Election Day: A Harry Cassidy Novel

by Henry Hack

  “Never saw anything like it in my twelve years on the Force. Hope you get to hear something.”

  They got as far as the perimeter fence and began to walk alongside it toward the opening to the entrance. They passed a stone-faced NYPMD police officer every twenty feet, all standing at attention, all armed with an automatic weapon. The view inside was stupefying. All the building’s lights were on and hundreds of police officers surrounded it. There were at least four snipers on the roof and the fields surrounding the building were packed with Emergency Service Bureau vehicles, FBI SWAT vehicles, and what looked like four armored personnel carriers.

  “Holy shit!” Jeremy exclaimed. “It looks like a battlefield.”

  “Indeed it does,” Herman said. “Stutzer and his guys will be massacred. Let’s get out of here and call this whole thing off.”

  After Stutzer listened to what lay ahead of him, he said to Herman, “Thanks for the intelligence. My guys will be sorely disappointed, but I’m sure there will be other opportunities to attack these bastards soon.”

  “I’m sure also,” Herman said. “Too bad we couldn’t pull this one off tonight. Talk to you soon old buddy, and I’ll get some more dough out to you to help soothe your feelings.”

  Herman then called the Committee and told them of the situation ending with the words, “We’ll be packed up and on our way to the airport shortly.”

  The five members of the Committee sat in silence for a few moments. Chris Steadman finally began the discussion by saying, “I have mixed feelings over this. If we had succeeded as planned, it could have been the final domino to topple the liberal regime.”

  “I know what you mean,” O’Grady said, “but if the politicians succeed tonight and embolden others to stand strong, it may present us with more opportunities. Not every venue can protect these guys like the NYMPD can.”

  “We’ll need another hit or two soon,” Santucci said. “We have just a month until the deadline.”

  “Okay,” Chris said. “We’ll get on it first thing in the morning and have all our supporters send in future appearances from those on our list as soon as they are made public.”

  “Anyone interested in watching Triple N to see what our fearless congressmen have to say?” Nolan asked. “Red Baker is going to do the commentary.”

  Charles Knorland looked at his watch and said, “We have about a half hour. I’m getting something to eat first.”

  * * *

  The five Committee members sat on the chairs and sofas of their den at 6:00 p.m. Mountain time to watch the enemy. Red Baker kicked off his broadcast with a summary of the views of the speakers and then concentrated on the extraordinary security measures in place at the school. He remarked, “Looks like the Feds and New York cops finally got their act together. General Patton and his Third Army would have a tough time cracking through here. Now if only those same cops and agents could actually arrest a Minuteman or two…nah, that would be asking too much.”

  “He is a needling bastard, isn’t he?” Santucci asked.

  “Fortunately, all they can do is fume,” Chris said as a fleeting image of Harry Cassidy flashed through his mind.

  * * *

  After William Stutzer hung up the phone from his conversation with Herman the German, he pondered only a moment before shouting, “Listen up, guys!”

  When he had their full attention, he said, “We just got some great intelligence from Herman and Jeremy who scouted out the target a few minutes ago, and our plans will change a bit. They got cops stationed all along the fence, so when we arrive at the gates in the Hummer, Joey you machine gun all the cops to the left and Vince you shoot all the ones to the right. Artie, you’ll be cutting the lock and swinging the gates open. Then jump in and we’ll be on our way.

  “The guys assigned to the jeeps will follow me in, two to my left, and two to my right, as we planned. The rest of you follow on your bikes. I’ll go through the wall with the Hummer and the jeeps will stay outside and be used for protection for precision fire at the politicians. Then when everyone else jumps through the hole I make with the Hummer, throw your grenades and shoot every cop in sight.”

  “What time we goin’ in, Will?”

  “Nine thirty. They’ll be well into their speeches and starting to relax. Any other questions?”

  When there were none he raised his beer stein and said, “Then let’s drink to a big smashing victory.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Millions of Americans were tuned to their television sets on the evening of August third and a good percentage of them had no interest in the politicians and their speeches. No, they were interested in the possibility of violence and bloodshed. After all, the media and the speakers themselves had hyped this anti-Minutemen rally for almost two weeks.

  With the deadline imposed by the Minutemen now less than a month away, everyone interested in the political process and the future direction of the country sensed that tonight would be the turning point – one way or the other. And when the cameras panned the audience and the grounds at precisely 8:00 p.m., the massive law enforcement presence the millions of viewers saw reinforced the belief that this could not be the Minutemen’s night.

  Susan Cassidy said, “My God, it looks like Charlie Carson has half the Department out there. Red Baker was right.”

  “And probably half the audience are plainclothes cops,” Harry said. “Keep an eye out for Lizzy and the guys and gals from the New York Task Force.”

  Red Baker interrupted the panoramic view as his visage filled the screen. “Here we go,” he said. “Rabbi David Cohen will give the opening prayer followed by Cardinal Shanahan. Then I’m told Senator Hanlon will lead off the political speeches. They are supposed to limit themselves to twenty minutes each, but you know politicians – some can go on seemingly forever. Too bad the cops don’t have their same persistence and determination in nabbing the Minutemen, but they are very good at putting on an ostentatious show of apparent invincibility…”

  “That bastard,” Susan said. “He never let’s up on you guys, does he?”

  Harry smiled and said, “Fortunately, I’m not one of the guys anymore. Red Baker’s vitriol doesn’t bother me at all.”

  “Baloney! Once a cop, always a cop.”

  Harry chuckled and said, “Be quiet, the rabbi’s starting to speak.”

  After the invocation, Rabbi Cohen took the opportunity to lash out at the Minutemen and what they were doing to our great country. When he finished to a standing ovation, he introduced Cardinal Shanahan, who shook his hand and said, “David, I thought I was supposed to do the hell-fire and brimstone speech.”

  The audience laughed and the cardinal did not disappoint, matching the rabbi’s heated rhetoric with an equally effective damnation of the Minutemen. It was 8:40 when Senator Hanlon took to the podium and the audience and television viewers relaxed a bit. Those who wanted a nationally televised attack by the Minutemen began to realize it might not happen, and they started to check the TV offerings that began in the 9:00 p.m. slot. No sense missing a ball game or sitcom re-run to listen to a bunch of wind-bag politicians if no action was to be forthcoming.

  Hanlon didn’t finish until 9:15 as he obliged the audience and answered a few questions from them. Congressman Zinnsky then followed and began with an earnest plea for support from all the citizens of the United States to henceforth band together and destroy the Minutemen and what they stood for. “Now, right now, is the time….”

  Those were the last words he ever uttered.

  * * *

  Stutzer verified that everyone was in position and quietly said, “Now.”

  It was 9:30 on the dot when Vince and Joey opened fire on the nearby cops on fence patrol, while Artie cut the padlock on the gate. The three jumped back in the lead vehicle and with a grinning Stutzer at the wheel, he hit the gas pedal yelling, “Let’s kill ‘em all!”

  The huge white Hummer, followed by the four metal-plate reinforced jeeps and scores of motorcyc
les, barreled across the open grass field toward the auditorium. Dozens of uniformed cops leaped out of their way then drew their weapons and began firing at the vehicles, to no avail. The bikers peeled off aiming their huge Harleys right at the firing cops, immune to their bullets as their bikes had bullet-proof windshields and their riders had helmets and body armor in place.

  The Humvee crashed through the low auditorium wall as if it were made of cardboard and penetrated to the middle of the audience before grinding to a stop. The doors flew open and the Brothers poured out directing machine gun fire at the podium and around the entire hall. Then the sixteen occupants of the jeeps poured through the opening made by the Hummer and tossed grenades before adding more machine gun fire.

  Many uniformed officers, plainclothes officers and FBI agents returned fire as best as they could considering the chaos and civilians present. Many others, however, were dead or injured. When he was convinced his mission had been accomplished, William Stutzer yelled, “Retreat! Let’s go!”

  Leaving the Hummer, he and the other survivors ran to the jeeps and got in under a hail of bullets. Only two of the jeeps managed to get back out through the fence. The other two, including the one Stutzer was in, was disabled by the gunfire.

  The single combined network television feed went dark one minute and twenty-two seconds after the Hummer crashed into the auditorium and viewers were automatically switched back to the station they were tuned to. Red Baker’s shocked face appeared in Harry and Susan Cassidy’s living room. He said, “I have never witnessed a scene of such violence and carnage in my long lifetime, and it is apparently still continuing…”

  Harry, just as shocked as Baker and half the population of the country, snapped back to the present saying, “I’ve got to get out to Queens. Lizzy was stationed there.”

  “Try her cell phone first,” Susan said.

  Harry dialed and the call went to voicemail. He said, “Lizzy, when you can, call Susan. I’m on my way. My phone will be on also. Love you, Dad.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, I don’t want you to see that scene and I’d like you here to man the phone and relay any messages to me.”

  “Okay…Harry, I’m sure Lizzy is fine.”

  “Say a prayer for her anyway,” he said as he rushed out the apartment door.

  * * *

  It took Harry a half hour to get from Manhattan to Cardinal Cooke High School and he arrived just as Charlie Carson and an entourage of high-ranking NYMPD brass pulled into the parking area. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Carson said.

  “Lizzy was on duty here. I have to find her.”

  “Oh shit, Harry. I hope she is okay.”

  Harry looked around and shook his head in utter disbelief. My God, Christopher, what have you done? Ambulances were still loading the injured as fast as they could. Charlie said, “Let’s find my guy in charge and see what we can find out.”

  They located the Queens North Boro Commander, Assistant Chief William Geyer, at the inner perimeter. With him was ADIC Mark Negron, who had arrived minutes before. “Fill us in Bill,” Carson said.

  “Yes, sir. Here is what we have so far. Rabbi Cohen, Cardinal Shanahan, Senator Hanlon and the three congressmen are all dead. So far, twenty-four NYMPD officers and FBI agents are dead….”

  “So far?” Negron interrupted.

  “We have dozens injured, some very seriously, who are at, or en-route to local hospitals.”

  “Civilians?” Carson asked.

  “Approximately thirty dead and more than fifty injured.”

  “Did we kill any of the attackers?”

  “Yes, seven at least. And we captured twelve who were uninjured, and several others who were injured and went to the hospital under heavy police guard.”

  Just then Mark Negron’s deputy, Robert Millman, came trotting up to them almost out of breath. He said, “We just got the last of the injured out of here.”

  Looking at Harry, Charlie Carson said, “Bob, do we have a list of the dead and injured?”

  “Yes, sir. Inspector McGuire is keeping that, and also noting which hospital they went to.”

  “Where is he now?” Harry asked.

  “Out on the grounds finishing up.”

  “Have him report to me as soon as he’s finished,” Carson said to Chief Geyer. “Let’s go look inside.”

  Four NYMPD uniformed police officers stationed at the corners of the still smoking white Hummer snapped off a salute as the brass entered. No one spoke as they surveyed the scene with horror, but also with professional eyes. Harry flinched as a camera flashed nearby. Several crime scene evidence techs were picking through the rubble and debris. The stage and podium area were in shambles and drenched in blood. It’s coppery smell mixed with that of the cordite from the recently fired rounds and ordnance were familiar to Harry, but almost caused him to retch thinking that some of this blood belonged to his daughter. This was not what he had signed up for with the Minutemen. This was way, way over the top. Chris and his Committee had suckered him and now his daughter’s life hung in the balance. Was she already dead?

  Bob Millman said, “We know the video feed went dead at the minute twenty-two mark. The rest of the firefight lasted only another minute-twelve.

  “All of this happened in two and a half minutes?” asked an incredulous Carson.

  “Yes,” Chief Geyer replied. “And that’s from when the first shots were fired at the gate.”

  Harry took this information into a small part of his brain while devoting the rest of his thoughts to his daughter. Come on McGuire, get in here with your list!

  “We estimate at least a thousand rounds were fired by both sides,” Millman said.

  “This may be a stupid question,” Carson said, “but this carnage was definitely done by the Minutemen?”

  “Not stupid at all, sir,” Chief Geyer said, “because we’re really not sure. All the killed and captured bad guys seem to belong to a biker group called the Brothers in White. From their tattoos and clothing, they come from Queens, Jersey and Connecticut. And we got their leader.”

  “Who is he?” Carson asked.

  “William Stutzer. He’s got a bullet in his right leg.”

  “I’ve directed all those captured to be brought to Task Force headquarters in Manhattan,” Millman said.

  The words jarred Harry’s thoughts away from his daughter and he asked, “How did the Task Force people come through this?”

  “Here comes Inspector McGuire now,” Chief Geyer said. “Let’s hope he has the answer, and that the answer is good news.”

  McGuire got right to the point saying, “I have four lists compiled by four captains as each person was loaded on an ambulance or morgue wagon. They are not in alphabetical order, but if they were law enforcement, their agency and injury were noted along with their names. Who are you interested in first?”

  Commissioner Carson said, “FBI Agent Elizabeth Cassidy. This is her father here.”

  McGuire looked at Harry and said, “Hello, Commissioner. I remember seeing a Cassidy. Hold on. He scanned the first two lists and then about half-way down the third he stopped and put his finger on her name. “Back and leg wounds,” he said. “Non-life threatening, probably shrapnel. Jamaica Hospital.”

  Even though Lizzy was alive, Harry’s knees trembled and he staggered a bit and a tear came down his left cheek. “Easy Harry,” Charlie said grasping his friend around the shoulders. “She’s alive and not hurt badly.”

  The relatively good news about Lizzy was overshadowed by the devastating news that followed concerning the Task Force. Inspector John McKee – bullet wounds to both legs. Queens Hospital Center. Special Agent Alicia Johnson. Dead. Queens Morgue. NYMPD Detective Michael Morra. Dead. Queens Morgue. Special Agent Peter Wrobelewsowicz. Multiple bullet wounds. Long Island Jewish Hospital. NYMPD Detective Virgil Webb. Bullet wound left arm. Jamaica Hospital.

  “Can I assume the Task Force members who were not inju
red are with the injured in the hospitals?” Mark Negron asked.

  “Yes, sir. We have notes on that also. He flipped over the four pages and after a few minutes said, “Detective Boyland went with Detective Webb. Agent Washington went with Agent Cassidy, and Agent Ramos went with Agent Wrob….”

  “We call him Pete W,” Negron said. “Let’s say a prayer for him, the dead and injured Task Force members, and all the dead and injured law enforcement officers, civilians, and dignitaries who we so tragically lost tonight.”

  They all bowed their heads and said whatever prayer they deemed fit for this horrendous occasion. Then all their thoughts drifted to the questions that popped in and out of their minds. Who are the Brothers in White? Did they act on their own or under the direction of the Minutemen? What will the reaction to the attack be from the public? From the politicians on the hit list? From the President?

  And the question of all questions – How do we stop these guys?

  * * *

  En-route to Jamaica Hospital with Assistant Director Mark Negron, Harry dialed Susan on his cell phone. After he filled her in on Lizzy and the other bad news, he asked her if she had received any calls.

  “Two,” she said. “The first from Peggy concerned, of course, about her daughter.”

  “Please call her back and pass on what I told you. I don’t want to hear her complaints about Lizzy’s choice of career and all that. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll handle it.”

  “Thanks. Who else called?”

  “Phil MacDonald. He said he was sickened by what he saw tonight and would forego the case of scotch if you joined the fight. What does he mean by that? He wouldn’t tell me.”