Branigan: If At First

By Jim Surmanek

A year after he was decorated as a hero for preventing a horrendous terrorist attack and saving millions of lives, Branigan faced an emotionally charged career crisis as a counterterrorism agent. At the same time, his nemesis, Fattal, struggled to balance patriotism

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jim Surmanek
• Release date: Apr 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869325129

Book preview

BRANIGAN

If At First

Jim Surmanek

Copyright © 2024 Jim Surmanek

E-book ISBN: 978-1-963609-13-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-963609-14-1

Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-963609-15-8

All Rights Reserved. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

All reasonable attempts have been made to verify the accuracy of the information provided in this publication. Nevertheless, the author assumes no responsibility for any errors and/or omissions.

For Dad and Mom

Acknowledgment

I thank my loving daughters for their contributions to this novel. Keri Horon, a far better wordsmith than I, fed me character and scene ideas. Kim Smith, a gifted graphic designer, created the cover.

My hat’s off to my son, Dan, whose words and actions through the years – his persona – helped me envision several of the characters in this book.

When I grew up in Brooklyn, NY, cops walked the beat, some twirling their batons as they perused stores, apartment buildings, and schoolyards where kids like me played softball and basketball. Not until my teenage years did I realize the possible dangers they faced while doing their job of keeping us safe.  I salute their bravery and compassion.

Prologue

Summary of Book 1 – Branigan – The Needs of the Few

Edam Fattal, a Muslim terrorist living in Lebanon, was raised by his uncle, Imam Malikah El Hajj, from the time he was eight years old following the death of his parents at the hands of Israeli soldiers. El Hajj radicalized Fattal and brought him into his vast network of terrorist groups. Soon after Fattal graduated from college, El Hajj put him in charge of a terrorist plan aimed directly at Jews. The plan failed, but El Hajj gave him another assignment, a bold plan that would kill millions of people in the New York City area. Part of his crew was his adopted son, Arsalan. 

Arsalan Alam a-Din also experienced the death of his parents. He and his twin sister, Dabi, were eight years old and living in a small village in Lebanon, which Israeli soldiers attacked when they discovered Fattal’s plan. Each of the twins believed their sibling had perished in the attack.

Branigan grew up in New York City. His Irish father was killed while performing his duty as a NYPD policeman. His parents taught him the virtues of honesty, compassion, and patriotism. Branigan was on-site during the 1993 World Trade Center truck bombing and at the 9/11 attack in 2001. The attacks convinced him to become a counterterrorism agent.

By coincidence, Dabi was also at both attacks, but she and Branigan didn’t meet until after 9/11 – a meeting she called destiny and Brangan called happenstance. Soon after their meeting, they wed.

Branigan was a decorated hero for stopping Fattal’s terrorist plan in NYC.

Contents

Chapter 1:   M&M Then and Now

Chapter 2:   A Terrorist by Any Other Name

Chapter 3:   Rightful Justice

Chapter 4:   Mind over Matter

Chapter 5:   Hello Arsalan

Chapter 6:   Conflicts and Collusion

Chapter 7:   Walk Slowly into Tomorrow

Chapter 8:   The Trophy Drawer

Chapter 9:   Lightning Strikes

Chapter 10: What’s It All About?

Chapter 11: Policeman or Professor

Chapter 12: Hello and Goodbye

Chapter 13: Adios Sing Sing

Chapter 14: Frozen Case Thaws

Chapter 15: Walk and Chew Gum

Chapter 16: Rearview Mirror

Chapter 17: Reunion

Chapter 18: Meetings

Chapter 19: Mr. Potato Head

Chapter 20: Back in Town

Chapter 21:  To Trust or Not to Trust

Chapter 22:  Love, Hate

Chapter 23: Distractions

Chapter 24:  No Cigar

Chapter 25: Extinguished

Chapter 26:  Delivery

Chapter 27:  Imminent

Chapter 28:  Dumpster Dive

Chapter 29:  Oh, My Dear!

Chapter 30: Snowball’s Chance

Chapter 31: If At First

Chapter 32: Just Rewards

About the Author

Chapter 1:

M&M Then and Now

Binoculars focused on Branigan as he shoveled. With the sun hiding behind a gray sky, the temperature hovering below freezing, and a breeze that pierced exposed skin, Branigan did not want to do what needed to be done. His loud Brr! frightened the squirrels hunting for nuts under the three inches of snow. He recalled his dad clearing the driveway of snow at their house in Flushing when he was a kid. His dad would do most of the work, allowing Branigan to take breaks between shovel-fills to toss snowballs at the birds. Today, no snowballs, no birds, just work.

She peered out the family room window, watching shovels of snow being tossed into the air, and felt the warmth of being married. She thought of buying him a snow blower for Christmas, but shoveling offered more physical benefits than steering a self-propelled machine.

With the driveway cleared of snow, he entered their house in Dobbs Ferry, north of the New York City boundary. Purposely exaggerating his slight chill, he told Dabi, We should have bought a house with a shorter driveway. He kicked off his boots in the mudroom and removed his gloves.

I need a stiff drink to regain my body temperature.

With a loving smile, Dabi said, I’ll get you some hot chocolate, my shivering love, but in the meantime, here’s a stiff drink for a guy that’s frozen stiff. He took a large sip of his Dewars and kissed his wife on the cheek.

Their house was everything Dabi wanted. It was on a quiet cul-de-sac, butted against the Juhring Nature Preserve. Although Dobbs Ferry was a suburban community, their location made it feel like they were in the country. They both lived in The City before marrying; he was in a loft in lower Manhattan, and Dabi had an apartment in Williamsburg.

They were conveniently close to their jobs, but giving up short commuting times was a small price to pay for the comfort and surroundings they now enjoyed.

Branigan and Dabi were minimalists. They believed that less was more…less furniture meant easier to move around and less to clean. Combining two sets of furniture, artwork, and books…everything each owned…was not a problem.

Branigan lit a fire. The light glowed on their faces, making them appear like two bronze head sculptures.

Running her fingers through his dirty blond, wavy hair, Dabi said, You look like a Roman god. Your aquiline nose is very Roman, you know. And, of course, your blue eyes are very Irish. I love your face.  

He held her face and looked lovingly into her eyes -- polished black pearls. Thee shall kiss my golden lips, and I will cause the fire to crackle. She kissed him. The burning logs coincidentally crackled. He lowered his voice a couple of octaves and whispered, My power is limitless.

Indeed, she replied. Changing subjects, she continued, You know our first anniversary is approaching.

Branigan paused, trying to conjure a witty comeback to her statement. He knew the occasion meant a lot to her. Uncharacteristically, he decided to be serious. Eleven months went too fast, Dabi. I guess that adage is true…time flies when you’re having fun.

Let’s not be traditional in our celebration. We should put three anniversaries together and have a big party.

Three?

Wedding, your thirty-seventh birthday, and my thirty-seventh birthday. They’re in different months, but so what?

Thirty-seven, wow! You still look seventeen to me. As beautiful as the first time we met twenty years ago.

You don’t look a day older than when we met again ten years ago. You handsome devil! My Roman god. They stared at the cracking fire and watched flaming embers being sucked up through the flue. It was hypnotic. Each thought about their lives together and the bliss they felt together.

How’s it going at Sunshine? he asked.

I am so happy that I decided to become a pediatrician, she said. She loved her work, loved taking care of kids, and felt fulfilled. Enhancing her snuggle by pushing against him, she stretched to look up at his face. Are you happy?

Having you in my life, no question.

She turned her eyes away from the fireplace and leaned forward. She had the uneasy feeling that he avoided the intent of her question. And your job, Mr. Antiterrorism?

It’s a job. I still like it, but it’s not been exciting lately.

Dabi retorted, The good part is that there haven’t been any terrorist attacks in the last year or so.

Looking forlorn, he said, I wish there were. Realizing that his tongue misread his thoughts, he said, No, I don’t mean attacks, I mean __

I know what you meant, love. No worries. Talk to your mom lately?

After his father died while on the job as a police officer, Branigan was concerned that his dangerous job could also result in being six feet under. His mother had dealt with being a widow and alone until she moved to Arizona to live with retired Counterterrorism Chief Jules Fine. Branigan put himself in his mother’s shoes and felt the emptiness that she had felt. He did not want Dabi to be alone. Dabi convinced him that he wouldn’t be the Branigan she fell in love with if he steered his life away from his commitment, his passion.

Sure did. Just yesterday. She and Jules are thinking of getting married.

Fab! They were destined for each other. Just like we were."

Her parents were killed in a military attack in a small village in Lebanon. She thought her twin brother was also killed. Although she grieved for many years over losing her brother, the joy she felt finding out decades later that he was still alive instantaneously eradicated the grief. She believed her adoptive parents were also destined to find her.

And you were destined to become a pediatrician. It had nothing to do with your dad being a physician and your mom a nurse.

She pinched his cheek and said, You are so smart!

***

The night rolled around. Come on in, guys!

Tom Sassos and Dr. Isra Rahman entered, kicking off their snow-covered shoes and removing their winter coats. It’s beautiful out there with the snow sparkling, but a heck of a lot warmer in here, said Tom.

Hey, nice wine, Tom. I didn’t realize FBI agents could afford that, Branigan said.

I didn’t buy it, wiseass. I found it in Imam Saady’s office at the mosque when we did our final inspection.

You stole Muslim property! Dabi, where are my cuffs?

The four uttered a courteous light laughter as Isra handed a spray of flowers to Dabi.

Isra, beautiful flowers. They’re destined for a vase, said Dabi.

Dabi, I thought destiny determined our lives. If the flowers were destined to live in a vase, let them be…let them find their vase.

Branigan stuck to his convictions about happenstances and poo-pooed thoughts of destiny. Destiny versus happenstance was the only thing the Branigans disagreed about. Each respected the other’s point of view and would often, and lovingly, poke fun at the other for their view. To minimize the poking, they compromised and used destinance when needed, despite Banigan wanting to use happytiny.

Dabi closed her eyes, sniffed the flowers, and was delighted with their fragrance. Her elbow found its target in Branigan’s rib. Very funny, naysayer. Isra, God has spoken to me and asked that I fulfill the flowers’ destiny. She stuck her tongue out at Branigan. Branigan strolled into the kitchen, mimicking Dabi’s vase carrying and sniffing. Their guests saw it as childish but smiled as they rolled their eyes. In the kitchen, he approached Dabi from behind, put his arms around her, and said, I was destined to hug you, and you just happened to be within my arms’ reach. She reached up behind herself and fondly stroked his face.

Branigan served the drinks. A toast. May love and laughter never be only in our shadow.

Tom responded, I have no idea what that means, but I’ll be courteous and agree with you.

Here, here, toasted Isra. So, are you guys still going to be working together?

Well, it went okay on the missiles in the mosque case, so maybe. Yeah, I think so. How about you, Tom? Are you up for playing second fiddle in our terrorist hunt?

Tom’s smile could have been mistaken for a smirk, but Branigan knew Tom greatly respected him. Branigan felt the same about Tom. Both were dedicated patriots who saw their jobs as a responsibility to help people, not just a paycheck. "First of all, we need to change the name of the case. I’m tired of saying mosques and missiles. It’s like that kids’ nursery rhyme. Hickory Dickory Dock, the missiles in the mosque."

It’s mouse in the mosque, not missiles,said Isra.

I got it, said Branigan. It’s Hickory Dickory Dock, the missiles were on a clock.

Branigan feigned surprise as the three groaned at his attempted humor. Tom said, I got it! The M&M case. They all smiled and nodded in agreement.

Tell ya what, Branigan, how about you take the FBI test? If you pass it, I’ll consider working with you again.

Piece of cake, Tom. I’ll take it, but you must take the NYPD test.

Branigan and Tom raised their glasses, signaling agreement with their deal.

Isra, Dabi’s best friend and partner at the Sunshine Pediatric Clinic, piped in. Ugh, men! Why can’t you say how you genuinely feel?

Tom responded, Well, Isra. You see, we have this problem. We’re men.

Branigan reinforced Tom’s belief. That’s right, Tom. It’s a biological thing, Isra.

It’s also a mental thing, said Dabi. The part of your brain that allows you to express your feelings is flooded with testosterone. Synaptic functions short circuit.

Tom nudged Isra and whispered, She knows a lot about medical stuff, doesn’t she?

Isra nodded a few times. She’s a doctor, you know.

Branigan tipped his glass, gesturing a here, here, and said, "Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’m changing the toast, folks. May love, laughter, and great sex never be only in our shadow." The group chuckled, sipped their drinks, and looked at each other. It was clear to everyone that they all had love, laughter, and sex in their life. All of them felt lucky that they did.

After having a couple of drinks before dinner and downing a variety of appetizers, Branigan and Tom went to the back patio to light the grill and barbeque ribeyes. Dabi and Isra preferred the warmth of being inside and set to preparing a salad.

You know, Isra, it’s wonderful that our guys get along so well. Can you imagine having to do their jobs and not feel connected to each other? Not respecting each other?

Isra continued to slice the vegetables Dabi laid out for the salad and said, Yeah, you’re right. I guess they can act like kids and still get the job done.

I’m not a shrink, but it’s a simple answer. They don’t want to let us know how dangerous their jobs are. They are trying to protect us. If they joke about their jobs, they think it will prevent us from being afraid of what might happen.

Maybe you’re right, Dab, but I wish they would fess up. Treat us like adults, not kids.

Dabi appreciated that her husband wanted to protect her. She knew how he felt about his mother after his father died. She knew that played a part, a big part, in his need to avoid danger—avoid death. Maybe his joking is also a defense mechanism. If he takes his mind off the possibility that he’ll get killed, he won’t think about me becoming a widow.

Hmm. But he could have a cushy job in a high-security office and be hit by a bus on the way to work.

Any way you look at it, it’s all que sera, sera stuff, said Dabi. Let’s change the subject. How are you coming with the salad?

Fine. Okay, new subject. Do you guys want to have a baby?

Dabi stiffened, inhaled, and held her breath for a second. We touched on the subject but didn’t fully discuss it. Frankly, I have too much on my plate right now to think about having a child.

Adoption?

Ditto. Maybe down the line. After our foundation is up and running.

On the patio, the guys turned to serious conversation. Tom asked Branigan about Arsalan. He said he checks on him weekly and occasionally chats with the warden. He’s holding up well, not getting into any trouble. Branigan’s take on Arsalan’s behavior was that he was extraordinarily remorseful about his role in the planned attack. He wanted to make amends for his actions but first had to suffer the consequences of prison. He’s got his head on straight, said Branigan.

Tom needed to break some news but couldn’t find the right moment to tell him. He thought a soft entry was best. Maybe he could positively influence Raheeq, said Tom.

Huh? Raheeq? What are you talking about?

Tom told him that Raheeq was transferred from the Fishkill pen to Sing Sing, where Arsalan is.

What? shouted Branigan.

Yup, stupid. I know

Branigan plunged the BBQ fork’s tines into a ribeye and laid it on the grill.

I don’t get why those idiots thought a terrorist and the guy who turned state’s evidence on him should be locked up together.

I’m with you on that. And I don’t know why you still have the fork in the ribeye.

He pulled the fork out and placed three more ribeyes on the grill. The fire flared from dripping fat, mimicking the flare in Branigan’s thoughts. I would love to stick this fork in whoever arranged that transfer and hold him or her over this flame.

Tom grabbed Branigan’s arm and said, Hey, Branigan. Chill out, bud. We’ll work it out. I’m sorry I brought it up tonight.

There’s no good time to bring up bad news. And vice versa, of course. I’m glad you told me. Branigan took a deep breath, turned the seared steaks, and calmed down. Did you tell Isra about Raheeq?

No.

Good. Don’t. Isra will tell Dabi; Dabi doesn’t need to know about that right now.

The sliding door to the back patio slid open. Dabi’s arms wrapped around herself as she said, Come on in with dem dere steaks, cowboys.

During dinner, the couples talked about great food, cold weather, jokes, problems at work, the state of the union, and so on. The conversation became more serious when Dabi told the guys, Our foundation is moving along. I will be going to the Lebanese Consulate soon, and I’m sure they’ll agree with what we want to do.

Isra added, It’s not only a humane cause, but it also solves a financial problem for Lebanon. Next to helping a sick child is helping an abandoned child. Seeing a child smile is wonderful because they feel safe and loved.

I know that firsthand, said Dabi.

Branigan and Tom supported the idea of a foundation, but neither was in the mood to talk seriously about anything after a heavy meal and too many drinks. Here, here! said Branigan.

"And a third here from me," said Tom.

Dabi, who rarely drank more than one glass of wine but did on this evening, blurted out, So when’s the big day? As soon as she said that, she claimed the wine forced her tongue to take charge of her brain. Forget what I said. Want another piece of pie? Some more coffee? Got any duct tape? Tom and Isra cleared their throats. Isra looked at Tom, and he at her.

Branigan broke the silence, Tom, did you know I’m now a teacher? He informed Tom and Isra that the CT Bureau Training Center asked him to conduct a morning class to discuss the M&Mcase. They thought that my telling the recruits about my experiences would give them a hands-on feeling as opposed to an academic understanding.

Well, look at you, Professor Branigan, said Tom.

Branigan smiled, but the word ‘professor’ immediately brought back memories of Professor Edam Fattal, who was responsible for the missileattack. The case was closed a year ago, but the door to his memory remained open and often tormented him. He realized he could have been killed, that Dabi could have been killed.

The evening came to a close. Jackets, scarves, and gloves were retrieved from the mud room. Goodbyes were exchanged, Great seeing y’all. Safe home, said Branigan.

As Tom pulled out of the snow-shoveled driveway, he thought he saw someone or something in the woods behind a tree. Are there deer around here? he asked Isra.

Maybe. I don’t know. Why?

I thought I saw one. Maybe it was a bear. Maybe Big Foot. Never mind.

The Branigans stacked dishes and glasses in the kitchen sink and decided they could wait until Sunday to wash them. Branigan pulled the furry throw off the sofa, twirling it around like a matador and letting it gently fall to the ground in front of the hearth. He placed another fat log on the fire and watched embers shoot up the chimney. As they snuggled on the throw, they listened to the crackling and popping of burning wood. Looking at the fire caused the same reaction they had earlier. It was like staring at a pocket watch being swung by a hypnotist. They were content. They didn’t have to say that they loved each other. It was felt.

Seeing the lights go out at the Branigans, the man in the woods jotted down some notes and left.

Chapter 2:

A Terrorist by Any Other Name

Summoned by his uncle, Imam Malikah El Hajj, Edam took a limousine from his home in Aley to his uncle’s mosque. The welcoming handshakes and words were brief. They sat in a quiet room and did not exchange any words for nearly a minute. El Hajj was reading notes and stroking his long gray beard. Edam sat erect with his hands on his knees. Each knew where the conversation would lead, but only one knew how it would end.

El Hajj was the leader of a terrorist organization based in Lebanon, with multiple cells throughout the Middle East. He was known for his stern, emotionless stare when he led his congregation in prayer and when he had private one-on-one conversations about grave matters—this conversation with his nephew more than qualified as a grave matter. Edam lived with his uncle for nearly two decades, starting as a teenager after Israeli soldiers killed his parents. He looked at his uncle, knowing by his stare that a matter of great importance would be discussed.

Eyes riveted on Edam, he said, I have taught you about Allah and Muhammad. He rose, approached Edam, and put his hands on Edam’s shoulders. It was only the second time that his uncle physically showed any emotional connection with him.

You know that Muhammad was a man. You are a man. You know Muhammad once turned away a blind man who sought his grace. Muhammad made a mistake, and he corrected it.

Edam sat still. His ego made him think that his uncle was telling him he was equal to the Prophet Muhammad in some ways.

The council met. We are not turning a blind eye to your devotion, your commitment to our cause.

Edam took a deep breath to calm himself. He was pleased that the council recognized his commitment to their cause, yet apprehensive of what they decided about his future involvement.

Edam tensed when he heard his uncle’s next words, spoken as if his uncle were angry. "Twice you have not been successful, Edam."

Edam’s tension remained. He learned that disagreeing with his uncle was tantamount to a treasonous act. On the outside, Edam was a confident man in total control. Inwardly, his spine was made of moldable clay. He wisely opted not to respond with either words or gestures. Edam believed calmness in the face of adversity bespoke a strong character, a feeling of self-worth.

We forgive you for the Yarine mission. It was your subordinate, Mastid, who upset our plan. El Hajj took Edam’s silence as agreement.

Edam’s tension slightly eased.

"We also forgive you for the failure