Santoro began speaking before Keegan would have the chance to utter another word. “I find it fascinating how much you share in common with your dad as far as the department is concerned, Tim. You both started in the Six-Seven. You have the same shield number and now you will have both received the department’s highest medal. And from everything I’m hearing about you, you’re a natural cop.”
Santoro held up his hand preventing any response. He picked up the phone and ordered the Inspector into the room.
“I have one more similarity for you, Tim.”
Once the Inspector entered, “Phil, call down to Personnel. Have Sergeant Galvin and Officer Keegan temporarily assigned to the Joint Terrorist Task Force effective immediately.”
Keegan was stunned and from the ashen look on Galvin’s face, he was as well. “You’re transferring us to the JTTF Commissioner?” Galvin seemed to need clarification.
Keegan wanted justification. “With all due respect Commissioner, why? Maybe Sergeant Galvin, but I’m a rookie…and I’m still in field training.”
Could the Police Commissioner be trying to buy my silence? Is this his way of keeping me from looking into my dad’s case?
Santoro defended his decision, “Yes, Tim, you’re a rookie, but you’re a rookie who saved countless lives because of his actions. You thwarted a suicide bomber. Hell, you thwarted a network of suicide bombers nationwide. I was the Chief of Detectives before I was the PC, and I always said the cop who breaks a case should be able to see it to fruition.”
He looked over to the Inspector once again. “Also, after you call Personnel, get Inspector Enton on the phone for me at the Six-Seven. I have to apologize for stealing two of his best cops for the foreseeable future.”
Best cops?
Skeptical as Keegan was, he liked the sound of that.
Maybe I am over thinking things. Everything Santoro said made sense...or do I just want it to be true.
Keegan silently pondered this internal conflict.
Santoro turned back towards Galvin and Keegan. “I’ll owe Inspector Enton a big favor for this, but you guys deserve the temporary assignment; one caveat for you though, Keegan. You’re still going to have to work Times Square on New Year’s Eve. They always pull guys from every command, even one token body from JTTF. I promised the Commanding Officer of the unit, Inspector Talbot, that body would be you this year.”
Maybe this is legit after all. If he were truly trying to shut me up, he wouldn’t still send me to a detail…would he?
Keegan took a deep breath before he asked, “Commissioner, would I have access to old case folders once I’m assigned to JTTF?”
Galvin shot him a disapproving look and answered before the Commissioner. “Let’s close this one before we worry about cold cases, Tim.”
Keegan realized that Galvin was trying to protect him from himself, but still, the transfer might make it easier for him to look into his father’s assassination.
Santoro stood up and shook each man’s hand again without ever responding to Keegan’s question. “Thank you both for coming in. Your transfer to the Joint Terrorist Task Force is effective immediately. I’d suggest you get back to the Six-Seven and change out of your uniforms. Inspector Talbot will be expecting you guys for a noon briefing today. The Assistant Director in Charge of the Eastern District, Robert Wolf, will go over the very momentous day, we as a law enforcement family shared yesterday—largely, if not exclusively, thanks to you two guys. He’ll also go over what the future of this investigation holds. Don’t be late.”
*
Santoro paced the floor for a few minutes once the men left his office. It hadn’t been hard to read Keegan…and that worried Santoro. As Castillo had feared, the rookie cop seemed to very much believe what Murad Zein had told him. Now it was Santoro who would have to make a tough decision, and sometime soon.
Santoro sat back down and took a sip of his coffee. He swiveled his chair facing the morning rush hour traffic in lower Manhattan; searching for an answer that the pedestrians below could not afford him. He found it ironic that today—the day after Thanksgiving—was known as Black Friday. He turned back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Phil, call DCPI and get Chief Edwards on the line for me.”
The Deputy Commissioner of Public Information’s office was the liaison between the NYPD and the vast press and media in New York City. The office was responsible for reporting the news to the media as well as giving official department statements regarding anything that the press has inquired about. The office was quite often used by the department—more specifically the Police Commissioner—to put the appropriate spin on an issue.
Santoro sat in silence waiting for the phone to ring. He gently tapped a pen against the desk; the tapping rivaled the hum of the heating system as the only audible noises in the office. He had to be careful how he played this situation with Tim Keegan, while not losing sight of the arrests of the terrorists and the nationwide threat as a whole. The common belief was that the sleeper cell had been dismantled and the threat against the nation had been short circuited, but Santoro realized that New York was, as always, a prime target for a terrorist attack.
Of course, as it was his men (Sergeant Galvin and Officer Keegan), who set the chain of events in motion by killing the first suicide bomber without any additional casualties. Santoro and the NYPD would be looked at as heroes. He also knew that being a hero one day didn’t buy you any extra graces with the public. If the Keegan cover up spun out of control, Santoro know it was likely the end of his thirty year career.
Santoro answered the phone on the first ring. “Hey Charlie, thanks for getting back to me so soon.” Santoro displayed humility as there was no need to thank the Chief whose obligation it was to answer to the Police Commissioner.
“How’s everything looking with the take down of the sleeper cell? Are we getting our fair share of credit?”
It wasn’t much of a surprise for Santoro to hear, that while the NYPD was credited with the take down of the first of the suicide bombers, Washington’s take was that this had been an ongoing investigation and that there was never any danger to the United States and its citizens yesterday on Thanksgiving Day. He nodded his head to himself as he listened to the explanation, still tapping the pen against the oversized desk.
“Okay, Charlie, here’s what I want you to do. The FBI has called a press conference for two pm. Once they’ve addressed the media and put whatever official statements out there, I’ll need a couple of hours to digest their story. I want you to announce a press conference at One Police Plaza for five pm. We are going to play up the heroics of Galvin and Keegan. Of course, we’ll have to keep the Chicago angle out of it, but rather focus on how two NYPD cops thwarted the first ever suicide bomber on American soil. If any member of the press asks if that incident led to the other arrests, I’ll be vague without ever saying no. Let them draw their own conclusions and maybe one or two will see the truth for themselves.”
Santoro drew a deep breath threw his nostrils before he continued.
I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
“When you announce the press conference, I also want you to put out a statement that we are transferring the two officers involved to the Joint Terrorist Task Force. Make sure that they fully understand that Tim Keegan is the son of Lieutenant James Keegan. They loved the story when he graduated from the academy, maybe they will really run with this as well. You know the angle; hero cop following in his father’s footsteps.”
After some more consideration, “as a matter of fact, I’m sure there are a few reporters who owe you a favor or two. See that they run a separate story about Keegan and the transfer. The top story on the news will obviously be the terrorist cell, but the papers are always looking for a story behind the story; something that every other journalist may not focus on which would give their network or newspaper an edge in ratings or sales. Maybe even some of the reporters can ask me a question or two about the transfer
, and I can play it up even more.”
“Thanks, Charlie.” With that, Santoro hung up the phone. He skipped the pen across the four foot width of the desk and watched at it didn’t survive the edge. It was a calculated play, and he knew it. If he played his cards just right, Keegan might gain some media attraction and get distracted by it. He might even really want to follow in his father’s footsteps in the JTTF. From everything that Santoro had heard about the rookie, he seemed to be a real good young officer.
On the other hand, if Santoro had misplayed things, he may have just given Keegan an even bigger audience to share his concerns—the New York City media. Santoro knew the ins and outs of things that Keegan did not. Keegan would have to sign an affidavit of confidentiality once he arrived at 26 Federal Plaza later today. This was an insurance policy; a carefully calculated move by Santoro.
Santoro drew the comparison of a murderer going into the confessional to confess to a priest. The priest now knew the truth—as Keegan soon may—yet be prohibited from repeating it. In the priests case, under the sanctity of the confessional, in Keegan’s under penalty of law. Santoro was comfortable to bet that Keegan, while curious to find out the truth, had no desire to spend time in a federal prison to find that truth out. It was a big gamble for Santoro, but one that he knew he had to make.
Considering the events over the last forty-eight hours, Santoro had been in near constant contact with the Commanding Officer at the NYPD’s end of the JTTF. There’d be no need to use Inspector Phil Marks as an intermediate. Santoro removed the cell phone from his belt, looked through his recent call log for the number of Inspector John Talbot and pressed connect.
Talbot picked up on the third ring.
“Hey John, Commissioner Santoro here. I transferred Galvin and Keegan to your office effective immediately. They’ll be there in time for Wolf’s debriefing at noon. What I want from you is as soon as they show up, shove that confidentiality affidavit in their face and get them to sign it…even before they take their coats off. Is that understood?”
After a very brief pause, “Good. Thanks, John. What’s the latest that we have on the sleeper cell?”
Talbot gave an up to the second update before hanging up.
Santoro knew that Talbot must have wondered about the strange request. The affidavit is usually signed on the first day, but not before you set foot in the office. He also knew that Talbot was a rising star; a company man with higher aspirations than Inspector and such a trivial request would not garner an ounce of resistance from Talbot.
Yes, after a bit of deliberation, Santoro realized that he handled things just right…just like he usually did. Ambushing Keegan with the affidavit, before he had a chance to consider the implications, was a grand strategic move; Galvin may know that it’s coming, but he’d bet his career that Keegan didn’t…and upon reflection, maybe he just did.
Chapter 19
Twenty-Third Floor—Twenty-Six Federal Plaza, New York City
Federal Bureau of Investigations
Office of the Joint Terrorist Task Force
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Tommy Galvin had barely read the affidavit before signing it. Keegan gave it a quick glance, but seeing as Galvin, a man he admired and trusted, signed with no problem, Keegan simply followed suit. The men were met by Louis Castillo, who gave them a very preliminary update and showed them around the office.
Galvin and Keegan shook hands and were introduced to nearly a dozen people whose names Keegan had forgotten almost as quickly as the next person was introduced. Everyone they had been introduced to met them with admiration and smiles; some with pats on the back. Keegan remembered what he had been told by so many; ‘Washington will put whatever slant on this that best suits them.’ But here in the office of the Joint Terrorist Task Force, people knew the truth, and they were greeted accordingly.
Keegan looked around thinking how clean the office looked; at least compared to a police precinct—his only true point of reference. The office had short gray carpet and off-white walls. It was a fairly large space broken up into smaller cubicles, where each individual detective worked. Each of the cubicles had a modern white-topped desk with its own computer. Even the chairs were of a better quality and more comfortable than one would find in a precinct. On the walls were some wanted posters as well as television sets tuned into a variety of news stations. There was even a small kitchen in the back of the office with a refrigerator, microwave oven, and a coffee machine.
Once the initial tour was given, the officers were taken downstairs where a photograph was taken and they were each issued a federal identification card, which, along with a fingerprint scan, doubled as a pass key for all locked doors in the building. The men were each given a lanyard where they would display these identification cards at all times while inside the building.
They stepped off the elevator back on the twenty-third floor and approached a set of double glass doors which bore the insignia of the FBI. Keegan, although having seen the insignia hundreds of times before, never really took a good look at it before. He paused momentarily and took in the scales of justice within the shield and the words fidelity, bravery, integrity on a ribbon flowing below it.
Galvin and Keegan stopped at the doors. Galvin offered a smile. “Go ahead, use your card.”
Keegan scanned his identification card through the card reader, supplied a thumb print, and pushed open the heavy glass door which warned Authorized Personnel Only. The men, still escorted by Castillo, headed down to the last office on the left. Keegan read the door plate on the big wooden door as he approached:
N.Y.P.D. Joint Terrorist Task Force
Commanding Officer—Inspector John Talbot
Executive Officer—Captain Joseph Haber
A sudden chill ran down Keegan’s spine. For the first time, it had occurred to him that he was probably entering the very same office where his father once called his own. Talbot welcomed the men to the JTTF and gave a quick glance at his watch. Talbot cut the formalities short as he noted that the debriefing was set to begin shortly and the men needed to get to the conference room.
Keegan sat at the large wooden conference table, flanked on either side by Sergeant Galvin and Detective Castillo. The room was large and served as both a conference room and a command center, Castillo had explained. There were black leather chairs all around and numerous large screen televisions mounted to the wall. Keegan watched in awe as many of the televisions were showing live feeds of New York City; others—far less interesting, were showing various news stations such as CNN, MSNBC, and even Al-Jazeera.
An array of FBI agents and NYPD detectives began filing into the room and filling the vacant chairs encircling the highly polished conference table. Many, if not all, had brief cases which they set on the desk in front of them. Keegan silently noted to himself—for no particular reason—that of all of the over two dozen law enforcement officials present, there were only two women. He wondered how Cathy would feel about that.
Once the seats around the table were taken, other agents sat on chairs set off to either side of the room, setting their own attachés under their chairs. Keegan waited patiently for the debriefing to begin, unsure of what would be said. Inspector Talbot and another man were talking in the front of the room.
Finally, Talbot sat down at the first seat to the right of the head of the table. He moved the telephone over and opened a thick folder. A hush fell over the law enforcement officers who had been quietly talking among themselves. Castillo turned to Galvin and Keegan and whispered. “That’s Robert Wolf, the Assistant Director in Charge. He’ll be the one to give the briefing.”
Wolf grabbed a remote control which had been stationed at the podium in the front of the room. All of the televisions went dark as did the room’s lighting. The FBI’s logo on a large screen in the front of the room began to fade away.
“Good morning, ladies and gentleman,” Wolf
began. “We had a good day yesterday…a real good day,” a broad smile came across his face. Wolf motioned in Keegan and Galvin’s direction. “Much of it was due to Sergeant Tom Galvin and Police Officer Tim Keegan who were transferred to the JTTF this morning to work the case with us.”
A few welcomes and small accolades were sent their way before Wolf would continue. The smile morphed into a much more sober look as he began. Wolf pressed a button on the remote. On the giant screen, appeared two pictures side by side; one an arrest photo from 1994…the second, the same man with a bullet hole in his head taken the other night. “We’re all aware of what happened here in New York City on Tuesday evening. A terrorist named Nazeem al-Haq, a.k.a. Tariq Azir, was stopped and subsequently killed by the NYPD.” Wolf once again stared in their direction acknowledging their heroics.
“At first glance, it looked as if this were a random act of revenge as al-Haq had a picture of Officer Keegan on him, and as it turns out, Keegan’s father had arrested al-Haq twenty years earlier for terrorist activities.”
Wolf was slow to pan the room, meeting as many pairs of eyes as he could to stress the importance of what he was about to say. “Thank God that we didn’t simply rest on those assumptions.”
“The diligent work of the men and women of the JTTF…,” his extended index finger panned the room. “…you guys and gals, right here in this room, ran with the ball and kept on digging until you uncovered a large scale terrorist plot; a coordinated series of suicide bombers, which if it hadn’t gone unstopped could have had casualties in the thousands.”
Wolf loosened his navy blue tie and opened the top button of his cream colored shirt. He forwarded to the next photo. The photo depicted a man of mid eastern decent whose left eye was substantially swollen. He took a sip of water from the bottle in front of him and continued. “Our first lead took us to Chicago where our brother agents arrested Murad Zein. Zein attempted to go for a suicide vest when officers kicked in his door, but thankfully, our officers were not only safe but used great restraint in taking Zein into custody alive. Zein turned out to be a valuable commodity. After a short interrogation, he unveiled the rest of the plot as well as the operatives for us.”
Legacy and Redemption Page 20