Denton looked straight at Karp for a long time, until Karp’s eyes ached with the effort of keeping his gaze focused on the other man’s steel-blue eyes. Then Denton turned away abruptly and moved several paces away, as if to physically distance himself from the decision he had now to make.
At last he said, “What you’ve got on Reedy seems pretty light. How do you plan to get him?”
Karp told him, and an almost-smile moved across Denton’s thin mouth. “That’s a long shot, isn’t it?”
“It’s worked before,” said Karp. Relief began to spread through his body; Denton was going to buy it.
Denton said, “OK, go for it. If it works, we’ll play it your way. If not …” He shrugged, shot Karp a dark look, and went out of the door.
Karp went back to his office at a trot, made a few calls, and then it was time for his meeting with Bloom. Karp had to push through a crowd of TV people, with their equipment, waiting for a statement from the D.A. on a particularly exciting East Side killing.
The district attorney was not glad to see him, nor was he happy at having his elaborate schedule interrupted.
When Karp came in, Bloom asked abruptly, “Is it about this business on East 63rd? My sister lives in the next building. Everyone’s terrified, she says. Can’t I do something, she says. It’s a good building, how can they get at you in a good building?”
“No, I’m sorry, it’s not,” said Karp. “This is about the wrap-up on the drug-lord killings.”
“Wrap-up, huh?” said Bloom with distaste. “It certainly took us long enough to figure out that it was another dope dealer. What was his name—Williams?”
“Willis,” said Karp. “But he wasn’t doing the killings. The actual hit men were two police officers named Manning and Amalfi.”
Bloom began to smile, and then saw that Karp was not making a joke. “Oh, my God!” he said. “Not the ones who were on my … ? Oh, that’s all I need!”
“Didn’t you know?” asked Karp. “I thought Roland told you the whole story.”
“No, I didn’t. He just told me this Fulton was really undercover and not the real killer. I had no idea …” He got up from behind his desk and paced briefly, running his fingers through his beautiful gray-blond hair. When he looked at Karp, it was clear that he had been thinking clever thoughts. “They’ve been arrested, have they?” Bloom asked.
“No, Amalfi’s dead. Killed himself. Manning’s at large, but he doesn’t suspect that we know. We wanted him loose because we thought he might lead us to the people he was really working for.”
A puzzled frown creased the TV makeup on the D.A.’s brow. “Working for? Surely it was Williams who hired them—”
“Willis. No, apparently the additional drug money produced by the scheme was being tunneled into a laundry operation run by some Wall Street types. I’m getting a report on the whole thing together for you. It’s fairly complex.” The D.A. had no comment on this. He just looked blankly at Karp, working his clenched jaw.
As Karp got up to go, he added, “But I just stopped by on my way out—we’re going to pick up Manning right now. I wanted you to be fully informed, because it’s going to be a huge scandal.”
Bloom fixed his usual hearty false smile on his face and thanked Karp for coming by. As Karp went out the door, he said, “Umm, I don’t have to tell you the importance of keeping this whole thing entirely quiet until we get Manning and we have a statement from him.”
“Oh, of course,” said the district attorney. “Mum’s the word.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Art Dugman as he opened the door. “The phone already rang once.”
“You didn’t answer it, did you?” asked Karp.
“No, but the tape’s set up on the extension in the bedroom. You can listen in there. He’ll probably call again.”
Karp strolled through Manning’s apartment and looked around. “Pretty nice,” he said. “You detective sergeants do OK.”
“It’s the fringe benefits,” said Dugman. Then the phone rang. Karp hurried into the bedroom, sat on the bed, hit the record button on the tape machine plugged into the phone receiver, and nodded to Dugman, who could see him by way of the bedroom mirror, and who was poised at the phone in the living room. They lifted the two phones simultaneously.
“Manning?” said the voice on the phone.
“Uh-huh,” said Dugman,
“Jesus, Dick! Do you know what’s happening? They raided the pier. Willis is dead. I can’t get hold of Marcus Fane—they say he’s out of town. Christ, the whole thing is going up in smoke.”
The voice was wavering just on the edge of control. Dugman said, “Calm down.”
The voice snapped back, “I’ll calm down when you’re out of the country, goddammit! They’re coming to arrest you right now, and your place is being watched. Now, look, there’s a private jet fueled and ready to go at La Guardia, the general aviation terminal, gate four. They’re expecting you. They’ll fly you direct to Grand Cayman, and after that it’s the way we planned it.”
Dugman cleared his throat heavily and looked over at Karp, who nodded. “Sorry, I just woke up. Why do I have to leave the country?”
“Why? For shit’s sake, Manning! They have the tapes. Booth and Amalfi, they both name you, and Amalfi fingered Marcus. Fulton’s free, and that sheeny bastard has the whole damn story. But he can’t do anything without—”
“Amalfi’s dead,” said Dugman.
“I know he’s dead. For God’s sake, Manning, what’s wrong with you? They think it’s suicide now, but God knows what they’ll turn up if they really start to dig into it. And now that they know who they’re looking for, they can build cases on the other jobs you did. Do you want to go to jail for the rest of your life? I can’t protect you anymore, don’t you understand that? Now, get out of there!”
The voice rose nearly to a scream. Then, when there was no response, the voice said tentatively, “Dick! Dick? Are you there?”
Karp said, “No, Mr. Reedy, Dick can’t come to the phone.”
“What! Who is this?”
“This is the sheeny bastard, Mr. Reedy,” said Karp. “I guess you don’t want me to be D.A. anymore.”
“So,” said Marlene after Karp had related the story of what had happened in Manning’s apartment, “I guess he hung up pretty fast when you said that.”
“Yes,” said Karp, “he didn’t stay to chat. Odd, because previously he was always so sociable.”
“And the bad guys are in irons?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Maus and Jeffers grabbed Reedy moving out at a dead run, with his passport, a second, phony, passport, five grand in traveler’s checks, and twenty grand in Krugerrands in his briefcase. We made the point to the judge that Mr. Reedy was not a good risk to stay for trial.”
They were in Marlene’s little office. Karp’s office had become the focus of enormous attention from the press as news of the scandal leaked out, and nearly uninhabitable. “Yes,” Karp continued, “I said that if Mr. Reedy was not sent to Rikers Island he would turn up in some other island beyond the reach of justice. I thought that was pretty good, myself.”
“And so it was, my jewel,” said Marlene, “and it deserves a long, soul-shattering kiss.”
Somewhat later Marlene said, “Do you think you really have him?”
“Reedy? Yeah, I think we can make at least the accessory charge stick. That’s quite apart from the fraud stuff V.T. is working on, not to mention the feds taking a couple of whacks at him. And obstruction of justice, of course. He certainly demonstrated guilty knowledge of the crimes on the phone. I owe you one for that, incidentally.”
“Be still, my heart,” said Marlene. “What, you mean the way we did Meissner? But that was your idea, originally.”
“Yeah, but you brought it up last night. You mentioned something about using the scam in the other rape cases, and it must have stuck in my mind. It bubbled up out of my subconscious and it was all laid out when I got up this morning. Mag
ic.”
“Not to mention that, until you met me, you didn’t know you had a subconscious. Or a conscious. But to continue—what about the murder charges?”
“Well, we’ll go for them, sure. But I don’t know … convincing a jury that a distinguished Wall Street lawyer hired two cops to murder dope pushers? Hard to believe. Hard for me to believe. And we don’t have any direct witnesses.”
“Except Fane,” said Marlene.
“Except Fane. Of course, if we could get one of them to rat the other one out, that’s a different story. It’s the prisoner’s dilemma: if one rats and the other holds his mud, the rat walks and the stand-up guy goes over for a long one. If they both rat, both have to do time. If neither rats, they still do time, but less of it. Both our guys are pretty hard-boiled, they’ve got good counsel, and they won’t go for the usual tricks.
“But we’ve got the better case on Reedy,” Karp added after a pause, “and he’s definitely looking at serious upstate time. I’m betting he won’t be able to sit in jail and watch Fane walking around free. But we shall see.”
“So we shall,” said Marlene. “And by the way, how did our fearless leader receive the news?”
“Like the great American he is,” said Karp. “I told him we had Reedy and what had gone down. And then there was a pregnant pause and I said, ‘I guess we know how he knew that we were on the way to arrest Manning.’ And he didn’t say anything, just had on that shit-eating smile. And he was sweating.”
“My God!” said Marlene. “Do you think he was in on it—like Fane and Reedy?”
“No, he’s not that kind of crook, to give him credit. He’s just a schmuck. He just likes giving tidbits of information to influential people. Reedy probably prompted him by saying he was very interested in the case and wanted to follow it as closely as possible.
“Anyway, then I said it would have to come out in trial, that we hoped that Reedy would call his accomplice, not knowing Manning had been killed, and people would want to know who tipped him off. Not to mention how Reedy learned that Clay was undercover.”
“Did he wet his pants?” Marlene asked.
“I couldn’t tell. He was sitting down,” said Karp. “So then I said something like, ‘I guess we could establish that you were part of the plan from the very beginning and that the reason you were feeding Reedy information all through this case was so that he wouldn’t get suspicious that we were on to him. Fulton being nabbed was a simple unpredictable glitch.’ And so on.”
“He must have liked that,” said Marlene.
“He was fumbling at my fly,” said Karp. “In fact, his gratitude was so embarrassing that I felt it necessary to change the subject.”
“Oh? What to?”
“Well, I mentioned that I had a bright and experienced attorney whose services we were about to lose because of the nepotism rules. Which I heartily supported, of course.”
“Of course,” Marlene agreed.
“And also that because of the change in the rape law we had a good opportunity to increase our success rate in these cases, provided we had someone in charge who was experienced in same, and that, given all this feminist agitation, har-har, it might be seen as a shrewd political move to, ah, set up a rape bureau, with the right person in charge, of course.”
“Of course,” said Marlene. “And did he solicit any recommendations for such a post?”
“Indeed, he did,” said Karp. “And I took the liberty of putting your name forward. Which was accepted, on the spot. How do you like that? The last little spurt of nepotism.”
“Yippeee!” Marlene shouted, jumping to her feet. “Let’s hear it for corruption! Karp, you are quite a piece of work!” She kissed him soundly and looked at him, beaming the celestial smile that she was capable of when—and these occasions had been few in recent months—she was completely at peace.
Karp grinned back at her and said, “I guess you still want to marry me, then.”
“Yes, naturally, we’ve already ordered the cake.”
“Yeah—God!—it’s only ten days away.”
“Actually, it’s nine,” said Marlene, frowning. “You should write it in your little book. Which reminds me—all is prepared except for two small details.”
“Which are?”
In answer she waggled her left hand in front of his face.
“Oh, shit!” said Karp.
“Yes, a ring is traditional,” said Marlene. “Fortunately, to save you a trip to the K-Mart, I should tell you that your Aunt Sophie has volunteered one. It belonged to your mom.”
With feeling Karp said, “Good old Aunt Sophie! How do you feel about that?”
“I’m honored, actually,” said Marlene. “Although it’s gonna blow them away at St. Joseph’s. As you may recall, it weighs about four pounds and has little Jewish stars and Hebrew letters all around it.”
“Yes, they spell out, ‘Guaranteed: not a shiksa,’” said Karp. “What was the other thing?”
“Guma. He’s coming, of course. But somehow, in his usual expansive way, he invited Sylvia Kamas to be his date. I thought you should know beforehand.”
“I see,” said Karp, starting to giggle. “He’s going to pretend to be John Ciampi in the middle of a hive of Ciampis, including the real John Ciampi. How are you going to handle that?”
“Don’t worry, my prince,” said Marlene. “I’ll think of something.”
A BIOGRAPHY OF ROBERT K. TANENBAUM
Robert K. Tanenbaum is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty-five legal thrillers and has an accomplished legal career of his own. Before his first book was published, Tanenbaum had already been the Bureau Chief of the Criminal Courts, had run the Homicide Bureau, and had been in charge of the training program for the legal staff for the New York County District Attorney’s Office. He also served as Deputy Chief Counsel to the Congressional Committee investigations into the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. In his professional career, Tanenbaum has never lost a felony case. His courtroom experiences bring his books to life, especially in his bestselling series featuring prosecutor Roger “Butch” Karp and his wife, Marlene Ciampi.
Tanenbaum was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. He attended the University of California at Berkeley on a basketball scholarship, and remained at Cal, where he earned his law degree from the prestigious Boalt Hall School of Law. After graduating from Berkeley Law, Tanenbaum moved back to New York to work as an assistant district attorney under the legendary New York County DA Frank Hogan. Tanenbaum then served as Deputy Chief Counsel in charge of the Congressional investigations into the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.
The blockbuster novel Corruption of Blood (1994), is a fictionalized account of his experience in Washington, D.C.
Tanenbaum returned to the West Coast and began to serve in public office. He was elected to the Beverly Hills City Council in 1986 and twice served as the mayor of Beverly Hills. It was during this time that Tanenbaum began his career as a novelist, drawing from the many fascinating stories of his time as a New York ADA. His successful debut novel, No Lesser Plea (1987), introduces Butch Karp, an assistant district attorney who is battling for justice, and Marlene Ciampi, his associate and love interest. Tanenbaum’s subsequent twenty-two novels portrayed Karp and his crime fighting family and eclectic colleagues facing off against drug lords, corrupt politicians, international assassins, the mafia, and hard-core violent felons.
He has had published eight recent novels as part of the series, as well as two nonfiction titles: The Piano Teacher (1987), exploring his investigation and prosecution of a recidivist psychosexual killer, and Badge of the Assassin (1979), about his prosecution of cop killers, which was made into a movie starring James Woods as Tanenbaum.
Tanenbaum and his wife of forty-three years have three children. He currently resides in California where he has taught Advanced Criminal Procedure at the Boalt Hall School of Law and maintains a priv
ate law practice.
Tanenbaum as a toddler in the early 1940s. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York.
A five-year-old Tanenbaum in Brooklyn, near Ocean Parkway.
Tanenbaum’s family in the early 1950s. From left to right: Bob; his mother, Ruth (a teacher and homemaker); his father, Julius (businessman and lawyer); and his older brother, Bill.
Tanenbaum’s high school varsity basketball photo from the ’59–’60 season. He played shooting guard, center, and forward, and earned an athletic scholarship to the University of California, Berkeley, where he continued to play.
Tanenbaum shooting during a basketball game his junior year of high school. He wore the number 14 throughout high school and college.
Tanenbaum’s senior portrait. In addition to basketball, he also played first base for his school’s baseball team.
Standing outside a courthouse in downtown Manhattan are Tanenbaum, James Woods, NYPD detective Cliff Fenton, and Yaphet Kotto. Woods and Kotto played Tanenbaum and Fenton in the 1985 movie Badge of the Assassin, based on Tanenbaum’s book of the same name about a real-life murder mystery in 1971 Harlem.
Seen here in the late 1980s, Mayor Tanenbaum poses with Ed Koch, then mayor of New York City, while Tanenbaum’s son Billy stands in front wearing a hat given to him by Koch. The two mayors were meeting to discuss a tourist exchange program between Beverly Hills and New York City.
While mayor of Beverly Hills, Tanenbaum awarded Jimmy Stewart, seen here, with this proclamation of Outstanding Citizen of Beverly Hills in the late 1980s.
Tanenbaum and his wife, Patti.
Tanenbaum with Patti and their children Roger, Rachael, and Billy at home in California.
Tanenbaum’s author photo, which has graced the covers of many of his books.
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