Free The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3) by T Patrick Phelps Page B

called out my name right before he blew himself up.”
    “What else?” Mark pressed.
    “He knows that the FBI hired me for this case and he told me that you guys hired a total of 12 private investigators. I found that interesting since you told me that I was the only freelancer on the case.”
    “You’re the only one that I wanted to hire. Based on what just happened in Times Square, looks like I was right. The other private investigators have done nothing but piss people off. They haven’t turned up anything of value. That’s why you’re the only freelancer still on the case.”
    “Not sure if I believe you,” Derek said.
    “Doesn’t matter if you do or don’t. I know it's the truth.”
    “Where’s Cortez?” Derek asked. The suddenness of the conversation change seemed to catch Mark off-guard.
    “He’s off the case. I don’t think he would try but if he does try to contact you, tell him nothing, then let me know that he contacted you.”
    “Sounds like Special Agent Juan Cortez isn’t viewed as being very special by the FBI anymore.”
    “Can’t give you the details, Cole,” Mark said, again checking his surroundings for anyone or anything that looked suspiciously interested in the conversation. “Just know that he is off the case and that DHS is very interested in speaking with him.”
    “Is he a suspect now?” Derek asked, feigning surprise.
    “Like I said, I can’t get into any details. He’s off the case and if he makes contact with you, you need to let me know right away. Is that clear?”
    “About as clear as my role in this case,” Derek fired back. “The folder you gave me had three pictures and a listing of all the mosques in the area. Nothing else. Pretty much a waste of time. I visited Abdul and Badr and now have no idea what I am supposed to do next. Abdul’s dead, as you know, so I am drawn to want to find out more about his death. Badr is not a fan of mine, nor of America in general, so I don’t know how much more info I can get from investigating him.”
    “There was another picture included in that folder. Any leads on who that man is?”
    “None. When I visited Abdul, there was someone waiting for him in another room that Abdul was very nervous about. When I asked to talk to the other man, Abdul made no bones about not wanting me anywhere near him.”
    “Think that could have been our guy?” Henderson asked.
    “No idea. And now that Abdul’s dead, I can’t really ask him about his mysterious visitor.”
    “I have more information for you, Cole,” Henderson said as he checked for a third time for any nosey people nearby. He stood slightly and removed another manila envelope that he had been sitting on. “A little bit more on Badr and Abdul. I think your idea of finding more about Abdul’s demise is a good one. The information in this folder may be of assistance. Again, you’re on your own for the most part and I need you to keep your involvement with DHS under your hat.”
    “Curious,” Derek said.
    “What’s curious?”
    “Why it’s so important to you that I don’t mention that I was hired by the FBI.”
    “Matters of Homeland Security, Cole. I can’t say much more than that.”
    “That’s a pretty tired reason, in my opinion. A very popular reason, granted, but pretty damn tired.”
    Before Henderson could respond, his government issued Blackberry sounded.
    “Give me a minute, Cole,” he said as he answered the call while walking out of the deli. It was two minutes before he returned to the table. His face had changed from one that held a calm expression to one filled with worry and fear. As he tossed a 20 dollar bill on the table, he told Derek, “I have a situation I need to address. I’ll be in touch.” With that, Special Agent Mark Henderson walked briskly through the deli, out of the door and into the busy streets of Manhattan.

CHAPTER TWELVE

    The August sun was finishing its travels and was preparing to allow darkness to invade the city.