By
Ayesha Haqqiqa
“The
fabric of society can only be held together by the rule of law,” Nora Lewin
said as she addressed the New York City Businessman’s Association. “And it is the citizen who helps enforce
that law that makes it work. The police
get nowhere during an investigation without the cooperation of the public. The District Attorney cannot uphold the
rights of victims unless citizens are willing to testify.” She looked around at her audience, mostly
male and mostly of color. “We must work
together so that every citizen is safe, so that every citizen enjoys the rights
given to us by our forefathers to life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.” She sat down to modest
applause. Her bid to enlist the
business community in her Citizen’s Initiative was off to a dismal start. So much for holding onto the DA’s office,
she thought as she forced herself to smile and shake hands with the
well-wishers and hangers-on, who wanted to be seen with the most powerful woman
in Manhattan, even if she was white.
She walked to her limo, never losing her confident walk or pleased expression until the door shut and Marvin was driving her home. He looked at her in the rearview mirror. She was slumped over, eyes closed.
“Are you all right, Ma’am?” he asked anxiously.
Nora opened her eyes and sighed. “As much as I can be,” she said.
“Don’t worry, you’ll win the election,” Marvin said. “Henry Murray has an enemy’s list as long as my right arm.”
“But his enemies are mostly people in my office,” Nora sighed. “And I’m sure I’ll get most of their votes. With the people, he’s the crusading defense attorney who has shown up sloppy police work and unprepared prosecutors. It hasn’t been often, but it’s been enough for him to grab headlines. Now he claims to want to “clean up the city”. Well, go ahead, Henry. See if I care.” She stared out the window.
“Don’t give up, Ma’am,” Marvin urged. “You have done a good job, a damned good job, and the people will see that. You just have to keep plugging your message.”
“My message. Citizens have rights, but also responsibilities.” Nora shook her head. “No one wants to be responsible today. No, Marvin, all it will take is one more high-profile case involving police and prosecutor bungling, and I’m out of a job.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m more suited to teaching, anyway.”
Her cellphone rang. Muttering under her breath, she took it. “Nora Lewin,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“Ms. Lewin, something’s happened that I thought you’d better know about before it goes through the chain of command,” Lt. Anita Van Buren said. “Can you get over to the 2-7 right away?”
“What is it?” Nora asked.
“I’d rather you come here where we can talk in person,” Van Buren said cryptically.
Nora directed Marvin to turn around and head for the 2-7. He didn’t have to be told twice.
Anita Van Buren was waiting for Nora at the precinct steps. She didn’t say a word until the two women were in the Lieutenant’s office.
“It’s something bad—well, potentially bad,” Van Buren said. “Now, I know I’m not supposed to play politics, but I’d rather have you calling the shots from Hogan Place than Murray any day. He may talk about cleaning up the city, but I’ve seen how he acts with some of his scummy clients.”
Nora nodded, wondering where all this was going.
Anita Van Buren looked at her desk. “The first time we get a woman in the DA’s chair, and some macho cop tries to mess it up.” She came out of her reverie and looked at Nora. “Here’s the deal. Earlier tonight, there was a traffic accident. Three fatalities—a woman, her little girl, and her sister-in-law, who was pregnant. The guy that ran into them was an off-duty cop. He claimed he heard a distress call over his scanner in his car, and was going to assist a fellow officer. That’s his claim, anyway.”
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t it?” Nora asked.
“Yeah,” Van Buren answered. “The hotshot came straight from his favorite tavern. They didn’t even have to give him the breathalizer test to tell he was three sheets to the wind. So we’ve got a drunk cop who mowed down a family.” She got up and paced the floor. “The wagons are already circling around the cop, whose name is Frank Sullivan. He’s really popular down at his precinct, the 1-6. Seems last year he saved a fellow cop’s life by pulling him out of the line of fire. Sullivan caught a bullet in the arm, and was cited for bravery. He’s always helping out his fellow cops, pulling double shifts so a fellow officer can stay home with a sick wife or kids.”
“Sounds like a paragon of virtue,” Nora said. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. I can get him a deal where he keeps his pension and—“
Van Buren shook her head. “That’s just it. He doesn’t want a deal. He wants a walk. Look, Ms Lewin, I worked with this guy when I was a sergeant. He was a hotshot, a real macho man. He worked hard and played hard. This isn’t the first time he’s nearly gotten in trouble for his drinking.”
Nora’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, nearly?”
“That’s just it,” Van Buren said. “The other cops cover for him. One time, he was hung over so bad he couldn’t stand. When I took role call, his partner told me he was finishing a shift for another cop, and would be in later. It was by sheer luck that I happened by the locker room door and saw him sitting with a cup of coffee in his hand. I talked to him, and he promised to sober up, go to AA, and so I let it slide. Now I’m very sorry I did.”
“So what are his buddies proposing to do about the accident?” Nora asked.
“They insist that there was a distress call, made by Officer Herbert Brown, also of the 1-6, and also a good friend of Sullivan’s. Brown was supposed to be looking for Wali Jefferson, who is wanted on suspected burglary and drug possession. Brown claims he was confronted by five men carrying knives, and called for help. That was the distress call Sullivan got.”
“Wait a minute,” Nora said. “There’s no way Brown would have been sent to look for Jefferson alone. That’s not proper procedure.”
“I know, and it will get him a reprimand, and possibly a suspension. But it shows the lengths to which the cops at the 1-6 will go to protect one of their own.”
“I’m lucky, then, that the accident happened in the 27th Precinct,” Nora said, “or they might have claimed the dead victims caused it.”
“Don’t think they won’t try,” Van Buren said. “My men were on the scene right after it happened—and not two minutes later, here came Brown and Cunningham from the 1-6.”
“Let me guess. Cunningham is Brown’s partner,” Nora said.
“Yeah. He wasn’t there for his partner, but he mysteriously shows up just in time to try and help his buddy Frank. Brown and Cunningham started interviewing witnesses, and my men were glad for the help. It wasn’t until after the EMTs had arrived and left that my men realized all the witnesses had disappeared. It seems that no one saw anything; even the woman who called 911 told Brown she’d heard a crash, looked out her window, and saw the wreck.”
“I see what we’re up against,” Nora said. She stood up. “I think I’d better handle this case personally. Thank you for your help, Lieutenant. I want you to carry on with your investigation. Make sure that I get daily reports. I hope the men from the 16th don’t try to ‘help’ any more, or I will call in Internal Affairs.”
Jack McCoy was dreaming. Something about a warm tropical beach, and a warm body next to his….
The phone rang. Cussing, McCoy tossed aside the pillow he’d been hugging and groped for the phone on his nightstand.
“Sorry to wake you, Jack,” Nora said in reply to his growl. “Something’s happened that could cost me the election. I’ve been at home, mulling it over, and decided I needed to start building my team.”
“Nora, I’m not political,” Jack said as he cleared his throat and tried to sweep images of beaches from his brain.
“I didn’t explain it right. Let me try again.” Nora tightened her grasp on her phone as she paced around her living room. “There is a case that will be coming up that will be very controversial. It involves a policeman who ran into a family and killed them. The man was drunk. His fellow cops are trying to cover it up. We’ve got to be sure this case is prosecuted firmly and fairly, and that the truth comes out. Jack? Are you there?”
Jack held the phone to his chest and tried to breathe. Too many things involving drunk drivers had effected his life. First, Claire’s death. Then the prosecution that resulted in his appearance before the Disciplinary Committee, one of the darkest days of his life.
He finally pulled himself together. “Yeah, Nora, I’m here. Just sort of trying to wake up, I guess. You are right, this case is a potential bomb that could blow up in our faces. Who is assigned the investigation?”
“The accident took place in the 27th Precinct,” Nora said. “Lt. Van Buren alerted me to the situation.”
“Good,” Jack said, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. “I know who her best detectives are. She’ll have Briscoe and Green on the case, if they’re not already. They can be trusted.”
“I’m glad to know that,” Nora said. “I plan to prosecute this case myself, and take an active part in the investigation. But I need your help. You know the police far better than I do. You know who we can trust, whom we can’t. And I’ll need someone with tenacity to keep on the case and find the truth—and to advise me on what to do.”
Jack looked at his clock. “It’s three a.m.”, he said. “Have you gotten any sleep?”
“No, I-I had to figure this out in my mind.”
“Well, there’s nothing to do until morning,” Jack said. “Get some rest. I’ll go down to the precinct and see what has happened and report to you at nine.”
“Don’t you ever sleep, Counselor?” Lennie’s greeting was cheerful as Jack strode into the squad room. “LT went home hours ago, and we figured we wouldn’t see anybody from the DA’s until daylight at least.”
“Nora Lewin has designated this a high priority case,” Jack said, yawning. “I came over to find out what happened. Nora said something about a drunk cop plowing into a car and killing a family.”
“Well, most of it,” Ed Green proffered Jack some coffee, which he took gratefully. “Eric Davenport is still alive. It was his sister, niece, and pregnant wife who were killed. He’s under sedation, but when he comes out of shock, he’ll be all over us to hang Sullivan.”
“Sullivan? Not Frank Sullivan?” Jack looked at Ed, then Lennie, as the two cops nodded their heads. “Oh, this makes it sweet,” Jack shook his head. “Sullivan, the policeman’s pal. And my worst nightmare. You know how it is, Lennie, you’ve been around. Some cops tell the truth on the stand, and some embroider. Sullivan could start a sewing class with some of the lies he’s told. Fortunately, we’ve caught them during witness prep, and cases weren’t harmed. But I’ve always been leery of Sullivan. His pig-headed arrogance reminds me of another cop I knew a long time ago. And he had a drinking problem, too.” He looked at Briscoe. “Any write-ups, any reprimands on this guy?”
Lennie shook his head. “From his personnel file, you’d think he was a paragon of virtue. Oh, I’d heard rumors. Everybody hears rumors. Sullivan has come close to being written up for his drinking problem several times, but each time he has managed to bully or brave himself out of the situation.”
“That’s how he wound up being wounded last year,” Ed remarked, handing Jack a file. “The official record only cites his bravery. It doesn’t mention the fact that the day before, Sullivan was late for duty, and when he appeared he was obviously drunk. I got this from some friends of mine who transferred out of the 1-6. Seems not everyone approved of Sullivan’s tactics.”
“But obviously his captain did,” Jack said, reading the file. “Here’s a letter written by Captain Smith to the mayor, extolling the virtues of ‘my best officer, Frank Sullivan’. What gives?”
“From my sources, Smith believes it was Sullivan’s record that helped him get the promotion to captain.” Lennie looked uncomfortable. “That was about the time that Van Buren had a suit against the city because she didn’t get promoted.”
“Oh,” Jack said. “So her calling Nora about this case—“
“Had nothing to do with nothing,” Lennie said stoutly. “I know the LT. She was mad at the system, not an individual officer who was going for promotion. But I know Murray is going to have a field day with this, and I wanted you to know.”
Jack nodded. “Thanks, Lennie. Now, about this so-called distress call. They can’t make it stick. There was no record at Dispatch?”
“No, but Brown insisted that his radio wasn’t working right.”
“So Sullivan could hear him and Dispatch couldn’t? Excuse me, but that’s nuts,” Jack said.
“We say it’s nuts, but the boys at the 1-6 insist that it’s the truth,” Ed said. “And they played other tricks on us before we were onto them. Brown and Cunningham came up to the scene right after two uniforms from the 2-7 got there. They interviewed witnesses while our uniforms looked after the victims and checked out Sullivan. By the time we got there, all the witnesses were gone or had lost their memories. The best we got was an old lady, Frances Griffin, who said she heard the crash and looked out her window and dialed 911. Of course, our little helpers said that the other people hadn’t seen anything. And they were too shook up to get names and addresses. It’s a mess.”
“And one that will be straightened up, or else,” Jack said, putting his empty cup on the desk and rising. “I think I’ll go pay a call at the 1-6 and kick a few asses around the block.”
“Good luck,” Ed muttered sarcastically as Jack strode out of the room.
“I mean it, Sergeant. I want to see the watch commander now.” Jack looked at the balding man with sergeant’s stripes behind the desk.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Lt. Blumberg is out on an investigation,” the desk sergeant said in a bored tone.
“Well, call up Lt. Blumberg and tell him Executive District Attorney Jack McCoy is waiting in his office.” Jack glared, and the desk sergeant blanched.
“Mr. McCoy? I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your suit and tie. I’ll call the Lieutenant right away.”
Like hell you didn’t recognize me, Jack thought as he walked to the office and let himself in. To his surprise, a tall, blonde man in uniform was sitting at the desk, his feet up. He could have sworn he smelled a cigar, but there was no evidence of smoking materials in sight. The uniformed officer rose, and looked at Jack carefully.
“McCoy. Jack McCoy. You’re with the DA’s office,” he said, holding out a hand.
Jack ignored it. “And you got that bit of information from your desk sergeant,” he said. “I bet he called back here before he called Blumberg. And you are Officer Cunningham. Want to explain to me why you weren’t with your partner on that arrest last night?”
“A glitch,” Cunningham said easily. “I thought I was to meet Brown at the projects at ten-thirty, not ten. I was on my way when I heard his distress call.”
“Oh, the famous call that Dispatch said never happened?” Jack looked at him carefully, but the policeman was completely at ease.
“Dispatch will tell you that sometimes static breaks up things. It was real hard to hear Herb, but I knew his voice, and besides he called me by my nickname, Digger.”
“And you showed up at the apartment and took care of the men with knives?”
Cunningham nodded. “Actually, all it took was a couple of shots in the air, and they scattered.”
“How many men were there?” Jack asked.
“Four, maybe five. It was dark, and I was intent on making sure Herb was okay.”
“And you didn’t go after them?”
“Nah. By the time I got to Herb, they were a block away, at least.”
“And you never saw fit to call for backup?” Jack asked suddenly. Cunningham, who had relaxed during the conversation, suddenly tensed. “I repeat, why didn’t you call for backup? And where is the report about you firing your gun? Come on, Officer Cunningham, I’m not only a DA, I’m a cop’s son. I know the drill.” Jack drew closer. “I’ll have other cops from other precincts investigate this incident. They’ll find the men, and they’ll find out what really happened. The distress call came from Sullivan after he hit the car, didn’t it?”
Cunningham took a step forward, but Jack refused to back off. Cunningham walked around him, brushing Jack roughly with his shoulder as he went out of the room. Jack gazed after him, into the detective’s room. The men there glared back. It was going to be hard going to get to the truth.
Nora Lewin came into the office a half hour early. She had slept some, but it was evident that her energy was coming from the coffee she sipped in her favorite mug as she sat down and went through the morning mail. A soft knock came at the door, and Jack walked in. He was still in his jeans, unshaven and uncombed. He went to the couch and sprawled upon it, saying, “Do you want to hear what it’s like at the 1-6, or do I need to tell you?”
“I have a pretty good idea, but I’d like to hear a first-hand account before I call Internal Affairs,” Nora replied. “You want some coffee?”
“I’ve had five cups this morning, so I’d better lay off,” Jack sighed. “I have a meeting with Judge Rivera on pre-trial motions at ten—you know, the Norris kidnapping case. Joe is mellow, but I think I could even collect a contempt citation from him today, the way I feel about this Sullivan thing.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “First of all, they are a unified front, from Brown and Cunningham all the way up through Captain Smith, whom I roused out of bed. He insisted his men were telling the truth, and wouldn’t think otherwise, even when I pointed out poor police procedure. He said that he would suspend Cunningham for a week for not backing up Brown. I pointed out the fact that Officer Cunningham told me he’d discharged his weapon, but that there was no report on file. Smith said Cunningham was rattled by everything, and would get the report done today. I talked with Cunningham for ten minutes, Nora, and he was a cocky bastard. No way was he shook up about anything.”
“What about other members of the 1-6?” Nora asked. “Surely not all the officers are pals of Frank Sullivan.”
“I’m hoping Ed and Lennie can find someone who will talk,” Jack said. “But right now, your best bet is to call for an internal investigation. You have the distress call that apparently was never received, and the fact that Cunningham wasn’t there to back up his partner. That will give them enough for a start.”
“And will keep Murray from crying incompetence when it comes to this investigation,” Nora said, rising. “I’ll call Dunkin at Internal Affairs and then release a press statement. “Thanks, Jack, for all your help.”
Jack stood up and went over to Nora. “Whatever you want me to do, just tell me. I hate cops like Sullivan, and I won’t have their crimes covered up.”
Two days later, the cover-up was still holding. Briscoe and Green hadn’t found a single person currently at the 1-6 who would say a word against Sullivan, Cunningham, or Brown. “All we have are the statements of fellows who transferred, the latest six months ago,” Green said told Jack McCoy, who had stopped by for an update. “They said they didn’t like Sullivan’s drinking, that they knew it would wind up in trouble sooner or later. But the other guys didn’t seem to mind, especially since Sullivan would do extra duty to make up for it. One guy, Tolbert, said that Smith liked Sullivan because Sullivan was instrumental in getting Smith’s promotion—something about a spectacular drug bust that resulted in several arrests.”
“I remember that drug bust,” Jack said. “That’s the last time I encountered Sullivan. He was so gung ho on making the case that he remembered seeing things we knew weren’t there, like a gun used to kill a rival drug boss. It was hard going to make sure he told the truth and stuck to it.” He got up to go. “I’ll come back by the precinct on my way home, to see if you’ve found anything,” he said. He hopped a cab back to Hogan Place to report to Nora.
“Well, Internal Affairs has found something,” she said, holding out a piece of paper. Jack took it and squinted at it. “I know, it looked like doodles to me, too. But it’s an audio analysis of the Dispatch tape of the night of August 6.”
“The night of the accident?” Jack put the paper down and looked at Nora.
“If there was a call, audio analysis could pick up the signal, even if the message was lost due to static,” Nora explained. “There was no call—on that frequency. However, there was a call logged in just about the time of the wreck on a CB frequency the police monitor, in case truckers in the area have a problem. And the message came through loud and clear.” Nora smiled. “Digger, old fox has got himself caught in a hole.”
Jack smiled back. “Cunningham told me that is his nickname. We’ve got him! We’ve got him dead to rights!”
Nora put a hand on his arm. “Not so fast, Jack. We’ve got to proceed cautiously. With the 1-6 mentality, they’ll be telling us Cunningham doesn’t have a nickname. Do you think you can pin that part down?”
“I’ll call Briscoe right away,” Jack said. He smiled, looked down at Nora’s hand, and patted it. “We’ll get him yet, Nora.”
“Yes, I have three witnesses who will testify under oath that Digger is Cunningham’s nickname,” Lennie told Jack over the phone. “Why has that become so important? Oh, the electronic geniuses have done it again. Yeah, I’ll tell Ed, and we’ll keep looking.” He hung up the phone and looked at his partner. “McCoy smells blood. I think we’ll be able to wrap up this case really soon.”
“Good,” Ed said. “I hate this kind of detail. Dirty cops make my skin crawl.”
“Mine too, buddy, mine too,” Lennie agreed.
“We agreed to this meeting as a courtesy,” Malcolm Cramer, the PBPA lawyer said. “Our client admits he was under the influence of alcohol while he was driving, but cites mitigating circumstances. As we have said before, he will enter a treatment program and do community service time for a year.”
“And we find it commendable that Mr. Sullivan wishes to seek treatment,” Nora said sweetly. “But we still question the mitigating circumstances. We have been making an investigation into the distress call.”
“Dispatch didn’t receive it,” Cramer said. “It was full of static. My client was closer, and he responded.”
“Ah, but you see, we did find the call—on another frequency.” Nora turned and looked at Sullivan. “A frequency used by truckers on their CB radios. It was a call from you to your friend Cunningham. Something about a fox being stuck in a hole.”
“Oh that,” Sullivan said. “Yeah, I sent that out over my CB after the accident. I figured they could get help. But the distress call came over my radio—the one I carry with me. I was still in the tavern when I got it.”
“Funny, none of the patrons remember you receiving a call,” Jack said.
“Have you ever been in a bar? They are loud and noisy. I was lucky I heard it myself.” Sullivan replied.
“Very lucky, seeing as Dispatch has no electronic record of the call ever being made,” Nora looked at Sullivan sharply. “Electronics don’t lie.”
“And you say I do?” Sullivan looked at her, agitated. “And my fellow cops? Who is a jury going to believe, Ms. Lewin? Uniformed officers who put their life on the line day after day or some geek with a piece of paper? Come on, Malcolm, let’s go. There’s nothing for us here.”
“See you in court,” Mr. Cramer said as they left.
Nora buried her face in her hands. “That’s the last thing we want to have happen,” she said. “Cops lying for cops. And you know, Sullivan is right. Enough of the jury might buy it so a verdict can’t be reached. I’m not sure what to do now.”
Jack came over to her and put his hand on her back. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “We’ll find something.”
“Mr. McCoy, what are you doing here?” Captain Smith asked that evening as a jeans-clad Jack marched into his office.
“I came for answers, Captain,” Jack said as he slammed his motorcycle helmet on the captains’ desk. “Either you come clean now, or I stay here until you do.”
“Mr. McCoy, there’s nothing to come clean about,” Captain Smith said, spreading his hands in front of him. “IA has agreed that the week’s suspension for Cunningham was right and proper.”
“I’m not here about Cunningham, and you know it,” Jack said.
Smith shrugged. “Well, Counselor, there’s nothing more to discuss, unless you are willing to take’s Frank’s offer. I really wish you would. I hate having him on leave for so long.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” Jack said. “You know, I think I’ve worked this all out. Sullivan is your fair-haired boy, popular with the other officers and the one who helps you look good. In exchange, you decide that you can overlook his little problem with the bottle. But we’ll find someone who knows about Sullivan’s little secret vice—and while we’re at it, we might find out more about you.”
Smith rose. “Are you threatening me?” he asked.
Jack stood up and took his helmet in his hand. “Not if you are clean,” he said. “But I have the feeling you are about as clean as Sullivan. My father was a Chicago cop, made it to the rank of sergeant. But he would never have had the nerve to go into his captain’s office, smoke a cigar, and keep his feet on the desk. Funny, don’t you think, that Cunningham felt it was appropriate?”
Jack strode out into the night and got on the Yamaha. So much wasted effort. He’d hoped to get Smith mad, to do something to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off the man’s face…Jack looked in his rear-view mirror. That blue sedan was getting awfully close. Jack speeded up a bit. So did the sedan. The distance between them shortened. Jack moved further to the right, hoping the joker would pass. But the car stayed right behind him, nearly touching his rear bumper.
I won’t panic, and I won’t speed up, Jack thought to himself. This is what they want me to do. He looked in his rearview to catch the license number, but it was obscured by mud. The driver of the sedan must have sensed what Jack was doing, because the car came closer, and then touched the Yamaha. Jack felt the bump, and struggled to keep control. No, you bastard, I won’t speed up, he thought to himself. I’m not going to splatter myself up against a wall or another car just trying to get away from you.
The next light was changing, but Jack took the right turn on the yellow, the sedan right behind. It bumped him again, harder. Jack looked to the right in desperation. If it got any worse, they’d knock him over. He saw what he was looking for—an empty parking space. He swerved to the right, going into the space and then over onto the sidewalk. He slowly braked the bike, and watched as the sedan speeded off into the night.
“This might be the break we need,” Jack said to Lennie, and Ed as Van Buren looked on. They were in Anita’s office, where Jack had just related the incident to them.
“You are lucky you weren’t broken,” the LT said as she gave Jack a cup of coffee. She noted the cup shook a bit when he took it. “Sure you don’t want us to run you by St. Mark’s ER for a checkup?”
“What I want is for you to be on the lookout for that sedan,” Jack said. “And let me call IA with the rest of it. All you know is that on my way here from the 1-6, I was sideswiped by a car and run off the street. You are looking into it. That will put pressure on the boys over there.”
“All well and good,” Lennie said. “I can hardly wait to go over there and interview Smith. But how is that going to help you get home in one piece?”
“Simple,” Jack said. “I tell IA and then I tell Nora. Whatever it is that I know, others will know. Then I’m no threat—the system is.”
Nora flew to the 2-7 as soon as she heard from Jack. She ran to the office, where Jack was lounging in a chair. When he saw her concerned face, he stood up.
“I’m ok, Nora, really,” he said.
She put her hands on his arms. “And you’ll testify under oath that you weren’t shaken up by this? Jack, this is monstrous!”
“It was an adrenaline rush, all right,” Jack said, moving away. He turned and faced the wall, then turned back and looked at Nora. “No, to be honest, I was terrified for my life.”
Nora looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have asked for your help.”
“No, you should have,” Jack said, as he began to pace the room. “What I have to do is figure out what exactly I said to Smith that caused him to try this stunt!”
“Don’t you think it has to do with digging up Smith’s past?” Nora asked. “You told me that’s one thing you said you’d do.”
“Yes, but I can’t help but think it was something more. I’m trying to recall exactly what I said. All I was trying to do was make him mad so he’d do something.”
“Well, he did something all right,” Nora said dryly.
“Yes, but I was expecting a verbal outburst, a denial—that’s right, I remember now. I told him about finding Cunningham in his office, feet on the desk, smoking a cigar. My old man would never have pulled a stunt like that in Chicago.”
“Then you think Cunningham has something on Smith?” Nora asked.
Jack shrugged. “It would be worth a look.”
Nora took his arm. “But not tonight,” she said. “I’m having my driver take you home, and I’m ordering you to rest!”
The next morning, Jack McCoy went to Nora’s office, paper in hand. She looked up from her desk and smiled. “I see you followed orders,” she said. “You’re looking rested.”
“But not content,” Jack said, flinging the paper down on the desk. “You’ve seen today’s editorial.”
Nora shook her head. “From that rag? It’s owned by the people bankrolling Murray’s run for the office. I know better than read anything they say.”
“Well, they say plenty,” Jack ran his hand through his hair. “How it’s been over a week since Sullivan’s indictment and no trial date is set. The bereaved husband is quoted extensively, and Sullivan’s defense attorney has responded. I don’t have to tell you what Murray had to say about that.”
Nora shook her head. “A feeding frenzy. But I don’t want to bring this case to trial until I can refute the extenuating circumstances claim.”
“We could go ahead on the drunk driving charge,” Jack said. “On that we have him dead to rights. Couldn’t we then argue that an inebriated officer has no business answering a distress call?”
“Oh, we could argue it,” Nora said, “and have the PBPA on our backs for besmirching the police.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. The breathalizer test showed Sullivan with two times the legal limit. No officer in his right mind would want someone that drunk watching his back.”
“Murray’s doing this to erode my political base,” Nora said, half to herself.
Jack came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Nora, don’t worry about politics,” he said. “Worry about finding out the truth. That’s what Adam always had me do, and you know how many times he was reelected.”
“Yes, but Adam is Adam,” Nora said sadly. She picked up some papers and started looking at them, and Jack took this as his cue to go.
He went to his office and picked up the phone. “Detective Briscoe? McCoy here. Have you found any way to break through the blue wall at the 1-6?”
“Hey, Counsellor, we’re working on it,” Lennie said, an edge to his voice. “But do you know how hard this is? Going over there, being looked on as the enemy? You’d think we were a couple of perps, the way they treat us.”
“Detective, you may have something there. We haven’t had any luck finding a policeman who will talk—but what about some of the people they’ve arrested?”
“Like they are paragons of virtue,” Lennie said.
“Yeah, I know it’s a long shot, but if these cops are crooked, they have to have somebody greasing their palms. Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll call IA and have them look into it. But would you do this? Check out and see if Wali Jefferson was ever picked up—anywhere? I’d like to find out what Brown and Cunningham were actually doing when they received Sullivan’s distress call.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Lennie said. “At least we’re used to people like Jefferson looking daggers at us.”
Jack rang off and then called Dunkin at Internal Affairs. “I’ve been thinking about my talk with Captain Smith,” he said. “I still believe that he is hiding something—something about himself and Officer Cunningham.”
“You’ve said that before, Mr. McCoy, and we are investigating,” Dunkin replied.
“But maybe we haven’t looked back far enough,” McCoy said. “As I recall, Sullivan’s big drug bust was one reason Smith got his promotion.”
“It was cited in the record, yes,” Dunkin said cautiously. “Sullivan was part of a task force that broke up the Ebolas, the gang that was heavy into marketing cocaine. But you know that—you prosecuted it yourself.”
“Yes, and I recall that Brown and Cunningham were part of that task force, too. But Sullivan was just another officer—who was the sergeant in charge? I never really spoke to him.”
“I’m not sure,” Dunkin said thoughtfully. “Let me get back with you on that.”
Jack put down the receiver, a satisfied look on his face. “Now maybe we’re getting somewhere,” he said to himself.
“No record of Jefferson’s arrest,” Ed Green said as he slowly piloted the car through a group of noisy kids playing in the street. “No known address. But I still know some people from my days working the streets around here. Maybe—“ Ed swerved suddenly, catching Lennie by surprise. “Sorry, man,” he said as he put the car in park and took the keys from the ignition. Lennie was still unfastening his seat belt when Ed came back, puffing slightly, hanging onto the collar of a young man.
“This is Rah,” he said. “Short for Rahman, a good Muslim name, though Rah here is more into Rastifarianism.” He grinned as he touched the youth’s dreadlocks.
“Hey, don’t go dissin’ my religious practices,” Rah said as he moved his head away.
“Like every good Rasta, he likes to smoke the sacred herb,” Ed continued. “I’m sure that’s why he took off running when he saw me in the car.” He looked at Rah. “I’m gonna let you go, man, ‘cause I have no interest in what’s in the bag in your pocket. We’re not after pot, we’re after a person.”
Rah shook himself and pulled down his shirt. “I know a lot of people,” he conceded. “But I’m not gonna say nothin’ to get ‘em in trouble.”
“Hey, we don’t want trouble either—we want a witness, that’s all,” Ed said smoothly. The young man looked at him in surprise. “We know Wali Jefferson is still around. We want to talk to him.”
“You want to put him away,” Rah said, taking a step back.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Ed lowered his voice. “You know what it’s like. You’re up on charges, and there’s nothin’ you can do—unless you have something the DA wants. Well, Jefferson has something the DA wants.”
“Wali say if he goes in, the Man gonna bust his—“Rah began.
“Tell you what, man. Go see Wali. Tell him that Ed Green and Lennie Briscoe from the 2-7 are here. We want to talk with him, and promise him we’ll take him to our precinct. We won’t let any other precinct touch him. He’ll be arrested, but the DA will be there to talk with him right away. Will you do that?”
Rah looked at Ed, then at Lennie, who smiled and nodded. “He’s telling the truth, kid. This could be Wali’s lucky day, but he’d better act fast before the other cops come around.”
Rah nodded. “Ok,” he said. “Meet me back here in a hour. If Wali will do this—well, you’ll find out what happens in a hour.” He ran off down the street, Lennie watching his receding back.
“Well, partner, this is one I take on trust. Do you trust this kid to deliver the message?”
Ed nodded. “I do. I know Rah. He’s not a bad kid, even though he travels in bad company. He has his own concepts of loyalty. He bought our story that coming to us will help Wali out.”
“Let’s hope Wali buys it too, then,” Lennie said. “We’d better call the LT and get everything arranged.”
Jack and Nora were waiting in the interrogation room of the 2-7 when Lennie and Ed brought in Wali Jefferson. He was tall, thin man with coffee-colored skin and small dark eyes, which shifted nervously from one person to another.
“Ms Lewin, Mr. McCoy, this is Mr. Jefferson,” Ed said as he guided the man to a chair across the table from the prosecutors. “He wants you to know that he came in voluntarily.”
“Yeah, man,” Jefferson looked from Nora to Jack and back to Nora again. “Yeah—ma’am. I didn’t know there was no warrant for my arrest. But when I found out, I came in to clear my name.”
“That’s very commendable, Mr. Jefferson,” Nora said. “Have you been read your rights? Would you like an attorney present?”
“No ma’am, I don’t need no lawyer. I want to tell the truth.”
“I still think it would be a good idea to have a lawyer present,” Nora insisted.
“Ok,” Wali said, leaning back in the chair. “But my Legal Aid bein’ here ain’t gonna make much difference.”
“I’ll call,” Van Buren said as she left the room.
Jefferson looked at the stern faces of the prosecutors, and then turned to Ed, who simply nodded. It wasn’t long before Shambala Green came in the door.
“So, you’ve picked up Wali Jefferson,” she said. “What are the charges?”
“We didn’t pick Mr. Jefferson up,” Jack said as Ms Green took a seat by her client. “He came in voluntarily.”
“And I hope the People will keep that in mind when they question him,” Green said, looking at Jefferson, who grinned in her direction.
“You got it wrong, lady. They want me as a witness. The warrant is just a technicality.”
Green looked at Nora sharply. “Is this true? In return for testimony, my client gets a walk?”
Nora held up a hand. “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. Let’s put it this way. Mr. Jefferson has charges pending against him that the People may be willing to overlook if he gives us full and truthful testimony on another matter.”
“Same old same old, no matter how you dress it up,” Shambala turned to her client. “Wali, you understand? Tell the truth, and the whole truth and –“
“I get a get out of jail free card. Yeah, I know.” Jefferson was really grinning now.
“Of course, if you don’t cooperate, we may have to move to the 1-6,” Jack put in.
The change was as abrupt as night and day. Wali Jefferson sat up, as if at attention, and stared at the prosecutors. “Rahman said you weren’t gonna let them mess with me if I helped you.”
“And we won’t,” Jack said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jefferson, but I had to see if what the detectives told me was true. You do feel anxiety about the policemen of the 16th precinct.”
“I don’t like them messin’ with me,” Jefferson said defensively. He cocked his head. “If I tell you what I know about them scum, what’s sayin’ that you believe me and not them?”
“Because we don’t want you to tell us anything now,” Nora said. “We want to ask you some questions.”
Jefferson leaned back in his chair once again. “Then shoot, ma’am.”
“Where were you on the night of September 16th?”
“Hanging. Near my crib.”
“Whom did you see that night?”
Wali smiled. “Now we getting to it, ain’t we? Besides a few friends, who had come over to party, I saw Digger and Mud.”
“Digger and Mud?”
“Yeah. They’re cops, ma’am. Digger’s name is Cunningham. He’s called Digger because he likes to dig in the dirt to hide his stash. At least that’s what his partner says.”
“And that man’s name is--?” Nora prompted.
“Mud. I mean, Brown. Like Mud is Brown.”
“Were the two officers in uniform?”
“Yes, ma’am, and full of it, too. They came in with nightsticks out, tappin’ them on they hands, like they was ready to bust some heads.”
“What did they do?”
“They got out their squad car and come up to me, sayin’ that I’d forgot to pay them to look the other way a couple of nights back, but they was willin’ to let bygones be bygones if I gave them a present.”
“What did you take that to mean?” Nora looked at Jefferson carefully.
“What it meant? What it meant? That if I didn’t pay them off, I was gonna get it, and my friends too!” Jefferson looked at Shambala Green. “You know Willie—Weepin’ Willie? You know how he got busted last year and wound up with a broken knee?”
“Yes, but he never told me what happened,” Shambala said.
“He was afraid,” Jefferson said. “Them two cops and their buddy told him they’d forget about his fence business if he gave ‘em a cut, and he refused. They took him to the 1-6 and that’s when it happened.”
“That’s interesting, and I’ll talk with Willie about pressing charges,” Shambala said. “But let’s stay on track. What did you think would happen to you if you didn’t pay them off?”
“That I’d wind up like Willie, or worse. I was a little slow getting to my stash, and Digger let off a round into the air. That’s when the brothers scattered and left me alone with ‘em. I was still lookin’ for my stash when their radio came on.”
“Which one?” Jack asked. “The one in the car or the one they carried?”
“The one they carried, man. I couldn’t hear the other one, it was too far away.”
“Did you hear what the call said?”
“Yeah,” Jefferson grinned. “’Digger, Digger, come here, the old fox got himself caught in a hole.’” He laughed. “I remembered it, ‘cause it was so funny. Both of them ran to their car and took off. I laughed for a while, but then I got to thinkin’. If they didn’t go give they buddy his cut, he might come after me, and I didn’t want none of that grief. So I left. Later, I wondered if that wasn’t dumb, but it was too late now, so I lay low.”
Nora looked at him curiously. “Who was this buddy of theirs you were so afraid of?”
Jefferson looked at her steadily. “This is what gets me my get out of jail free card,” he said. “It was Smith, their captain.”
Shambala Green looked at Nora. “I think he’s being straight with you,” she said. “Now, what sort of protection are you going to give him until the trial?”
“You know, Nora, that all we have now is the word of a convicted felon against three police officers,” Jack said after Jefferson and his lawyer were taken to a safe house by Lennie and Ed. “And Jefferson’s testimony, though important to the drunk driving case, doesn’t link Sullivan to the bribery. Cramer will argue that the testimony is tainted, and move to have the whole thing thrown out.”
“Then we’ve got to find a way to link Sullivan to the bribery,” Nora said firmly.
“I know,” Jack sighed. He got up to go, when Van Buren came into the room. “Phone call for you, Jack. Dunkin from Internal Affairs. You can take it in my office.”
Jack looked at Nora. “I told Dunkin about this angle, and asked him to look into that spectacular drug bust that won Smith his captain’s bars.”
“This is going to be a conference call,” Nora replied. They walked to the Lieutenant’s office, where Jack hit the speaker button.
“McCoy and Lewin here,” he said. “Go ahead and tell us what you’ve found.”
“I’ve looked at the transcript of the trial that resulted from the drug bust,” Dunkin said. “I have a few questions. Is it my imagination, or did Sullivan seem a bit too eager to offer information?”
“That was what was put into the record,” Jack said. “You should have heard him when we prepped him. It took a stern warning from me to keep him from adding to the truth.”
“I thought so,” Dunkin said. “I also noted that Devon Thomas, the defendant, has filed an appeal. He’s accusing the police of lying under oath, suppressing exculpatory evidence, and obstructing justice in general, especially Officer Sullivan.”
“Yeah, this is old news to us,” Jack said impatiently. “Have you found any substantiation to his claims?”
“Hold on, hold on, we’ve just started our investigation. But I thought you’d want to know that Thomas has hired a new attorney to handle the appeal. His name is Henry Murray.”
Nora slumped in her chair. Jack looked at her and clenched his fists.
“We’ve been interviewing a witness that may be able to help you in your investigation,” Jack said. “I’ve sent Detectives Briscoe and Green to place him in a safe house, and then they will report to you. See what you can do.”
“Thanks,” Dunkin said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Jack turned off the speaker as soon as he heard the dial tone. Nora was still sitting in the chair, staring into space. He went over and took her hand, and she looked at him, surprised that he was there.
“It’s not over yet, Nora,” Jack said.
“Might as well be,” she replied softly. “Murray has gotten himself invovled in the case now, and it can only be to my detriment.”
“Then let’s go down swinging,” Jack said. “Instead of doing things for political gain, let’s do them for justice.”
Nora and Jack went to Riker’s the next day, to meet with Thomas and his lawyer. Henry Murray had the look of wolf about him. It wasn’t so much his appearance as the look in his eyes. They gleamed as Nora entered the room, like a wild animal watching helpless prey.
“You’ve been caught this time, Ms Lewin,” he said as the prosecutors sat down. “Mr. Thomas wrote me about his case, and I’ve done some investigation. He—“
“will be willing to tell us his side of the story?” Nora stopped Murray in midsentence, and he looked at her, surprised.
“Well, I don’t want to undermine his case—“ Murray began.
“It won’t be undermining our case,” Nora insisted. “It will be helping us with an internal investigation of police corruption. I’m sure the presiding judge at Mr. Thomas’s trial will want to know the facts as well. And, as you well know, my office has the power to free innocent men.”
“And to own up to their own mistakes?” Murray looked like he was ready to lick his chops in anticipation of a kill.
“If there were mistakes made in this office, I will be the first to own up to them,” Nora said stoutly. “If the problem was with the Police Department, I will make sure that all parties involved are dealt with in an appropriate manner, including criminal prosecution.”
“Nice words, Nora, but they won’t wash with the public,” Murray sneered.
“May I get a word in here?” Devon Thomas asked. The prosecutors looked at him in surprise. Despite his long dark hair and gang tatoos, he was soft-spoken and sounded well-educated.
“Of course, Mr. Thomas,” Nora said.
Thomas looked at Murray and then at Nora. “I’m really not interested in your political squabble, unless it will help me. So let’s cut to the chase. Ms Lewin. You were talking about police corruption.”
“Yes, I was,” Nora address Thomas, ignoring his lawyer, who was muttering and shaking his head. “We have suspicions that certain officers have been engaged in illegal practices. Have you any information on this?”
Thomas cocked his head and looked at her. “And if I tell you what I know—all I know—will you reconsider my case?”
“I said I would,” Nora stated.
“I don’t think this is wise—“Murray began, but Thomas put up a hand.
“You
know, Ms Lewin, I have a lot of time to read in my present place of residence,”
he said. “And I read with interest the
text of your speech to the New York City Businessmen’s Association. I agree with you that citizens in this
country have responsibilities as well as rights. And so I will tell you about a few policemen I know.” He looked sharply at Murray, who said
nothing.
“My business activities are varied,” Thomas said. “I believe people should be allowed to associate as they please as long as they are not harming others. In my opinion, all drugs should be legal—but that is touching upon my case, and, as you said, you aren’t asking me about my case at this time. But, despite the fact that you do not share my political views, I am sure you will agree that policemen are not to interfere in citizen’s legal activities.” He smiled. “I knew you thought I was going to talk about some cops getting paid to look the other way when a store was robbed or drugs exchanged hands. But that will not help you with your case. So I will tell you about a legitimate enterprise and how certain police decided to interfere with it.”
Jack and Nora looked at each other. Even Murray dropped his hostile attitude and listened.
“I am of West Indian ancestry, and, as such, I have many contacts in the islands there. With the help and encouragement of some colleagues of mine, I established a little importing business with money wire transfers on the side, to accommodate my customers who still had family in the Carribean. One day, while I was checking a shipment of carved figures from Jamaica, two uniformed officers entered my shop. They looked around, and then came over to me.
“‘We hear you are doing well in your business,’ the big blond one said. ‘Would you like to keep it that way?’
“’I don’t know what you mean,’ I told him. His partner took a baggie full of marijuana from his pocket. I looked at it, and began to laugh. This only angered them, of course.
“’You know, I think I just found this, right here in this box,’ the officer said in an angry tone. He came right up to me and put his fist to my face. ‘That’s good for a trip downtown—plus we confiscate this business and all that goes with it, since it is obviously connected with your drug trafficking.’
“Well, gentlemen—and lady—I know a bit about the laws. I am not saying I am a paragon of virtue, but I do know my rights. I told the officers that confiscation cannot take place until there has been a trial and conviction, and that I had a hidden video surveillance camera that was aimed at them. That was a bluff, but they didn’t know it. They grew angrier, but only in their faces. They left, but that was not the last I heard of them.”
“No, they visited you on another time, and you were arrested for possession of large amounts of cocaine and heroine,” Jack said.
Thomas smiled slightly. “Yes, of course you would know, Mr. McCoy, as you prosecuted the case. But I don’t believe you ever knew what spurred the 1-6 to investigate me so vigorously before. I wish to thank you for keeping that goon Sullivan from perjuring himself about the gun. You were correct in assuming that it was planted at the scene.”
“And that is only part of the charges we have against him,” Murray said. “We can also show that –“
“And we’ll deal with the case, I promise you,” Nora sighed. “You don’t need to outline what you have. I think I know.” She turned to Devon Thomas. “Mr. Thomas, your information is interesting, but I have two questions. Do you know the names of the officers who accosted you at your place of business? And do you have any witnesses that can corroberate what you say?”
Thomas nodded. “I always read name badges, Ms Lewin. They were Brown and Cunningham, and they were wearing numbers indicating they were from the 16th Precinct. As for your second question, alas, no one was there but me. However, I know that if you ask some of my fellow businessmen you might find that the same stunt was pulled on them.”
“We need corroberating evidence,” Nora said.
“Or what? You’ll throw out your offer of a deal?” Murray sneered.
“Of course not!” Nora said sharply. “I’m after the truth here! And if anything, anything, was tainted about his trial, I will ask for a new one myself.” She turned back to Thomas. “We have Internal Affairs investigating. Are there any areas of your case that you would like us to look at again?”
“This is highly irregular,” Murray muttered.
Thomas looked at his lawyer and grinned. “What’s wrong, Henry? Has the lady shown too much class for you? Tell her what you have found, or I will.”
Murray took a deep breath. “My private investigator has found three other businesspeople who were shaken down by cops from the 1-6. Two of them were visited by Cunningham and Brown, and one was visited by Frank Sullivan as well. Seems he was the enforcer. At least that’s what—“ He looked at his client, who nodded. “Alvarez says. He owns a tobacco shop in the neighborhood. He went along with paying for a month or so, but buisness got bad, and he quit. That’s when Sullivan came around, and explained the importance of payments.”
“Do you think Mr. Alvarez will talk with my people?” Nora asked.
Murray looked doubtful. “They are afraid of the cops, and everyone who is connected to them. Sort of why I am running for your job, Nora.”
“To give people confidence in their public officials again, Henry? Then I’ll tell you what. Let me go with your detective and talk with them, obtain legal depositions. I’ll give you full credit.” Nora looked at Murray, who looked back, poker faced. “No, I’ll go better than that. When the time is right for the story to break, you break it—with full credit. I want the people of New York County to know that you were an important part of this investigation.
Murray’s deadpan expression gave way to an unpleasant grin. “Deal, Nora,” he said.
“Do you think that was wise?” Jack asked as he drove Nora back to Hogan Place. “Did you see his expression? It was like he’d won the jackpot at the end of an all-night poker session.”
“You were the one who said to seek out the truth,” Nora said. “I know that the testimony of those upright citizens is vital to our case. If they cooperate, we have our link between Sullivan and the corruption, and Jefferson’s testimony will have to be let in.”
“Yes, but your chances for reelection could be out of the window,” Jack said. He gave Nora a worried look.
She smiled back at him. “Why Jack McCoy! I thought you told me you weren’t interested in politics!”
“Maybe not, but I am interested in your well-being. What this case might do to you—“
“Is something I think I can handle,” Nora said cryptically. “Talking to Thomas gave me an idea how to turn Murray’s contribution into an asset.”
Later that day, Nora met with Julio Varga, Murray’s private investigator. “I can tell you, Ms Lewin, that these people are frightened, very frightened,” he told her. “Since the drunk driving thing with Sullivan, they have been especially fearful, because the cops haven’t been around. They are certain they’ll open up their shops one day and find drugs or other contraband planted somewhere, and they’ll go to jail.”
“Then it is up to me to tell them it won’t happen,” Nora said. “Those so-called policemen will soon be history, if these folks will help us.”
“Don’t expect miracles,” Varga said. “They trust me, because I walk their streets and know their lives. You, they don’t know. You represent the Man and all that means. And with them, that means no good.”
“Well, let’s try, anyway. You know, it might help if the Man turns out to be a middle-aged woman with a sympathetic ear.”
Juan Alvarez was in the cigar room at his shop, arranging fresh merchandise on the shelves. He gave Varga a worried look. “They haven’t come by yet, but their cruisers pass by slowly every day. I am fearful for what they will do. My wife says I was foolish to confide in you, but I told her Thomas and the Ebolas were worse.” Then he noticed Nora, who had worn a raincoat and scarf and kept behind the private detective.
“Oh, excuse me, Senora,” he said. “I did not see you there. Please forgive me for my chatter. What can do for you?”
“You can tell me your story,” Nora said. She looked at the merchant’s frightened face. “I am District Attorney Lewin, and I will not have citizens of my county intimidated by crooked policemen.”
Alvarez’s eyes grew wide and he wrung his hands. “Why did you tell her, Julio? Don’t we have troubles enough down here?”
Nora stepped between the two men. “I am here to stop the troubles. Now. Tell me, please, the number of the cruiser that keeps coming by here. Tell me the names of the policemen who have threatened you. I will personally talk to the Police Commissioner about this—today. There will be no more harrassment.”
Alvarez looked at Varga. “Is it true, Julio? Can I trust her?”
The private dick looked at the DA. “I’ve talked with her some, Juan, and she is straight about this. Trust her—it’s the only way to make this end.”
“Then I tell you,” Alvarez sat down in a chair, and then, remembering his manners, stood up and offered it to Nora.
“Go ahead and sit down,” she said. “I wish to stand, I think. But I’m putting this conversation on tape, if you don’t mind.” She got out a portable recorder. She took a new tape out of her pocket and opened the package and then popped the tape in. “This is Nora Lewin, interviewing Mr. Juan Alvarez. Is this taping being done with your permission?”
“Fully,” Alvarez said stoutly. For the next fifteen minutes, he recounted a tale of harrassment and intimidation much like the one Devon Thomas told. At the end, he said, “I know that some people, like Thomas, are mixed up in illegal activities, but I am not! Never! Not even to cheat on my taxes! To do this thing to me—it was monstrous!”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Alvarez,” Nora said as she shut off the recorder. “I am going to phone the Police Commissioner now and tell him to make sure you are no longer bothered by these people.”
“Gracias, Senora.” Alvarez said. There was a ray of hope on his face as they left the shop.
“Do we go on to Ling’s?” Varga asked.
“No, I’m going to make that phone call first,” Nora said as she got out her cell phone. She was punching in the number when the detective whirled her around and held her close in an embrace. She looked at him, startled.
“The cruiser is back,” he whispered. “So let’s be in earnest conversation for a while until they leave.”
Nora nodded wordlessly as she peaked over Varga’s shoulder. The cruiser had slowed to a crawl, and the officer in the passenger’s seat was glaring at her. Quickly, she took her eyes off him and looked at Varga again.
“The one in the passenger seat is Brown,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve seen his photograph. I’m glad I have on this disguise, because I know he knows what I look like.”
“Don’t worry, they’re passing on,” Vargas said as he moved his arms to her shoulders. He looked her in the eyes. “You know, lady, you have shown some guts to take the initiative like this. That’s to your advantage. But as soon as they know you are on the case—“
“They will be suspended, by orders of the Police Commissioner. I’m finishing that call now, and then we’ll go on.” She looked at Varga, and he backed away. “Police Commissioner Kelly, please,” she said in an official tone. She became so engrossed in her conversation that she didn’t notice Varga pulling out his cell phone and making a call of his own.
The trip to Ling’s Restaurant took only a few minutes. The propriator was a small, stooped old man with a wispy white beard. “I come to America from Hong Kong and thought I would be safe—not like with the Communists at home,” he said in excellent English. “I buy this store and find many customers, from many nations of the world. That part of America I like. But the policemen say that I will be deported because of opium. I do not smoke opium, or do any of that dirty stuff. Will the government take away my business on the basis of these lies?”
“This is getting worse and worse,” Nora said as they left the restaurant. “I hope that we can convince these people to appear before a Grand Jury, once we have the crooks at the 1-6 rounded up.”
They were a few steps from their car when the cruiser came by again. This time, it stopped, and Officer Brown got out. He went up to Varga and said, “Did you know that you dropped your cell phone back there? Or is it yours? Maybe we’d better come down to the station and talk about it.”
Varga looked at Nora. “What about my friend here?” he asked.
“Oh, she needs to come to. We’ve been watching you for the last couple of hours, and we need to talk to you about—things.”
“Things.” Nora found her voice. She kept her face hidden by the scarf and talked softly. “What sort of things? Can’t we straighten this out right here?”
“No, I’m sorry, you need to come with me,” Brown said as he took her arm. Nora watched as the other officer, whom she knew to be Cunningham, stooped on the ground and came over to them.
“Just as I thought, Herb. This is one of those hot phones we got a call about. I bet if we pat down this fellow and his friend we’ll find more stolen items.” He made a lunge for Varga, but the private eye eluded his grasp and ran down the street. Nora squirmed as Brown’s grip on her arm tightened.
“Not so fast, sister,” he said. “You’re coming with us, even if your boyfriend is not.”
“Why? So you can plant stolen property on me?” Nora asked boldly. “If you’ve been watching us, you know we’ve been investigating charges—“
“Shut up, lady, or you’ll get it right here on the street,” Brown hissed. Nora felt the cold steel of his service revolver pressed against her ribs. “Get over to the car and put your hands behind your back—now!”
Nora slowly made her way towards the cruiser, as if in a dream. She wanted to run, but her shaking legs wouldn’t let her. Once she was at the back door, she placed her hands behind her back. She heard the clink of handcuffs, and then a voice shout, “Duck, Nora!”
Instinctively, she did as she was told. She squatted down, which put Brown off balance. He was reaching for the car to steady himself when someone called over a bullhorn, “Cunningham and Brown, put down your weapons. We have you surrounded. Give yourselves up.”
Nora sprinted around the end of the cruiser, and found herself in Jack’s arms. “It’s over, Nora,” he said. She turned and watched as several policemen, headed by Lennie and Ed, closed in on the policemen with guns raised. She shivered slightly, and Jack held her closer. “Varga called me when you left the tobacco shop. He feared trouble from these two, and asked me to hang around and make sure nothing happened. I decided to call for some help, and the boys from the 2-7 were glad to oblige.”
“Let’s get back to the office,” Nora said after she saw Brown and Cunningham being led away. “I’m sure glad you came, but I hope it doesn’t blow the case.”
“It won’t,” Jack said, as he reluctantly let go of Nora. “Commissioner Kelly and I have been in contact since your first call to him. He sent some detectives from Internal Affairs to take over the 1-6, and personally suspended Captain Smith. We’ve captured all the canaries, Nora. Now it’s a matter of waiting to see which one wants to sing first.”
Later that evening, Nora, Jack, and Commissioner Kelly were in Nora’s office. Kelly looked grim. “I can’t believe this went on under my watch. I’m having IA go over everything there with a fine tooth comb. There will never be another scandal like this while I’m Commissioner.”
“I know, Sam, I know,” Nora’s words were comforting, though her face wore a worried look. “But no matter what happens, we have discovered the truth, and that’s all that matters.”
“Not to the voters.” Kelly looked at Nora with concern. “If I can do anything to help with the collateral damage to your campaign—“
Nora held up a hand. “It’s all right, Sam,” she said quietly. “Murray helped us, and he’s going to get the credit he deserves. I keep my promises—even with political opponants.” She picked up the phone and made the call. “Henry? Nora Lewin here. I guess your man Varga told you what happened. Yes, the case has broken wide open. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of people ready to testify now. Yes, you may go ahead and publish the story. I’m giving a press conference tomorrow, and you are welcome to attend it with me, if you like. Yes. Yes. Well, of course I understand if you want to hold one of your own. I’ll be watching. Good bye.” Nora cradled the receiver with a sigh. “He’s holding a press conference tonight to break the story. I thought he would.”
Kelly shook his head in sympathy, and left. Jack looked at Nora anxiously. “You’re taking it well,” he said finally.
“Yeah, well, no one said New York politics would be easy,” she said. She went over to him and took his hand. “I know you’re not political, but would you be there with me tomorrow? For moral support?”
Jack squeezed her hand. “Sure, Nora, sure,” he said.
Rumors were rife the next morning as the reporters assembled in front of Hogan Place the next morning.
“I heard that Lewin was going to drop out of the race,” a reporter from the Post told his colleague from the Times.
“The New York Times doesn’t print rumors,” the reporter said in a superior tone. “We leave gossip to—“
“The papers that make money, like us,” the reporter from The National Enquirer grinned.
“That all depends on whether The Enquirer is really a paper,” the Times man shot back. Other reporters watched, waiting for the familiar fireworks to begin.
“Not this time,” the Post man said sadly as Nora Lewin stepped out of the building, Jack McCoy right behind her. She went up to the podium and started speaking.
“As you well know, my campaign for District Attorney has been based on a call for civic responsibility. I want to take this opportunity to praise the efforts of my opponant, Henry Murray, in helping this office to root out corruption in the police force. I also wish to thank Mr. Ling, Mr. Alvarez, and other courageous citizens who have stepped forward with evidence in this case.” Nora paused, and looked at the reporters. “I now realize, more than ever, that the District Attorney has a responsibility, too. And that responsibility is to find the truth, no matter where it leads. And this is to be done without regard to political consequences. Because what matters, ladies and gentlemen, is that the people, all the people, of New York County obtain justice.”
The press corps was stunned. This was not like the self-serving statement Henry Murray had made the night before. There was no bravado, no condescending to the public. They finally broke out of their reverie and began firing questions at Nora.
“Is it true that you took an active role in the investigation?”
“Were you actually in harm’s way for a time?”
“Are you really going to handle all these cases yourself, from indictment to conviction?”
“Please, please, one at a time,” Nora put up her hand. “I do intend to prosecute all the cases, with the help and assistance of my able staff, led by Jack McCoy.” She nodded to Jack, who nodded back. “As for taking part in the investigation—yes, I obtained some statements from some of the citizens. In harm’s way? No comment.”
Nora answered a few more questions from the mob, and then retired to her office, looking very pleased with herself. Jack, who had followed her there, grinned as she sat down behind her desk.
“I’ve got to hand it to you—you are a political wizard. Leave it to you to put things so simply, so eloquently, that anything Murray did looked like yesterday’s trash!”
Nora smiled. “We’ll have to wait and see how the people see it,” she said.
The people saw things Nora’s way. Captain Smith and Officers Brown and Cunningham were all convicted of receiving bribes, corruption, and many other lesser charges, thanks to the testimony of their good friend, Frank Sullivan, who realized the jig was up. In exchange for his testimony, he was allowed to serve his sentence on those charges concurrently with his sentence for vehicular manslaughter. Devon Thomas was given a new trial; however, so much evidence had been tampered with that the only thing the People could prove was that he associated with a gang, and he was released. And in November, the People spoke by voting in Nora Lewin as District Attorney by an overwhelming margin.