His friend nodded. “We mustn’t lose our concentration; we have to stick to the plan. Timing is critical. As soon as we reach our destination, we’ll have to find our first victims straight away.”
The bag straps never left their shoulders as they sipped their hot coffee and later relieved themselves in a restroom. At eleven twenty-five the last of the passengers boarded the Greyhound bus to Binghamton.
Chapter Eleven
Matt Lilburn’s back told him he’d definitely had more comfortable night’s sleeps than the bunk room at One Police Plaza. He’d certainly eaten better meals than what was offered in the cafeteria — even the coffee didn’t taste that great. He remembered the coffee he’d had with Evangeline in London and promised himself that one day he would go slightly more up-market than instant. The night in the holding cells had done nothing to loosen the tongue of Imam Fawaz; the only good thing that came of the whole exercise was the listening devices NYPD had managed to place in his house overnight, with no interference. The helicopter pilot had apparently had a better time and not wasted the nightlife New York City had to offer. He was in a jovial mood as Lilburn strapped himself in the chopper.
“Don’t worry, Gracie darlin’,” said the pilot, caressing the instrument panel of the cockpit. “She wasn’t as good as you.”
“Glad someone had a good night.”
“I told you, you should have come out with me. Albany?”
“Albany.”
Just as the pilot was about to start the engine, there was a sudden knocking on Lilburn’s door.
“We have a breakthrough,” blurted Inspector Gibbons as Lilburn opened the helicopter door. “Fifteenth Precinct, where we picked up the Imam, just got in touch; two of their officers have reported talking to a Syrian, one of the officers noted seeing a stamp on a empty parcel which he identified as coming from Syria.”
Lilburn had started undoing his seat belt the moment he heard the word Syrian; by the time the inspector had mentioned Syria again, Lilburn was pushing him aside as he disembarked.
“I was going to take the scenic route back to Albany,” the pilot yelled out as his passenger started running. “OK then,” talking to himself, “maybe later.”
The door of the elevator was starting to close on Gibbons as he hurriedly joined Lilburn.
“The officers, are they still at the Fifteenth Precinct?”
Gibbons adjusted his clothing. “Yeah, I thought you might want to talk to them so I told them not to send the officers out until you get there.”
“A stamp. Amazing how the smallest detail can get the ball rolling in the right direction.”
“Looks that way. The devil’s in the detail, right?”
The lift came to a halt and the door opened to the eleventh floor.
Gibbons looked at Matt. “How do you want to do this?”
“Can you get two of your staff, and transport to the Fifteenth? We’ll then go straight to the place where the officers saw the Syrian and the stamps.”
The white van screeched wheels as it climbed the ramp leading from One Police Plaza into the morning traffic. Outside the Fifteenth Precinct, Lilburn and Gibbons left the other officers in the van while they sought out Officers Maitland and Martinez and the best lead they had so far.
“Special Agent Lilburn, Homeland Security, and this is Inspector Gibbons, NYPD.”
“Morning, gentlemen, good to see you again, sir.” The lieutenant stood up from behind his desk and saluted.
“Been a while, Henry.” Gibbons reached over the desk and shook Lieutenant Mather’s hand. “Congratulations on the recent promotion.”
“Can’t say I was disappointed when it came through, the wife sure likes the extra dollars in the pay packet.” Lieutenant Mather sat back down.
Lilburn cut to the chase. “Could I speak to the two officers?”
“Not a problem.” The lieutenant rose and proceeded to the door where he asked the nearest person to fetch Martinez and Maitland. Settling back on the front of his desk, he looked at Lilburn with undisguised interest. “We only just got instructions from Homeland early this morning and… here they are now. Shut the door behind you.”
Lilburn could see the younger officer wasn’t long out of training; he appeared nervous as he entered the lieutenant’s office. The older officer had a streetwise swagger to him, probably a good choice to partner up with a rookie.
“Officers Maitland and Martinez, this is Inspector Gibbons from One Police Plaza and Special Agent Lilburn, Homeland Security. Tell them what you told me earlier.”
Maitland hooked his thumbs in his service belt and recounted the events that occurred in the apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant. Lilburn nodded as he heard about the stamps on the brown wrapping paper. “Did anything look suspicious to you?”
“Not really, sir, I had a good look around. The occupier, or at least the one of the two that was there at the time, let us in the apartment, he cooperated, passed the attitude test, gave us no nonsense, so we just carried out normal procedures and left. That was about it I guess.” Maitland looked to his partner. “You got anything to add, Carlos?”
Maitland had never used his Christian name before — and Carlos Martinez fumbled for his notebook, which gave him a bit more time to think. Martinez took a deep breath and looking at his notes on the incident he decided to bring up the conversation they had with the lady in the apartment next door, the one who had laid the complaint in the first place. He cleared his throat. “Um, I think the lady who laid the complaint could be of help, in this case. She said to… Ben and me that she thought the two men next door were making bombs.” Looking up towards Maitland he met a cold stare and straight away looked back to his notes. Perhaps using his first name wasn’t such a good idea.
“What’s this about a bomb?” It was the first their lieutenant had heard about it.
“Nothing, sir,” Maitland quickly broke in. “It was just the old lady ranting but I would have used it as an excuse to bust in next door if I’d needed to — but it was opened.”
“Anything else?” Lilburn pushed for more information. “Did you get names?”
“I’ve got the names written down here, sir, in my notebook.”
“I bet you have officer, good work.” Lilburn directed his conversation to the lieutenant. “I would like to take these officers to the apartment and have a look for myself.”
“Sure thing… What’s this about anyway?”
“Too early to tell. Let’s go.”
Gibbons shrugged his shoulders then followed Lilburn out the door. Martinez followed behind Maitland, deciding not to push his luck any further.
The van driver and the other plain-clothed officer from the Major Case Squad just had time to throw their cigarette butts into the street as their passengers arrived. Gibbons directed Officer Maitland to the front passenger seat to give directions to the apartment, while the others entered the rear. The van’s sliding door had only just shut as the vehicle pulled out and jostled its way into the thick traffic.
“This is the building.” Maitland pointed for the driver.
The two doors slammed shut as five of the occupants stepped out of the vehicle, the driver remaining inside.
“This one here, five-story apartment block, number twenty-five on the third story. Hope you like stairs…” Maitland looked up at the building; by the time he looked down Lilburn was already inside the foyer.
Maitland mumbled to himself. “More fuckin’ stairs.”
Had anyone encountered the men on the stairs, they would have given them plenty of space. As it was, no one noticed as they gathered in the third-story lobby.
“Nothing’s changed. That’s the door there, number twenty-five.”