Monday, January 31- Day 13
Parking Garage - One Police Plaza
Borough of Manhattan, New York
1245 Hours
Pat notified his command he would be out of the office until Wednesday morning and dropped a few files in his briefcase, to read on the trip. If traffic was not too bad, the trip should take a little over four hours.
At precisely 1245, Maggie called and told Pat she would be in the underground garage at One PP at 1300 hours. Sometimes Maggie executed her life like a Secret Service operations plan. She was always punctual.
Pat was waiting when she pulled the big black Suburban into the garage. He tossed his bags in the back seat and got into the right front seat. He was glad to see Maggie.
“Good afternoon, Gorgeous, I really appreciate you driving.”
“We could have flown, but it’ll take about the same amount of time by the time you add the security hassles of flying armed.”
“Probably so, and this gives us a little more flexibility.”
“That’s true. Do we have a set time to meet Dr. Cooper?” Pat asked.
“He’s supposed to be at Secret Service Headquarters at 1000 hours tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good, I appreciate you helping me out with this.”
“This is the least I could do, Pat. I know you have an idea of the thousands of hours the NYPD gives us a year, not just with the protectee visits, but also on the criminal side. We couldn’t do anything in New York without you guys.”
“We’re glad to help and unlike the feebees, you guys are real partners.”
Pat and Maggie continued talking, and before long they were out of New York and headed south on the New Jersey Turnpike. Pat was getting a little drowsy and loosened his tie.
“Feel free to catch a nap, Pat. You never get enough sleep.” Maggie suggested.
“Thanks, but I’m fine.”
In less than 10 minutes, he was asleep with his head against the door.
20 minutes later, Maggie shook Pat’s leg and woke him up.
“I’m pretty sure we have someone following us, Pat.”
Pat opened his eyes and looked behind them. He was sure he couldn’t be seen due to the Suburban’s darkly tented windows.
“Which car is it, Maggie?”
“It’s that black Charger. I change lanes, he changes lanes. He got really close and the passenger window was coming down. Another car was close and they backed off. It may be nothing, Pat. But I’m concerned.”
“There is a rest area up ahead with a gas station and some shops. Pull in and park and then leave. Let’s see if we still have company.”
Maggie pulled the Suburban into a parking space near a coffee shop and the Charger also pulled in and stopped on the other side of the parking lot. Pat tried to see inside the car, but he couldn’t tell who or how many people were in it.
“Okay, Maggie, lets pull out and see if we’re followed.”
Maggie backed out and quickly headed back onto the turnpike. The Charger pulled out as well. Pat was now concerned as well.
“Okay, I’m convinced. We need to call the cavalry.” Pat said.
Maggie turned on her mobile radio and tried the New York Office with no success.
“We are probably too far south. I need to try the Trenton Office.”
Maggie changed the talk-group to the Trenton Field Office.
“New York, Parker, Trenton do you copy?”
“This is Trenton, go ahead.”
“I’m southbound on the New Jersey Turnpike passing exit 321. I have a black Dodge Charger that is following me and I need it stopped and checked out.”
“This is Trenton, I copy. Do you have a tag number?”
“Negative. There is no plate on the front.”
“Standby, Parker. I’ll notify New Jersey State Police.”
“Parker copy.”
Maggie knew better than to expect other agents to hear her traffic, because they did almost all of their day-to-day communications by cell phone. However, she knew the field office would monitor the channel.
“Parker, this is Trenton.”
“Go ahead, Trenton.”
“NJ State Police advises ETA of 15 minutes unless you advise this is an emergency.”
As Maggie listened to the transmission, the Charger approached again, with the passenger window completely down.
“Affirmative, Trenton, treat it as an emergency, we are passing exit 323 at this time.”
“Maggie, don’t let him get beside us. I have a bad feeling.” Pat said.
Pat removed one of his .357 Magnum revolvers and gripped it tightly in his hand.
“We have to change this from us being the hunted to us being the hunter.” Maggie said.
“What do you have in mind?”
“A little evasive driving, you better hang on.”
Maggie turned into the next rest area and rapidly headed to the rear parking lot where there were few cars. The Charger followed steadily behind. When she got to the rear parking lot, she turned sharply to the left, screeching the tires on the big Suburban, and was now facing the Charger. She hit the dashboard switches, activating her blue and red strobe lights, and started toward the Charger. The Charger backed up and then spun around, heading south toward the turnpike. Maggie hit the siren and grabbed the microphone.
“Parker, Trenton, I’m in pursuit. Southbound on the turnpike passing mile marker 325, black Dodge Charger, New York plates TRP901.”
“Copy, Parker, I am advising NJ State Police.”
Pat’s adrenalin was pumped. He had been in chases before. But it was worse being a passenger. However, he knew Maggie was extremely well-trained at the Secret Service Academy in Beltsville, Maryland and could out-drive almost anyone. Their speeds were approaching 100 mph.
“Trenton, Parker.”
“Go ahead, Trenton.”
“State Police are attempting to overtake. Can you advise charges on the suspect?”
“Unknown other than traffic at this time, the suspect has been following us for some time.”
The Charger was slightly pulling away from the Suburban and Maggie was afraid to push the speed past 110 for risk of turning it over. As she approached mile marker 330, she saw two New Jersey State Police cruisers barreling down the ramp with their lights and sirens on.”
“Parker, Trenton, State Police units are in pursuit at this time. We will be following at a distance.”
“I will advise State Police.”
Gradually the pursuit went out of sight and Maggie cut her lights and siren off. She turned to Pat.
“Did I scare you?”
“Not at all, but I just wonder why he was following you.”
“I don’t know. I hope they catch him. I wish we could hear what they’re saying.”
“Me too, but pull over a second.”
Maggie pulled over on the side of the road and Pat got out and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a small radio and hopped back in the passenger seat.
“Pat, what’s that?”
“It’s my digital police scanner. I’m pretty sure I have the New Jersey State Police in here.”
After punching a few buttons, the radio came alive with screaming voices with sirens in the background. Pat couldn’t tell what was going on until heard a chilling transmission.
“We have CPR in progress, need medic chopper on exit ramp mile marker 339.”
They were about three miles ahead. Maggie cut the lights and siren on again just as Trenton notified her of the location. She thanked them for their assistance. Traffic was already slowing down.
Chapter 12
Monday, January 31 - Day 13
New Jersey Turnpike - Exit 339
South of Trenton, New Jersey
1415 Hours
Approximately one mile from the scene, turnpike traffic had completely stopped. Maggie used her lights and siren to ride down the shoulder to the exit. Even with the emergency equipment, it took them about 10 min
utes to navigate the last mile. There were cruisers everywhere. Most were white New Jersey State Police cruisers, but there were also local police. An ambulance and several fire trucks were also on the scene. The black Charger was in the grass with the door open and there was a huddle around an area about 100 feet in front of it. A trooper was stringing up crime scene tape around the entire area.
Pat and Maggie got out of the Suburban, and Pat instinctively put his fancy gold shield in his suit pocket. Maggie also clipped her Secret Service badge to her jacket. As they approached the crime scene, she was stopped by a trooper.
“I’m sorry, but I’m with the United States Secret Service, and I need to speak to the officer in charge.”
“Of course, the trooper talking on the cell phone by the ambulance is Captain Roberts.”
“Thank you, Trooper.”
“No problem, but I need your names for the crime scene entry log.”
“Maggie Parker, Special Agent in Charge of the U. S. Secret Service New York Field Office and Patrick O’Connor, NYPD Chief of Detectives.”
They both signed the crime scene entry log and approached Captain Roberts.
“Good afternoon, Captain. I’m Maggie Parker with the United States Secret Service and this is Chief of Detectives Patrick O’Connor of the NYPD.”
The captain responded, showing some irritation.
“So, are you two the ones who started this mess? The Feds are always starting something the real police have to finish.”
“Captain, I’m not going to respond to your insult, but this black Charger was following us and I attempted a car stop and he fled. I would appreciate it if you would inform me of the circumstances that have occurred here, or I’ll be forced to call your superiors.”
“Okay, I was out of line. Please don’t cause me any grief. Our troopers were behind the Charger when he took the exit. A third trooper was at the bottom of the ramp. The suspect just pulled into the grass and came out shooting. Our guys returned fire and he’s dead.”
“Are your troopers safe?” Maggie asked.
“Yes. They weren’t hit. This guy had an exotic weapon, a Beretta 92F, with a silencer. He must have been some kind of hit man.”
“Wow! Do we know his name?”
“Not yet, but my investigators will want to talk to you. Do you have any idea who would want to kill you?”
“Not a clue, but government agents can always be a target.”
“That’s probably true, but why are you in New Jersey?”
“We were on the way to DC working on an investigation.”
“Do you think it could have something to do with the case?”
“I really doubt it.”
Pat knew he had absolutely no NYPD jurisdiction in New Jersey. He allowed Maggie to do all the talking. Initially, he thought the state police captain was a jerk, but changed his mind and agreed he was asking the right kind of questions. Pat and Maggie walked over to the body with the captain. The suspect was about 50 years old wearing a black turtle-neck and jeans. He was white and had a slight graying at the temples of his jet black hair. He was shot several times in the chest and once in the neck. The silenced Beretta was still on the ground beside him. Pat did not recognize him, nor did Maggie.
Several unmarked cars pulled up on the scene, and Maggie recognized them as agents from the Trenton Field Office of the Secret Service. She immediately approached them.
“Hey, guys. I appreciate the help.”
The supervisory agent, Paul Kelly, responded. “No problem, boss. What in the hell happened?”
“This guy was following us. We confronted him and he took off. The state police ended it right here. He’s DOA.”
“So I gathered. Have you notified DC, Maggie?”
“No. I haven’t had a chance.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make the notifications.”
“Thanks, Paul, and I’d like for you to meet Pat O’Connor. He’s a close friend and is the Chief of Detectives for the NYPD.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve seen you many times on television.”
Pat smiled and shook hands, thanking them for their help. Maggie told Paul Kelly her plans regarding the investigation. “I’m going to ask Chuck Carter from my office to liaison with this investigation, Paul. If I’m the target, it more than likely originated in New York, and Chuck will be all over this.”
“Well, there goes the neighborhood, but Chuck will be welcomed.”
“Thanks, Paul. We’ll stay in touch.”
Pat and Maggie were interviewed separately about the incident and in just over an hour, they were back on the road.
“Pat, I’ve never seen you so quiet around cops.”
“They’re not real cops. They’re troopers. They spend most of their time chasing taillights and writing speeding tickets. They occasionally get in the mix of something like this. Don’t get me wrong. They did a good job and the New Jersey State Police has an impressive group of criminal investigators. I just know when I have to be an observer.”
“I understand, but you’re cross-sworn federally and have exactly the same nation-wide authority I have.” Maggie insisted.
“I know, but I like to save that for special occasions as a trump card.”
“I need to make some more notifications. I’m going to get Chuck Carter involved in this.”
“Your intelligence guy?”
“Yep.”
“I like that guy.”
Maggie called Agent Carter and asked him to respond to New Jersey and liaison with the New Jersey State Police investigation. Carter was the all-American boy, who wheeled and dealed in baseball tickets and was well-liked by everyone. He concentrated on protective intelligence, but was often used in other cases because of his ability to get along with almost anyone. He had helped Pat in another investigation and quickly earned his respect. He had gone away with a few complimentary Yankees tickets from Pat’s desk drawer.
As they headed south toward Washington, Maggie continued thinking about who would be trying to kill her.
“You know, Pat, I’ve always been ready to take a bullet for the President or any other protectee and have never worried about it. I just don’t know why this guy would want to kill me.”
“He could be a nut case who is anti-government. He could have zeroed in on the government issued Suburban, or he may be focusing on you for some other reason. I must admit the silenced weapon is a little frightening. It makes me think it was a serious professional threat.”
“Great! That sure makes me feel worse.”
“You handled yourself well today, Maggie. You used your training and immediately took control and it saved our lives. Continue to rely on your instincts and keep your guard up. You’ll outsmart anyone who comes after you.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Pat. Inside, I guess I have some doubts.”
“Just trust your gut and rely on your training. We’ll see what the investigation turns up.”
“I wish you were investigating it.”
“I’ve already sent the tag information back to Angie Wilson in the office, and they’re checking on the car. It looks like it was a rental.”
“You’re always the cop, aren’t you?”
“I know how to do these things the right way.”
“Yes, Sweetheart, you most certainly do.”
Chapter 13
Monday, January 31 - Day 13
Capital Hotel - 700 H Street
Washington, DC
2030 Hours
Pat and Maggie arrived at the Capital Hotel around 2030 hours. Maggie had reserved two rooms from the rooms regularly blocked out for the Secret Service. The Capital Hotel was only about a block and a half from Secret Service Headquarters on H Street. They checked into the hotel and received rooms 420 and 422. The rooms were adjoining, which was always a plus when you were traveling with your significant other.
Pat and Maggie dressed down and decided to go to the lobby restaurant for dinn
er. Pat ordered a New York strip steak and Maggie decided on a salad.
“You even order food about New York, Pat.” Maggie joked.
“Funny, but restaurant filets are usually too small for my appetite and the strip is a safer bet.”
“I know. I was just teasing. It’s been quite a day hasn’t it?”
“It has, and I’m a little surprised we haven’t heard anything else.”
“When Chuck Carter gets there, we’ll get some details.”
“I’m sure we will. Paul Kelly seems like a nice guy.”
“He worked for me in New York before he got bumped up to supervisor. I trust him, but like most of the supervisors, he’s very competitive and ambitious about moving up the career ladder. This sometimes can impact good judgment, but Paul was always an honest agent with me.”
“That’s good.”
Their meals came, and they ate pretty quickly. They shared a piece of New York Cheesecake, which also brought about some light teasing from Maggie. They walked back to their rooms and briefly shared a kiss at the door. It was almost 2200 hours.
“I’m sure I’ll get a lot of questions tomorrow at headquarters about today’s adventure, Pat. I want to take a hot bath and turn in.”
“Okay, Gorgeous. Deadbolt your door and I’ll unlock the door between our rooms, just in case you need something.”
“That’s a good idea, I’ll do the same. Let’s catch breakfast in the morning before we go over to headquarters.”
“That sounds great. Goodnight, Maggie.”
Pat settled in his room, after unlocking the adjoining room door. As usual, he placed his revolvers beside the bed and plugged in the chargers for all his electronic gadgets. Pat double-checked the deadbolts and propped himself up and opened the files regarding Forrest Butelli’s death. Things had been so bizarre today he had almost forgotten why they were in Washington.
Pat had read through the files completely and made a few notes. He was getting ready to turn out the light when he heard a soft knock at the door.
“Come in.”
The door between the two rooms opened. Maggie walked in wearing a big fluffy white hotel robe. She had her Sig Sauer P229 .357 Sig in her hand.
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