E-Book, Englisch, 400 Seiten
Reihe: Operation Hawk's Nest
E-Book, Englisch, 400 Seiten
Reihe: Operation Hawk's Nest
ISBN: 978-1-0983-6144-0
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)
John Fitzgerald is an Army brat, born at Fort Dix in New Jersey. Fort Hood, Texas and Fort Knox, Kentucky were his playground before his family settled down in Florham Park, New Jersey, where his father, a WWII and Korean War Silver Star hero died when he was just ten years old. Fitzgerald started his career at Ford Motor Company and worked at a Boston consulting firm before starting his own production company, FBI Productions, at the Tribeca Film Center in lower Manhattan, ten blocks from the former World Trade Center in NYC. It was here, following 9/11 and grieving the loss of his wife to breast cancer, that triggered his passion for writing novels. He has written and worked with presidents of companies and countries, celebrities in film, music, and sports, and with thousands of citizen heroes from around the country. His writing is inspired by the unsung heroism of those serving in the United States Intelligence Community, first responders, and the brave soldiers that serve in the United States Armed Forces. He now lives and writes by the sea in Hobe Sound, Florida. His most recent novels are Operation Deathblow and Operation Hawk's Nest.
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Chapter 5: Without Warning New York City – Ground Zero
September 11, 2001 Reed Clarkin arrived by train in downtown Manhattan well before the rush hour crowd, definitely not a normal pattern for him. He was agitated. Despite his restless mood, as he emerged outdoors on city streets, up from the underground tubes of the World Trade Center, he couldn’t help but notice what an absolutely perfect day this was in New York City. Yet, as he walked under the cloudless skies of lower Manhattan to his office, even such a glorious morning could not temper his deep anxiety. His boss had presented chilling economic warnings and detailed recommendations to protect the nation’s economy to the executive committee at the Federal Reserve yesterday morning. The entire presentation was based on his own meticulous research, findings and conclusions in a report highlighting hidden risks in the nation’s banking system. The report was dismissed wholesale and it alarmed Reed. Now, at his desk, the day after the meeting, he started re-reading his analysis on the impact of a growing trend in the financial services and banking industry regarding credit default swaps and the proliferation of synthetic derivatives. His report was a fact-based forewarning and chilling documentary putting a dire warning on a practice that was becoming widespread within the industry. It was not an impenetrable warning as Alan Greenspan’s “irrational exuberance” was nearly six years earlier. Instead Clarkin’s report provided clarity to systemic changes needed to be made to protect the banking system. He was re-reading his bosses report that he authored again this morning for one reason. Why was it rejected summarily the day before? Reed Clarkin was a 44 year-old Stanford University trained economist. He was as brilliant in his diagnosis as he was in his prescriptions to alter events in the future. He rarely lost a battle in his efforts to master and control events in his senior role at the New York Federal Reserve, better known to bankers as just The Fed. But yesterday, he lost and this morning he was in early trying to figure out why? What had he missed? What didn’t they get? Don’t they realize how important this is? He was deep in concentration when a colleague opened his door, rushing in startlingly and unexpectedly. His colleague, Jim Dwyer, leaned down planting his hands on Reed’s desk and stared straight into his eyes. “Listen very carefully, OK?” Dwyer said slowly yet forcefully and deliberately, staring into Reed’s eyes. Taken by complete surprise, a stunned Reed could only nod yes. Dwyer continued: “We have an emergency. We need to get out of the building fast. Do you understand me?” Reed raised his hands up from his desk and asked confused: “What’s happening?” Dwyer again looked straight into his friend’s eyes. “Two airplanes just hit the World Trade Center. Look behind you, all you can see is smoke. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.” Reed turns and looks out his office window. Jim isn’t joking. He had a grand view of the World Trade Center earlier this morning but not now. All he could see in the moment was smoke. It was so dense and black that it made it nearly impossible to see anything out his window on the seventh floor of the FED Building. He wondered if an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center could cause so much smoke as to envelop the endless deep caverns of Wall Street and literally hide the sky? Reed didn’t comprehend what was happening yet, but when he swiveled back around from his window to his desk, he looked back up at Jim and keenly understood Jim’s sense of urgency. He started to gather papers on his desk to put in his briefcase when Jim pushed his briefcase aside and grabbed Reed’s arm and said again forcefully: “No time. We’ve got to go now!” With Jim nearly pulling him out from his chair, Reed jumped up, grabbed his suit jacket from the couch, and followed Jim quickly out of his office. As they entered the seventh floor elevator together, Reed noticed that there was virtually no one left on his floor. As they reached the lobby and slid their passkeys through the security gate, the security guards told them the subways had been closed and to be careful out on the street. It was mayhem. At least that’s what Reed thought they said. Just before they exited the building, they could both see throngs of people running in the streets. Jim stopped and grabbed Reed by the shoulders. “Come home with me. We’ll be safe there.” Dwyer lived in Brooklyn Heights, just across the East River and over the Brooklyn Bridge, walking distance from their office. Reed replied: “I can’t. I must get home.” His home in New Jersey was just across the Hudson River, but he couldn’t walk there. He needed to take a train. “That might be impossible. Come with me ‘till we know what’s going on,” Jim insisted. Reed couldn’t comprehend what was happening, but he knew he needed to find a way home. “Thanks, but I’ve got to try.” Jim let go of Reed’s shoulders. “Be careful.” Jim replied. He turned to leave turning back to Reed just before he left the building. With his hand in a telephonic gesture, he added: “Have Jennifer call me when you get home, OK?” When he saw Reed acknowledge him, Jim exited the building into a startling sea of smoke snaking through the streets. New York University
Greenwich Village
8:59 AM “Hey Sara, look at this,” Cody whispered, pushing his new Nokia mobile phone so she could read the text on its face. He sat on the left side of Sara Walsh in a first period class, about three seats up and center in the tiered seating of the classroom. He had to reach towards her, but doing so as not to attract the attention of the professor. Sara shrugged indifferently and didn’t look toward him or his new phone. “Annoying,” she thought to herself. He was insistent, however, pushing his mobile phone again at her. “Hey Sara, you’ve got to see this!” She glanced quickly. The little text the Nokia could handle on its face read simply, “Plane Hits WTC” On top of the text a digital clock displayed 8:59 AM and the date 9/11. Sara looked up immediately at Cody and whispered back, “What the hell?” and immediately raised her hand and interrupted the class. “Does anybody know what’s going on? A plane just hit the World Trade Center.” A buzz ripped through the classroom. The Twin Towers were a visible landmark backdrop to Washington Square, in the center of the NYU campus. The fear of a terrorist attack loomed large inside a campus of college students attuned to world affairs. Sara used her own mobile phone to call her father Scott, on his mobile phone. The line was busy. She tried his office. That line too was busy. The professor called out to calm the students, but Sara was already up and gone. Her father’s office wasn’t far. It’s on the 79th floor of the World Trade Center. New York Supreme Court
60 Centre Street, Foley Square
Lower Manhattan
9:01 AM “I know, I know,” James confirmed trying not to sound alarmed. James Walsh could sense the panic in his younger sister. “I’m pretty sure all the phones at the Trade Center are dead, but that doesn’t mean anything more than that. I’ll keep trying to get through to Dad though.” Sara replied quickly, “We’ve got to go there. I’m on my way to get you. You’re at work, right?” “Yes, I am. Let’s think about this.” James countered trying to be rational. His sister was insistent. “I’m going there. Are you coming with me?” James didn’t hesitate, “Of course, meet me at the front of my office building. I’ll be waiting.” James said it reassuringly holding back any hint of the real danger he knew was lurking. His office had already been put on alert for a terrorist attack. Federal Reserve Bank of New York
33 Liberty Street
9:09 AM Neither Reed nor Jim Dwyer knew that the city was already completely shut down. Yet, when Reed slipped out of the revolving doors at the Fed to the street, the shocking reality of the situation became clear, despite that he was quickly draped in smoke and ash and visibility was nearly zero. Above him, a gigantic grey cloud was dumping ash over him. In front of him, a frightening stampede of human beings was set in motion. In a moment’s hesitation, as he tried to fathom what was happening here, he was forcibly pushed from behind and nearly fell. He moved back quickly against the building to get his balance before it was too late. As he escaped from the rushing crowd, he stood searching in the limited visibility for his colleague, who was now nowhere in sight. Reed Clarkin panicked. He was not the panicky type. He pivoted from his marble perch against the grand Fed Building and stood motionless and silently with his back flush against the building. He not only could feel his heart pounding, he could hear it. The smoke was starting to burn his eyes making it difficult to see and invading his lungs making it harder to breathe. He didn’t just feel the fear. He now could taste it. He had no idea what transformed this beautiful day into a terrorizing night in just hours on an early morning. So many countless men and women running in downtown city streets, covered in dust and fleeing from something awful. What was happening here? Why are all these people running for their lives? What terrible act had just happened to create such panic? A plane hitting a building, no surely it must be a bomb of some kind? Surely, it must be. What should he do? Where should he go? What must he do to...
