Legacy and Redemption (10 page)

*

Nazeem al-Haq opened the Singer sewing machine which he’d purchased at the Target in College Point. Al-Haq figured the store to be far enough away from the Home Depot where he’d purchased the nails the previous day. He knew in his mind that he was going to follow the instructions which he had been given very carefully.

Having been given a second chance to make things right, there was no way he would do anything to jeopardize it. He read through the instructions, familiarizing himself with the machine as he thought about what lay ahead. He’d been somewhat surprised to learn that he would be the one wearing the suicide vest. Nevertheless, he was okay with that. There are not too many men in his situation that ever get a shot to redeem themselves.

He walked to the closet in the back corner of the room and removed a denim jacket which he’d purchased some months back. He took a pair of scissors and cut off the sleeves. Al-Haq decided this jacket would be a perfect carrier for the explosives. There were large pockets on both sides on the inside. He would sew fabric pockets in a few more spots around the jacket making it suitable to store the screws, nails, and ball bearings which would serve as the shrapnel. He knew that this would probably be as heavy a vest as he ever made. The explosion needed to be grand; it needed to kill as many Americans as possible—as many cops as possible.

This revelation brought him back to the pictures and the article on the wall.

My ghost…my tormentor
.

He reread the article. He wondered what part of Brooklyn the sixty-seventh precinct was in. He walked to the other side of the basement apartment, and on his computer, he looked up the address of the precinct. He sat there momentarily staring at the precinct’s address on the screen before walking back into the kitchen area.

His attention went right back to the pictures; his eyes alternated from one Keegan to the other. The anger once again built up inside of him. He knew that he must carry out his mission this time. He couldn’t stray from the plan for any reason. He mustn’t…but still.

Every other Thursday had come to mean something for Sergeant Tommy Galvin. The first Thursday in November was no different. First, and most importantly, it was pay day. But now as a supervisor, it also meant something else; it was the bi-weekly Commanders Officer’s meeting.
C.O.’s meetings
were not unique to Galvin’s command. Quite the contrary, every precinct commanding officer in the city held them. They were used to discuss current crime trends and strategies, man power issues, ways of reducing civilian complaints and unnecessary overtime, and any other police related issue one could possibly think of.

In truth, Tommy Galvin never had any desire to be a supervisor. All he ever wanted to do was to be the best cop that he possibly could. He wanted to be out in the field, taking criminals off the streets and helping as many people along the way as was possible. It was the words of his late father that convinced him to study for and take the Sergeant’s test.

Galvin’s father, who was a retired police officer himself, had passed away a few years back. Five years after his retirement, the elder Galvin was diagnosed with lung cancer. It had been as a result of breathing in the toxic air during many months of working at Ground Zero shortly after the attacks on the World Trade Center. Galvin’s father had always told him that the NYPD was a
‘boss’s job’
. He’d further explained that every rank that you went up, meant there was one less rank of people who could to tell you what to do, and he always reminded Galvin that the cop was on the bottom...and ‘shit always rolls downhill’. Of course, the well over ten thousand dollar pay difference between cop and sergeant was also a good incentive to take the test.

Galvin sat mostly lost in his own thoughts along with the majority of the other fifteen sergeants and lieutenants as Inspector Enton discussed a variety of issues in the command. Enton, wearing his dress uniform, sat at the head of the large brown conference table with his administrative Lieutenant to his right. The rest of the supervisors sat around the table in no particular order. Galvin sat at the far end of the table, barely listening.

At first, Galvin hadn’t minded the meetings so much. He found them to be informative, and as it was something new to him, it kept his interest. However, as time went on, Galvin quickly became bored by them. He knew more about the crime patterns in the command than any other supervisor—or cop—just from speaking to the detective squad and reading the crime pattern sheets.

He wasn’t so much concerned with overtime issues, administrative errors on taking complaint reports, or anything else being talked about for that matter. Not every supervisor attended the meetings, and Galvin had considered no longer attending them as his tour didn’t start for over two hours after the meetings. It would be a fair excuse, Galvin felt, as the supervisors who worked the midnights were excused. But after a bit of deliberation, Galvin felt it was in his best interest to attend. As a rookie sergeant, he was afraid his absence would be frowned upon, and after all, he did have higher ambitions than to be the training sergeant for rookies.

The rumor was that there was going to be a group of promotions the week before Thanksgiving. The current Anti-Crime Sergeant was close on the list to get promoted to lieutenant and Galvin hoped that if the sergeant were to get the promotion, Inspector Enton would remember the discussion they’d had when Galvin first arrived at the precinct; that Enton would consider him for the Anti-Crime spot. The only thing that Galvin really wanted in this precinct was to be the supervisor for the arrest oriented team. The cops who were assigned to the Anti-Crime teams were generally considered as the elite in every command. Even if the sergeant didn’t make this round of promotions, that meant he was a shoe in for the first batch in the next year. Galvin knew he had to play the game and keep on Enton’s good side.

Galvin’s day dream was broken as he heard the shuffling from outside of the muster room. Galvin looked at the clock on the wall and observed it was a few minutes before three. The cops getting ready to stand roll call were gathering outside the muster room waiting for the room to vacate. The supervisors began quietly gathering their belongings on the desk as it was clear the meeting was about to end.

Enton, evidently realizing that the time was running out, “Hold on guys. There’s one last thing I need to discuss; it’s important. The holiday season is only a few weeks away. A teletype came down from the Chief of Department’s office. It’s to be read at roll call for the remainder of the year.”

Enton picked up the teletype and began:

“A threat has been made against the United States and in particular in New York City by mid-eastern terrorists. Although there are no known details, the threat is believed to be credible. Each and every Member of the Service is to remain vigilant while on patrol and on their foot posts. Each precinct and any other department facility will have uniformed officers assigned to station house security at both the front and rear entrances. These officers are to remain at their posts and not to leave for any reason without face to face relief.”

Lieutenant Shea was quick to respond. “Every holiday season it’s the same bull shit. There’s
always
a credible threat and no details to support the claim. Now, I have to
knock out a sector car
every day for the rest of the year? Looks like nobody will be getting a meal break for a while. This command can’t run on six sector cars…we’re too busy.”

Enton nodded his head. “I appreciate your concerns Bill, but this is coming from downtown. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be on the desk if
Inspections
came in and there wasn’t somebody on post at both doors.”

Enton stood up as Galvin and the other supervisors gathered their belongings and headed towards the door. Galvin heard his boss call out to him. “Tommy, can I speak with you in my office?”

“Of course, Inspector.”

I wonder what this is about
.

With this being the first time having been called into his commanding officer’s office since the day he arrived at the precinct, Tommy Galvin was a bit apprehensive. He couldn’t think of any way in which he had screwed up, yet it wasn’t like Inspector Enton to call people into his office unless there was a problem.

Enton hung his summer uniformed jacket over the back of his chair. He removed a piece of lint from the shoulder of the
summer blouse,
adjusted the nine millimeter handgun strapped to his left hip and sat down. He motioned for Galvin to sit as well. Enton took a sip from the bottle of water on his desk before he began. “First off, Tommy, I can’t thank you enough for how well the rookies are doing. It just illustrates my point that good cops are bred from good leaders.”

“Thank you, Inspector.”

“I think it’s funny that your rookies have made more gun and robbery arrests over the last two months than both of my Anti-Crime teams did combined. And as a man who takes note of every detail, I noticed that almost every gun collar came when they were assigned to drive you. Your reputation preceded you, and I have to say, it was dead on. You’re a hell of a cop.”

Galvin was humbled. A pins and needles type feeling came over his body as he accepted the compliment. “Thanks again boss, but not every gun collar came when they were driving me; don’t forget about Keegan’s collar the first night out there.”

“No, I’m certainly not forgetting about that one. Did I tell you that once the ballistics report came back from the gun, it was linked to a homicide in Queens?”

Galvin nodded his head being cautious not to sound smug. “Actually, the homicide was from my old command. My ex-partner called me when they got the hit, so yes, I was aware.”

Galvin noted how Enton’s eyebrows raised. He hoped that Enton was impressed by how he had been following up on the case. “Speaking of Keegan, I see he made another gun collar last week—that time he
was
with you. What do you think of the kid? Is he the real deal of did he just get lucky on his first night out there?”

“He seems like he’s going to be a real sharp cop, Inspector. Maybe in a few years he’ll be on your Anti-Crime team.” Galvin hoped the hint was subtle and might shift the conversation.

Enton smiled and Galvin was unsure if his hint had been too obvious. “Maybe so, Tommy. Speaking of Anti-Crime, the rumor is that only thirty lieutenants are being promoted for the Thanksgiving promotions. That means Sergeant Gomez will be with us for a few more months. But I wanted to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about our conversation. Keep doing what you’re doing with the rookies and the spot will be yours once Gomez is promoted.”

Galvin sat up straight in his chair. Those had been the words he’d wanted to hear. “Thank you, Inspector. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I know I won’t, but that’s not why I called you in here.”

Enton took another sip of the water as Galvin waited patiently. “There are a couple of administrative issues that I wanted to discuss with you. From what I understand from the administrative lieutenant, all of your cops were not allowed to take days off while they were in the police academy. They can’t carry all of those days over until next year; they can only carry ten. So what we’re going to do is give the entire team off from December 26 through December 30. That will burn the five extra days so we don’t have to worry about the union filling a grievance. Obviously as rookies, they should know that they weren’t getting Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or New Year’s Eve off.”

Galvin offered a smile, “I’m pretty sure that they are all clear on that boss…and as a rookie sergeant the same could be said for myself.”

Enton nodded in agreement. “You can work it out with the admin lieutenant where you’re needed on those days. You’ll probably backfill patrol so some of the senior sergeants can take the day. As far as the rest of that week, that’s up to you. If we have enough bosses, you can take off since none of your rookies will be here.”

“Fair enough boss; is there anything else?”

“Just one more thing; I want to reward you and your guys for what a great job that they’re doing. The assignments just came down for the Thanksgiving Day parade. I’m sure that you’ve worked it before and know what an easy day it is. You’re usually dismissed by two o’clock and get to make it home in plenty of time for Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to know if you would like to work the parade with your rookies, or if I should send some four to twelve guys and you and your guys would backfill patrol.”

A broad smile came across Galvin’s face. “If you’re giving me the choice, we’ll go to the parade. My mother is actually coming up from Florida that weekend. She’d be thrilled if I was able to have Thanksgiving dinner with the family.”

“Great, it’s settled then. You and your guys will work the parade. I just got off the phone with the Boro command. They told me that our borough will be covering Sixth Avenue from Thirty-Fourth Street to Forty-Second.”

“It doesn’t make a difference in the world, what posts we have, Inspector. I’m just happy that I’ll be home in time for Thanksgiving dinner. Thank you.”

The two men rose as Enton offered his hand. As they shook, Enton went on, “No, thank you and your guys Tommy for all of their hard work. I hope you guys enjoy the parade. It was always one of my favorite details—it’s a family event, and there are never any problems.”

*

Nazeem al-Haq walked up the stairs at the Bryant Park subway station at Sixth Avenue and Forty-Second Street. Taking the subway was not a new experience for al-Haq, but admittedly, since he had his own car now, it was less desirable. The ride on the B train into Manhattan had only taken about twenty-five minutes—far less time than it would have taken to drive through the traffic at this time of day.

Al-Haq looked around at the people as they rushed though the city streets. Many were well dressed business people bustling from one location to another. Wanting to do his best to blend in, al-Haq wore a pair of black dress pants with a beige button down shirt open at the collar and a black blazer.

Crossing the street, al-Haq went into a coffee shop on the corner and ordered a large dark roast. To his luck, a mother and her child were just finishing up and vacating a table facing the corner of Sixth Avenue and Forty-Second Street. After nodding politely to the mother, al-Haq sat down staring on to the busy intersection.

He studied the block carefully—trying to commit every inch to memory. He wouldn’t make the same mistake he had made over twenty years ago. Taking pictures of the Brooklyn Federal Courthouse—his intended target back then—led directly to his first interaction with the NYPD and Lieutenant James Keegan.

From his trial, al-Haq had learned that the taking of the pictures is what first put him on Keegan’s radar. According to Keegan’s testimony, there had been some non specific threat regarding a terrorist attack against a symbol of justice in New York City in response to the sentencing of those responsible for the first attacks on the World Trade Center in 1993. It had been at Keegan’s direction that every courthouse (among other locations) in the confines of New York City had surveillance cameras installed. It was on one such camera, that al-Haq’s image was captured as he took the pictures.

His second mistake was that he drove to the courthouse in his own car in the middle of the night. His license plate was also captured and Keegan began surveillance of al-Haq and eventually all of those he was in contact with as well. When all was said and done, al-Haq and two others were arrested and over three hundred pounds of explosives were recovered. Twenty years in prison was the price al-Haq had paid to learn discretion.