“Captain, I am a diplomat from the American Embassy. I can show you my I.D. if I may?”
“Show me.”
Getting out his wallet from his trousers pocket was painful enough, and the fingers of his hands shook badly while he looked for his I.D. in the wallet.
All this time, he was subjected to the blinding glare of the Captain’s flashlight, who then used it to check out Jon’s ID particulars pausing to glance at Jonathan’s face to see if the photograph matched.
“Excuse me,” he said to Bradley as he moved a few feet away from him. He was seen talking on his mobile-radio probably to someone higher-up whilst referring to Bradley’s I.D. particulars in the hand. Five minutes later, he returned and handed back Jonathan’s I.D., this time with less rigidness.
“Captain, can I request to make a phone call to the American Embassy?”
“Maybe 15 minutes later. I am expecting a call from my Headquarters. Meantime, you can wait inside the car.”
“Officer, a moment please,” Bradley glanced towards the car occupants, “This man, Jameel Khalaf, is my guide. The others are farmers who offered to take me to the American Medical Centre in Hamra.”
“Their I.D.s are in order. I will let you all go after I receive the permission from my H.Q.”
When the green signal came from the Captain’s headquarters, Jonathan borrowed the passenger seat Shiite’s cellphone to call the Embassy.
Bradley got the Embassy PRO, Johnson Crane, on his personal line, and asked him to make hospital arrangement for him at the American University Medical Centre; that he would be arriving there in about half an hour’s time. He cut off the line before the PRO could say anything by way of response.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
St. Morgan Hospital, NYC - 2006
Saturday - 4.15 PM
He drove to the nearest restaurant and had a quick lunch before driving to the St Morgan Hospital Center | Psychiatry at the 462 1st Avenue.
Victoria was busy with a patient when Jonathan arrived at her office. He waited in the reception room until she was free.
The patient, who came out of her room ten minutes later, was an attractive middle-age blonde woman. She seemed familiar to Bradley as she walkedpast him hurriedly with a somewhat embarrassed look on her face. Perhaps, she had recognized him, but he could not exactly place her in his mind because of the dark glasses she wore.
Psychiatrist Victoria was on her feet, behind her desk when he walked in. “Hi, Jonathan. Sorry to have kept you waiting….”
“Hello, doctor. Think nothing about it. You have an attractive receptionist out there,” he kidded her.
“I hope you’re not thinking of dating her over me,” she reciprocated, “well, jokes aside, I think you are entitled to being enthusiastic since you have some real encouraging news coming your way.”
“Is that so, Dr. Victoria? No doubt, I feel my spirits elevated already. But, I think the credit for that ought to go to you.”
“Jonathan, what’s important is that the outcome is better than what I had expected.
“Come, sit down, and let me explain.
“I don’t know if you are aware that I am also a certified Hypnotherapist.”
Bradley shook his head negatively.
“Well, I had been after Samantha for her consent to submit to hypnosis treatment. Most lay people fear hypnosis, believing that their privacy would be transgressed.
“On the contrary, it’s a useful clinical tool for an Alternative Treatment of Rape Trauma Syndrome. Under hypnotherapy, the victim learns to do away with the fear, anxiety and helplessness, further helping to recover her self-esteem and learn to trust once again those close to her, and finally the society.
“Sometimes, the simultaneous hypnotherapy of a rape victim with her husband or partner who shares her rape-related feelings can serve to expel the anger towards self and the assailant, and her doubts and frustrations.
“In the case of a rape victim, it is at first not necessary to go as far back as her childhood, unless she has suffered sexual abuse in her early past. We call that science, Psychodynamic therapy.”
“Does the patient come under absolute control of the therapist?”
Bradley was reminded about the CIA’s clandestine mind control experiments, and the public furor over the Agency’s violation of human dignity and values.
“Absolutely not… Nothing ever happens without the patient’s consent. She is in control at all times. There shouldn’t be any doubt about that, because this is the main reason that the people in general fear and do not want to submit to hypnosis.”
“Did Samantha finally give her consent, and what was her experience?”
“I first put her at ease by narrating a few rape cases, while respecting the clients’ confidentiality. Then I let her mull over the outcome of the instances shared, and recommended reading a book or two written by victims of similar assaults. At the next session, she showed some willingness; albeit not fully convinced.
“Early last week, I made her write down the questions I’d be asking her under hypnosis so that she was aware of the nature of the questions she’d answer.
“We have had two sessions since then. Understandably, at the first one, she was a bit nervous, but soon felt relaxed and submissive.
“The last one was much better and already shows promising results. I certainly see early signs of recovery, both in her thinking and behavior patterns.”
“Good work, Dr. Victoria.”
“Perhaps, at her next session you’d also want to undergo the hypnosis with her…?” She chided him, knowing well what his line of work was.
“I have my absolute trust in Samantha, and if she feels what she is doing is the right thing for her, that’s all I’d ever need. And, no intrusive therapy for me, doctor. Unless you want to be held as an accessory after the fact.”
“Don’t worry, Jonathan, I am adequately protected from any future evil intent of the government, under HIPAA Privacy Laws.”
“So, when will Samantha see me now? It’s over a month since I last saw at the hospital.”
“Poor boy…. Well, she is waiting for you to ask her out. What are you now waiting for?” She grinned at him.
Victoria saw his face light up, as she heard the phone ring on her desk.
“Thanks doctor for the good work. I am indebted to you.”
Victoria was in the act of picking up the phone, “That’s part of my job, Jonathan,” she answered. “See that she doesn’t miss her remaining sessions.’
“Sure. Goodbye, Doctor.”
***
Jonathan felt much relieved and spirited as he walked to his Ford. He hadn’t been in such a terrific mood since a long while.
He phoned the florist to send the best bunch of red roses to his lady and make it an express delivery. He dictated the message to go with the flower-bouquet.
Just as he dialed Samantha’s number, he remembered about Steve Turner and the others of the FBI and NYPD holding the press meeting at the terror cell crime scene. It had already been in progress since last 20 minutes.
The FBI did not make it mandatory for Jonathan, who was retained as a contract worker, to attend press meetings.
As soon as he heard her voice on the other side, Jonathan said to her, “Sam darling, how’re you feeling today? I’ve just come from seeing Dr. Victoria. She tells me that you are making real progress.”
“I am fine, Jonathan. She put me under hypnotherapy and ever since then I feel I am getting to be my old self again. My sister’s family also seems to think so. They have really gone way out for me. “
“I’ve really missed you, darling.”
“I missed you too very much… I am sorry, Jon. I was so selfish not to have realized the hurt I was causing you, by refusing your presence or even talking to you...”
“Samantha, you don’t need to feel that way; not now, anyway. We all know the trauma you suffered. It is natural for a victim, as you were, to shut off from the world, ev
en from your dear and near ones.
“Dr. Victoria believes that once having come to terms with the reality of what happened to you, you will gradually come back to normal. You are not alone. Several women victims go through this phase and recover.”
Jonathan was trying to convince her that he fully understood her situation, and was with her all the way.
“Thanks for the flowers you have been sending, darling. Elaine tells me that you have been very supportive all along despite my shunning you.“
“That’s history now, Sammy. We should be happy to have found ourselves again.”
“Yet, I feel I shouldn’t have behaved that badly towards you…,” her voice showed the extent of her emotions, but Bradley wanted to brighten her mood.
“Sam darling, now is an occasion for us to rejoice and not think back. We can look ahead to a larger picture of our lives together.
“Tomorrow, it’s Sunday. What do you say, we spent the day together? I will pick up in the morning for breakfast And then, it is just us… just us, Sammy.”
“Oh! That’d be so wonderful, Jon darling… but you will have to be patient with me…”
“Don’t let that bother you. I love you, Sammy. I’d gladly spend an eternity waiting for you…”
“So cute, beloved. But I wouldn’t make you wait that long. I am already yours and shall always be.”
***
Since he had the rest of the evening to himself, he decided to visit the lady detective who was assigned to investigate Samantha’s assault case. He was impatient for the results. Quite a few weeks had passed since the horrific incident took place.
Halfway to the NYPD police station, he considered it best to phone and let the detective know that he was coming.
Her desk phone merely rang, no one lifting the phone, and so he disconnected it. The Sergeant at the desk answered that she was probably elsewhere but inside the station. He drove on thinking he would take the chance, anyway.
****
Steve Turner chaired the press meet and both his FBI officials, SAS – Alan Banks and SA – William King, were present on his either side and the PRO occupying the seat next to Officer Banks. Police Captain, Frank Barros, was also present representing the NYPD.
For the first fifteen minutes, Turner and then Barros each gave the media, an almost similar overview of the preliminary investigation of the alleged shootout between the warring drug dealers, referring to the combined press release, which was later handed out to the press and TV channel reporters.
Afterwards, Steve Turner stated, “We will now take any relevant questions.’
The FBI PRO stood up, “Only two questions per press or T.V. channel for the remaining 10 to 15 minutes. So, please be short and specific. Give the others an opportunity to ask. Alright, let’s begin. You…,” he was pointing to a TV channel reporter.
“You have stated that it was a shootout between drug traffickers. What evidence have you to support that statement? Because our inquiries in the neighborhood reveal that the occupants of that house were mid-eastern looking men, some even said that they could have been visiting the New York City.”
“I assume, these are two separate questions. The answer to your first question is that we have known for some time about this secret hideout used by the drug traffickers since placing them under surveillance. Their rivals, it’d now appear, raided the place before we could make our case.
About your second query, haven’t you found that there are several
Arab-American communities living in this Yonker neighborhood?
And, you all know that drug traffickers do not belong to a specific country or race,” the FBI Special Agent remarked with a wave of his hand as if brushing aside the question.
“Next…,“ he uttered.
“Did you find drugs inside the house? What type and how much?” asked another reporter.
“My officers are still accessing that. We shall release that information later.“
Allan Banks came in, “But, I can tell you that we did find a pile of weapons hidden in the ceiling, mostly automatic
handguns and ammunition. All illegal and unaccounted for, of course.’
“Sir, can you be more specific about the number of bodies found and if they have been identified?” one of the pressmen asked.
“Pending the autopsies, I can inform you that in all three bullet-riddled bodies were found in the detached house, apparently victims of the alleged shootout. They were Lebanese-Arab Americans.
“As for the only body found on the first floor of the adjoining house, it is the landlord’s by the name of Hariri. He rented out the house to the men next door. We do not know how many shared the house. But, the owner himself is a Lebanese American like them.”
“Sir, what about their next of kin? Have you contacted them?”
Steve Turner looked at William, who took the cue and answered the questioner, “We are in the process of doing so.
The PRO got up to his feet. “Two more questions and we end this press meet. Those of who have not collected the official press release, please do so.”
“Sir, is there more to it, which the FBI is not telling us? Could the men have been part of a terror cell and they were taken out before they could cause any damage?”
“By whom?” Turner was quick to interrupt the investigative reporter of a local crime journal whom he knew by sight. Moreover, Steve did not want the other reporters present to dwell on this line of questioning.
“DHS – Directorate of Home Security, is the one who would take them out. The very fact that they did not know and, therefore, were not involved, answers your speculation.”
He made a deliberate show of looking at his wrist watch which showed 4.55 PM, and he thought it was time to end this show.
“One last question, Sir.” A TV channel reporter was asking, “A widow and her son, it appears, were attacked last night at about the same time as the shootout. They were left tied up and locked inside their house. The alleged assailant, it seems was a young woman….”
“Must have been the burglary,” interjected the police captain matter-of-factly, “There was a report of one in this area late last night.”
Then the FBI officials and the NYPD Captain got up to leave, as the FBI PRO thanked the press and was the last official to leave the scene.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
New York City - 2006
Saturday - 5.30 PM
The police staff of the day shift was getting ready to go off-duty.
Detective Liza Quadros was speaking to her junior partner, Randy Nogart, from the Homicide Bureau, when Bradley approached her desk.
She turned to Jonathan, “In a moment, Mr. Bradley.” And went back listening to Randy speak.
Jonathan heard them disagreeing about a case that they were discussing and finally, the lady detective appeared exasperated with the junior detective, telling him angrily, “Randy, you have a lot to learn. We just don’t do it that way. You were required to have asked me before you said or did anything which could be held against you. You understand that, don’t you, Randy? Is it on record?”
Randy shook his head.
“Then forget about it.”
Randy hesitated and would have probably wanted to pursue, if his superior had not ignored him and started talking to the visitor.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bradley.”
“Good afternoon, Detective Quadros.”
After the animated discussion with her colleague, the lady still appeared to be flushed with anger.
“Couldn’t it have waited until Monday, Sir? I have had my hands full this whole week, investigating three more rape cases. When I ask for help, they give me rookies.”
Officer Randy had walked away by then and he did overhear the cynical remark.
“I have been trying to call you, Detective…”
“Well, since you are already here, what is that you’d like to know?”
‘Since you’re short of assistance, why don’t you
accept my offer to assist you in this particular case. You know I am with the FBI, but I would be doing so unofficially. So that no one sees it as interference in the NYPD’s investigation.’
She thought over it for a few moments, “I will let you as long as you keep it unofficial and report only to me. Now what do you want from me?”
“I will need to see your case file of Samantha Clarke including the witness statements, if any, the victim’s medical examination reports, crime scene forensic reports, photos and the follow-up investigation reports so far. I would also need to go through your files of the two alleged suspects.”
“I will have a word with Captain Frank Barros first. You two know each other, don’t you?”
Bradley nodded.
“Well, you can start coming from next week. I will tell Officer Randy Nogart, who you saw me talking to sometime before, to give you access to the files.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Detective Liza. I apologize for the intrusion.”
“I know the lady’s your friend,“ she softened as she went on to say, “For both your sake, and for the sake of other unfortunate victims, let’s hope we can get to the bottom of this, and the rapist is put behind bars once and for all.”
Jonathan nodded in silent agreement,
As hegot up to leave, Detective Liza said, “By the way,” I called on Samantha Clarke at her sister’s place sometime this week. She was better this time, and we talked for a while. She was able to provide additional information, which I have filed in my report of that of visit.”
“Incidentally, we are meeting for the first time since the incident and perhaps I may learn more from her.”
“Well, best of luck to both of you, Mr. Bradley.
“Thanks, Detective. Bye for now.”
***
Having driven straight home from the police station, Jonathan had a shower, a shave and then settled to relax himself in the lounge of his apartment before dressing to go out for the evening.
CROSSFIRE: Ex-CIA JON BRADLEY Thriller Series (TERROR BLOODLINE Book 1) Page 10