The Nick Lawrence Series

by Brian Shea

  “Let’s go give her a hand,” Nick said this almost simultaneously as Izzy was making an ushering gesture for him to go.

  They were only a few houses down, enabling the two to close the gap quickly between them and the van. As Nick and Izzy popped out of their Impala things rapidly deteriorated before their eyes.

  “Shit! Look!” Izzy yelled, pointing in the direction of the left wheel well of the blue van.

  An orange ball of fire ballooned out from underneath the rear of the vehicle. Flames licked at the blue paint, spreading up the side. The two agents exchanged a quick glance. No need to speak. They were in sync. Moving swiftly, Izzy ran to the side door and pulled hard. It didn’t budge. Nick popped his trunk and was digging under the spare tire. He came up a moment later with a black tire iron in hand. The left side of the van was already engulfed in flames. He rounded to its right where the fire was beginning to continue its assault. The heat was intense. The combination of melting paint, metal, and rubber created a thick black smoke, obscuring the van’s occupants.

  “Cover your head!” Nick yelled into the van at Enright’s wife as he reared up with the tire iron. Enright’s wife covered her screaming child as they huddled down on the floorboard of the passenger side. Nick swung at the window with tremendous force just as Declan Enright exited the side door of the house in full stride. Confusion and fear were apparent on the face of the former frogman as he took in the sight.

  Khaled watched in disbelief as the FBI agent from the bank and a dark-haired female pulled up to the Golden Man’s house. He had activated the second device moments before their arrival. By design it had punctured the gas line and ignited the exposed fuel, triggering an intense fire that quickly covered the van. He witnessed in shock and disbelief as the two agents ran out of their car toward the burning minivan. The black and white images on his mobile app displayed the failure of his plan. Years of work fell apart before his eyes. This was Enright’s time to feel the burn! It was to be his Al Harq!

  He looked on as the FBI agent shattered the side window of the van with one heavy swing of a tire iron. The wife and child were pulled to safety. The group frantically ran toward the rear of Enright’s house with his daughter, unharmed. The minivan burned. Flames ravaged its metal frame throwing the acrid black smoke high into the air. Khaled turned off the phone and sat in a dazed silence.

  Khaled was only a few streets away, watching as the black smoke climbed above the rooftops as the roar of a fire engine on approach came to life in the distance. It was time for him to go. The Colorado timeline had already begun.

  25

  The combination of sounds from the approaching sirens and the inconsolable screams from Laney combined to create an additional layer of chaos. Declan had pulled his wife out of the burning van, using a fireman’s carry. He saw the FBI agent reach in through the broken glass, grabbing for his daughter. Declan observed as the agent ran into difficulty extricating Laney from the floorboard. She had curled herself into a ball. The agent from the bank persevered, climbing partially into the burning van to save his daughter. Declan noticed that the agent was bleeding from his arms and chest where the shattered glass fragments had slashed through the sleeves of his button-up shirt, penetrating his skin.

  The group had all collapsed onto the grass of the fenced-in backyard. Laney was lost in a fit of writhing screams. Declan held her in the same manner that his wife had yesterday, rocking gently back and forth with her in his tight embrace as he hummed into her ear. Sadly, this was one of the rare times that he ever got to hold his sweet Laney and he cherished the opportunity, regardless of its circumstance. She did not react well to human contact, even from her parents. Ripley, their five-year-old, seemed to be the only one that had broken the no-contact barrier and could hold Laney’s hand.

  Declan surveyed the turmoil, trying to piece together how all five of them had suddenly come to be in his backyard together. His ability to comprehend anything was hampered by Laney’s wailing and convulsing body movements. Declan continued to hum.

  “Who the hell are you people?” Val’s question was said in a combination of anger and confusion. Her mind was obviously still reeling from the very recent trauma that she and Laney had just endured.

  “We’re with the FBI. We were driving to your house to meet with your husband when we saw that you were in trouble.” It was Izzy that spoke first. She had a way of calming people down.

  “Okay. Sorry, I am just… well, I have no idea what just happened.” Val softened her tone and shot a quick glance of concern to Declan. He gave a slight nod demonstrating that he registered her uneasiness with the FBI’s arrival so soon after the robbery.

  “I am just glad we got here when we did. Your van ignited fast. What happened to your vehicle?” Izzy asked, genuinely perplexed.

  “I don’t know. Nothing seemed different when I started it. I was taking Laney to her daily therapy session. Then, all of a sudden, everything just shut off. I heard the doors lock and I couldn’t get them open. I mean aren’t doors supposed to automatically open from the inside?” Val’s voice trembled as she spoke.

  “I’m no mechanic, but I’ve never heard of a malfunction like that before,” Izzy reassured.

  Laney had started to calm, and Declan loosened his hold on her. He gingerly righted her, lifting her off the ground. She stood and then followed him, arms folded, to the swing set where she sat and rocked, soothing herself further. Declan returned to the group, who looked like survivors of some campy ’80s horror movie. Each of their shirts was covered in some variety of soot and blood stains.

  “I can’t thank you enough for what you did back there.” Declan’s arm outstretched taking Nick’s hand giving it a firm shake.

  “It was nothing. I’m truly glad that we happened to be there. And besides, I think that it is I who owe you the debt of gratitude. You saved my life yesterday. If it hadn’t been for you I would have been laying on the M.E.’s slab.” Nick pushed himself off the ground and stood before Enright.

  Izzy took in the sight. Both of these equally impressive men standing face to face had left her somewhat awestruck.

  “You’re bleeding pretty good,” Nick observed, pointing at Declan’s shoulder.

  “Damn.” Declan looked down toward his left side, realizing that he must have ripped open the stitches when he had carried Val from the burning van.

  “You should have the medics take a look,” Nick said.

  “Can’t. I have no insurance. We can’t afford the bill. I’ll be fine. Had worse.” Declan was short in his responses. The fact that the FBI just happened to stop by was not lost on him. Maybe he had missed something that these agents had found. All these pleasantries seemed genuine, but they could just be trying to lull him into a false sense of security before they asked about the armored truck. Declan kept his guard up while maintaining his affable demeanor. Declan subconsciously glanced at the area where the money was buried.

  “When things calm down, I need to talk to you about yesterday. I think you may be able to help me out. Get your family settled. I’ll go speak with the fire and police guys to get them up to speed.” Nick and Izzy walked back toward the front and stood by as the fire department got the blaze under control.

  Powerful streams of water produced by the firetruck doused the fire, quelling the rising black smoke of the charred minivan. He had not noticed it during the fire, but now Nick saw that a red Toyota Corolla was parked under the tree on the other side.

  26

  Police and fire units had cleared the street surrounding Declan’s house. Many of the emergency personnel had worked the bus explosion from the day before. The physical and emotional toll was etched on their faces. Nick had requested that the Enright’s minivan be towed to the FBI satellite office in Meriden, Connecticut for additional evidentiary processing. He wasn’t sure yet if the two incidents were connected, but as Nick’s college lit professor used to say when quoting Linda Poindexter, “Coincidence is a plan in disguise.” It
appeared to him that the last couple days might be a testament to that adage.

  Nick and Izzy were seated on the small corner bench in the Enright’s dining room. The house was small but well kept. It was only a two-bedroom, one-bathroom home and yet somehow, they had managed to fit three girls and two adults into this quaint colonial.

  “I have a really important question,” Nick said as Declan fired up the Keurig.

  “Shoot.” Declan played it cool but was concerned where this questioning could eventually lead.

  “What is your morning bathroom routine like with three girls and a wife?” Nick chuckled. His smile eased the tension.

  Declan laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’d rather be dodging bullets in the sand on some days than fighting for a moment of peace here,” Declan said as he blew a kiss at his wife.

  Everyone in the room laughed, and for a moment it seemed that everyone forgot that Val and Laney had just barely escaped a fiery death inside of the family’s minivan.

  “You guys couldn’t have come at a better time. I don’t think that I would have been able to gain access to them in time if it hadn’t been for you two,” Declan said. The sincerity in his eyes further acknowledged the efforts of Nick and Izzy.

  “Like I said earlier. I owe you and was glad to have an opportunity to repay my debt,” Nick responded, deflecting the accolade.

  “Obviously, I’m glad that you came to see me when you did, but what was it that brought you my way in the first place?” Declan spoke calmly, but he could feel a palpable pressure rising inside him.

  “I’m not sure how much your wife knows about yesterday’s bus incident. Do you feel comfortable speaking about it in front of her?” Nick was offering Declan an opportunity to speak in private.

  “I keep nothing from Val. Not ever. So, whatever we need to talk about can be done in her presence.” Declan also knew that it was good to have witnesses present during any questioning and wanted her to be there as a safety net if the Bureau agents were trying to set him up.

  “I meant no offense. I just wanted to make you as comfortable as possible.” Nick gave Val a friendly smile as he said this.

  “So, what’s up?” Declan wanted to get it over with.

  “I was reviewing the video footage from the bomb yesterday. I watched it over and over again at various speeds. I didn’t catch it at first but later noticed that right before you pulled me to the ground you turned your head to the left. Something caught your attention and I need to know what it was.” Nick said this as his mind momentarily relived those intense few seconds before the explosion. His pulse quickened, and he could feel the adrenaline begin to activate in his system. Nick knew that this was a common physiological reaction when rehashing a recent traumatic event.

  “Okay?” Declan said this in a tone that made the statement more of a question than an affirmation.

  “What did you see that caused you to react the way you did?” Nick now asked more directly, but still maintained a non-accusatory tone.

  “Someone who shouldn’t have been there,” Declan spoke softly.

  “I don’t understand,” Nick said flatly. He was quickly realizing that Declan Enright did not give up any amount of information easily.

  “I saw someone from my distant past who was out of place in little old Wethersfield. I saw him two weeks before near the bus stop, but it didn’t click then. It wasn’t until I saw him standing by the fence line that separates the bank from the gas station that it dawned on me who he was.” Declan paused. Fearful that his disclosure about being at the bus stop two weeks ago had potentially exposed something he shouldn’t have.

  “A guy from your past causes you to stop running mid-stride and redirects you to react by pulling me to safety?” Frustration was setting in as Nick saw that Declan was putting up a wall. Nick had an uncanny ability to read people and could see that Enright was holding back. “Tell me what I’m missing here.”

  “My past is not that of your average citizen. When someone from it appears, I become concerned.”

  “We did some research into your background before heading over for our visit. When you say your past are you referring to your life as a police officer or your time in the military?” Nick asked this assuming it was the latter but didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

  Declan registered no judgment to Nick’s question. “It was someone that I crossed paths with when playing in the sandbox,” Declan said, making a second reference to gauge Nick and determine if he too was ex-military. If he didn’t ask what he meant by the term sandbox, then he could plausibly assume that the FBI agent had also served.

  “It’s like pulling teeth with you.” Nick exposed a hint of frustration. “I did a little digging into your military past and I understand your background. I’m not trying to gather information from classified missions. I’m simply trying to figure out who this guy is and if you think he was involved with the bus’s explosion.” Nick’s face had hardened and was more serious now.

  “Sorry, old habits die hard. People start asking me questions about my past and I revert to my counter-interrogation training. It’s like a reflex reaction.” Declan gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t know the guy’s name, but I am more than willing to tell you whatever I can remember about him if you think that might help.”

  “Anything you can tell me would be better than what we have right now. Please go on,” Nick said, softening his facial expression.

  “Some of the guys in my team referred to him as the Boston guy or just plainly, Boston. He was a village translator in a small town located twenty miles east of Choman and set in the foothills of the Cheekha Dar Mountain. My unit had taken refuge there as a waypoint between objectives. It was challenging terrain but was a thoroughfare for an Iranian insurgent group that had sprung up in Iraq. He was a great asset to us. We had a guy in my team, Hook, that spoke Arabic, but it was always better if a local assisted. And that is what he did.”

  Nick took this moment to interject while Declan was paused in thought. “Why did you call him Boston?”

  “He had been educated at Northeastern University in Boston. My unit commander, Moose, got along really well with him. He also went to school in Boston. Both had similar degrees. I guess they bonded on those points. They maintained a friendship until the village elders pulled their support for us.”

  “I know that you probably aren’t supposed to talk about details for Opsec but give me whatever you can.” Nick used lingo knowing that Enright would pick up on this and realize that he too had some military experience. Nick also did this because he knew that using similar terminology or gestures encouraged communication.

  “I assume that you have some experience over there too. Who were you with?” Declan asked. Two knights raising their visor to gauge friend-or-foe.

  “I was with the 3rd Ranger Battalion. You and I were overseas around the same block of time. Shit, we may have been on the same base, but I wouldn’t know because your service record has some holes,” Nick said, raising one eyebrow in mock suspicion.

  “So, you have been doing some digging?” Declan responded, sounding impressed.

  “Of course we did. I had to figure out who we were dealing with.”

  “You could have just asked.” Declan smiled.

  “Yeah, that’s worked out well so far,” Nick sarcastically blurted out. “Back to this translator, you mentioned that things in the village changed with respect to their support?”

  “The acceptance of American military troops in an Iraqi town is a careful balancing act under the best of circumstances. The politics of those relationships was not something that I involved myself with and avoided as much as possible. But after we pulled out, a terrorist group moved in. Without going into details, we assaulted the bad guy stronghold in the village. During a heavy firefight, the translator’s young daughter was killed,” Declan said softly.

  “Shit,” Nick said, letting out a sigh. His mind was already heading down a dark path.

  �
��Yeah, shit. The translator was never the same. Physically he carried scars from the fire. He was found in the smoldering rubble of the school holding his burned daughter. But psychologically he was a broken man. I’m sure that you can now understand why his presence outside the bank yesterday completely caught me off guard.”

  Nick was quiet. The reality of the bus explosion was sinking in. Sometimes he hated being right. “It was him. He blew the bus.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying this aloud for his own benefit, but he noticed that everyone in the room was looking at him with a hint of fear in their eyes. Everyone except Declan. Nick saw the rage that lay just beneath the surface. The operator inside of Declan Enright had been awakened.

  Val broke the silence when she walked out of the kitchen and returned with her sewing kit. Declan grimaced knowing what was in store for him.

  Izzy got up to help. “I was a medic in the Army. Not a warrior elite like the two studs over there, but I patched plenty of them up during my time. I can help with that.”

  “Thank you. I really wasn’t looking forward to doing it again so soon.” The two set to work, sterilizing the needle and cleaning the area around the wound.

  “I’ve got to make a quick call.” Nick pulled his cellphone from his pocket and held it to his ear as he walked outside.

  “Jake. I’m at the ex-military guy’s house, and it’s what I thought. The bus was no accident.” Nick let this information sink into his supervisor’s brain before continuing.

  “Holy shit. How sure are you? If I run this up the chain and it turns out you’re wrong…” Jake Nelson let the veiled threat go unsaid. Typical bureaucrat, more worried about his potential backlash than doing the right thing.

  “I am as sure as I have ever been. Make the damn call.” Nick Lawrence very rarely spoke like this to a supervisor and because of that, he knew that it would have the intended effect.

  “Nick, you and Izzy are reassigned as the primaries on this thing as of this minute. The armored truck investigation can wait. Tell me what you need. You two are going to have to come in and give me a full workup on what you have so far. I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of the SAIC.” Nelson was always concerned about Special Agent in Charge Emily Watson’s opinion of him. Not a great quality to have, especially when lives hang in the balance.