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Authors: George Norris

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Witness accounts varied as to the height and weight of the killer.  They all agreed, he wore a mask and announced the shooting was on behalf of the I.R.A. before murdering the two men.  None of them had mentioned the long haired young man who had left the bar just moments before until a uniformed officer called out to the Inspector.

Inspector Walsh walked over to the officer who introduced him to Brendan Crawford.  “This is Mr. Crawford.  He was bartending at the time of the shooting,” the officer had explained to Walsh.  “He said there was a guy in there just before the shooting that didn’t seem right to him.”

Walsh studied the bartender for a moment, noticing the trickle of blood from his forehead.  “Would you be able to describe him for me?” asked Walsh of the bartender.

“Sure I would.”  Crawford began giving his description when Walsh interrupted him.

“Pardon me for one second.”

Walsh turned to the uniformed officer.  He directed the officer to take down the license plate of every vehicle parked in the parking lot where they stood.  It would be the last order Ian Walsh would ever give.

 

Declan McKee drove from the scene in a slow and inconspicuous manner.  They were about five minutes away from the safe house when they heard the explosion.  If Eamon's plans had been as precise as they usually were, all of the patrons of the pub would be standing outside being interviewed by the local authorities when the bomb detonated.  There was an excellent chance the bomb would kill many at the scene, but they would have to wait and watch the news to find out for sure.

 

Eamon Quinn was able to hear the explosion in the distance from somewhere in Derry City.  The bomb had certainly been a powerful one, he thought.  Quinn picked up the receiver of the pay phone and dialed a number.  When a voice answered at the other end of the line, Eamon spoke.  “I call to claim responsibility for the assassination of two Unionist soldiers as well as the bombing outside the Shankill Pub earlier this evening in the name of the Irish Republican Army.  Britain and her subjects should remain ill at ease until our country is no longer occupied by hostile forces.”

Quinn hung up the receiver and took a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.  He opened the pack, pulling a cigarette out with his teeth.  He lit the cigarette and took a long satisfying drag, enjoying the night's accomplishments.

 

Eamon Quinn drove his soldier to the airport early the next morning.  They listened to the radio's accounts of the incident.  The radio reported the bomb had killed an additional five people to the two men slain inside the bar including two police officers; one, a thirty-one year veteran.  Another dozen were injured.  Flynn was disappointed.  “How could a bomb of that magnitude only kill five people?”

“It's not all about killing, Gerald.  It's about sending a message, and believe me a message was sent.  It was a complete success,” Quinn explained.

Flynn closed his eyes and reclined his while Quinn drove.  Almost out of habit, Flynn's hand reached down to his waistband to check on his gun before he realized it wasn't there.  “I feel weird without me gun.”

“Don't worry Gerald.  Once you make your contact in the states with Dan O'Brien, he'll help you get a gun.  Dan is a good man.  He is very loyal to the cause.  He was our best bomb man years ago, even better than Declan.  Unfortunately the Brits started to suspect Dan and we felt it would be best to send him away for a little while.  Once he got to the other side, his services became too valuable to bring him back.  Gerald, if there is anything you need when you're over there, Dan can get it for you.”

“The only thing I'll be wantin' is to complete me bloody assignment and come home.”

Eamon Quinn wished Flynn the best of luck as they arrived at the airport.  Gerald Flynn opened his wallet and examined its contents.  All of the counterfeit identification looked in order.  He double checked to make sure he hadn't taken any of his real identification with him by accident. 
Sean Murphy
, he could live with that name for a few weeks or so if that's what was necessary.

Flynn looked forward to the long flight to J.F.K. Airport in New York.  He hoped he could catch up on the sleep he had not gotten the night before.  He was a little bit nervous and excited about his mission in New York.  If there was one thing Gerald Flynn could count on, it is that this trip was going to be exciting, no matter how it turned out.

 

******************************

 

Chapter 8

 

 

February 27 was a relatively mild day compared to the last few weeks.  The warm sun was melting the last traces of snow that had fallen earlier in the week.  It was about twenty minutes before ten a.m., when Police Officers Laura Reed and Kenneth Williams arrived at the department's Internal Affairs Bureau.  They had stopped on the way over to pick up their morning coffee and a couple of newspapers.

Cops would always bring the newspaper or a book when they had to go to a departmental hearing or a court case.  It would help them kill time while they waited for their case to be called.  They walked into the office of Internal Affairs and saw the Police Administrative Aide, which was the department’s official title for a secretary or clerical person, seated next to the sign-in log.

They signed in the log at 0945 hours and informed the P.A.A. they had an appointment with Detective Castillo, at ten hundred hours.  The P.A.A. instructed them to have a seat and wait to be called.  The officers went into the waiting area where nearly a dozen other cops were already seated.  It was a typical type waiting room by police department standards.  A couple of dozen blue cloth chairs against the walls, many of which were littered with discarded newspapers.  There were a couple of small end tables and a water cooler in the corner.  In the middle of the room was a coffee table which had been collecting newspapers for weeks it seemed.  After seeing there were so many other cops there ahead of them, Laura Reed commented, “I hope we're not down here all day.”

Williams explained to her that most, if not all of the people there, were probably there for other investigators and had nothing to do with their case.  “Most of the time it only takes a couple of hours and
its back to the precinct.  You’ll see.”

Williams looked around the room for any familiar faces to catch up on old times with.  Most of the cops in the room sat patiently reading their newspapers, books or doing a crossword puzzle.  There was one young cop, however, that caught William’s attention.  He was obviously a rookie, Williams thought.  He was biting his fingernails while nervously pacing the floor.  Williams wondered why he was down here but then figured it couldn't have been anything too serious.

Over his ten years on the job, it was Williams' experience that if you did anything real serious, I.A.B. wouldn't call you in for a hearing.  They would come to your precinct, have you brought in off patrol and arrest you.  Williams had been to I.A.B. about a half dozen times over his career and every time it was because of nonsense.  Usually allegations someone had made against him after an arrest or a traffic summons was issued.  Other times a simple misunderstanding, such as an arrestee would accuse the officer of having stolen his money only to find out that the officer had
vouchered
it for safekeeping.  He wondered what the allegation was this time.

 

Laura Reed studied her environment.  She told her partner she had to use the ladies room as an excuse to more closely investigate her surroundings.  She got up and walked down the hall turning left at the end of the hall.  She saw a number of Internal Affairs investigators walking the hall with their identification cards clipped to their shirt pockets.  She wondered if any of them were Detective Castillo.

She felt slightly uneasy about having been called down to I.A.B.  In her five years as a Police Officer, this was the first time.  She knew she hadn't done anything wrong, but until this was all over, she figured to be a little nervous.  Reed peeked into an interview room as an interview was being conducted.  She saw two investigators questioning a cop who was sitting with his union appointed lawyer.  Police officers always had their union supply them with legal representation whenever an allegation of any kind was made against them and an official department investigation was being conducted.  Reed thought it was kind of unnecessary to have a lawyer if there was no allegation of criminal wrongdoing but it was for her own best interests, she realized.

She continued to walk down the hall peering into interview rooms where she saw many cops discussing the allegations made against them with their lawyer.  She decided to go back to her partner in case their lawyer had shown up, at least then she could find out why they were there.  Reed immediately recognized the look of annoyance on her partner's face.  “What's wrong Ken?”

“I asked the P.A.A. if our representation had arrived yet and she told me that she had been informed by Detective Castillo that we didn't need a lawyer and the prick called the union to cancel him.  I'll tell you right now, Laura, I'm not answering any questions regarding any allegation, no matter how minor, without a lawyer present.  He's going to either wait for our lawyer to get here or reschedule this for another day.”

Reed felt even more nervous now but she relied on the instincts of her partner.  She had always looked up to him and decided that he is very knowledgeable about the inner workings of the department.  She would let his time on the job and experiences make the call and she would follow his lead.

“Whatever you think is best Ken, I'm with you.”

Williams gave his partner a wink and a smile.  “All right kid, let's just see what the hell all of this is about when he calls us in but I am telling you right now, we should grab a lawyer when he comes out of another interview to represent us.”

 

The P.A.A. called out to them at half past ten.  “Officers Reed and Williams, Detective Castillo will see you now in interview room three.”

Reed and Williams walked down the hall, along with the union lawyer they had secured when he was finished representing an officer on a different case.  They found interview room three and knocked on the door.  The voice on the other side of the door invited them in.

 

Louis Castillo was seated behind a desk, wearing a powder blue shirt with a floral print tie.  He was very annoyed to see the
officers show up with representation.  He wanted to keep this interview as low key as possibly.  He quickly assessed these officers were not going to be easily fooled and he needed to proceed with caution.

 

William’s attention was immediately caught by the tape recorder on the desk next to Castillo.  He knew every interview room in I.A.B. had tape recorders, since all official investigations were recorded, but he wanted to make sure the one next to Castillo was not on.  Kenneth Williams was very suspicious of his surroundings.

He had a strange feeling this was not going to be a typical I.A.B. investigation.  He observed that the tape recorder was not on and he wondered if anybody else was going to sit in on the interview.  A Police Officer was required to answer any question narrowly related to his duties that a supervisory officer asked him.  A Detective however, was not a supervisory officer.  Williams read Castillo's I.D. card which was clipped to his pocket to make sure he was in fact a Detective and not a ranking officer.  Castillo got up from behind his desk and extended his right hand.  “Hi, I'm Louie Castillo.”

Williams apprehensively took his hand followed by Reed.

“Have a seat,” directed Castillo, as the officers pulled up chairs to his desk.  “Ms. Thompson, my P.A.A. told me you were upset I took the liberty to cancel your lawyer…who you brought anyway,” acknowledging the lawyer with a grin.

“Let me just fill you in on why I brought you guys down here.  You are not the subject of any allegation of any kind so a lawyer wasn't necessary,” Castillo explained, hoping they would believe him.

“Although I am assigned to Internal Affairs, I actually work for a detail within I.A.B. that investigates robberies in which the perpetrator identifies them self as a cop to gain his victim's trust.  It’s called the Police Impersonation Unit.  So ya see, you really have no reason to be apprehensive to talk to me.  I don't work on anything other than robberies.”

Reed felt relieved, she knew that anytime someone impersonated a Police Officer, the Internal Affairs Bureau had to be notified.  Castillo was obviously one of the detectives who caught such cases.  It made sense to her.

Williams was still a bit skeptic.  “So what does that have to do with us?”

“I was just getting to that.  There is a case I've been working on for a few weeks now.  It's a robbery pattern involving one male white perp in his forties, identifying himself as a cop and forcing his way into homes.  He handcuffs the victims and ransacks the house.  In one of the robberies, the perp was seen fleeing in a blue Toyota Camry with New York plates.  I ran a check on the plate through the
Finest
computer system to see if it had been used in any other crimes and I saw you two handled a job with the same vehicle.  I think it came over as an auto stripping and the guy had a gun in a gym bag.  In my robbery pattern, the guy carries the handcuffs he uses during the robberies in a gym bag.  I was wondering if you guys saw a gym bag or remember anything that can help me with my case.  I'd really appreciate it and believe me, if I break the case from any information you supply me with, I'll write a letter of appreciation to your commanding officer.”

BOOK: Exceptional Merit
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