Without turning his head, Butch knew that Murrow had glanced toward him at the mention of the Coney Island case but he ignored the look.
"…next is Olav Radinskaya, who also happens to be the borough president for Brooklyn and is said to have close ties to the Russian mob. Perhaps our resident authority on gangsters, Mr. Guma, can shed some light on that."
All eyes turned to Guma, who studied the chewed end of his cigar and shrugged. "Not my people, do go on Mr. Newbury."
There was a general chuckle from the audience, and Newbury moved to his last name, "Shakira Zulu." The name elicited a groan from everyone in the room. Born and raised as Sandra Bond, she had changed her name and joined the Black Panther Party in the late 1960s. Karp had personally prosecuted a case in which she was convicted for her role as the getaway driver for bank robbers who killed two off-duty police officers, working as security guards, in cold blood. After the jury came back with the guilty verdict for manslaughter, Zulu had been dragged from the courtroom kicking and screaming that she would someday "kill Karp and all his honky friends and family."
"I'm sure we all remember how seven years later, Zulu told the parole board that she didn't mean what she'd said about killing anybody," Newbury said. "She intended to 'work for change in this corrupt and racist society' through legal means."
After her release from prison, where she'd earned her GED and even took several college credit classes, Newbury noted, Zulu went to New York University and after graduation, to law school in Georgia. "The press was invited to her law school graduation ceremonies, where she consented to a dozen interviews, all of them some version on her mission in life being to 'take on The Man in his own backyard.' Ever since, she's been at the forefront of criticizing this office, as well as DAs throughout the five boroughs, and of course races to sign up any African-American family that feels wronged by the police…if Hugh Louis doesn't beat her to the punch. And she is, of course, at the forefront of any antipolice rallies, especially if she knows the television crews will be there. So it's pretty interesting that Shakira, not to mention these other firms who've made one side of their living by shafting the police and this office, were given these other cases."
Newbury paused for dramatic effect before wrapping up his presentation. "However, so far we haven't been able to make a case that these law firms have done anything illegal in recommending these settlements and recommending that this office not pursue criminal charges against the officers involved," he said. "After all, this office-and its previous tenants Mr. Bloom and Mr. Keegan-were not obligated to accept the recommendations."
Karp grimaced at the mention of his predecessor. It didn't surprise him that Bloom had been a crook from the beginning. In fact, Karp had helped put him in prison, where he remained. However, Jack X. Keegan had been one of his mentors, the head of the famous homicide bureau that he'd aspired to as a young prosecutor. When Keegan replaced Bloom, he'd chosen Karp to be his number two and then recommended that the governor promote him to the top spot when Keegan was appointed a federal judge.
Karp took over from Newbury. "Anyway, I've asked V.T. to hold off on pursuing the cases against the cops-at least where we're not worried about the statute of limitations running out-until we get a handle on how this relationship among the Corporation Counsel, these other law firms, and this office worked. To me, something smells worse than Guma's old gym socks."
"Hey, hey…cheap shot, paisan," Guma complained, though with a smile. "I haven't been to a gym since they gutted me like a trout."
As the others in the room chuckled, Murrow cleared his throat to speak. "I'm sorry to be the one who always has to mention the political considerations here, but I do think it's important to point out that Hugh Louis and Shakira Zulu pretty much control the black vote. Not to mention that Butch is already walking on thin ice with the NYPD because of what happened with Kane's little cadre of killer cops. Those guys in blue don't like anybody else cleaning their house. I'm not saying we ignore all this, but perhaps-since we're delaying things anyway to look at these law firms-if we took our time before we stirred up these hornets' nests it might help improve Butch's chances of remaining in this office. We're less than a year from the election and I think-"
Kipman interrupted Murrow. "And lose a few more of these cases to the passing of time?" he scoffed. "Or, take a chance that some of these people get wind of Newbury and his gang's line of questioning and skip town? Since when do we let political expediency dictate how this office prosecutes the bad guys?"
Murrow rolled his eyes. "Oh, since about the mid-1800s, if I remember my history of Manhattan," he said. "I know we'd all like to live in a world where Butch wouldn't have to walk on eggshells, but I think we all also agree that in the end, it's keeping him in office that will do the most good for the most people. Pursuing these cases-especially if we end up butting heads with several of the biggest, or at least most vociferous, law firms in the five boroughs-could take years. But if Butch gets tossed out on his ear next November, who's to say if they don't just go away again?"
"It's a matter of principle," Kipman replied.
"Principles don't do you any good if you're on the outside looking in," Murrow shot back.
Kipman started to retort but Karp interrupted him. "All right, all right, break it up you two," he said. "I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves. I want us to hold off on filing charges against these cops until we see if we can't find out how this whole thing worked and if there are others who deserve our attention-so long as we don't lose any of these cases to Father Time." He looked at Murrow. "We'll do our best to keep this all low-key, and we won't go forward against these law firms until we're sure, but I can't do my job if I'm hung up over the political ramifications."
Murrow started to protest, but Karp held up his hand. "Let's just let this be until we have to deal with it. Right now, we have a staff meeting to get to."
The others took that as a signal, rose from their seats, and wandered out the door. Murrow hung back until the others had left. He pointed to the boxes. "You want to tell me what those are doing here? A Brooklyn case?" But Karp just clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "All in good time, Gilbert. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I have to do this my way, understand?" Murrow nodded but Karp knew it was more out of politeness than because he agreed.
The pair walked together into the meeting room, a long, wood-paneled space with paintings of previous New York district attorneys on the walls, an American flag and the flag of New York City in opposite corners, and a long, narrow table in the middle surrounded by black chairs. Karp took a seat at the head of the table with Kipman on one side and Murrow on the other.
The bureau chiefs and their assistants were quietly talking to one another or nervously shuffling their papers, preparing to present their cases for dissection by the others. Karp glanced toward the other end of the table, where Rachel Rachman, the chief of the Sex Crimes Bureau, sat staring glumly at the ceiling as she clenched and unclenched her hands. She'd always had a tendency to dress in neon-bright colors-today a pantsuit the color of a plastic Halloween pumpkin-that belied a personality as devoid of color and warmth as an ice cube. However, she was a tough courtroom litigator and neither asked for nor gave quarter when prosecuting rapists and child molesters.
"Okay, let's get started," Murrow said. He enjoyed the role of moderator while Karp sat back and listened. "Harry, you want to start by telling us the latest with the People vs. Salaam and Mohammed, otherwise known at the Columbia Basketball Players Rape Case."