The Final Reckoning

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Jay Sherrill wanted nothing more than to sit down. The information from Agent Marcus Mack of the New York Police Department Intelligence Division was coming too fast to take in, at least too fast to take in like this, walking on a busy Manhattan street in late afternoon, jostled by shoppers and commuters and street vendors, pretending to talk into a cellphone, unable even to look his source in the eye. This was not how Detective Sherrill liked doing business.

‘So when you say, from the beginning, you mean from the beginning.’

‘Uh-huh. Reckon I was the first agent put on it. In the morning, anyway. Obviously surveillance had been monitoring him since the previous night.’

‘When he met the Russian?’

‘Right.’

‘And they put that together with his location-’

‘Near the UN.’

‘-and on that basis he became a suspect. A terror suspect.’

‘Which is why I was following him.’

‘And you say there was another man, another agent?’

‘At least one.’

‘What do you mean, “at least”?’

‘Well, I know for certain there was one other guy, because I saw him when we got to UN Plaza. We saw each other; we both had the same reaction.’

‘But?’

‘But my handler said, when I asked whether there was back-up, “There's a team”. Now, he coulda been shitting me, they're not above that, these guys.’ For a fleeting second, Mack eyed Sherrill, at his left, then looked forward again as he kept walking. ‘You know what I mean, Detective? Saying “there's a team” when really they mean, there's you and me – we're the team. So it may have just been me and this other guy, the one I saw when I got there.’

‘Did you speak to him, this other agent?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘What does that mean? Oh, excuse me, sorry.’ A woman carrying a cappuccino-to-go, and also talking into a cellphone, had banged into him and, naturally, he had been the one to apologize.

‘It means we didn't exactly have a conversation, but we spoke.’

‘To each other? To someone else? Who?’

‘No, we said something at the same time. That's when I realized. Look: back up a second. Remember, I told you that when I got to the Plaza, I could no longer tail the guy, because he had entered another jurisdiction? He was on UN turf so I just had to hang back?’

Sherrill nodded.

‘OK. So I watched what happened. I saw the suspect walk into the centre of the Plaza, kinda looking around and then I see the UN guard reach for his weapon. And exactly at that moment, the suspect turns around and faces my direction. And that's when I see it. What I hadn't been able to see the entire time I was tailing the guy.’

‘You saw his face.’

‘Exactly. I saw his face. And I realized it instantly, the mistake we had made. I mean this guy was old, really old. There was no way he was a terrorist. He was a senior. And I know what's happening here. The guard's had the warning, the description, and this old man fits it perfectly. Black hat, black coat. He fits it. And he's just got our warning, my warning, that the suspect is about to enter UN territory and so he's reaching for his weapon. He's thinking to himself, I got Muhammad Atta here, I gotta blow him away.’

‘So you try to stop him?’

‘I try and stop him from shooting. I wanna shout, “You got the wrong guy!” Now that I've seen his face, I know he's the wrong guy. But there's no time. The only word that comes out is “No!”’

‘And at the same time, another man does the exact same thing.’

‘Right. The same word at the same moment. And that's how I know that that guy, maybe five yards from me down the street, is also a cop, an intel agent. Because he's realized what's going on, same way I have.’

Jay clenched his teeth. He was remembering Felipe Tavares's testimony two days ago. Why had he started shooting? ‘Because of the faces of those men I saw. The way they looked so shocked, and the black man screaming “No!” like he was desperate.’

‘The black man he saw, that was you,’ Sherrill murmured.

‘What's that?’

‘Nothing.’ Sherrill was turning it over: Tavares had worked it out afterwards, when it was too late, after the bullet was already plunged deep inside Gerald Merton's chest. Only then had he understood that the black man, and the white man near him, had been trying to stop not a bomber but him, Felipe Tavares, from shooting an innocent man.

‘Did you talk to the other agent?’

‘No. We kinda looked at each other, as if we both understood. Then we did what the rules say you do in that situation.’

‘Which is?’

‘You scoot. Opposite directions. You never want to make contact, not if you're both undercover. Could blow it for both of you.’

Sherrill remembered his last exchange with Tavares, how the security guard had said that both men had vanished. ‘OK,’ he said, unsure where to move next. ‘And you've been thinking about this ever since?’

‘You could say that. Look, it was me who called in that the “suspect” had moved into UN Plaza. And it was me who freaked out the UN guy by shouting “No”. It was those two things that made him think he was dealing with a suicide bomber.’

‘So you feel guilty.’

‘The word I would use is responsible. That's what I am, responsible. And it's not just me. That's what you gotta understand. I was only on this guy's tail because we had intel on him connecting him with the Russian and all that bullshit. So it ain't just me who's responsible here, you know what I'm saying?’

‘Who else?’

‘Who do you think? I'm talking about the New York Police Department Intelligence Division, that's who. I can see what's going on here. I've noticed how Intel have suddenly gone very quiet. They're not saying a word, nah-uh. Letting a few fucking Belgians over at the UN take the rap. Well, that, my friend, ain't right. And I don't intend to let them get away with it.’