Bishop's War (Bishop Series Book 1) (9 page)

“My second knock out in two days!” he said. “Johnny, you okay!? I’m gone five minutes and you’re standing over dead bodies and a cop’s shooting at you. Dude, what the fuck?”

John picked the AK back up. “Terrorist attack, Cat, and I don’t think it’s over. Grab the cop’s gun and let’s take cover until reinforcements arrive.”

At that moment the blast wave from a huge explosion at the south end of the park hit them like a punch in the gut, sucking the air from their lungs and knocking them off their feet. The ground shook. Dust and debris rolled over them.

John had been put on his ass by high explosives more times than he could count. He’d seen soldiers that were untouched by the blast get so disoriented by the aftershock that they walked right up to enemy positions with their hands held out in greeting and been blown away. Still on his back, he shook his head from side to side to help clear it before he sat up and looked down at Felix.

“Am I dead?”

“Just shaken up,” John said. “Take it slow. You’re going to be off balance for a few minutes.”

“Holy shit,” Felix said. John helped him up and brushed off his cousin’s hair and clothes. They each had a few nicks and cuts, but otherwise they were unharmed.

“Aw Christ! I hope they didn’t get any kids. There were a lot of kids here,” John said.

They stood in silence for a moment watching the huge smoke cloud rising skywards. Small branches and leaves fell from the trees all around them.

Sirens were wailing and people were running towards the scene. Then the awful screaming started. The primal sounds of shock and fear, of death and dying. Felix started to move towards the carnage when John put a hand on his arm.

“We can’t help those people right now. Stay here.”

“Stay here? Why?”

“Because there’s an unexploded bomb at my feet and a bag full of evidence that these terrorists didn’t expect to be found. This attack may not be over and we can’t walk around with guns in our hands without getting blown away by cops arriving on the scene. Let’s grab the weapons, the bomb and the bag and take cover over there,” John said, pointing to the steps leading towards the now empty playground.

“Whatever you say, primo. You’re the man when it comes to this shit”

“Okay, I’ve got the explosives and the AK. You bring the bag.”

As Felix reached down to pick it up John grabbed his hand and held it firmly. They looked at each other and John was shaking his head slowly back and forth. “Just dawned on me that I never checked it for booby traps. Let me take a look first.”

A shot rang out and hey both crouched and turned towards the sound.

“Police! Freeze!” Six angry cops ran up and surrounded them. Each one glanced down at the unmoving officer Johnson and the two dead bodies. John and Felix knew that if they moved they were both dead. They slowly dropped their weapons and put their hands behind their heads.

“This cocksucker had Louie’s gun in his hand,” said Officer Martin Sullivan, Louie’s partner.

“On the ground! On the ground!” and they went down with hands locked behind their heads.

Even lying face down Felix knew the kick was coming. He couldn’t protect himself in his prone position so he exhaled a second before the heavy shoe hit him in the right side just below his rib cage.

“Hey! We’re the good guys here,” John said.

“We’ll see about that” said another cop who had just made the “10-13” officer down call on the radio.

More cops came running and the cousins were frisked, roughly handcuffed and dragged to their feet.

Felix wasn’t saying a word, which John knew made him even more dangerous. He was staring intently at Officer Sullivan.

“What are you looking at, asshole?”

“Making sure I never forget you.”

“Felix, cálmate (relax). We’ll deal with that shit later.”

“Yes we will,” he responded. His yellow eyes bore into the cop that kicked him.

A police captain and an FBI agent arrived on the scene and took control.

“Captain, I’m Sergeant John Bishop, U.S. Special Forces. I put down these two suicide bombers. This is my cousin Felix.”

“Yeah, we’ll check you and your story out downtown, but for now the cuffs stay on.”

The Captain turned to look at Officer Johnson who was now sitting up, shaking his head from side to side and gently rubbing his jaw.

“How did my man get hurt?” the Captain asked.

John disregarded the question. “Captain, I just got back from Afghanistan. I’ve seen these types of coordinated attacks and I don’t think it’s over. Once responders arrive on the scene they usually set off a car or truck bomb. They use the suicide bombers as a smoke screen to go after the real targets. You and your men. You should check every vehicle in the area and any apartments or offices facing the park.”

There was a long three seconds where no one said a word. Everyone looked at John differently now and although he was still cuffed the officer that had been firmly holding him by the arm involuntarily released his grip.

While staring directly at John, Captain James Ryan got on his radio. “Command, we need ESU and the Bomb Squad up here now to check vehicles for explosives.”

“They’re on scene Captain, holding at 14th and Broadway.”

“Bring ‘em in. Start checking cars and trucks on Union Square west and expand from there, over.”

“10-4 Captain,” came over the radio in response.

“Next, I want officers to check every apartment, storefront, or office with a park facing view and all the surrounding rooftops. We may have more terrorists in the area. Take down doors and proceed with caution, over.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Hearing that there could be more terrorists in the area put everyone into overdrive. More cops continued to arrive on the scene, sprinting in every direction. They all wanted the same thing, a chance for some payback.

“You should also get on the horn about the other terrorist,” John said.

“The other terrorist?”

“Yeah, and he’ll be hard to miss. Mid-forties, five-ten, dark hair, long broken nose, and a bullet in his left side just below the chest where I shot him. He ran west on 16th Street.”

After putting Amir’s description out on the radio Captain Ryan turned back to face John. “Sergeant Bishop, we’re going to move you and your cousin out of this area to our command center south of the park. Procedure dictates we have to keep the cuffs on, but assuming your story is true we all owe you our thanks for what you’ve done here today,” he said, putting his hand gently on John’s shoulder. “And quite possibly an apology as well.”

“Thanks Captain. It’s my cousin who needs the apology, but right now focus on making sure no one else gets hurt,” he said, turning to look at the cop who kicked Felix.

Officer Sullivan put his head down and fumbled around with his belt buckle as John and Felix were walked to a squad car.

While he was being escorted away John looked back at Ryan and added casually, “By the way, there’s a bomb at your feet.”

Everyone froze.

“I diffused it after I killed the guy over there wearing it. The nylon bag belonged to them too and it may be booby trapped so be careful with it. Also, the one still wearing the jacket could have a nasty surprise on him so you should let your bomb guys examine him too.”

“Command, this is Ryan.”

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“Would you mind sending bomb squad members to my location? I have an unexploded device at my feet.”

“Say again, sir?”

Ryan stared intently at Bishop as he was led away.

Chapter 11

Meecham

26 Federal Plaza, Downtown Manhattan
New York FBI and Homeland Security Headquarters

John and Felix
were briefly held at the temporary command center south of Union Square before being taken downtown to 26 Federal Plaza. They had each been placed in separate interrogation rooms and John figured about five hours had gone by since the door closed. He sat on a hard metal chair that was bolted into the floor in a tiny room painted stark white.

He knew they were busy. There was a lot going on and they’d get to him eventually. Still, he wanted to know how everything played out and more importantly he needed to call Maria. She knew he was going to Union Square for lunch and must be worried sick.

The door swung inward and two bulky Homeland Security Agents in matching blue suits and dark ties entered the room.

“Sergeant Bishop, will you come with us please.” The delivery was polite, but it wasn’t a question.

John got up, fascinated by their identical outfits. On any other day would have asked them if they shopped together. Today was too serious.

The twins escorted him to a large conference room that had a long oak table with fifteen black leather seats on each side, perfectly spaced and neatly lined up. There were twenty men standing in a tight group at the far end of the room. John knew a few of them and some of the others he’d seen on TV.

General Marcus Palmer, the head of SOCOM (Special Operations Command) was in the center of the group. John knew him well, though he hadn’t seen Palmer for several years. The last time was when the general presented him with the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second highest military honor.

Only average height, the general’s bearing and air of command made him appear much taller, and he was a man John both liked and respected for being tough yet fair. Palmer was also one of only a handful of senior officers that had come up through the ranks of Special Forces. He understood their tactics at every level and fought to get his troops everything they needed from training, to funding, and equipment. The general was both a legend and a hero to the men under him.

Captain Ryan of the NYPD was there as well. His uniform was dusty, his face looked drawn and haggard, but his blue eyes were sharp and alert. The corners of his mouth rose slightly when he saw John come in and they each nodded a hello.

A feisty little man in a sharp custom made gray suit quickly stepped into the room with a nervous assistant trailing behind him. The atmosphere immediately changed when he came in, and John could sense that everyone was suddenly tense and guarded. General Palmer shot John a look that said, watch out for this guy.

“Well, Mr. Bishop, you’ve had quite a day. My name is Michael Meecham, Deputy Director of Homeland Security.” Meecham’s words and his movements were exaggerated, almost theatrical, designed to inspire fear and intimidate those around him. It didn’t work on John. He stared into Meecham’s brown lifeless eyes for three long seconds, noting the pointy, almost rodent-like features in his face.

Dismissing him without acknowledging the introduction, John turned his back on Meecham and came to attention. He crisply saluted General Palmer and the two light colonels at his side who were his aides. They returned the salute and the general simply said, “At ease Sergeant.”

Meecham, not one to be ignored said, “He’s not in the army any more so there’s no need for all that. Bishop, we need you to tell us exactly what you saw. Every detail of what happened, what you did and why.”

“General, where is my cousin, Felix Valdez?” John asked, still keeping his back to Meecham.

“We’ll get to that later. First we need answers, Bishop,” snapped Meecham.

Looking over his shoulder John addressed him for the first time. “You get Felix in here now weasel, or I’ve got nothing to say.”

“What did you call me? You understand that if you don’t answer my questions to my satisfaction or impede this investigation in any way I’ll have you arrested and held without bond.”

“Arrest me then, because until I see Felix I’ve got nothing to say. And once he gets here someone other than you better ask the questions or I’ll put you over my knee and give you a spanking. I’m in no mood to be barked at, or threatened.”

Meecham’s head snapped back as if he’d been struck and his face flushed with rage. He was about to explode, but was cut off by another man wearing a smart dark blue suit with a bold red striped tie.

“Mike! This is counterproductive, and we have a lot of work to do here.” He pressed a button on the phone bank on the table. “Agent Matthews, bring Mr. Valdez in here now.”

“Sergeant Bishop, my name is Terry Hall. I’m Special Agent in Charge of the New York FBI office.” He walked over and extended his hand. He had a firm grip and looked John directly in the eye when they shook hands.

General Palmer added, “Let’s all take a seat and start over.” Looking over with contempt at Meecham he turned back to speak to John.

“John, you understand why you’re here. I hope we can count on you to help out.”

“Absolutely, sir. I just want to make sure my family’s okay.”

“Understood.”

The large mahogany door with a hand-carved emblem of Homeland Security opened silently and the twins brought in Felix, still wearing handcuffs.

“What is this? Is he being charged with a crime?” John asked.

“Not by us,” Captain Ryan said.

“Then why is he still cuffed?”

“Deputy Meecham’s orders,” replied Agent Matthews nervously.

“He’s a convicted murderer and he assaulted a cop today. He should be in jail and definitely not in this room with us,” Meecham said.

“That cop mistook
me
for a terrorist. Not his fault, but he almost blew me away. Felix saved my life. Is the department pressing charges here Captain?”

“No we’re not. The officer involved corroborates what you just said. He made a poor assessment of the situation and accidentally discharged his weapon. Take those cuffs off him,” Ryan said.

Agent Matthews waited until his boss, Meecham, nodded reluctantly and then released Felix. Felix rubbed his wrists to get the circulation back then walked over to John and gave him a warm embrace.

“Glad you’re okay.”

“You too.”

Just then Tony Kolter, Director of the National Security Agency, entered the room with his deputy. He was five-ten and two hundred-fifty pounds, with pock marked cheeks and a nose that had been broken several times. A former wrestler and Army Ranger, even at sixty-five he was still a bull of a man. A bull that didn’t take any bullshit.

“Where are we?” he asked simply.

“Just getting started,” Terry Hall said.

“Then let’s get going. The president is waiting for my call and I want to hear this young man’s story first,” Kolter said.

“What can you tell us about the events in the park today John?” asked Agent Hall.

“Well, after I proposed to my girlfriend and asked my cousin here to be my best man, me and Felix walked over to the Blue Water Grill to have a lobster lunch to celebrate. We finished eating at 2PM and I walked around the market while he went into a store. After about ten minutes of strolling around the northwest side of the farmer’s market I got a bad feeling.”

“You got a feeling?” Meecham said sarcastically.

“Shut your mouth and don’t interrupt him again,” General Palmer said venomously. Palmer knew he’d just made a new and powerful enemy, but he wasn’t about to sit back and see a man like John get abused.

“Continue your report Sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir. I thought I was imagining things, but after doing a quick recon of the area I spotted the two terrorists in the middle of the crowd.”

“What gave them away?”

“At first glance, the fact that they were both wearing matching black jackets, which was odd for such a hot day. Also, they were clearly Muslim and they were standing still in the middle of a moving crowd in the center of the market. My gut told me these guys were wrong. So, I moved in closer from their blind side and when I got within five or six feet I heard the primary bomber reciting his death prayer in Dari. Dari or Farsi is the dominant language of Afghanistan. From his accent I could tell he was from the Eastern part of the country and Dari wasn’t his first language. He probably grew up speaking Pashto or one of the local tribal dialects in the frontier region.”

John paused and looked over at several aides franticly taking notes. “Am I going too fast?”

“No John, you’re doing great. Your report is being recorded and transcribed. Please continue,” Terry Hall said.

“I then observed what I will again call the primary bomber holding a thumb depressed detonator in his left hand. There were hundreds of people: women and children everywhere. There was no doubt about his intentions. He was going to blow himself up and it would’ve been a blood bath. I knew I had to act fast, so I moved I moved in from behind them and engaged the second subject, killing him with a knife blow to the back of the neck.”

“Why him first and not the bomber?” Terry asked.

“Well, the bomber had his head down in prayer. Terrorist two was security and he was there to shoot anyone who tried to interfere. I didn’t mention that I observed a bag at his feet with the butt of an automatic rifle sticking out of it. I knew if I went after the bomber first, the second terrorist would engage me to try and pry the thumb button free, and boom, game over.”

This was the first accounting of the day’s events for Felix and he was awestruck listening to what happened.

“I then neutralized the bomber utilizing the same knife blow to the back of his neck. In his case, as I struck him I had to grab his hand and keep the pressure on the release button. I managed to do that and diffuse the devise,” John said nonchalantly, as if this was something people do every day.

“What happened next John?”

“There were people standing around watching and taking pictures. I knew the attack wasn’t over. They wouldn’t waste their time with just a single two man team. I removed the AK-47 from their bag and after firing four warning shots to get the crowd moving I was fired upon by a third terrorist from across the street at 16th and Union Square West. I returned fire and hit him once on the left side of his torso below the chest. I believe he’s hurt, but not critically wounded assuming he finds treatment. I also believe he was the leader of the operation.”

“Why?” General Palmer asked.

“Sir, he was only carrying a pistol. Nine mil. I’m pretty sure it was a Berretta from the gun’s profile. If he was a primary operator he would’ve been packing more firepower.” He paused. “From his position it was the perfect place to observe and coordinate the mission without being trapped on a rooftop. I didn’t see radios on any of them so I don’t think he was in direct contact with the two teams of bombers, but my gut tells me he was in charge. Just one soldier’s opinion, sir.”

“I see.”

“Then there’s the fact that I kinda met him two days ago.”

There was stunned silence from everyone in the room. Even Director Kolter had a physical reaction to this piece of news. His back stiffened and he placed both palms carefully down on the table.

“What! You know this guy?” Meecham screeched.

“Don’t know him, but we crossed paths. We were both arrested on Thursday night,” John said nodding towards Felix, “and the guy I shot was in our holding cell. I was in my dress uniform on my way to my homecoming party when we got locked up. My uni really set this guy off. He spit at me.”

“Hold up. You can’t be serious. That long-nosed dude I knocked out is the same guy you shot today? No way,” Felix said.

“Crazy, but yeah, same guy.”

“Spooky.”

“And then some,” John added.

“You’re saying you assaulted this man, Mr. Valdez?” Meecham asked.

“Damn right I did. “That son of a bitch spit at John.. Felt his beak break on impact, and lights out, baby.”

“You two morons don’t even realize that you probably caused this attack by your actions in the jail.”

Felix jumped up from his chair. “Morons!? Who are you anyway? You’re talking about my cousin? My cousin who’s got more medals than any soldier since World War II? The guy who saved hundreds of lives today, maybe thousands? Hey pal, whoever you are, go fuck yourself.”

“Valdez, you are about to find out what a mistake it is to curse at the Director of Homeland Security,” Meecham said.

“You just promote yourself, Meecham?” John asked. “It was Deputy Director a few minutes ago.”

“I misspoke. I…”

John ignored his fumbling and looked at Tony Kolter. “Sir, there’s no way this operation wasn’t planned months in advance. This wasn’t some pissed off loner. It was a well planned, coordinated group attack.”

“I agree.” Kolter had had enough. “Meecham, take a hike. When I brief the president I’m recommending he fire your ass for impeding this investigation.”

Meecham balled his fists at his sides and his whole body shook in anger. He regained his composure and stared long and hard at John and Felix and then menacingly pointed a thin index finger at each of them before storming out of the room.

Captain Ryan had already picked up the phone and gave terse commands.

“Get me names and photos of every person we had at Central Booking on Thursday night. And I need them ten minutes ago!”

Kolter turned to John and Felix. “Sorry about that. Meecham’s an asshole. He thinks he’s the second coming of J. Edgar Hoover. I hear he even has his own team of private investigators collecting dirt on people so he can coerce them to do his bidding. He’s one of those evil little pricks that gets real pleasure out of creating problems, but don’t worry, you won’t see him again.”

“That’s what my cousin said about the guy who spit at him in jail. Just like that terrorist I think we’re definitely going to be seeing and hearing from Meecham again,” Felix said thoughtfully.

“Bank on it,” John said.

Tony Kolter had his hands behind his head, staring up at the recessed track lights as he digested everything John had reported.

“As Napoleon once said, ‘give me a man who’s lucky.’” Turning to John he said, “Well Sergeant, you’ve had quite the homecoming. You saved a whole bunch of lives today, son. Thank you for your service and your decisive action.”