To Save a Son

by Brian Freemantle

  Franks felt crushed under the weight of the further accusations, trying to assimilate what was being said but not completely grasping it all. Only one thing was obvious to him. He was lost; utterly lost beneath a welter of false evidence that it was going to be impossible to prove to be false. Because to these people it wasn’t false. Everything was there, documented, photostated and photographed. Lost, he thought again; utterly lost.

  Ronan held up a file that looked less worn and used than everything else upon his desk. “This contains a total of twelve charges, which I intend to lay before a grand jury to obtain indictments against Mr. Franks. They are variously brought under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organization Law, the Continuing Criminal Enterprise Law and the Tax Reform Act of 1976, as amended by the legislation of 1982.”

  He offered it to Rosenberg, who accepted it, opened the folder, and looked at the material inside. There was complete silence in the room, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of the pages. Franks found it difficult to concentrate upon what was going on around him. Instead he thought of Tina and of David sitting on his chest that morning and Gabriella looking trustingly at him. Be careful, Tina had said. Franks was too confused to be sure any longer just what it was that he had to be careful about.

  “My client denies each and every one of these charges, of course,” said Rosenberg.

  Franks tried to bring himself back inside the room. How was it so easy for Rosenberg to remain calm?

  “Of course,” said Ronan, just as controlled.

  “You asked us to hear you out fully,” prompted Rosenberg.

  “The proposed charges name only Mr. Franks,” pointed out Ronan. “I intend further charges, bringing in Dukes and Flamini and Pascara on indictments of conspiracy. But I think they can be defeated.”

  “You want us to become a prosecution witness?” anticipated Rosenberg.

  Franks jerked his head between the two men like a spectator at a tennis tournament, trying to comprehend what was happening.

  “Yes,” said Ronan. “If you are prepared to cooperate in every way, if you enable indictments to be handed down against Dukes, Flamini, and Pascara, I am prepared to offer you complete immunity against prosecution.”

  “I wouldn’t be prosecuted!” burst out Franks, forgetting his promise to Rosenberg.

  “No,” confirmed Ronan shortly.

  Why wasn’t Rosenberg showing more enthusiasm! thought Franks. They were being offered everything!

  “Yesterday Nicky Scargo, who introduced my client to these men in a manner which we say was criminal deception, was shot dead,” reminded Rosenberg.

  “We are further prepared to offer your client and his family complete protection throughout the duration of the grand jury hearing and trial,” said Ronan.

  “And afterward?” persisted the other lawyer.

  “He and his family will be admitted to the Witnesses Protection Program,” said Ronan.

  “What’s that?” asked Franks.

  Rosenberg looked sideways at him. “An entirely new life,” he said.

  PART THREE

  De Duobus malis minus est semper aligendum.

  (Of the two evils the lesser is always to be chosen.)

  Thomas à Kempis

  20

  Franks looked warily around the chambers, stopping finally at his own lawyer. Let’s actually see the straws before we start to clutch at them, Rosenberg had advised. Franks recognized the straw but wasn’t sure how to reach out for it. Looking at Rosenberg, Franks said, “I want to know what an entirely new life means.”

  “Exactly that,” said Rosenberg. The lawyer looked beyond, to Waldo. “Would you like to explain it?”

  The FBI agent tried and failed to straighten in the chair, pulling his huge bulk forward on to its edge. “Like the district attorney has already explained,” he said, “in return for your cooperation—your complete cooperation in providing us with all the evidence you might have and testifying in court against them—we will provide you and your family with guaranteed twenty-four-hour protection, until the conclusion of the trial. That means you, your wife, and your children …”

  Waldo hesitated, looking deferentially toward Ronan. The district attorney nodded, and said, “You’re doing fine.”

  “At the conclusion of all the hearings you—and your family—will enter a program that has been evolved to protect absolutely the identities and safety of those who help us convict recognized criminals and racketeers. The government will move you and your family anywhere in the country that you choose. You will be provided with new Social Security numbers, new bank accounts, new names. You’ll be guarded, until the FBI and the United States Marshals Service is satisfied that you have adjusted completely. And then you’ll be safe.”

  Franks remained staring at the man, sure he’d misunderstood. He purposely waited, expected Waldo to continue and correct the ridiculous inference but Waldo didn’t. Franks said, “Let’s just wait a minute. Are you proposing—saying—that at the end of the grand jury hearings and whatever trial follows I—and my family—will just disappear? I shall cease to be Eddie Franks and my wife will cease to be Tina Franks and my children will have to have different names, as well?”

  “Yes,” said Ronan, answering for the FBI agent.

  Franks laughed disbelievingly. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Oh, we’re very serious, Mr. Franks. There are a large number of people living safe, contented lives under the protection program. It’s proven extremely successful in persuading criminals to testify against their superiors.”

  “I am not a criminal, and Dukes and Flamini and Pascara are not my superiors!”

  Ronan and the two investigators stared at him steadily, making no response to the protest. “What if I say no?” demanded Franks.

  “I shall convene a grand jury and present the evidence before them and invite them to find that a case is justified,” said Ronan simply.

  “But that’s … that’s … that’s …”

  “What, Mr. Franks?” asked Ronan politely.

  “What about the businesses in Europe?” said Franks, not responding to the other man’s question. “How could they be run?”

  “You have a legal advisor, Mr. Franks,” said the district attorney, nodding toward Rosenberg. “I suggest you take his advice.”

  “Why couldn’t I just go back to England?” demanded Franks. “There’s nothing left for me here anyway. Why can’t I just go back there?”

  “It’s my obligation to make the facts clear to you,” said Ronan. “By cooperate we mean precisely that. Your agreement can’t be obtained under any sort of duress or misunderstanding. The Witnesses Protection Program has been designed to serve just that purpose: to protect witnesses.”

  “Are you telling me that I wouldn’t be safe—I wouldn’t be safe, or my wife and children—if I remained here to give evidence and then, at the conclusion of any hearing, returned to Europe?”

  “As your own counsel has already pointed out, Mr. Franks, one person involved in this affair has already been murdered. Before any legal proceedings have been instituted.”

  “Here!” protested Franks. “In America. I’m talking about Europe.”

  “I know what you’re talking about, Mr. Franks.”

  “You’re telling me I’ve got to lose everything!” said Franks, aghast. “You’re telling me that I’ve got to abandon everything I’ve built up throughout my life! Become somebody else!”

  “Yes,” said Ronan.

  “That’s not a choice! That’s blackmail!”

  “It is a choice.” argued Ronan. “It’s a choice that I would advise you to talk through with your advisor.”

  Franks shook his head. The lawyer responded, looking first to Franks and then to the district attorney. “Is there somewhere I can talk to my client alone?”

  “Of course,” said Ronan, rising and leading the way to a small anteroom. Rosenberg went first, with Franks trailing behind him. There were mo
re pennants on the wall and a small cot, covered with a blanket. There was no desk, but two easy chairs, and Rosenberg gestured Franks toward the one with its back to the window so that he sat looking into the room. Rosenberg remained standing, to see the other lawyer from the room. He securely closed the door behind the man and then came back to the other chair, moving it so that he was directly in front of Franks.

  “Well?” he said.

  “No!” refused Franks. “It’s preposterous.”

  “I know it seems that way,” said Rosenberg. “And I guess it is, but not to them. They can’t really lose, either way.”

  “But I can!”

  “I’d already warned you about that.”

  “No,” said Franks again, shaking his head, more to clear it than as a gesture of refusal. “They’re expecting me to give up everything.”

  “Except your freedom,” said Rosenberg. “If you want me to, then I shall refuse this offer and let the case proceed. But I’ve already told you what I think the chances are of getting an acquittal. And that was before I had any idea of the degree and extent of their investigation. We talked earlier about percentages, so let’s go on talking about them. In my honest opinion, from what I’ve heard here today and from what I’ve heard from you earlier—and taking into account what I read in that safe-deposit vault—I wouldn’t assess my chances of an acquittal higher than five percent.”

  “Five percent!”

  Rosenberg held up his hands, halting the outburst. “Let me finish,” said the lawyer. “I repeat, five percent. To try to achieve that acquittal I would, as I’ve already told you, call Flamini and Pascara and Dukes and do everything, in addition to whatever Ronan would attempt with his conspiracy charges, to convict them and save you.” The lawyer hesitated, to make his point. “Five percent,” he repeated. “And if I failed you’d go to jail—I guess on the charges that Ronan has let me see—for a minimum of eight years. Maybe five. To a jail where Pascara and Flamini and Dukes have more power and control than they have outside.”

  “You telling me that I would be killed there?”

  “Yes,” said Rosenberg. “I’m saying that you’d be subject to constant attack and assault and that the person who succeeded would probably have enough money to set himself up for life when he got out.”

  “You recommending that I should do what Ronan wants? Cooperate and then run and change my name?”

  “I think it’s your only way out of an impossible situation. Certainly I don’t imagine you could expect to go back to Europe and live safely there. Whether there was a successful conviction or not.”

  The analogy came suddenly to Eddie Franks, so forcefully that momentarily it silenced him. It was the complete circle. Not identical, in every respect, but similar enough. His father had run to survive and had abandoned Isaac Frankovich, and now he was expected to run to survive and abandon Eddie Franks. But there were differences; important differences. Would his father have run from Liberec and Warsaw and Frankfurt and Berlin and Hamburg if he’d had successful and thriving businesses, businesses he had no reason nor cause to leave? And Franks couldn’t convince himself that he did have cause; maybe here, in New York, or even beyond, in America, he had cause for fear, but surely not in safe, respectable London! The confidence grew, and then he remembered the blown-apart body of Nicky Scargo with his arm in its own plastic container lying where it should have been and the gaping head and chest.

  “All this is only your opinion!” said Franks in sudden belligerence.

  “Of course it is,” said Rosenberg, unoffended. “If you’d like to transfer the case then I shall do everything to help whatever new counsel you bring in. I’ll even help you find someone else; someone I think would try as hard as I would.”

  “Why?” demanded Franks, suddenly suspicious. “Why would you do that?”

  Rosenberg smiled at the hostility. “For a number of reasons, actually, Mr. Franks. I’ve made a reputation out of taking on difficult—seemingly impossible—cases and winning. I don’t believe I can win in this case. Not if we fight it. Which is not saying that I wouldn’t try everything I know to get your acquittal, if we do fight. So, personally, I don’t want to get involved in a case that is going to attract quite a lot of publicity and fail. It’s not an attitude in which I feel any particular pride. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit it. I’d try to do my best to find you another equally good lawyer because I would owe it to you, because of my own attitude. Cowardice, if you like.” The man stopped, thinking. “And there’s another reason. I’d do everything I could to get you the best man available and brief him as completely as possible because I feel desperately sorry for you. I believe that you’re innocent; I told you during that first interview that I believed you. I think you’re entirely innocent, but you’re caught up in a situation from which you can’t possibly escape. I feel as sorry as hell for you.”

  “I’m not sure that I want you to be so honest.”

  “That was the agreement we made when we started,” reminded Rosenberg.

  “I can’t make a decision right now,” protested Franks. “I need to talk it over with my wife. Have time to consider all the implications.”

  “I think that’s reasonable,” said Rosenberg.

  “I want to go back to Scarsdale.”

  “I’ll be available at any time. Come up there to you, if you like.”

  “Thank you,” said Franks. “Something else.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want another lawyer. Whatever I decide to do, I want to stay with you.”

  “I meant what I said,” reminded Rosenberg. “I will work for you to the very best and absolute of my ability. All the time.”

  “Which is why I want things to stay as they are,” said Franks.

  Rosenberg led the way back into the larger room. Ronan had organized coffee in their absence and offered it to them. Rosenberg accepted, but Franks declined. Rosenberg explained that Franks wanted time to think; Ronan agreed, saying that of course he understood. They had no intention of risking such an in-depth investigation by haste, and Franks could have as long as he wanted. Rosenberg thanked him and said he thought two or three days would be sufficient; a week at the outside. A week was quite acceptable, Ronan agreed.

  “We’ve also had the opportunity of talking while you were out of the room,” said the district attorney.

  “About what?” said Rosenberg.

  “We reached an understanding at the beginning of this meeting,” said Ronan. “I’ve no intention at this stage of trying to change that understanding.” He nodded toward Waldo. “But I’ve heard from the FBI of your visit to the safe-deposit vault. I thought it might indicate an advantage of our working together.”

  “I’ve no intention whatsoever of entering into any sort of discussion about what might or might not form part of my client’s defense, should this proceed to trial,” said Rosenberg, reverting to formality.

  “I didn’t expect you to, not for a moment,” assured Ronan smoothly. “I just considered it a point worth making.”

  “I’m quite aware of all the points worth making,” said Rosenberg. “The full protection of my client remains?”

  “Of course,” said Ronan.

  Rosenberg rose to leave and Franks followed. As Franks stood, Ronan said to him, “Please think very deeply about everything I’ve said.”

  “I’m hardly likely to forget,” said Franks.

  They left the building with Tomkiss and his partner and the same sort of elaborate security precaution. Just before the car reached Rosenberg’s office, the lawyer said, “Anything you’re not sure about?”

  “No,” said Franks.

  Rosenberg handed him a card and said, “That’s my home number; call me there if anything suddenly occurs to you.”

  Franks took it and put it in his breast pocket. “I’ll probably call you tomorrow.”

  “Take your time.”

  “And thanks.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet,”
said the lawyer.

  “Thanks anyway.”

  The FBI men let Rosenberg leave the vehicle unescorted, spurting the car away from the curb as soon as the man slammed the door. The clogged Manhattan traffic, constantly stopping them, worried both the agents. Franks stayed hunched in the back, uncaring. He tried to consider everything that had been said that afternoon, to create the necessary balance in his mind and prepare himself for the discussion that would be necessary with Tina, because it was important that he talk everything through with her, but persistently one remark kept presenting itself. You’re caught up in a situation from which you can’t possibly escape. Only days before—or was it hours?—he’d been considering a defense against any charges, and now he was confronting the reality of there being no defense; just situations from which he couldn’t escape. How much—dear God, how much—he wanted to imagine it was all a dream, a nightmare, something from which he was going to awaken and find his life as settled and safe and organized as it had been such a very short time ago. Franks strained against the temptation, like he’d strained against it before and for the same reason. But it was a recurring reflection, he recognized. Was a lawyer enough for him to face what he was going to have to face, whatever his decision? Shouldn’t he seek the help of a doctor as well? Franks blinked against the thought, angry at another weakness. Definitely not a doctor. He wasn’t going to become dependent on pills, and he wasn’t going to become dependent on booze. Maybe he’d never known pressure like this—never conceived pressure like this was possible—but he was still strong enough to handle it without the need for any sort of artificial crutch.