Eddie Flynn 02-The Plea

by Steve Cavanagh

  Ten floors below, on the sidewalk, Christine stared up at me. It was a fleeting moment, a terrible second of realization that hit like a hammer blow. One of the firm’s security men bundled her into a black town car. I hammered the glass, ignored the looks and cries of people in the corridor, and gritted my teeth as I saw Gerry Sinton with a cell phone in his hand, probably Christine’s. He slid into the car after her. They sped into traffic and were lost from my view.

  ‘Don’t even think about taking a swing at me. I’m through playin’ around with you. You try anything and I’ll put you down. This is your fault. All you had to do was get me my plea. But you couldn’t do that, could you?’ said Dell.

  ‘What have you done?’ I said, shaking my head.

  ‘I haven’t done anything. We let her go. Somebody else picked her up. Nothing to do with me.’

  My ears were ringing with blood and my hands trembled. I thought about my hands – slipping around Dell’s throat, squeezing his neck, feeling his windpipe collapse, watching the capillaries in his eyes burst.

  He checked his watch.

  ‘If Child’s algo is right, the money lands in an account in central Manhattan in four hours. If I don’t have my plea by then, I can’t guarantee her safety. Right now the firm wants to know exactly what Christine has heard about all of this and whom she’s told. They’ll take her back to their offices. They want to know what the FBI has on them. They already know there’s some kind of deal, because an FBI agent is handing you documents in court. That was stupid.’

  He was right. I hadn’t thought about how that would look if the firm was watching. Stupid move. I turned and heard Perry answer the phone I’d handed to him. Within a few seconds he’d sunk to his knees. I knew how he felt.

  ‘How long can she hold out, do you think? An hour? Five minutes? Five seconds? My guess is they won’t make their final play until the money hits Harland’s account. We’ll keep an eye on things, make sure she isn’t hurt too bad.

  ‘I’m gonna give you one last chance, Eddie. I don’t want to subpoena David Child. I want him under an agreement, under my control. Doesn’t matter what kinda deal the DA is offering. Just take it. I can always get a few years shaved off if he testifies the way I want him to.’

  ‘You mean you want him to lie. You want him to lie about murdering his girlfriend and testify that his system was designed and built for the firm so that they could launder money.’

  ‘You only getting it now? I thought you were smart.’

  ‘He’ll never admit to a murder he didn’t commit, and as for the system, he built it in good faith. If the firm used it illegally, that’s their bad. It’s a lie, and it ruins him.’

  ‘He’s already ruined. Even if he’s acquitted, people will never be convinced that he’s innocent. This kind of shit sticks forever. But it doesn’t have to go bad for Christine. As soon as he’s pleaded, we’ll get her safe. It’s your call. Don’t worry about David Child; it’s like I said – shit sticks, and he’s in far too deep for you to help him.’

  Dell shouldered past me, back into the courtroom. I swung back and saw Perry moving toward me as quick as his limp would allow. He handed me back the cell, mouthed the word ‘sorry,’ then shuffled into the elevator, almost falling in his haste.

  The corridor shrank. I swallowed, trying to hold down the vomit. I fought for control.

  The Lizard stepped out of the court and joined me. I had to lean on his shoulder, take deep breaths. We took a corner, so we could talk without being overheard.

  ‘Turns out your old buddy Perry didn’t want to meet Bert and Ernie. He said he had to go away for a while, visit his aunt in Topeka.’

  ‘Dell let Christine slip out of court. The firm was waiting for her. This is all pressure to make me bust David’s case and force him to plea. Did Perry tell you who paid him to crash into David’s car?’

  ‘He recognized the guy from the photos on the phone. Said it was the man in photograph three.’

  ‘Was he sure?’

  ‘One hundred percent. You gonna make David take the plea?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t trust Dell. He’s happy to risk Christine’s life. I’m not so sure he’s willing to save it.’

  The Lizard brought up the third photograph on the camera phone. It was the photo I’d taken of Langhiemer.

  ‘Goddamn it, David was right,’ I said.

  ‘You said you needed the Lizard,’ said the Lizard.

  ‘The firm has Christine. I think they’ve taken her to the Lightner Building. You remember the first day I met you, you had a steel box in the back of your van with some toys in it?’

  ‘It’s still there,’ he said.

  ‘This is what I need you to do …’

  The Lizard bolted down the steps, headed out with a Hail Mary. He was probably the one man I completely trusted in this whole damn situation. Heavy footsteps behind me. Kennedy tapped me on the shoulder.

  ‘It’s Langhiemer. He paid the driver to crash into David’s car. I just had it confirmed. He’s the one who’s set up this whole damn thing. And I can’t use it in court. You need to pick him up,’ I said.

  ‘We will, but we don’t have it all yet. This changes things,’ he said, and held out his cell phone. It had an image on the screen.

  ‘You asked me to check out who had access to that French ballistics paper on GSR and air bags. I called the university, and the only person who has ordered it online was you, yesterday. They keep a record. Other than that, the report has never been published in any periodical. The only other occasion in which sections of the report have been made available was at an Interpol conference last year. I got the names of those who attended. Nothing stood out. So I called Interpol and asked for the security IDs for all the delegates who attended that lecture. Fourteen attended. This is the one we’re looking for. Sarah Callan.’

  I looked again at the image on Kennedy’s cell. This time I made the connection.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said.

  He shook his head.

  ‘What the hell does it mean, Eddie?’

  Right then I didn’t know.

  ‘You got background on this Sarah Callan?’

  ‘My director is e-mailing me. I told him what’s happening on the task force, and he’s just as pissed as I am. He doesn’t want this to blow up in our faces.’

  I told him about Christine – he flinched.

  ‘I heard the task force is on their way to the Lightner Building now. The team is gonna clear out the associates and arrest Sinton and the firm’s security personnel. She’ll be okay. I’ll get Ferrar and Weinstein to make sure she’s looked after,’ he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

  ‘Your Honor, we seem to have had a little difficulty in locating our next witness, Mr Woodrow,’ said Zader. ‘His evidence was in relation to the automobile accident and spotting the murder weapon in the defendant’s vehicle. We can’t proceed with that evidence, but we do have the officer who found the weapon in the car and made the arrest. The people call Patrolman Philip Jones.’

  A uniformed cop came forward, well built, early forties, dark hair, the shadow of a beard on his cheeks even though he’d evidently shaved that morning.

  ‘Officer, I understand you’ve recently left the force?’ said Zader.

  ‘Not quite. The day I arrested the defendant was supposed to be my last day as a police officer, but since this case has become so important, I’ve agreed to stay on for another month, to assist with this prosecution.’

  Zader thanked him for his dedication, then ripped through the preliminary questions: time on the job, experience, attending at the scene of the accident. Fast questions followed by fast answers; Zader couldn’t wait to get to the meat.

  ‘Officer, at the scene of the car accident, what did you see when you were standing at the passenger door of the defendant’s vehicle?’

  ‘A handgun, just sitting there in the footwell.’

  ‘Are you sure it was a gun?’
/>   ‘I could see it clearly. I opened the door, removed the weapon, then questioned the suspect. He said he didn’t own a gun and had never seen this gun before.’

  ‘Thank you, Officer. Please remain in the witness stand. Mr Flynn might have a question or two. Although I can’t imagine what they might be,’ said Zader.

  ‘Are you sure this is going to work?’ said David.

  ‘I’ve got to try,’ I told him, patting his shoulder as I stood. He was getting better at handling physical contact – it may well have been the case that he needed it now more than he’d ever realized.

  ‘Officer, you got to the scene of the accident very quickly indeed. How did you accomplish this?’ I asked.

  ‘It wasn’t all that fast. I got the call from dispatch and I was maybe two blocks from there, so I took the call.’

  ‘And where were you when you received the call?’

  He took a breath before he answered, shook his head a little.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure. I was in that area.’

  ‘You said you were around two blocks from the scene of the accident. You must have some idea?’

  ‘I think I was in or around Sixty-Third Street.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,’ he said.

  I handed the witness the dispatch record, which Kennedy had gotten for me. I gave a copy to the judge and one to Zader.

  ‘You got any more rabbits in that hat?’ said Zader.

  ‘Just a few,’ I said.

  ‘This is the transcript from dispatch for the night of the murder. Mr Woodrow, the pickup driver who collided with the defendant’s car, gives his location at the intersection of Sixty-Sixth Street and Park. Can you read out your response to the dispatcher?’

  He cleared his throat, and confidently, even nonchalantly read, ‘“Show Twenty Charlie handling. I’m on Sixty-Third coming onto Central Park West.” I’m in the Twentieth Precinct and I’m car Charlie. That’s my call sign. See, I was right. I remembered. I was on Sixty-Third,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘So, you were on Sixty-Third when the call came in. I take it you were on patrol at that time?’

  ‘Correct. I was mobile.’

  The judge shook his head. I needed to spell it out for him.

  ‘When you say you were mobile, that means prior to receiving the call, you were driving around the area on patrol, correct?’

  A slight hesitation from Jones before he said, ‘Correct. I’d been patrolling since that afternoon.’

  ‘And after you picked up the call, you went immediately to the accident scene?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. When I reached the bottom of Sixty-Third I made a left onto Central Park West, and the accident was three blocks ahead.’

  Nodding, Judge Rollins looked over his notes. So far Officer Jones had been completely straightforward.

  ‘Officer, you were the single patrolman in Twenty Charlie that day?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a lot of years under my belt. I’m not a sergeant, but I’ve got enough time on the job that I get to go out on my own.’

  ‘How many times have you failed the sergeant’s exam?’

  ‘Relevance?’ said Zader.

  ‘A little latitude, Your Honor,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll allow it,’ said Rollins.

  He coughed, ‘Eight times.’

  ‘I understand you’ve got a new position; you’re leaving the force?’

  ‘That’s correct. I’ll be working for a private security contractor in Iraq. Security detail. It’s a little more dangerous than Manhattan, but the pay is triple my salary as a cop.’

  ‘Very nice. When did you get this new position?’

  ‘I got confirmation a few months ago.’

  ‘And how much was your signing bonus?’

  ‘Do I have to answer that?’

  ‘This is my last question on this topic, Your Honor.’

  A nod from Judge Rollins and Jones shook his head. He steepled his fingers, pressing them together hard, whitening the tips.

  ‘Two hundred thousand dollars,’ said Jones.

  I didn’t react. But I watched Judge Rollins blow out his cheeks.

  ‘You’d never met the defendant before that day?’

  ‘No. I’d heard of him, obviously, but no, I’d never met him.’

  ‘So you don’t hold any grudges against him?’

  ‘No. I’m a law enforcement officer. We don’t hold grudges. And like I said, I’d never met him.’

  ‘And you have no reason to lie about any of this, do you?’

  ‘No reason at all,’ he said, shaking his head, pursing his lips.

  ‘It’s not like you’re looking for promotion. You’re moving into a much better paid job, isn’t that right?’

  ‘Right,’ he said, folding his arms.

  ‘So why are you lying?’

  Judge Rollins’s head snapped to me, then back to the witness.

  ‘I’m not lying about anything, Counselor.’

  I picked up the last of the documents that Kennedy had procured and handed copies to the judge and Zader, then gave a copy to Officer Jones. He took it reluctantly, then scanned it and hung his head.

  ‘Officer, this is a record of GPS locations for your vehicle on the night of the murder. All NYPD vehicles are fitted with a tracker, correct?’

  ‘Yes, we have a tracker, but …’

  ‘This is the NYPD record of your vehicle’s movements for that evening. Please take a moment to look over it and tell me when the tracker reports your location as Sixty-Third Street.’

  He didn’t read the report. He shook his head and just looked at the page. He already knew. Zader and Rollins scanned quickly, looking for the relevant entry.

  ‘Perhaps I can assist you, Officer. The report confirms that your vehicle never entered Sixty-Third Street that day.’

  ‘Maybe the satellite was out,’ said Jones.

  ‘No, it wasn’t. Working backward, the record shows your vehicle stopping at Sixty-Sixth and Park for twenty-three minutes, while you dealt with the accident, found the gun, and arrested Mr Child. Before that the record shows your vehicle having traveled to the accident scene from Central Park West. You actually passed the intersection for Sixty-Third Street on your way to the accident.’

  Nodding, but not answering, Jones looked around for help. None was offered.

  ‘So your testimony just now, that you made a left at the bottom of Sixty-Third onto Central Park West, that was a lie?’

  ‘No. It was an honest mistake.’

  ‘Before you drove to the accident scene, the record shows your vehicle parked outside Central Park Eleven for thirty-three minutes. You lied to the dispatcher?’

  ‘So I made a mistake. I …’

  ‘You’ve got a lot of time under your belt as an officer. You said so yourself. Are you telling this court you don’t know the difference between Central Park West and Sixty-Third Street?’

  ‘No. I just made a mistake,’ he said.

  ‘A mistake, not a lie?’

  ‘No, I made a mistake.’

  ‘So it’s just a coincidence that at the precise time that Clara Reece was murdered you were parked across the street from her building?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it’s just another coincidence that you picked up the dispatch call for the accident that resulted in the defendant’s arrest with the murder weapon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were in court this morning when Officer Noble gave his evidence?’

  ‘Yes, I was.’

  ‘You heard his testimony that he found dirt or soil in the magazine from the murder weapon when he ejected the clip.’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘And you heard him testify that it’s possible that the killer deliberately fired into the window of Mr Child’s apartment, maybe to alert the neighbor, Mr Gershbaum?’

  ‘I heard that.’

  ‘There may have been another reason for the window to have
broken. Mr Child’s apartment is on the twenty-fifth floor of that building. At that height, it wouldn’t take a strong man to throw the murder weapon across the street and into Central Park, would it?’

  Silence. The witness didn’t move, not even an attempt to answer the question. His stare moved past me. From the front door of David’s building, a fifth grader could pitch a ball into the park. From the balcony of David’s apartment on the twenty-fifth floor, you could damn near spit into the park.

  ‘Your vehicle was sitting beside the park for a long time. You were waiting in the park, opposite the building, watching the defendant’s balcony. That’s a pretty secluded area of the park. You’re behind hedges. This was very carefully planned, and you knew, to the minute, when the gun would be thrown into the park from the balcony. You waited until you saw the weapon being thrown from the apartment, retrieved it from the grass, wiped off the dirt, then stashed it in your coat …’

  ‘This is bull—’

  ‘Watch your tongue in this courtroom,’ said Judge Rollins, staring at Jones. I thought I saw a trickle of light in Rollins, the spark of something in his eyes – the beginning of doubt. I had to make it flourish.

  ‘When you got to your car, you removed your backup piece from your ankle holster, locked it in the glove compartment, and put the murder weapon into your ankle holster, correct?’

  ‘This is … lies.’

  ‘Officer, you searched the defendant, his bag, and his entire vehicle, isn’t that right?’

  ‘That’s accurate. I did.’

  ‘And you did not find any gloves?’

  ‘I did not find gloves.’

  ‘And despite not having gloves, or the means to properly clean the murder weapon, the defendant’s fingerprints were not found on that gun?’

  ‘I don’t believe they were.’

  ‘The only fingerprints on that gun were yours, Officer Jones?’

  ‘I should’ve worn gloves when I picked up the gun.’

  ‘You mean when you picked it up out of the dirt in Central Park?’

  A moment’s hesitation before he said, ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t manage to clean all of the dirt from the weapon, did you? I suppose you didn’t have much time. No one on the street would see a gun passing overhead, but you had to be quick to pick it up from the lawn.’