Election Day: A Harry Cassidy Novel

by Henry Hack

  “I’ll deal with her, but if you don’t tell her, and Mark and Joe Ramos doesn’t tell her, it will make my job dealing with her a lot easier.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thanks, and I am sorry I disappointed you.”

  “Like I said, let’s see how things go. Let’s hope events don’t get out of hand, but if they do I’ll be reaching out for you once again.”

  * * *

  When Phil MacDonald answered his phone Harry said, “I just came back from the liquor store. Your bottle of scotch is on the way.”

  “Told you so! Who called, Carson or Kobak?”

  “Both.”

  “And you said?”

  “No, just like I told you I would. So now you can send me that case of fine liquid.”

  “Oh no, not just yet. Things are just beginning. You may change your mind.”

  “Not if things keep going as smoothly as they are. Oh, do you have a newspaper down there that carries Red Baker’s column?”

  “Sure do, the old drunk is in one of the San Antonio dailies.”

  “Be sure you read his column this Friday. The Minutemen sent him two letters and some evidence to have checked out.”

  “How do you know about them?”

  “Red Baker called me first and I arranged for him to meet with Carson. Charlie wanted me to be a deputy commissioner for terrorism, but of course I turned him down.”

  “What evidence?”

  “Hair and bomb powder. The FBI Laboratory has them now.”

  “I guess the Minutemen will ask Red to put out their election day hit list next.”

  “Guess so. Things are heating up. You know they seemed so sincere and had this thing well-planned out, but I always had a doubt if they would actually strike. I was a bit surprised when they did, and did it so efficiently.”

  “I was too, and I pray for their continued success. America depends on them.”

  “I know it, Phil. Talk to you soon. After Friday.”

  * * *

  On Thursday June 3, Walt Kobak arranged a conference call with Charlie Carson and Mark Negron. He told them the lab results had just come in and they confirmed the claims of the Minutemen – the hair samples matched those of the victims and the bomb residue collected from the six LFFJ offices contained the specific trace element chemical combination.

  “It’s time to really go to work,” he said. “Put your JTTF group back into operation forthwith and bring them up to speed with what we have so far. I’ll put the word out to the other areas also.”

  “You got it boss,” Mark said.

  “Oh, when you assign agents to the team, leave Elizabeth Cassidy out this time around.”

  “Lizzy? Joe Ramos tells me she was one of his best. He’ll sure want her back.”

  “Did I ask for a discussion, Mark? Just do it.”

  Both Mark and Charlie were taken aback by Walt Kobak’s unusual and out of character comment. Mark looked at Charlie with raised eyes and said, “Yes sir, I’m on my way back now.”

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Mark asked Charlie when he hung up the phone.

  “Beats me, although I know Harry Cassidy turned down a request from Kobak to join him in D.C., just like he turned me down.”

  “Really? I figured Harry would have loved to get back into the action. Do you think Walt is taking retribution against him by leaving Lizzy off the team?”

  “Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe Harry asked Walt to leave her off.”

  “Well, in either case, I gotta tell Ramos to find another agent to replace her – fast.”

  After Joe Ramos was brought up to speed by Mark Negron, he said, “I’d like my same three agents and I’ll call Commissioner Carson to send us the same three detectives we had when we took down the Apostle. They did a great job, worked well together and will not need a training session.”

  “What agents were on the team?” Mark asked.

  “George Washington, Alicia Johnson and Lizzy Cassidy.”

  “Okay on Washington and Johnson, but find somebody else for Cassidy. Discuss it with the five others at your first meeting, which should be as soon as you can do it. Maybe they can suggest a good replacement.”

  “But boss, Lizzy….”

  Echoing Kobak’s words, Mark Negron held up his hand and said, “My decision is not up for discussion. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” Ramos said doing an about face and leaving the office.

  Joe called over to One Police Plaza and when Charlie Carson picked up the phone he said, “Hello Commissioner, I guess you know why I’m calling. I’d like to have the same three of your men back on the Task Force, if that’s okay with you.”

  “You mean Boyland, Webb and Morra?” he asked.

  “Yes sir,” he said, “those three are the ones.”

  “When and where you want them?”

  Joe glanced at his watch. “Six-thirty, my office. Pizza will be waiting.”

  Carson pressed the intercom and an aide appeared in the doorway. “Sam, cut this order for my signature assigning the three men listed on this paper to the Joint Terrorist Task Force until further notice, effective 1830 hours. Then call each one personally, and tell them to report to Special Agent Joe Ramos at 26 Federal Plaza at that time. And tell them not to bother to eat. The Feds will have their usual gourmet dinner prepared and awaiting their dining pleasure.

  * * *

  Detective Sergeant Francis Finn hung up the phone after his brief conversation with Deputy Inspector Sam Fenton and yelled out from his office, “Boyland! Webb! Get in here!”

  The two homicide investigators promptly came in and Danny Boyland said “What’s up, Sarge.”

  Danny and Spider were not catching cases that day and were writing up old cases on a quiet office tour, so they were curious as to the nature of Finn’s loud summons.

  “Pack your bags you two prima donnas. Nassau Homicide doesn’t want you anymore.”

  “What the…?” they said before the sergeant interrupted them.

  “The commissioner’s office just called. You both are being temporarily re-assigned to the Task Force.”

  “I guess these recent murders must be putting the pressure on the big shots,” Spider said.

  “Yeah, and they need us to pull their nuts out of the fire,” Danny said. “When is this transfer effective, Father Finn?”

  Finn glanced at his watch, which showed 3:32 p.m. and said with a smile, “In less than three hours, wise guys. Report to Special Agent Joe Ramos at FBI Headquarters at 1830 hours. I’m told a gourmet dinner awaits you.”

  “Fucking Carmine’s Pizza,” Spider said. “Wanna bet?”

  “No bet,” Danny said. “We better call our wives.”

  As they got up, so did Sergeant Finn. The kindly old boss, who so rightly deserved the paternalistic “Father” that had been bestowed upon him by the members of the Nassau Homicide Squad, firmly shook their hands and wished them well. Then he took them both in a bear hug and whispered, “You two be careful out there. I want my two ace investigators back here in one piece.”

  * * *

  As Detective Virgil “Spider” Webb had predicted, boxes of Carmine’s Pizza and two-liter bottles of Coke sat on the table in the conference room. Already seated at the table were two familiar faces from the FBI – Agents Alicia Johnson and George Washington. Joe Ramos walked in and said, “Welcome back everyone and since introductions are not necessary, let’s dig into the pizza. Mike Morra will be here shortly.”

  When Mike arrived, he grabbed a slice of the pie, looked around and said, “Where’s Lizzy?”

  “Lizzy won’t be joining us this time around,” Ramos said. “I’m open to suggestions for her replacement.”

  “Whoa, what happened?” Washington asked. “We six were great together.”

  “Yeah,” Morra said, “and she was easy on the eyes, too.”

  “Be careful, lover boy,” Alicia said. “She got herself a boyfriend now. Big Polack honky, an
agent in the violent crime unit.”

  Joe Ramos, although a boss in the strict sense of the word, was just as upset about Lizzy as the troops were and was not about to take the heat for the decision. He said, “I wanted her, but was overruled. Keep that bit of information between us, please.”

  “Does she know about this yet?” Danny asked.

  “No, and I guess I’d better go tell her now.”

  “Better you than me,” Spider said. “Hope you got ear plugs.”

  * * *

  Joe Ramos found Lizzy in her cubicle and before he had a chance to say a word she said, “I was wondering when you were coming to get me. When are we meeting?”

  “When is who meeting?”

  “Us. The Task Force.”

  “We are meeting now, but you won’t be part of it this time. I was hoping you could suggest a suitable replacement.”

  “Was this your decision, Joe?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Who’s keeping me off?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Typical FBI bullshit. Do the other members of the team want me back?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Do you want me back?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Then I’ll be back. I’ll talk to my father. I’m sure he still has the juice to get me back.”

  “I’m sure he does, but he also has the juice to keep you off. You should consider the fact that maybe he was the one who called this shot.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Maybe you should ask him.”

  Joe decided not to mention the rumors he had heard about her father, that he had been asked back by Carson and Kobak and had turned them down. As far as Ramos was concerned, they were only rumors and he wouldn’t pass them on, especially ones he didn’t himself believe.

  “Don’t put anyone in my place until I get back to you, okay?”

  “Make it quick. Like tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “And if you don’t get the nod, who should? Any ideas?”

  “Yeah, my boyfriend, Pete Wrobelewskowicz.”

  Joe smiled and said, “Can you repeat that name?”

  “Sure, Pete W,” she said smiling for the first time since the conversation began.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Ten year agent. He works in violent crime and he knows everything I know about terrorists and everything my father told me. He is very interested in our group and told me if I ever got the call to go back to try and bring him along.”

  “Mind if I talk to him?”

  “Not until you hear from me tomorrow.”

  “You going to call your father now?”

  She looked at her watch and said, “Oh crap, it’s almost seven. What am I still doing here?”

  “You’re dedicated, that’s why you’re still working.”

  “That’s why I should be on the Task Force. I’m going to hop the subway up to his apartment. They should just be finishing up dinner by the time I get there.”

  “Good luck, Agent Cassidy. I hope he can do something for you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lizzy knocked on her father’s apartment door at 8:00. She was going to call on the way up, but wanted to catch him unaware, an old cop trick that she was not sure would work on her street savvy old man. Harry opened the door after she noticed him checking through the peephole. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said, “My number one daughter has come to visit. Please come in and I will make you a drink of your choice.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Bourbon on the rocks. Where’s Susan?”

  “Just finishing up in the kitchen. I’ll go get her and make the drinks.”

  When the three of them had settled in on the sofa and chairs in the living room, Lizzy got right to the point. She said, “Dad, I need a favor.”

  “If I can, of course. What is it?”

  “They are putting our Task Force back together on this Minutemen caper. The same group as when we took down The Apostle. The same group, except for one member – me.”

  “Oh?”

  The way he said that one simple word convinced Lizzy that her father knew she had been left off, and that he hadn’t done anything about it. “That’s my favor,” she said. “I want back in.”

  “What makes you think I could do that? Remember, I’m not a cop anymore.”

  Now she was absolutely convinced he had a hand in keeping her off the Task Force in the first place. Her anger rose and she blurted out, “Bullshit!”

  Harry appeared startled and said, “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t play games with me. You and the Director are like brothers. You could do this if you wanted to. We both know it. But apparently you won’t, and I therefore conclude that you kept me off in the first place. Care to tell me why?”

  Harry smiled and said, “Good detective work, daughter. You make me proud.”

  “Don’t patronize me!” she shouted, rising from her chair. “I’m not your goddamn little girl anymore!”

  Susan attempted to defuse the situation by taking everyone’s glasses and heading toward the kitchen. “I’m going to get us a refill. Sounds like you two need one.”

  “Okay,” Harry said. “You’re a grown-up woman, an FBI Special Agent, and an excellent one at your job. You’re also an aunt to a six-month old nephew, and you have a steady boyfriend who may be the one. If you are going to be in harm’s way, I want it for a worthwhile cause. I don’t want you fighting the Minutemen.”

  “Why not?”

  “For the same reason I am not fighting them. I happen to believe they are the good guys. I happen to believe they may be the last best hope to save our country.”

  “The good guys? I really don’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

  “Believe it.”

  “Were you asked to come back?”

  “Yes, by both Charlie Carson and Walt, and I refused. I am sitting on the sidelines and will not actively oppose a movement that I believe is the only salvation for our nation.”

  “You refused your two best friends?”

  “Are you aware of what is going on in the country politically?”

  “Not really.”

  “I suggest you find out. Look outside your safe little world of law enforcement and educate yourself with the bigger picture.”

  Susan had come quietly back into the room and handed out the drinks. Lizzy took a sizeable swallow of hers and said, “As far as I’m concerned this is a black and white issue – we are the good guys and they are the bad guys – period.”

  Harry laughed and said, “Oh, my Lord. She is me twenty-five years ago.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember Pop Hunter?”

  “Of course. Pop and Vera. Patty and I used to call them our brown aunt and uncle.”

  “And you knew how close I was with him on the Job?”

  “Yes.”

  “As you know, we came on the Force together and in our first day in rookie school, he hung the name Hopalong Cassidy on me. Do you know why?”

  “No.”

  “He said I was just like Hoppy – six-foot two, eyes of blue, dressed in black, with a white horse. Ready to ride out and right all wrongs. But he said I would shortly discover that the world was not a clear-cut, black and white one. It was a world of befuddling shades of gray, full of indecision. I had no idea what he meant then, but I certainly do now.”

  “I think I understand, but I still want the favor.”

  “No, but I will do this. I will give you some material to read, and as the situation develops, we will talk – regularly and often. And if things go sour, I’ll give you the okay to join the team. And I’ll join the fight with you.”

  “Well, I guess that is something,” she said. “How long before we make that decision?”

  “I don’t know. We have to see how the politicians react to the Minutemen’s threats and demands. The letters they wrote to Red Baker at the Sentinel will
appear Friday. Have you seen them yet?”

  “No, I think Joe Ramos was going to pass them out at the first meeting.”

  “Here’s a copy. Red came to me first when he got them.”

  “So you are involved in this.”

  “Just a messenger for Red this one time. That’s all my part for now.”

  They finished their drinks silently and Harry handed Lizzy a pile of papers as she headed for the door. “Read these,” he said, “and call me after the Friday paper hits the street.”

  “Okay, but I’m very skeptical about this.”

  “Time will tell, my daughter. And by the way, you are – and will always be – my little girl. No gray about that.”

  Lizzy could not help but smile. She reached up and kissed her father on the cheek and said, “Talk to you soon, Daddy. Bye, Susan.”

  * * *

  When Joe Ramos had left Lizzy, he returned to the five members of the team and said, “Lizzy was not happy at all, but is looking to pull a few strings. If she can’t swing it, she recommended Agent Pete W as a possible replacement.”

  “W?” Mike Morra asked.

  “He got a name a mile long,” Alicia Johnson said. “Everyone’s fine with just the W, especially Pete. He says he wishes he could sign his reports with just a W.”

  “So, are we all okay with Pete, if necessary?” Ramos asked.

  They all nodded their consent, except George Washington who said, in his best Eddie Murphy imitation, “I’m still concerned that my partner here is a fucking queer. I don’t want another white-boy queer motherfucker in our group. One fag’s enough. Uh-oh, look at Danny Boy eyeing my crotch area. Joe, you’re the boss, make this queer stop staring at my dick….”

  George went on and on for several minutes and had them all laughing to the point of tears, holding their stomachs and sides, when the door opened and in walked Commissioner Carson, Assistant Director Mark Negron and John McKee. Carson, not really knowing this group, seemed shocked. McKee said, “Is George on a roll again?”