Excerpt: Terror in New York

Here's an excerpt for the Terror in New York story. It's about an Iraq Veteran wandering the streets of New York when he sees a man he recognizes as a terrorist in Iraq. He gives chase. What follows is an exciting tale about the adventures that arise from this decision of his.
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Apple
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Amazon
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Enjoy:

Jack stepped out of the D-line meat-locker-cold subway car and onto the sweltering platform on 34^th street. He inhaled through his nose. The smells were the usual New York mix of urine, homeless feet, puddles of trash, and body odor. A fruity perfume flashed by with a short skirt, shiny thighs, and knowing smile. Jack glanced over. The woman smiled at him with her eyes, and hopped on the subway car as the doors were closing—causing them to jerk open. Jack walked upstairs. He was supposed to be headed for an interview, though he wasn’t certain where it was located. It was the last in a series of job opportunities.

He shielded his eyes as he stepped into the sun. The sidewalks were packed with people, as was usually the case in mid-town Manhattan at this time of day.

A man walked by and Jack froze. He turned and watched the back of the man head down the stairs to the subway. Jack’s heart beat against his chest, and his skin shivered. Who had he just seen? The man had passed by so quickly Jack hadn’t really seen his face. But somewhere in the deep reaches of his brain alarms were going off. Jack ran back into the subway. He caught the back of the man’s head again and followed him into the D train heading uptown. The train was packed, but Jack managed to get a few feet away from the man. He couldn’t see his face.

The doors closed. Was he really going to do this? Was he going to be late, possibly miss his job interview, for a whim? The train rattled along to the next stop, and Jack leaned over, trying to see the man’s face. The clothes on the man didn’t stand out. He had khaki pants and a green polo shirt tucked into that. His hairy arms were darkened to a roasted brown. The man stared ahead and didn’t jerk his head around once. He was focused on something. Jack leaned further to try to get a glimpse of his face and bumped into a cute twenty-something reading a book.

“Sorry,” Jack said to her with a smile.

She gave him a glare and moved away from him.

The train moved on to Harlem and Jack watched as the car thinned out. With less people around he knew he couldn’t stare at the man. The man moved, coughed. Something about that movement told Jack that he did know who it was, and that he was dangerous.

The man moved to get off at the 125^th Harlem stop and Jack walked out with him. Jack caught a glimpse of the man’s side profile. He had a large nose that stuck out like a crooked finger, and a just-gestating beard on his jaw.

Keeping far enough behind the man so that he wouldn’t be noticed, yet close enough that he wouldn’t lose him, Jack tried to recall from where he knew that face. The man looked like an Arab, but that couldn’t have been the only thing. There were plenty of Arabs in the city and Jack had never taken notice of any of them before.

The man bumped into a larger man and stared at the larger man as they passed each other. The look on his eyes was powerful. And that’s when it hit Jack: Iraq. Jack had seen the man in Iraq. But not just anywhere. Where then? And what had he done?

They climbed up the stairs and walked south. Soon they were within the reaches of Morningside Park. There were less people here. Jack pulled further back. He wondered what he should do. Perhaps call the cops. He wasn’t certain what he would say to them.

The man embraced a woman with a headscarf, and sat with her on a park bench. Jack walked behind them into the park and settled down on some stairs. Morningside Park was a barrier between the richer Columbia University neighborhood and the poorer Harlem one. In fact, a cliff separated the two neighborhoods—with Columbia on the high ground.

Jack cocked his head to see if he could hear the conversation on the bench. Nothing. He assumed they were intimate as they leaned in close to talk to each other. Their body language told him that they were arguing over something.

As the conversation went on, Jack noticed his phone ringing. It was the company he was supposed be getting interviewed by that very moment. Jack decided not to answer it. It was a lost cause. He shook his head. Three months back from contracting and still no job. That wait was going to increase now. Maybe he would have to go back to contracting. He shook his head at the thought of it. He'd promised himself that he was done with contracting.

The man and woman leaned back to laugh.

Walid.

That was the man’s name, Walid. Jack tried to remember what his last name was. They’d chased him around Iraq, but never succeeded in catching him. The man was a big-time insurgent. For more than four years he’d evaded capture.

Some voices sounded up and Jack turned to notice a pair of policemen walking down the stairs from the higher part of the park. He decided to leave it up to the cops.

 He got up. “Excuse me officers.”

The two cops regarded him coolly. One was a large, tall, red-faced man, while the other was a shorter, but skinny, pale man. “How can we help you?” the shorter one asked.

“I know this is going to sound weird, but I just noticed a man I knew from Iraq.”

The blank faces on the cops made Jack stop.

“I’m a veteran,” Jack said and felt slightly more encouraged when the two cops nodded their heads with a gleam of recognition in their eyes. “I remember chasing one guy who was a…” He paused for a second trying to think of a word that wasn’t military jargon. “Terrorist. He was wanted for attacking coalition forces. And that’s him.” He pointed over to the bench where the Walid and the woman were still chatting.

“Let me get this straight. You think that a terrorist from Iraq is here?” the shorter one asked.

“That’s right. I think he’s here and that he’s the man right there. I’m certain he’s up to no good.”

“But you have no evidence of this,” the taller one said.

“No,” Jack replied. The pause that followed made him feel foolish.

The shorter one gave him a look of pain. “Look, we’re thankful for your service, but we have an entire division that’s dedicated to terrorists like him. I’m sure they have this under control.”

Jack looked at the two of them and nodded his head. He still felt apprehensive. “Could you at least call it in?”

The large cop glanced over at the shorter one. "Better not radio it in."

“Sure,” said the shorter one. He pulled out a phone. “What’s this guy’s name?”

“Walid bin Saeed. From Baghdad,” Jack said. Though he wasn’t sure where Walid was from, that was the city he'd operated out of.

“Yeah, I’m calling in to get Detective Smalls. That’s right. Yeah I’ve got a guy here, an Iraqi veteran, who says he sees a terrorist from his time over there. That’s right. Walid bin Saeed.” A pause sounded out. The short cop looked Jack over. “Nothing? All right, I’ll tell him.” The shorter one placed the mouthpiece of his phone on his arm. “They’ve got nothing on him bud.”

“Tell him I’m certain that this guy’s up to no good. He killed lots of soldiers. American soldiers.”

“Yeah, detective? He says the man killed a bunch of our boys over there.” The shorter cop moved the phone away. “You certain it’s him? One hundred percent?”

“I am,” Jack said. The fact that these men were now taking him seriously made him feel better.

The shorter cop returned to the phone. “You heard him. He’s certain… Nothing eh? Here.” The cop pushed the phone at Jack.

“Hello?” Jack said as he listened into the phone.

“Hi, who am I speaking to?”

The voice was gruff, impatient. Jack could tell that he didn’t like being bothered like this. “I’m Jack.”

“Who were you with, Jack?”

“I was with Fifth Group,” Jack said, a swell of pride coming over him.

“Fifth Group? Never heard of them,” the man on the phone said; a tapping sound came across the line as if the man was trying to think hard. “Listen, Jack, you haven’t done anything stupid yet, have you?”

“No,” Jack said louder than he wanted. He didn’t like being talked to as if he were a child.

“Good. Listen, you need to calm down. We’ve got this under control. All right?”

“You guys have him under surveillance?”

The pause spoke the answer. “Listen. If he does anything, or is planning on doing anything we’ll get him. You just promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

Jack held his breath. He was being talked to like he was a psychopath. He hated that, no matter how many times it happened he couldn’t get used to it. “I won’t.”

“Good.” The man sucked in some air with enough force to make the line crackle. “I know you’ve been through a lot and I want to thank you for your service. I’m sure you want to get the guy who killed your buddies, but the war’s over. Let it go and move on. We’ll handle any issues here. Just let me do my job. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks.” Jack handed the phone over to the cop who grunted into the mouthpiece and took some instructions before hanging up.

“You going to be okay?” the larger one said.

“I’ll be fine,” Jack said, forcing out a smile.

The cops nodded and headed down towards the street.

The wind blew Jack’s way and he heard the large cop say to the shorter one: “Gotta feel sorry for the guy. Right? I mean he seems normal, but I guess you just lose it over there.”