“And, Dick,” the commissioner went on, “I don’t want you to tell your dad about this under any circumstances. I love him like a brother, but he has, as he says and has shown, that West Point Duty, Honor, Country philosophy, and I don’t want him doing something he feels duty and honor require him to do. What this situation requires is someone with the philosophy your dad says the major has: that the end— protecting Philadelphia—justifies the means.”
“I understand, sir,” Miller said.
The commissioner rose from behind his desk.
“We’re now going to the Counterterrorism Bureau. I will ask the commanding officer of the Organized Crime and Intelligence Unit—they’re in the same building—to meet us there,” he said. “I don’t know what they have on any connection between our local African American terrorists —who so far have limited their efforts to bring Philadelphia to its knees by taking potshots at passing patrol cars—and any other terrorists, but if anyone has that information they will. I will tell Chief Inspector Kramer and Captain O’Brien that they are to give you anything and everything they have or can develop. I will tell Chief Inspector Kramer that twice because he has an unfortunate tendency to obey only those orders he considers wise and reasonable.”
“Thank you very much, Commissioner,” Castillo said.
“Be warned that neither of these officers is going to be willing to share any more than he feels he absolutely has to with either an Army officer or the special assistant to the secretary of homeland security. But if either of them really gets his back up, get back to me—right away—and I’ll have another chat with him.”
“Sir, how does—Chief Inspector Kramer and Captain O’Brien, you said?—feel about the Secret Service?”
“The Secret Service? I don’t know. I know Kramer hates the FBI with a fine Pennsylvania Dutchman’s passion. And I don’t think O’Brien thinks very highly about the FBI, either. The Secret Service? I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“Sir, I have credentials identifying me as a supervisory special agent of the Secret Service,” Castillo said.
The commissioner looked at him for a long moment, shaking his head.
“What do we say about Dick? Or does he have a Secret Service shield, too?”
“I think we can probably get by by showing my credentials, ” Castillo said.
“Okay. That’ll work.”
The commissioner waved them through his office door ahead of him.
He stopped at a desk manned by a uniformed sergeant. “Put out the arm for Chief Inspector Kramer and Captain O’Brien,” he ordered. “Have them meet me right now in Kramer’s office at the arsenal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have an unmarked car, a good one with all communications, delivered out there right away. If one isn’t available, take one away from somebody else.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We are cooperating with the Secret Service, that’s all you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come on, Jack,” the commissioner said to the plainclothes policeman who had been waiting for them at the elevator. “We’re going for a ride.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jack, this is Supervisory Special Agent Castillo of the Secret Service and Special Agent Miller. Gentlemen, this is my executive officer, Captain Jack Hanrahan.”
The men shook hands as they walked to the elevator.
[FIVE]
Frankford Industrial Complex Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 0825 9 June 2005
“Déjà vu, all over again,” Major H. Richard Miller, Jr., said, shortly after Captain Jack Hanrahan had turned the commissioner ’s unmarked Ford Crown Victoria off Tacony Street in Northeast Philadelphia into what looked like an old industrial complex of brick warehouses. “I have been here before. What is this place?”
The commissioner chuckled.
“It used to be the Frankford Arsenal,” he said.
“Yeah,” Miller said, remembering. “We used to come to the commissary here when I was a little kid.”