. Harry took the opportunity to thank Walt Kobak and Jim Driscoll for their help and cooperation on his counterfeiting cases. “When I was directed to bring the Feds in, you can imagine the gripes I got from my guys,” he said. “But the case went down smoothly when we joined forces, just as we did to fight OBL-911, and we are having tremendous successes.”

  “You needed help,” Dick Mansfield said. “You had Nick Faliani dragging you down.”

  After the laughter subsided, Nick arose and said, “I know you expect me to say screw you Dick, and all the Feds as well, but I’m not going to say that. I am a kindler, gentler Nick now that I have found happiness in my love life.”

  “Your love life?” John McKee said. “You mean you finally managed to screw every woman living and working on the island of Manhattan?”

  That caused an uproar of laughter and Nick shouted out, “Pipe down, all of you, and let me finish. I have met a young lady named Theresa, and we are going to be married next spring. You’re all invited, so make sure I have your correct mailing addresses before you leave.”

  There was silence in the room as the impact of Nick’s statement hit them. Nick Faliani, with the slicked-back black hair, the pencil-thin black moustache, the thousand-dollar flashy suits, was actually getting married? Pop was the first to react. He stood up, and in an overly-dramatic imitation of that old-time comedian, Redd Foxx, he clutched his hands to his chest and said, “Elizabeth, it’s the Big One! I’m coming to join you.”

  Harry, who was as surprised as the others in the room said, “Nick, when the hell did this happen? I had no idea. By the way, congratulations, old pal.”

  As the shock wore off the zingers continued to fly at Nick, but he just smiled and said nothing. When the rowdiness died down he said, “As a special favor to all the men in this room, I will auction off my little black book of gorgeous females, complete with names, addresses, phone numbers and favorite sexual fantasies—with a first bid of one thousand bucks.”

  The party wound down and they started to leave. Harry pulled Walt aside and said,

  “The best of luck in your new position. Before you know it, you’ll be back as the guy in charge here in New York.”

  “And you, Harry? Are captain’s bars in your future?”

  “Who knows, old friend? Maybe if they decide to give a test anytime soon.”

  Harry watched Walt Kobak as he went around the room to shake hands and personally say good-bye to everyone. Walt was a born leader, the quintessential TV FBI agent—and Harry was happy his former Task Force team leader was moving up the ladder, but sad his friend was moving to Washington.

  Harry and Susan had chosen another Italian restaurant—small and romantic—on Broadway near 68th Street, called Pasquale, for their first Saturday dinner together and were now on their third visit there. True to their word they had gone slow in their new relationship with only a few goodnight hugs and kisses after their dates. The restaurant was not too far from Susan’s apartment on the upper west side, and tonight, as they looked across the table from each other, they both could feel the sexual tension building. “How’s your red sauce tonight?” Harry asked.

  “Terrific,” she said, cutting another piece of veal Parmigiano, “but I’m really thinking of red sauce smeared all over your naked body.”

  “You evil woman, you,” he said, “but I’m having some salacious thoughts myself.”

  “What thoughts?”

  “I’ll tell you—show you—later.”

  They arrived back at Susan’s apartment and snuggled on the sofa and drank champagne as they had done over two years ago, at another place and another time. Then they had watched the ball drop in Times Square on that New Year’s Eve, in ignorant bliss, unaware of the onrushing events that would change their lives forever. In short order, their snuggling escalated to passi
onate kisses and gropes. Harry swooped her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom where he said, “I love you, Susan,” remembering the first time he said that to her over two years ago.

  “I love you too, Harry. I hope this never ends.”

  Harry would not voice his fears to Susan—his fears his track record on good things lasting was abysmal—he kept them to himself. Maybe, just maybe, this time he would catch a break, and as in a fairy-tale ending, he and Susan would live happily ever after. Maybe she wouldn’t divorce him after a few years as Peggy did. Maybe she wouldn’t get herself killed as Rita did—and maybe she would never betray him again.

  As their romance deepened, Harry vacated his place and moved in with Susan and set up house. The topic of marriage had not come up, and Susan seemed afraid to broach it, perhaps worried it might somehow ruin things and break the spell. They were at Pasquale once more on a Saturday night in early spring. At the conclusion of dinner, as they sipped the rest of their wine, Harry reached into his pocket and passed a small gift-wrapped box across to her.

  She hoped it was the ring, knew it was the ring, but wouldn’t let herself fully believe it until she ripped off the silver gift wrapping and lifted the lid of the velvet box. She stared at the diamond and said, “Oh, Harry, thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Of course I will. When?”

  “I was thinking this summer. Nick’s getting married in May, and I don’t want to upstage him and Terry.”

  “Summer will be wonderful,” she said.

  Nick and Theresa were married on a warm Saturday afternoon, and all the present and former Task Force members attended with their spouses or significant others. When Harry arrived accompanied by Susan, a lot of heads, both male and female, turned in surprise. Only Nick and Pop had known of the engagement, and the other team members hadn’t even known Harry was seeing a woman at all. Harry was getting a drink for himself and Susan at the bar when he bumped into Inspector Snyder.

  “Congratulations on your engagement, Harry.”

  “Thanks, Boss.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman, and as most of us cops do, I remember beautiful women. Where have I seen her before?”