“Human nature,” Lazarus said, “is a marvelous thing.” He laughed. It was probably the second time in the three years in which Ritter had worked with him that he heard Lazarus laugh.
“There’s more,” Ritter said. “Our people found out that Mr. Garafalo had been feeding his pillow talk with Commissioner Carbone to Mr. Gandhi. Apparently the commissioner becomes talkative when Mr. Garafalo does whatever he does to her.”
“How do you know that?”
“Mr. Gandhi was a techie-kind of guy. He recorded every conversation he had on his cell phone.”
“That,” Lazarus said, “can be a dangerous habit.”
“It was. Gandhi was getting calls from a guy who imitated a crank from Queens or Brooklyn. Garafalo is the ventriloquist. Of course he never gave his name or said where he was getting his information. The commissioner must have whispered sweet nothings into Tony’s ears about the state-of-the-art dark prison on Pier 37 and her special anti-terror unit. Garafalo knew about the arrests of Arabs on the hit list Carbone’s people created.”
“And this Italian guy told a reporter for the Times about this? Will wonders never cease? Why?”
“Tony and Gina-sounds like the cast of Grease, doesn’t it-grew up together. Their families are part of the immense, closed-off Italian American tribe on Staten Island. Our intelligence people have quickly figured out that Garafalo, whose male relatives were always soldiers in the Gambino family, was upset, and that may not be the right word, when he found out during his trial that the then newly minted detective Gina Carbone was part of the large team that investigated him in the ’90s. He went to jail for seven or eight years for threatening people called to a special grand jury. When he came out, it so happened he met Gina at one of those big Italian barbecues. He had gone straight, he told her. He had taken a job at a Mercedes dealership. He is one extraordinarily handsome man. Carbone was attracted to him. She’s brave, she’s reckless. She’s also a devout Catholic. She believes sinners can be redeemed.”
Lazarus’ arms were folded. “And Mr. Garafalo holds grudges?”
“Big time,” Ritter said. “He was looking for a time and place and the right circumstances to hurt her.”
“And where,” Lazarus asked, “is the commissioner now?”
“We’re not sure. Until an hour or two ago she was with the mayor, at breakfast.”
“I want her arrested, too,” Lazarus said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CARL SCHURZ PARK was a gem which few people even in Manhattan knew. Gracie Mansion was at the northern end of the jewel-like grounds. The park was only the depth of a city block. It ran from Gracie Mansion to the far end of East 83rd Street. Quiet East End Avenue was its western border. To the east was the river and an esplanade that overlooked vistas of the river itself and in the distance the Triboro Bridge, the shoreline of Queens, Roosevelt Island and, to the south, the 59th Street Bridge. The park had graceful stone paths, ancient trees, alcoves with benches, flower beds, a small playground and two popular fenced dog runs, one for the big dogs and the other for the small dogs. There were sloping lawns where young men and women sunbathed.
Roland Fortune, who took pride in knowing every street, park, and neighborhood in Manhattan, arranged for his press conference at the heart of the park. It was a stone and granite area next to the esplanade where two large staircases divided to lead to a gorgeous walkway that formed the main entrance to Carl Schurz Park at East 86th Street and East End Avenue.
It was another glorious morning in the stricken city, slightly cooler than the three previous days. Through Irv Rothstein’s marvel of contacts with the press and Hans Richter’s magician-like tactical abilities, clusters of microphones and wires had been assembled in an hour at the heart of the park so that Roland could stand with a background of flowers, trees, and the nineteenth-century stone walkways behind him. A city in which thousands of deaths had just taken place was made to appear like the most famous European capitals, the work of master landscape architects of the late nineteenth-century.
It took fewer than three minutes for Roland, wearing a blue blazer, slacks, and a fresh white shirt, to walk from Gracie Mansion’s terrace to the press conference. The benign light from the early morning sun over the East River gave his whole presence a kind of relaxed radiance. Gina Carbone walked with him.
Roland began, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Consistent with my promises since the start of this crisis, I have current information for you. The first and most important is that I have issued ten minutes ago an order lifting the lockdown of Manhattan.”
A small group of early morning walkers, for the most part people with their dogs, had gathered at the unexpected sight of reporters and the mayor of New York City suddenly materializing in their beloved park. There was applause.
Roland briefly acknowledged the applause. “The lifting of the lockdown will take place gradually and in an orderly fashion over the next several hours, beginning now. Commissioner Gina Carbone is here with me. Let’s be clear: her skill, ingenuity, and command abilities have made the lifting of the lockdown possible. Manhattan is safe enough to be reintegrated with the world.”
Gina, who looked almost as radiant as Roland in the fresh sunlight, nodded and smiled slightly.
“This is not to say,” Roland continued, “that the danger has passed. Over the last two days, the remarkable members of the New York City Police Department have engaged in war-like battles, all of which they have won, and they have thwarted attacks on landmarks of national, indeed international, importance, such as St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The commissioner, with the assistance of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, has ongoing efforts in place to trap and neutralize terrorists who may-and I stress may -still have cells in Manhattan or elsewhere in the city with more plans for assaults and mayhem. But we believe the major sources of danger have been eliminated or neutralized.”
A reporter’s voice rang out. “Commissioner Carbone, what can you tell us about Tony Garafalo?”
Roland said, “We are not here to comment on anything other than essential information. We’re not going to be distracted by trivia. The people of Manhattan are interested in one thing only, and that is their safety and the restoration of order, reconstruction, and the return to the wonderful vibrancy of this stricken paradise known as Manhattan. Even as we speak, the barriers at every bridge and tunnel are being taken down, although there will continue to be checkpoints at both ends of each tunnel and bridge to be sure that those who have done damage will be caught. There are no places where the evil can hide or to which they can escape.”
Roland paused and extended his right arm. “You see around us here one of the gems of this city, Carl Schurz Park. There are thousands of miraculous places in this city. Several of them have been defaced and desecrated by the cowards who carried out these attacks. Every place that has been damaged will be restored. While we can never rule it out, Commissioner Carbone and I are confident that the people responsible have been arrested or are dead or that we know who they are and where they are. And, to them, we say, We are coming for you. There’s no place to hide.”
Another reporter’s voice: “Commissioner, can you tell us when the dark prison on Pier 37 was built?”
Roland said, “When I had the incredible good fortune to appoint Gina Carbone the NYPD Commissioner, my first and only instructions to her were that she had my complete support in achieving a single objective: protecting the people of New York City from anyone and everyone who would harm them. She was herself a warrior with years of experience in major combat operations in the first Gulf War combined with years of experience in the day-to-day operations of protecting the people of this city. Under her command, the rates for crimes ranging from fare-jumping to murder have fallen to levels much lower than those of cities with fewer than 200,000 people. We have more than seven million people who live here in the safety of ordinary times.”