Vengeance For Gabriel, page 4
Michelle responded with a straight face. “I know you always cut the red wire.” Roger smiled and took that as a no; evidently, Michelle knew as much about explosives as he knew about the internal workings of a computer. Roger glanced at his watch, estimating it would be almost one o’clock by the time the plane landed. It felt like a lifetime had passed in only seven or eight hours. He closed his eyes again as his thoughts turned to motive.
Chapter 7
The Sting Rays
A dive boat was anchored in the shallows of a sandbar about twenty-five miles off the shore of Grand Cayman in an area known as Stingray City. Everyday hundreds and hundreds of sting rays would be present here. For more than a decade, the rays and other species of fish had become accustomed to being fed by the equally large numbers of tourists who arrived. The sightseers came on glass bottom boats, snorkeling expeditions, dive boats operated as shore excursions from the cruise ships or hotels in Grand Cayman and the surrounding islands.
The reef that the sandbar extended from was responsible for the amazing coral formations and varieties of colorful fish that also lured barracuda, sharks, and other species here to feed. The surface of the water was abruptly broken by a woman in a very tiny white bikini using a ladder to climb into a dive boat. She was tanner than she had ever been after 5 days of fun in the Bahamian sun. She removed her snorkel gear while her boyfriend, who like her was in his mid-twenties, boarded the vessel they had privately chartered for the day. He had a very defined muscular body.
It was the hottest part of the afternoon, the sun was intense, and the skies were clear. The weather had been great for the first five days of the young couple’s two-week trip. The seas were calm and clear, making it a wonderful day for snorkeling and scuba diving. The trip was perfect in every way as Matthew had planned it to be.
Ashley, his soon to be fiancée worked in the FBI’s Financial Crime Unit at Seven Main Street. They met a few years back while working on a joint task force between the Department of the Treasury’s Financial Crimes Enforcement Network and Ashley’s office. They were currently working together on another joint venture regarding a complicated money laundering case.
Matthew had been dating Ashley for quite some time and was mentally ready to ask her to marry him. He would have loved to pop the question on this trip, but he hadn’t had the chance to take his father out for a beer yet. He wanted to let his dad know he was ready to make the big commitment and he needed to do that in person.
Since Matthew had not connected with his dad, he was working on plan B. He was now thinking about proposing on the Fourth of July. He had a tiny Italian restaurant in mind that his mom and dad used to frequent. The rooftop location had an unobstructed view of the East River. The view was beautiful on any day, but on the Fourth of July, dinner with the magnificent fireworks show held along the river every year would be over the top. He would probably have to drop his father’s name to get a table, because this restaurant was always booked weeks in advance. Matthew knew it would be awesome if he could pull it off.
The dive boat handler, hardly worthy of the title captain, told them their phones had been ringing quite often through the day. Matthew and Ashley pulled their phones from their bags and Matthew saw his phone had eighteen missed calls and a dozen messages. He called his father immediately, but his call did not connect.
Matthew tried several times without making a connection and he tried using Ashley’s phone, which produced the same result. He had no other way to reach his dad out here on the open water. Matthew and Ashley were getting ready to head back for the day now anyway, so, he hoped he would get a better signal closer to shore or try again from a land line at the hotel. Matthew powered both phones off and restarted them, hoping to acquire a signal.
Ashley’s phone connected. She screamed in horror. Her social media was showing nothing but news about an explosion in New York City. Matthew looked at Ashley’s phone and saw the headlines too. The building Ashley worked in was damaged beyond recognition. He was also in shock, nevertheless he tried to console Ashley. They both knew lots of people that worked in the office, as it was commonly called by employees. Matthew dialed his father again; this time he was able to leave a message.
“I’m fine Dad, I’m in Grand Cayman with Ashley. I just heard the news; we’ll be flying home on the first flight out.” An hour later when Roger’s plane had landed and he was able to turn on his phone again, he cried when he saw Matthew’s number come up as a missed call. He dialed.
“Dad, are you alright?” Roger was still crying; he had no words for a moment.
“I’ve been trying to reach you, there was an… an explosion at Seven Main Street.” He paused.
“Over thirty people are dead, twenty-three people are unaccounted for and the building is gone. I thought…” Roger stammered. “I thought you might be gone.” A few seconds passed as Matt and his father shared an unspoken moment together. Roger could feel the silence on the other end of the line, then he heard a gut-wrenching shriek. There was a thud.
“Dad, I have to go, I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Matthew ended the call. Having learned of two lost colleagues, Ashley had just fainted and hit the deck hard.
Chapter 8
Returning to the Site
The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air as Roger and Michelle made their way past a security perimeter. Most people would sense the nasty odor, but not be able to identify its source. Roger knew what it was immediately.
The major fire was almost entirely extinguished as Roger had pointed out from the air just before their plane landed in JFK airport. The heavy black smoke they had seen earlier was replaced with white water vapor, visible in the form of steam rising from the pit. Tons of water was still being poured onto the site to cool down smoldering areas and quell any flareups.
Teams of rescue workers went about their urgent work under the supervision of the city’s engineers and the New York City Fire Department. In addition to the many first responders, there were FBI agents and NYPD officers everywhere, looking for clues and hoping to preserve any evidence that might be uncovered, as one might expect. They worked side by side with canine teams and special units including Anti-terrorism agents.
Roger and Michelle walked along the sidewalk which was covered with broken glass and fine debris that increased in quantity and size as they made their way closer to the site. Roger made mental notes of the changes in the debris field as they snaked their way through the jagged sections of broken concrete with exposed rebar and often unstable piles of rubble comprised primarily of stone, and glass.
Roger was seeking a clue of any kind, something to work with. He was looking for the signature of this explosion that made it different from others. The source of the blast would set the direction of the investigation. Roger’s mind was in overdrive processing everything around him.
It was noisy due to the jack hammers, sirens, megaphones, beeping vehicles, and thunderous loads of concrete being dumped into trucks. The street area around the site had been cleared only enough to get equipment in and debris out, facilitating the search and rescue work that needed to be done, while allowing workers to move about. Huge cranes were already moving into place to manage the heavy steel and large concrete remnants of the building. Seeing the line of trucks down the street waiting their turn to remove what was left of Seven Main Street was disturbing.
Michelle was taking it all in as she followed Roger down the block, constantly side-stepping or climbing over debris and taking pictures. She was glad she had her go bag and was able to change into sneakers and jeans at the concierge lounge in the airport. She and Roger were both wearing their blue windbreakers with the standard bold yellow FBI on the back.
As they moved closer to the site, they blended in with the other agencies’ alphabet jackets. Michelle thought about how she would have preferred to have her hiking boots that were sitting on her garage shelf. That’s what this terrain really required right now.
Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust; some office furniture was recognizable in the sea of debris they were about to wade through to get closer to the site. It was an intense emotional experience for Roger and Michelle, difficult to suppress in order to do the job at hand. Even within the large number of rescue workers who were trained and experienced to do this kind of work, some of them could not handle this emotionally, they needed to be consoled by others.
As Roger and Michelle drew even closer, more of the bare skeleton of the building’s framework that remained came into view. The twisted steel rose to what would have been about the third floor. It was an extremely unsettling sight for anyone to witness this close. Michelle choked back tears, seeing this, living this, was just a nightmare.
Roger was a bit more jaded because of his experience. It was, however, much more personal for him this time, as it would be for all his colleagues at the FBI and others directly impacted by the explosion. He internalized his emotions, and he was burning up inside, managing to hide how upset he really was. His need to stay focused on the job allowed him to do that. He would have to cope with his feelings at some other time.
The most devastating sight for Roger was the coroner’s vehicles. He had long ago been emotionally detached from the destruction of property, but the loss of human life, intentional or otherwise was never acceptable to him. He even disagreed with the concept of capital punishment.
Experience told him to survey the scene firsthand from the ground before it was altered too much. He moved about among the rubble with Michelle as conditions permitted until he was satisfied that he had accomplished what he could for now in terms of documenting the scene visually. He also took a few hundred photos on his cell phone of the remnants; with the hope a clue might surface later.
It would be a few days or possibly a week or two before the site would be cleared enough to get down there and identify the source or cause of the blast. As Roger absorbed his surroundings; the words of his former professor Nathan Berman came to mind. The thing about an investigation is that you may think you know what you are looking for, but you never know what you might find. His professor and now friend often said that in his lectures, and it was playing over and over in Roger’s mind.
Roger motioned to Michelle to cross the street with him. He wanted to get a better look at the damage to his apartment building further down from the site on the opposite side of the street. He pointed up at the building addressed 450. “That’s my apartment, up top.”
“Way up there!” Michelle said as she craned her neck.
“Pretty high, eh?”
“It’s quite a view, I can tell you that.” Roger knew the building had been evacuated along with all of the others on the block, but if it had not been declared structurally unstable, he would be able to get into his apartment. “We’ll go up there later if possible so you can get a different perspective of all this for sure.” Hmm, she thought, an opportunity to learn more about the renowned Agent Quaid.
“That would be helpful.” Michelle responded.
Roger and Michelle took a moment to observe the damage to the glass windows, displays, and merchandise in the retail shops store fronts on the main floor. Upon inspection the residential floors above the shops appeared to have sustained damage too. This was true for all of the surrounding buildings. Looking higher up, everything above the twentieth floor or so looked unremarkable.
Roger and Michelle made their way down the street towards a large mobile unit clearly marked FBI Command Center, fifty yards further down the NYPD Command Center was set up. A small group of uniformed New York’s Finest were getting instructions from a ranking member of the force. As Roger reached for the trailer’s door handle, the door swung open, and Nathan Berman stepped out to greet them.
Nathan was a solid twenty years older than Roger, so he had to be in his late sixties by now Roger figured. His broad smile and blue eyes were still endearing. Roger recalled Nathan was quite a bit thinner the last time he saw him. He surmised Nathan might be enjoying the good life a little more since he retired. He also could swear Nathan was wearing the same chestnut brown corduroy jacket he used to wear in class every Friday.
After introductions, Nathan invited Roger and Michelle to join him for a walk down the block where volunteers at the corner coffee shop had been providing free refreshments all morning. This would give them a chance to catch up and compare notes.
Nathan was a contrarian thinker, he always tried to see things from a perspective that was not just opposite, but inside out, upside down or as farfetched as possible compared to the thought processes of most investigators. Since the first time Roger met Nathan in the classroom, he recalled how his professor would toss out wacky and insane perspectives in order to prompt his students to think differently. Over the years Nathan and Roger had the opportunity to work together in several instances and they had become good friends.
On their way to the coffee shop, the three of them paused several times to watch the dirty, dusty and dangerous work going on. At one point they observed a large piece of steel being lifted and swung about to be placed next to a pyramid shaped pile of a dozen or more crushed cars. The mayor of the city was talking with the On Scene Incident Commander and surveying the situation with an entourage of inspectors and engineers, all of whom could be identified by their vests.
Per the city’s Emergency Response Preparedness Plan, the Incident Command Structure was already in place. The FBI was waiting for all the search and rescue personnel to do their jobs before sending agents into the deepest areas of the blast. It would be here that forensic agents from the Bureau would work with the New York City Fire Department investigators to start their search for the cause of the explosion in earnest.
When the trio arrived at the corner, there were tables of coffee urns and everything you needed to make the cup of coffee that suited your taste. Other tables were lined with boxes of pastries. A small handwritten sign on each table read Free Coffee - Free Doughnuts -Thanks! The storefront had sustained a fair amount of damage, but no one seemed to care. The place was crowded with people taking a break from the challenging work.
A forty-foot rectangular sign over the storefront read, The Home Plate! On the upper left of the sign there were large navy-blue letters, NY. The sign’s white background had blue vertical lines spaced out about every two feet. On the far right, there was a graphic of a baseball field’s home plate, also known to sports fans as the strike zone.
Roger saw an open table and walked right into the coffee shop; he never looked up; he knew the spot well having visited often. Nathan nodded for Michelle to enter while he held the door. Not one of them noticed the address in three-inch letters painted on the glass transom above the door.
It read 555.
Chapter 9
The Apartment
The elevator doors opened, Roger, Michelle and Nathan stepped into Roger’s apartment. Roger directed Michelle and Nathan to the window with the best view of the site, where they could see the remains of The Office. The breathtaking views of lower Manhattan did not go unnoticed, but neither Michelle nor Nathan commented; the two of them walked directly to the windows and looked down. Nathan pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and patted his forehead. He was getting a bit warm in his fire department turnout coat, which was quite heavy compared to the windbreakers Roger and Michelle were wearing.
They stood in awe watching the search and rescue work from this perspective for a while. In context from this vantage point, the damage had not radiated in the way one would expect from an explosion. Nathan silently scanned the site moving his head back and forth, then he began to examine the wreckage and its impact on the surrounding buildings. He absorbed images of the destruction floor by floor as his chin rose slightly with each incremental series of observations.
Nathan, like Roger, was used to studying the aftermath of explosions and building collapses in the city, he had seen dozens in his career, but this was different, he could feel it in his bones. The visual evidence confirmed things that were already obvious to Nathan, but he knew all too well it could be a while before he discovered the truth about what had transpired today at Seven Main Street.
After several minutes, Nathan addressed Roger and Michelle. “It is as I read in the briefs, clearly oval and its deeper on the southern side. It is also much more obvious that it was a directional blast from up here than down there.”
“Did you see the images taken from our helicopter?” Roger asked. Nathan shook his head to indicate he had not. Roger had correctly surmised the Bureau did not provide Nathan with a security clearance yet. He was receiving watered down information from field reports, which were not classified.
Roger made a mental note to leave his friend in the dark for now and see what Nathan could come up with on his own. Roger also made a note to ask Greg for an expedited security clearance so he could communicate more freely with Nathan. It was frustrating for Roger not to divulge information he held, despite his desire to share what he knew with his friend whom he greatly admired. Roger asked Nathan for his first impressions.
“Bedrock.”
Nathan said nothing more for a moment, while he garnered Roger and Michelle’s attention, then he continued. “The density and depth of the bedrock here could account for the oval directional shape we are seeing.” Nathan went on to explain how a considerable amount of the debris had blown out into the traffic intersection. Nathan pointed toward the corner.
