Regarding these mobile Special Operations teams, they were very experienced in surveillance and countersurveillance-the surveillance team watches and/or follows the subject, the countersurveillance team watches or follows to see if the surveillance team is being watched or followed-but sometimes they assign too many people to the job. I pictured myself walking down the street with a dozen detectives and FBI agents following me, and a half dozen unmarked cars creeping along the curb.
Bottom line on that, even if Asad Khalil was Omar Abdel-Rahman, the blind sheik, he couldn't fail to notice I wasn't alone.
I mean, if this was simply a protective operation, it would work. But if I was supposed to be bait in a trap, The Lion wouldn't be biting.
I suspected that Walsh and whoever he was answering to weren't entirely clear in their own minds about what kind of operation this was. The police and the FBI often used decoys or undercover people in a sting operation, drug busts, and such, but officially no one ever put a guy out there as a moving target for a known killer. That's not safe for the guy or for civilians who could get caught in a crossfire. As always, there are rules-but there is also reality and expediency.
I knew that Tom Walsh, Vince Paresi, and George Foster were also being protected, but I wondered if it was overt protection-uniformed officers and marked cars, like the mayor gets-or was it covert, like I was getting? That, I suppose, would depend on whether or not those three gentlemen wanted to act as bait, or simply stay alive.
While I was enjoying a mental image of Tom Walsh being driven to work in an armored car, my cell phone rang and I saw it was Vince Paresi.
The temptation not to take the boss's call is overwhelming, but I wanted to demonstrate my full cooperation and good behavior early-it would get worse later-so I answered, "Corey."
He skipped the pleasantries and said, "You were supposed to see me before you left the office."
"Sorry. I'm so stressed-"
"And you were supposed to go to tech support."
"Today?"
"I'll have those items sent to you."
"Great. I'm at home."
"Have you met your SO guy in your lobby?"
"Detective A. J. Nastasi, Mario's Pizza delivery." I told him, "He got here fast. Even before I agreed to go home early."
"He was there, John, to make sure no one got into your apartment to wait for you."
"Good thinking." I asked him, "You guys all protected?"
He informed me, "I don't believe we're targets. But, yes, we are taking necessary precautions."
I advised him, "You should send your wife out of town for a while, Captain."
He didn't reply, and I thought maybe I should specify which wife. Can't send them all. Too expensive.
He asked, "You've read the memo pertaining to your protective detail?"
"Twice."
"Any questions?"
"None."
"Good." He said, "Tom informed me that you understand this is a team effort."
"Right."
"I am your immediate supervisor." He reminded me, "I am responsible for you. Do not screw me up."
I'm the target of a psychotic terrorist and all my boss is worried about is his career. I replied, "We're a team."
"Good." There was a short silence, then he said to me, "John, we may ask you to visit some locations."
"Yeah? Like Paris?"
"Some places that you can walk to, or get to by bus, subway, or taxi."
"Oh, I get it. Places where Khalil could follow me and where you've already positioned a SWAT team."
"Something like that."
"This is not sounding like I'm being protected from harm."
He reminded me, "You volunteered for this."
"What was I thinking?"
"This is your call, of course."
I said to him, "Look, I don't mind being the bait in the trap, but if I'm overprotected, you'll spook The Lion."
"I'd rather do that than have The Lion kill you."
"Are you sure?"
He ignored that and assured me, "The chances are very good that the surveillance team will spot Khalil before he spots us."
I thought about that and replied, "Well, as we both know from experience, it can go either way. But here's something else for you to think about-Khalil is not working alone. He has a network here, people who have prepped his mission for him. So I don't think it will be Asad Khalil himself who will be waiting under the lamppost for me to leave my apartment. It will be people whose faces we don't know, and who will be in communication with one another and with Khalil. Then when the opportunity arises, Khalil will show up for his date with John Corey."
Paresi was silent for a few seconds, then asked me, "You think he has those kinds of assets here?"
"I do. And I think whoever these people are, they're not new to this game, and they know the territory here." I pointed out, "Think about what Khalil has already done. This is not a man acting alone."
"I know… but we're always better and smarter than they are."
Well, almost always.
He continued, "And as always, the countersurveillance team will be on the lookout for anyone who seems to be shadowing us-or you."
When you do these kinds of things-tailing people, looking for people tailing you, setting traps, and all that fun stuff-you never know how it's going to go down. So rather than argue with him about the details, I said, "My offer to be red meat stands."
"Good." He moved on to a happier subject and said, "The NYPD helicopter to pick up Kate will leave the East Thirty-fourth Street Heliport at seven A.M. sharp. Kate will be taken to Bellevue." He informed me, "There will be transportation for you in front of your building at six-thirty A.M."
"Thanks."
He advised me, "Don't hesitate to call me with any questions, thoughts, or information that you may recall or receive."
"I will do that."
"And be careful."
"Yourself as well."
We hung up and I refreshed my beverage. I also retrieved my fully charged paid-minutes cell phone from the kitchen counter. It's important to have one of these if you're a drug dealer, a cheating spouse, a terrorist, or just an honest guy like me with a government phone who doesn't want the taxpayers picking up the charges for his private calls.
I took my drink and sat in my La-Z-Boy recliner. This is the real thing-buttery leather, adjustable positions for reading, watching TV, sleeping, or pretending you're dead when the wife wants you to help with the dishes. I chose the half-upright Scotch-drinking position and dialed my prepaid cell phone.
A female voice answered, "Kearns Investigative Service. How may I help you?"
I replied, "This is John Corey. I'd like to speak to Mr. Kearns."
"He's not in. May I take a message?"
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Kearns's boyfriend. I need to speak to him."
"Uh… you are…?"
"Mr. Kearns's old friend."
"Oh… I thought you…" She said, "Please hold."
A recorded voice thanked me for my call and urged me to stay on the line. Then a recorded pitch: "Kearns Investigative Service is staffed by highly trained and qualified men and women who have many years of experience in law enforcement. We offer comprehensive assistance in areas relating to researching the personal and professional histories of prospective employees. Please stay on the line for assistance."