The Pa-la-ti-'shan

by Neal Goldstein

“The FBI is going to try to flip one of the judges to corroborate Adams kid’s statement. We think that neither of the judges realized just how much money Worthington took out of the scam. The SAC is going to slip to the judges’ attorneys that we’re fairly certain the scheme generated around $50 million and that their clients must be pretty clever since we were only able to locate a tenth of that amount. That should get them thinking.”

  “I hope they’re keeping a close eye on Worthington in the mean time.”

  “Well the FBI doesn’t want to give him any idea they’re looking at him. Bernie, the FBI isn’t exactly known for finesse. You might remember how they botched the investigation of the former mayor of our fair city. I think the backlash from that resulted in his reelection.”

  “I heard about that. But Worthington is treacherous and dangerous. If they don’t keep him on a tight leash, he’s capable of taking a powder, and God knows what else.”

  I told the District Attorney of my suspicion that Worthington was connected to the incident on Rittenhouse Square. So far the police were unable to make any connection, and despite the best efforts of the lead detective there did not appear to be a real possibility of doing so.

  “From the reports I saw, there was no way that what happened to you was a run of the mill mugging. Izzy Ichowitz is a good cop. If there’s any way to tie Worthington in he’ll find it. In the meantime you make sure to take proper precautions.”

  “Jack Collins on line 2.”

  “The governor has been regaling me on how Senator Cinaglia’s attorney gutted the prosecution’s first witness. So I figured I better call you to find out the skinny, since as I’m sure ya know the governor’s prone to hyperbole.”

  “As you once told me, when they asked the man who jumped off the Empire State Office Building as he passed the 43rd floor on his way down how he was doing, he replied, ‘so far so good.’”

  “Was that really one of mine?”

  “Yep, I write them down and always give you proper credit.”

  “You’re a good lad. So you think Cinaglia has a chance to beat the rap?”

  “It’s way too early to make a call like that. Blackburn’s an experienced prosecutor. His office and the FBI spent a great deal of time and money building a case. I have to believe he has a lot more evidence to bring before the jury. That being said, his choice of Cinaglia’s son-in-law as his lead- off witness was something of a gamble. Maybe he underestimated his opposition.”

  “Maybe DiSilva was the best he had. Don’t ya forget that his opening gambit was supposed to be the late and not so lamented Earl Samson. The word on the street is that Samson was gonna finger you know who and blow this case into a whole other dimension.”

  “Well, according to the witness list the next week or so is going to be forensic accountants. The jurors will need tooth picks to prop their eyes open,” I said. “I know Blackburn has some witnesses on the list who are going to testify that Cinaglia threatened to propose some legislation, or start an investigation if they wouldn’t agree to cooperate, or put some money into one of his foundations, or some charity, but that’s what politicians do. Blackburn must have something up his sleeve.”

  “Blackburn’s a bullshite artist like all you lawyers. He may be throwing all he’s got against the wall to see if anything sticks. Besides, he may be thinkin that Cinaglia, being the macho man he is, will insist on testifying and jump the shark.”

  “That would be risky both ways,” I observed.

  “Is the governor still on the list of potential witnesses?”

  “He’s on both the government and the defense lists.”

  “Well Bernie, as you can imagine the governor has his undies all bunched up around his intestines over that. He wants to know if you can get him some kind of immunity that prevents him from havin to appear.”

  “I’m not his lawyer, I can tell you that there’s no way to quash a subpoena if they actually want him to testify. Tell him to ask Mike Bollinger. ”

  “I did, but he was afraid Bollinger would think he was some kinda pussy.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

  You’ve Been Subpoenaed (Again)

  Robert Worthington was, if nothing else, vindictive and vengeful. He did not believe that anyone who crossed him, or betrayed him should get off without paying a price. He perceived every adverse action and reaction as a personal affront, a direct challenge to his manhood. Robert Conrad’s attempt to blow him off was such an act of betrayal that required an appropriate response. Who in the hell did that stiff necked prick think he was dealing with; Conrad would soon find out not to fuck with him.

  “Hello, do you know who this is?”

  “Good, I’ve got something you might find of interest and the proof to back it up.”

  At 6 am while I was enjoying a quiet cup of coffee the phone interrupted my moment of Zen. I could see from the caller I.D. that the call was from Major Miller. I handed Nicky the phone, “It’s your father.”

  “Hi Dad,” I watched as she reacted to the call. Nicky and her father had reached a somewhat delicate détente.

  “He wants to speak to you.”

  I took the phone.

  “Why did you do it?” Miller’s voice exploded.

  “Do what?”

  “Why did you leak the story to the press?”

  “Major, I haven’t spoken to the press and I don’t have any clue as to what you are talking about.”

  “The hell you don’t.”

  “Listen to me Major, this conversation is going nowhere. What exactly are you accusing me of leaking to the press?”

  “That Bob Conrad kidnapped Bobby and that I aided and abetted in the crime and actively concealed Bobby’s whereabouts.”

  “First of all I did not tell anyone that Conrad kidnapped Bobby, or anything else. However, Conrad did take Bobby without Nicky’s consent and you did keep what you knew from Nicky.”

  “This story that started on Gross’ blog this morning is getting big time play on all the media. It’s going to ruin a good man. I hope you’re satisfied.” The line went dead.

  “What’s going on?” Nicky asked.

  We accessed Dan Gross’ blog. The headline screamed out at them: “An informed source has confirmed a rumor circulating for months that Attorney General Robert Conrad, a presumptive candidate for governor, may well be a target of an investigation into the kidnapping of the step daughter of State Representative Bernard Green.”

  The story went on to disclose details of the events that culminated in Green’s discovery and Nicky’s reunion with her daughter. The blog also implied that Nicky’s father was complicit in the affair for yet to be confirmed reasons that would soon be exposed and would shed more disconcerting light on the case.

  “This is horrible. Bobby will be asked about this by her friends at school. What should we tell her,” Nicky was on the verge of tears.

  “We’ll tell Bobby the truth, like we always have.”

  “But you know children can be so cruel. I don’t want her be hurt.”

  “I know. But no matter what Bobby knows she’s safe and loved. It’ll work out.”

  By the time I got to my office at Brinkley Smoot, the story had even made the national media.

  “Mr. Bollinger would like you to meet with him as soon as possible,” the receptionist greeted me with a sympathetic look.

  “Is any of this true?” Bollinger greeted me, holding up the story on the front page of the local newspaper.

  “Like anything else the press tends to sensationalize the story. Unfortunately, the essential facts are accurate.”

  “Jesus, what was Conrad thinking. Did he actually believe this would never come to light? And what about Miller; I mean how could he do this to his daughter?”

  “Nicky and I have been trying to figure that out for sometime without much success,” I replied.

  “Well I guess Conrad can forget about being governor. Do you have any idea who leaked this?”

  “My fathe
r-in-law has already accused me.” I watched Bollinger’s reaction and held up my hands. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Mr. Bollinger, Mr. Solomon is here he says it’s very important that he speak with you and Mr. Green,” Bollinger’s secretary stood at the door to Bollinger’s office.

  “Let him in please.”

  “The U.S. Attorney’s office just called. Bernie, you’re going to be subpoenaed to testify in the Cinaglia trial. Blackburn told me they want a meeting this afternoon.”

  “OK, so what’s the big deal?” Bollinger asked.

  “Blackburn told me they’re going to indict Bernie unless he cooperates.”

  “Indict me for what?”

  “I don’t know, he wouldn’t say.”

  And the hits keep coming.

  CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

  Blackburn’s Full Of Shite

  Joel Solomon and I were ushered into First Assistant U.S. Attorney Robert Blackburn’s office. Blackburn was seated at a conference table. To his right was a young man with a military haircut who stared at me with steely eyes.

  “Gentlemen, please take a seat,” Blackburn remained seated. “This is Special Agent Michael Fox. He’s in charge of the Cinaglia investigation,” Blackburn nodded to the man to his right. Fox continued to stare at me and said nothing.

  “Bob, what’s this all about?” Joel Solomon asked.

  Blackburn waved his hand at Solomon. “Agent Fox is going to play you a recording of an exchange between your client and Senator Cinaglia. Then we can have a discussion.”

  Joel and I had agreed in advance that I would remain silent throughout the meeting and allow him to do all the talking.

  The FBI agent played a recording of my visit to Cinaglia’s home. I had been asked by the governor to resolve complaints about the senator’s request for a zoning variance to permit him to build a firing range in the basement of his home. The incident was so insignificant that I had dismissed it even after Blackburn brought it up during my Grand Jury testimony.

  We listened in silence.

  “Mr. Green, we believe this evidence establishes that you visited the senator’s home for the purpose of collecting a pay-off. We know that Cinaglia funneled money to another of the governor’s associates for a prolonged period of time. We suspect that you were not a principal player in this conspiracy. We believe that with your cooperation we can bring those involved in this criminal enterprise to justice. We are prepared to offer Mr. Green immunity in return for his complete cooperation in our investigation and for his testimony in the Cinaglia trial.”

  The FBI agent continued to stare at me.

  “I need to consult with my client,” Solomon replied.

  “OK, that’s fair. But understand this Mr. Green. This offer has a short shelf life. Unless you agree within 48 hours, it’s off the table.”

  As planned neither of us said anything as we left the prosecutor’s office. It was not until we had returned to my office at Brinkley Smoot before either of us uttered a word.

  “Jesus Bernie, that tape puts you right in the middle of a kickback scheme. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Joel, the tape was altered. I didn’t have anything to do with accepting money from Cinaglia. It didn’t happen.”

  “I heard the tape. You heard it for Christ sake. It sounded real to me.”

  “Don’t you believe me? I mean do you really think I would take money from Cinaglia? Why would I take anything from him? And more to the point why would he be giving money to me? I was a constituent services representative. There wasn’t a blessed thing I could do for him. And I swear to god Cinaglia never mentioned a Mr. White.”

  “OK, but what I’m surmising is they think you were collecting money for someone else. Someone who was powerful and in a position to help you; someone who could get you elected to office and get you a job at a prestigious law firm. Do you know anybody like that?” Joel asked.

  “I wasn’t the governor’s bag man. Think about it for a second, do you really believe the governor is foolish enough to accept kickbacks from Senator Cinaglia? The governor is many things, but I doubt he’s that stupid. Besides, I’m telling you the tape is a phony. It’s been doctored.”

  Solomon shook his head and said, “How can you prove that the U.S. Attorney and the FBI altered the tape?”

  “I don’t know.”

  When Joel left my office I realized that my friend remained unconvinced that the FBI recording of my visit to Cinaglia’s home had been altered. Or perhaps more to the point Joel did not believe that I could prove that the FBI tape was not an accurate recording of the conversation. I was shaken by my friend’s doubt in my innocence. I promised to sleep on the offer and not to immediately tell the prosecutor to stick it where the ‘sun don’t shine.’

  Shortly after Joel left Jack Collins called. “That fucker Blackburn already leaked that he has a witness who will expose a prominent elected official as one of Cinaglia’s co-conspirators. According to Dan Gross’ blog, ya don’t need to be a rocket scientist to make out that you’re the mystery witness. The governor’s apoplectic. He thinks you’re a feckin Benedict Arnold. I assured him you’d sooner take a bullet for him than stab him in the back.”

  I was stunned that word of my meeting with the U.S. Attorney was already out on the street.

  “I really shouldn’t discuss this with you. But you can assure the governor I would never betray him. Jack, do you know a Mr. White? ”

  His question was met with silence, “Jack?”

  “Eh, a Mr. White you say?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “Why are ya askin about a White fellow?”

  “I can’t tell you that, but have you ever heard the name before?’

  Green waited.

  “Sure, I’ve heard plenty of colorful names in my time. Listen Bernie don’t let the black hearted bastard get to ya. It’ll all work out in the end, you’ll figure it out.”

  “Do you think he suspects anything?”

  Collins shook his head. “He thinks you’re a gonif, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid.”

  “Good.”

  “Besides, Bernie didn’t take anything from Cinaglia. And the senator didn’t give him anything. So Blackburn can’t have any evidence to use as leverage against him. Besides, Bernie doesn’t have any evidence that leads anything from the senator to you.”

  “What’s wrong?” the governor asked Collins.”

  “He asked me if I knew a Mr. White,” Collins replied.

  “He said that? Blackburn must have something,” the governor whined.

  “Blackburn’s full of shite!”

  Things were no better when I got to the District Office. Carlota and the staff acted as if I had already been convicted of something. Only Mike Zeebooker refused to succumb to the funeral like atmosphere.

  “You’ll think of something, you always do,” he said reassuringly.

  I sat in my office trying to recall the details of the meeting that had occurred over two years ago. As I recalled it was an insignificant event, just a routine part of my job, except of course that a VIP was involved. I remembered dismissing the senator’s ranting that the FBI was listening to his conversations as paranoid delusion. I could not dismiss the irony of the current situation. I had been warned to take precautions in my dealings with the senator; I could only hope that the steps I had taken would turn out to be sufficient to deal with my current dilemma.

  “Nicky’s on line one.”

  “Hi is everything all right?”

  “When Bobby got home from school she asked me why her classmates were asking her about being kidnapped.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her the truth, just like we discussed.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “It was not what I expected. After I explained what happened she sat quietly for a few moments and told me she was happy we brought her home. She said she missed her Grammy and would like to visit her
and her Uncle Bob. She seemed to take it all in stride.”

  “So, it’s all good?” I asked.

  “I suppose.”

  “Have you been listening to the news?”

  “Oh god Bernie, I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up. Is it true? Are you going to implicate the governor in Senator Cinaglia’s case?”

  “I no sooner left the meeting with the U.S. Attorney and all kinds of nonsense is out in the media. I’ll explain everything when I get home. Don’t believe anything you hear from the media.”

  “Even Dan Gross?”

  “Especially Dan Gross!”

  Worthington was beginning to feel the heat from the White Haven investigation. Detectives from the U.S. Attorney’s Office from the Middle District of Pennsylvania showed up at the NRA Headquarters in Harrisburg armed with subpoenas and asking questions about the Dunlap Group. Of course no one at the NRA had any knowledge of the Dunlap Group. However, it was only a matter of time before they came directly to him. He had also heard from politicians to whom he had contributed from the Dunlap PAC about inquiries from the FBI concerning Dunlap. They were covering all the angles.

  He looked out the window of his office at the Susquehanna River. Maybe it was time for him to disappear, like Samantha Binnager. He had the resources to live comfortably in South America or the Far East, get a new identity and avoid the ugliness of what was sure to come his way. He hated the idea of leaving before he took care of those responsible for this debacle, the judges and Adams’ son and of course Bernard Green. Worthington had already tried to have Green taken out, both figuratively and literally, to no avail. That fucker always managed to get away. Why couldn’t he just drop dead, and save Worthington the headache?

  From what he had read and heard in the media, maybe the U.S. Attorney in Philly would put Green in jail. Wouldn’t that be sweet? Worthington had little confidence in Blackburn and was convinced that somehow, someway Green would skate his way out of whatever Blackburn had, or thought he had against Green. There were other matters and people Worthington needed to address as well. He just couldn’t take a powder. Not yet, but soon; very soon.