Exceptional Merit Read Free Page A

fastened into the wall.  Opposite the desk were two chairs, used by the detectives when they interrogated a suspect.  There were some boxes containing cold cases piled in the corner.
     
    “How's it going, Bob?” Keegan asked the F.B.I.'s Eastern District Supervisor, Robert Wolf.  Wolf had been interrogating the suspect for the last hour without much success.  Wolf—a medium sized man with a neatly groomed beard and piercing blue eyes—carried the reputation of a real professional, as well as that of the Bureau's most skilled interrogator.  Wolf had been working counter terrorism for well over a decade.
    “Not bad, Jim, and you?” replied Wolf as the two men shook hands.
      “It seems we’re seeing way too much of each other lately, doesn't it?”
    “Let's go Richie,” interjected Lt. Vito, dismissing his detective from the room.  “I think the big boys are going to handle this one.”
    Keegan had detected the sarcasm in Vito's voice but politely responded, “Thanks for all your help, Sal.”
    In truth, he knew that Vito hadn't actually done anything to be thanked for, other than his obligated hospitality.  Keegan watched as they exited the interrogation room and silently thanked God he was getting away from Vito's raunchy cigar.  Keegan locked eyes with the animal who had murdered a man Keegan greatly admired.  He was seated on a bench against the wall and handcuffed to the bar on the wall.  His eyes brushed over the man.  He was short, with a very thin build.  He couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds.  His caramel colored skin implied he was from somewhere in the Middle-East.  The man’s dark eyes stared back at Keegan, unimpressed.  They showed neither remorse for what he had done, nor intimidation in light of his current situation.  If they showed anything at all, it was disdain.  The two men walked out of the interrogation room leaving the man handcuffed to the wall.  “ Did he give anything up, Bob?”
    Robert Wolf just shook his head.  “Nope, his only statement is that his name is Taroq al-Azir, and that he assassinated Judge Boden as a political statement protesting the United States' politics in the Middle-East.  He also said it was in protest of the unfair and illegal convictions his brothers in Jihad received for standing up for what they believe in.”
    “Standing up for what they believe in?”  Keegan shook his head in disbelief.  “Bombing innocent people in the World Trade Center?  Attempting to bomb the Lincoln and Holland Tunnels?   Plotting to blow up the Brooklyn Federal Courthouse?  These fuckers are crazy!  Do we know anything else about him?”
    “Unfortunately , not very much.  He was born in Syria and has been in the U.S. about two years.  He won't tell us who gave the order, who he works for, or anything other than that one statement.  I ran it up the chain of command.  They decided not to pursue it on the federal level but instead to prosecute as a state case.  They felt the murder itself did not constitute an act of terrorism but instead a retaliatory act.”
    Wolf looked at his long time friend and colleague and took a deep breath.  “Make no mistakes, Jim, this guy is a professional terrorist.  I highly doubt he will say anything useful to the investigation.  With that being said, since our office declined, it’s your case.  Would you like to take a shot at interrogating him?”
    “No thanks.  If you can't break him, there is no way I can.  I'd just like to interview the arresting officer and take his statement and close this one out.”
     
    Joe Esposito was a burly young cop, twenty-two years old.  His clean shaven face and his olive skin complemented his handsome looks.  He had light brown eyes.  They were soft and forgiving eyes.  He was very quiet and polite, a trait Keegan felt would disappear after a few more years on the job.  Keegan had seen many young officers like Esposito.  After a few years of