Exceptional Merit (19 page)

Walking back to the parking garage, he couldn’t help but wonder what Eamon Quinn would think of his choice of location.  He imagined Quinn would not approve, thinking it was too dangerous.  The thought of seeing Quinn's face turn red with anger brought a smile and a chuckle to Flynn. 
He did leave it up to me where I thought would be the best place to carry out the job, now didn't he?

Flynn liked the pressure and the danger, he thrived on it.  It was almost like a game to him.  Could he possibly pull it off and get away with hundreds of police officers and cameras everywhere?  Flynn felt his chances were good in spite of the odds being against him.  He was eagerly awaiting his opportunity to prove wrong those who said he couldn't do it.  He never even considered the possibility he would be caught.  It really wasn’t an option.

F
lynn drove the rental back through the Midtown Tunnel into Queens.  He couldn’t believe how much traffic there was going in the other direction.  He was sure people would be waiting upwards of a half hour just to pay the toll at the tunnel’s entrance.  It certainly was a lot more congested than Belfast ever was.  It was a quarter to nine when he parked in the hotel’s parking lot.  He was tired but he felt good otherwise.  The night had been a total success.  He conducted his first recon.  He figured out exactly where the hit would go down and he even managed to get himself laid.  He thought briefly how irate Nora had been with him.  He was amused.  He got undressed, placing the handgun on the dresser.  He settled into bed and drifted off into a deep sleep.

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

Keegan's heart was pounding as he slept.  The tension was mounting until he abruptly sat up in bed, awaking him from the nightmare.  He had broken out in a cold sweat and was shaking ever so slightly.  His uneasiness had also woken Kate from her sleep.  She rubbed his back, comforting him.  “What's wrong, hon?”

She was concerned.  He used to have such terrible nightmares.  It had been a long time since he had one but Kate recognized the symptoms instantly.  It had gotten to the point during the Federal court house trial, and all of the death threats that came with it, that her husband was taking medication to suppress his dreams.

“Nothing love.  I'm fine.”  He rested his head in his hands.  “It was just a bad dream.”

It wasn’t uncommon for police officers to have such nightmares.  He figured most cops experienced them every so often.  He was off duty, on the way home, when he stopped to buy gasoline.  He pulled into the gas station unaware that he drove in on a robbery in progress.  He began to draw his off duty weapon when one of the perps wheeled on him with a shotgun and pulled the trigger.  He could almost hear the explosion as he saw the muzzle flash just as he woke up.  Keegan was breathing heavier than normal until he finally settled down.  He didn’t want to think that the violent nightmares he used to face at night could be returning to him.  This whole situation with Castillo and the Irish could be triggering them.  He hoped this was not the case.

Kate gave her husband a kiss on the cheek.  “
It’s okay, Jim.  Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I can't even remember what it was about sweetie.”

Keegan never told his wife too much about his nightmares.  Clearly, she knew that he had them but he never wanted to share the details.  He didn't want to scare her about his job anymore than she already was.

“Come back to sleep Jim.”

She patted his pillow with her hand and eased him down.  She rubbed his back, hoping it would soothe him enough to fall back to sleep.

Keegan glanced at the alarm clock.  It was just before six and he decided to stay awake.  He realized he would not be able to fall back to sleep.  He never could after the nightmares.  He climbed out of bed, got undressed and went into the bathroom to take a shower.  The hot water felt good on his body, rinsing off the sweat.  It had a soothing effect on him.

Kate shut off the alarm clock before it had a chance to ring.  She put on her red terry cloth bath robe and went down stairs to make breakfast for the family before waking the kids up for school.  She first made herself a cup of instant coffee.  Kate fried bacon and scrambled some eggs.  Between the coffee and the smell of the bacon, it was enough to shake the sleepiness out of her system.

She continued to prepare the breakfast in spite of the fact that her mind was elsewhere.  Kate was preoccupied with the thoughts of Jim's nightmare.  Jim’s bad dreams were usually triggered by a real life threat. 
They had become quite frequent during the aftermath of the federal courthouse arrests; but that was not when they first started.  He used to get them when he was still a uniformed cop on patrol.  They were never random, however.  They were always precipitated by a traumatic event, often that Jim wouldn’t even tell her about.  It was always after something dangerous happened.  Jim would always try to keep it from her but she would often find out.

There was one time he had bad dreams for nearly a week straight.  She had no idea why, until reading a locally published newspaper detailing how he had been dragged by a car and shot at during a car stop.  He wasn’t shot and the perp was apprehended but the harrowing experience was nonetheless terrifying, she imagined.

Kate was not aware of anything that happened to her husband recently at work.  She wondered if maybe he was worried about the Middle-Eastern terrorists striking again.  Or maybe, even though Jim had assured her this was not the case, he was in danger with the same extremists that killed Judge Boden a couple of months back.

She didn’t think that was it.  In the past, when Jim received any credible death threats he would always bring a department radio home with him.  She wished he would tell her what was going on but she knew he wouldn’t.  Kate was setting the table for breakfast when she heard the bathroom door open upstairs.  She looked to the top of the stairs and watched as her husband began to descend.  She noticed an uneasy look on his face that only she would be able to recognize.  She had no idea for sure what his dream was about but she said a silent prayer that he wasn’t in some kind of danger.

Keegan went in to his office, closing the door behind him.  He took off his coat, hung it on the coat rack and had a seat behind his desk. 
Another Monday
.  Mondays meant catching up on any work that may have been generated by the men in his office over the weekend.  He opened up the cup of coffee he bought at the deli before scanning the paperwork.  He sipped the coffee slowly and thought once again about the dream.

Then he thought how wonderful Kate was, as always.  He was glad they went out for a nice romantic dinner on Saturday.  If anyone deserved to be treated like a queen, it was Kate.  She was always so understanding, especially when it came to his job.  He realized being a cop’s wife was not easy.  She always seemed to support him through tough times, even if she was not happy with his job and the commitment that came with it.

Keegan emptied the stack of papers from his in basket and sorted them into three piles.  First were the Unusual Occurrence Reports.  The next pile was the Complaint Follow- Ups, or DD’5s, his detectives prepared regarding their ongoing investigations.  Into the final pile, he stacked the Intelligence Reports.  This was Keegan’s Monday morning routine.

It would take him the better part of the morning, to read through them all and catch up on his necessary paperwork.  Keegan made it a point to tackle the
unusuals
first.  They were the most informative and often garnered his interest.  He read one report which detailed the bomb squad being called into a safe house in Brooklyn where they recovered nearly two pounds of explosives and a dozen live hand grenades.  One arrest was effected.

Keegan figured his men must have definitely caught a case on that, as he took another drink from his cup, finishing the coffee.  It took Keegan almost an hour to read through all the unusual occurrence reports.  He got up from his desk to stretch his legs a bit.  He walked out of his office, through the detective's squad room and into the kitchen.  He saw a freshly brewed pot of coffee and refilled his cup.  He added one sugar and a very little bit of milk.  He took a sip to make sure it met his approval.

“Hey, Jim, did you read that unusual yet about the explosives they found in Brooklyn?”  The detective’s assigned to the unit were all on a first name basis with their lieutenant.

Keegan acknowledged.  “Yeah I just finished reading it.”

“Al and I caught the case.  I think it's going to be a good one.”

We pulled him out of Brooklyn Central Booking and brought him back here to debrief.  He seemed to have a decent amount of info, so we notified the F.B.I. and had his case flagged at arraignment.  They’re going to remand him without bail.  He seems more of a domestic criminal than terrorist.  After he lawyers up, we are going to set up a
proffer
and have him tell us everything he knows on the record for a chance of a reduced prison sentence.”

Keegan was happy to see how on top of things most of his men were.  He was pleased at their motivation.  He didn't have to assign the case to
anyone; they picked it up on their own.  They didn’t need their hands held or to be told what to do.  They just did what they were supposed to.  “Be careful.  Sounds like this guy must mean business with that kind of firepower.  Let me know if you get any leads as to where he got the explosives from and what he was going to do with them.  Also, touch base with the precinct detectives involved.  Let’s keep them in the loop.  You never know, maybe they come up with more information on their end.  After all, this guy was working in their command, whatever he was up to.”

Keegan was not only an excellent police
officer; he was also a top notch supervisor.  He knew what had to be done and how to do it.  He wasn't afraid to lead by example and it was this quality which earned him the undying respect of his men.  “Sounds good boss.  I'll give them a call right now.”

Keegan was a strong believer in praising his men whenever appropriate.  “Let me know how you make out Dave, and keep up the good work.”

Keegan returned to his office with his coffee and once again took a seat behind his desk.  He looked at the remaining two piles of papers, debating which he should review next.  He decided since there were far fewer intelligence reports, he would get them out of the way first.  He read through the first couple without taking any particular interest in either of them.  He then sipped his coffee as he began to read the next one.  The words almost seemed to jump off the page at him and he started to gag on his coffee.  He could feel his face go flush and felt a bit faint.  He rubbed his eyes before he once again read the report, as if maybe the words would now be different.

The report had been forwarded from the department's Intelligence Bureau.  It read very simple and to the point; Possible I.R.A. hit man in New York to assassinate the Grand Marshall of the Saint Patrick's Day Parade.  That sentence alone brought anguish to James Keegan.  He felt his mouth go dry and he slammed his fist down on his
desk.  “God damn it!  How could I have been so fucking stupid?”  Keegan said it out loud, even though he sat alone in his office.

He dropped his head and rested it on his desk trying to figure out what his next move should be.  He picked up the report again, staring at it.  He got up, report in hand and paced back and forth in his office, searching his mind for an answer.

I knew I should've insisted on knowing why he wanted the friggin’ gun
. 
If anything happens to Martin Devine, it'll all be my fault.
  He sat back down in his chair and picked up the telephone.  He punched in the extension to Bob Wolf’s office.

Robert Wolf answered the other end of the phone.  “Bob.  Jim Keegan, how are you doing?”

Keegan tried to sound as calm, in spite of the fact that he could hear his heart pounding against his own chest.

“Not too bad
Jim, and you?”

He lied
, “Never been better.”

“Don't tell me, I think I know why you're calling.”

This took Keegan by surprise.  His anxiety level rose.  He wondered how in the world his friend could possibly know why he was calling.  “You do?”

Robert Wolf answered knowingly.  “C'mon Jim give me some credit, huh.  You want to know what we have on the safe house in Brooklyn with the explosives.”

Keegan was relived.  “Right on target as usual Bob.  You never cease to amaze me.”

“Unfortunately Jim, we really don't have too much to go on yet.  The last person who rented the house hasn't been seen by the landlord in weeks and when I ran his name through the computer we come up empty.  The guy they locked up has only a few priors for drugs and guns.  No known terrorist links.  But don't worry, I promise as soon as we know anything else I'll let you know.  I spoke to one of your guys earlier.  They said the perp was cooperating.  Maybe we can have him introduce an
uncle
to whoever he bought the explosives from.”

Introducing an undercover would be prudent, Keegan agreed, but he had more pressing matters on his mind.  “Sounds like a great idea Bob.  Thanks a bunch.  Oh, there is one other thing.  I wondered if you could run a name through the computer and see if you come up with anything for me.”