The Last Crusade: A Harry Cassidy Novel Read online

  He relaxed back in his chair, smiling as he thought of saying good-bye, Howie style, to McKenna. But then he frowned, for he realized McKenna had beaten him by forcing him off the Job he loved so much. But he had no choice. It was time for him to go. McKenna was going to be around a long, long time. He had to leave.

  15

  Harry was alone in his office the next Tuesday morning deciding when to tell his subordinates and staff of his decision to retire when his precinct clerk stuck his head through the open doorway and said, “Boss, there’s an Inspector Carson on the phone for you. Says he’s the commissioner’s aide.”

  “Thanks, Tony,” he said picking up the phone. He listened for a brief period and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

  He looked up at his clerk and said, “That sure was strange. This inspector tells me to report immediately to see the PC. Before I have a chance to ask him why, he says, ‘Don’t ask me what it’s about because I can’t say. Not that I won’t say, but I don’t know either.’”

  He drove over the Manhattan Bridge and parked in the underground garage of One Police Plaza. What could this be about? He had pondered that single question over and over in his mind on the entire ride over. Was he going to be transferred? Had McKenna initiated a complaint against him for insubordination? Was someone suing him? He got on the elevator and headed up to the executive floor. He would know soon enough.

  “Pleased to meet you, Cassidy,” Inspector Carson said. “Take your hat off and grab some coffee. I’ll tell the PC you’re here.”

  Harry had managed just two sips of his coffee when Carson came back and said, pointing, “Through that door.”

  “Good morning, Captain Cassidy,” Commissioner Donaldson said. “Take a seat.”

  The commissioner was smiling, a good sign he hoped.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said.

  “Captain, I had a visit yesterday from someone I believe you are acquainted with, Walter Kobak, the new man in charge at the FBI here.”

  “Yes, sir, we worked together on the Terrorist Task Force some years ago.”

  “So he told me. He told me a lot about you, as did Chief Gregorovich. I also reviewed your personnel file thoroughly. I had a tough time locating it. It was in the Pension Bureau. Care to tell me why?”

  “I have an appointment with an advisor tomorrow.”

  “Considering leaving the Job?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I guess I understand why you might want to do that, but I have a proposition for you. Kobak wants you back with him. If you decide to go over there, it means a promotion.”

  “I’m shocked, Commissioner. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say nothing. Here’s the deal. Go see Kobak now. Have lunch with him and listen to his proposal. If you want the position let me know, and we’ll make it official.”

  “When, sir?”

  “If you accept, I’ll announce your promotion at my staff meeting this afternoon. You’ll be there with me, and you can say a few words to the bureau chiefs and boro commanders.”

  “Boro commanders, sir?”

  “Yes, Captain, Chief McKenna will be in attendance.”

  Harry practically floated out the door and headed over to 26 Federal Plaza. Walt Kobak greeted him enthusiastically and got right to the point. “Things are beginning to pop up again on several fronts world-wide, and we don’t know who is behind them, or if they’re even connected.

  “And you want me to chase ‘em all down and blast their asses to kingdom come single-handedly? Like Pop used to say, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  After Walt stopped laughing he said, “Seriously, Harry, what I want you for is not your street smarts—though I think you still can track ‘em down and lock ‘em up—but your organizational skills. I need someone to coordinate all anti-terrorist activities on the east coast. You’ll be head-quartered here, but you’ll be in Boston, DC, Miami and Philly, too.”

  “Sounds as if people are finally starting to take this stuff seriously now instead of just reacting after an attack.”

  “That they are. We have a good friend high up in the Bureau.”

  “Jim Driscoll?”

  “You got it. He’s behind this all the way. There will be two other positions as yours in the nation—one for the west coast, and one for the middle of the country. Your first order of business will be to meet with them and coordinate all the intelligence info from all our agencies, and our international allies’ agencies, to see if there is a pattern developing somewhere.”

  “You mean I’m going to be your eastern area leader, O Great One?”

  “Yeah, something like that. If Allah wills it.”

  “And if I accept this position, when does Allah wish me to begin?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Got time for lunch?”

  “Are you kidding? Look at this desk. Tell me, what do you think?”

  “You want my decision right now?”

  “You never agonized over a decision in your life, Cassidy. What say you?”

  “I’ll see you in the morning. In the meantime put out the word to all those would-be terrorist assholes Hopalong Cassidy is back on their case.”

  He stopped for a quick bite and figured he’d better call Susan. Her secretary said she was out to a business lunch and probably wouldn’t answer her cell phone. He relaxed and slowed the pace of his eating—the PC was probably out to lunch, too. He got back to the commissioner’s office at two o’clock and Carson said, “Go right in. He’s waiting for you.”

  “What is your decision, Captain?”

  “I’d love to stay and work with Kobak again. It’s a pretty big position.”

  “I know it is, and I know you can handle it. That’s why I’m giving you a double jump—to full inspector.”

  “I don’t know what to say, sir. I…”

  “You don’t have to say anything. You deserve it—deserved it a long time ago. I know what you’ve gone through recently. Go trade in those bars for some eagles and get back here. The order is already cut.” He smiled broadly and shook Harry’s hand. “Congratulations, Inspector. You may want to stop by the Pension Bureau and cancel that appointment now. And Harry, I knew your Uncle Mike. He was a fine, upstanding man, a credit to this Police Department—and an excellent judge of character.

  The clerk in the Property Bureau had a faxed copy of the promotion order in his hand as Harry walked in. Harry removed his captain’s shield and insignia bars, and handed them over. The clerk handed him his inspector’s shield and a handful of gold eagles. He stopped in the men’s room and affixed his new inspector’s shield to his breast and pinned the eagles to the shoulders of his blouse. He smiled, admiring himself in the mirror. Wait till the red-faced fuck sees this!

  At the Pension Bureau he located the advisor with whom he was to meet the next day, and informed him he would not be keeping the appointment.

  “No problem,” he said with a smile, noticing the eagles on Harry’s shoulders. Congratulations, I guess you’ll be staying with us awhile longer.”

  “Yes, I will be staying as long as they want me.”

  Walt Kobak arrived ten minutes before three and told Harry he was here for his official introduction to the police brass. “I get to introduce you after I’m done speaking. Anything in particular you want me to say?”

  “Other than how wonderful I am?”

  “I mean other than how you got yourself shot up in Queens, you dumb donkey.”

  “Hey, be careful. I’m a dumb inspector now.”

  They marched out onto the platform of the auditorium led by the commissioner. Seated on the dais behind the podium with Harry and Walt were Chief Gregorovich, and all the three-star bureau chiefs. Seated in the assembly hall were all the two-star and one-star chiefs on the Force, including all the patrol and detective boro commanders.

  Harry picked out Dan Snyder near the back of the room, and easily spotted McKenna sitting prominently in the first row. McKenna was
scanning the dais and his eyes stopped on Walt Kobak for a couple of moments, obviously trying to figure out who this guy in the suit was. He then passed right over Harry, but caught himself and looked back, squinting a bit this time. Then his eyes opened wide, and the crimson color rose in his cheeks, threatening to set fire to his gray hair. Harry gave him his best smile. From the look on McKenna’s face it was not only the fact of Harry’s being on the dais, but the fact he was in the uniform of a full inspector that threatened to make the chief’s head literally explode.

  The PC introduced Walt, who gave a brief biography of his career, and the usual promises of cooperation and mutual respect between the agencies. At least in Walt’s case, Harry knew, he truly meant it. Walt then introduced Harry with a bucketful of praise that made him blush. Walt portrayed him as the greatest terrorist fighter on the planet, and a tribute to the great New York Metropolitan Police Department.

  Harry spoke briefly of his career and his new position. He concluded his remarks, staring directly into McKenna’s angry eyes, “And finally I would like to thank all my bosses throughout my career who had faith and confidence in me and my abilities. Without them I would not be here today. Thank you.”

  The PC announced Kobak and Inspector Cassidy would remain while they all had coffee. The staff meeting would then resume with normal business. McKenna stormed out of the room and Harry sought out Dan Snyder. “Congratulations, Harry,” he said. “What the hell happened anyway?”

  Harry gave him the details and said, “What a day. Talk about your curve balls.”

  “I told you once before not all curve balls are bad. This is one of those good ones. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “That sounds a little ominous, Dan.”

  “Just being practical. Did you see that red-faced fuck storm out of the room? If you think he had it in for you before, what do you think he’ll do now?”

  “He can’t do much of anything right now. I’m an inspector in the NYMPD assigned out to the FBI. I have only one boss to report to here, and that’s the chief of department.”

  “Ah, yes. Peter J. Gregorovich who must, and will, retire in six weeks.”

  “You sure know how to mess up a good day,” Harry said.

  “Just want you to be prepared. Watch your back. You have a powerful enemy.”

  “Thanks, Boss. I know you’re looking out for me, and I appreciate it. But now I’m getting out of here and heading home. Susan knows nothing about this. I’m going to pick up some expensive champagne and flowers on the way.”

  “I assume she’ll be surprised.”

  “Are you kidding? The last she knew was I was putting in my papers tomorrow.”

  He greeted her at the apartment door with a large bouquet of red roses and said, “Flowers for you, madam. Let me escort you to your table. Give me your coat, please.”

  “Harry, what’s going on?”

  “Tut-tut. Just follow me.”

  He put the roses in a vase at the center of the dining room table and motioned for her to sit where an empty champagne glass had been placed. He popped the cork on a bottle of Dom Perignon and poured some for both of them.

  “Harry?”

  “Sh-h-h. Oh, I forgot my dinner jacket.”

  He was still dressed in his uniform pants and white shirt and black tie. He returned buttoning up his uniform jacket. “A toast, madam,” he said sitting down and raising his glass.

  “To what? What are we toasting?”

  “Golden eagles.”

  “Eagles? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The ones on my shoulders.”

  It finally dawned on her as her gaze shifted from the eagles on his epaulettes, to the shield on his left breast. She read the word inspector on its bottom. “Inspector? What happened?”

  “Everything my dear. Everything happened today.”

  After he related the day’s events he said, “I didn’t have a chance to call you because things unfolded so fast. I hope you agree with my decision to stay on the Job, and get back into the fight with Kobak.”

  “Of course I do. It’s what you do best, and seems to be your destiny. By the way, I’ve never made love to an inspector before. Are they better at it than captains?”

  “Much better, my dear. Care to find out?”

  “Fly me to the bedroom on the wings of golden eagles, and I will be yours forever.”

  PART 4

  THE LAST CRUSADE

  16

  Over the years, unable to mount a major attack on the Great Satan, the hatred burned fiercer in the souls of Khalid al-Habib bin Yousef and Fasiym ali Hassan as they had accurately fit the pieces of the puzzle together. From all media sources, and from surviving members of OBL-911, they learned of the Joint Terrorist Task Force and the identities of its members. “It is interesting, Fasiym,” bin Yousef said. “It is interesting how this one group of men—never more than six or seven members—were so successful in tracking Boussara and his chiefs down. I would now like to exterminate them all—particularly Cassidy, Kobak and McKee. Let us prepare a list of of them, and search out their relatives and their addresses.”

  “I will do this, my leader, but how will we accomplish these killings? We have little organization left in America.”

  “Perhaps, Fasiym, we will go to America and take care of them ourselves.”

  That comment sent shivers down the spine of ali Hassan, but he smiled at bin Yousef and nodded in agreement.

  Then, one day on a sunny, hot afternoon in Yemen—were there any other kind?—bin Yousef’s prayers to Allah were finally answered. Two devoted jihadists had made a long pilgrimage to their spiritual leader. They had traveled by truck, camel and foot all the way from a small town in Syria. The news they brought caused bin Yousef to weep tears of joy, and to shout aloud to Allah his thanks for delivering the means to finally destroy his enemies.

  When Fasiym ali Hassan arrived at bin Yousef’s home in response to his urgent summons, he was greeted by a huge smile on his leader’s face—a smile the breadth of which he had not seen for many years. “This must be good news, my leader?”

  “Great news, Fasiym. Allah has given us a miracle. Let us begin to prepare for a journey. I would like to leave tomorrow.”

  “A journey? To where, Khalid?”

  “To Syria.”

  “And what will we find in Syria?”

  “The answer to our prayers.”

  The two Syrian messengers whose news had brought such joy and rejuvenation to the aging head of al-Qaida, had remained to assist him and ali Hassan prepare for their journey, and to accompany them to their new headquarters. The expectation of what he would find at their destination allowed bin Yousef to calmly tolerate the arduous trek in the desert heat, first in a van without air conditioning and worn springs, and then by camel.

  They came out of the furnace of the Syrian desert near the border with Iraq at Abu Kamal, crossing the Euphrates River, and following it northwest to where the Khabur River joined it. They then struck out due north following the Khabur on their left toward the town of Al Hasakah. About fifteen miles from the town, the camel caravan veered to the northeast toward a range of low hills, and there, cut into the side of a hill, was a cave whose entrance was concealed by trees and brush. The Syrians guided bin Yousef and ali Hassan inside where a great natural room opened up before them. They used flashlights, but informed bin Yousef of the existence of a generator which would need to be fueled and tuned up. Several man-made tunnels leading to small rooms branched off from the main cavern. Stored within these rooms were sealed metal boxes with identifying numbers stenciled on them. Bin Yousef looked around in amazement and asked, “How did you find this place? How do we know what is in each of these containers? How do we safely open them? Who else knows…?”

  “Patience, great leader,” said Mounir, one of the Syrians. “We will explain all we know.”

  And what Mounir Jamal and Hamid Essabar explained made bin Yousef as happy as a man could be when in
a cave at the edge of the desert, surrounded by poison gases, deadly biotoxins and unstable nuclear devices.

  “When the great Saddam Hussein expelled the UN inspection teams,” Mounir said, “he knew it would be only a matter of time before the evil George Bush convinced the UN to invade Iraq, or invade alone if the UN refused.”

  “In order to protect his stores of weapons and to remove them from Iraq,” Hamid said, “he organized the transfer of them all to here. Although it took a year, he was able to accomplish it almost in time to prevent the invasion. In fact, he invited the inspectors back just as the last shipment crossed the border into Syria. But the infidel Bush would hear none of it. Nothing was going to stop his war.”

  “And,” Mounir said, “when the Americans failed to find the weapons it was a great embarrassment to them, yet they re-elected Bush anyway—a great disappointment to Saddam.”

  “They have remained here all these years?” ali Hassan asked.

  “Yes,” Hamid said, “waiting for you and for our great leader Khalid bin Yousef.”

  “Thank you, Hamid, and you also, Mounir,” bin Yousef said, “but my initial joy is now tempered by more and more questions. Will these weapons still be usable? Have they degraded to the point where we could kill ourselves before we get to use them against the infidels?”

  “Those questions will be answered for you shortly,” Mounir said, “for we have located Karim Hassan al Majid al-tikriti, and although he is now seventy-five years old, he has pledged to do all he can for our cause, and has begun his work in the cave already.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name,” bin Yousef said.

  Hamid smiled broadly and said, “He is a first cousin of Saddam Hussein, and is the brother of Ali Hassan al Majid al-tikriti who was better known, of course, as the famous and feared Chemical Ali.”

  “Chemical Ali! And Karim is also knowledgeable of these weapons?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Hamid said. “He was the actual scientific director of the development of all these wonderful devices, and he is now here, in Syria, at your loyal service.”