Karp said, "I agree he could hang himself if we can get him the rope. But that's the problem, isn't it?"
"We could watch him. And then, if he moves on another woman…"
She stopped because Karp was shaking his head vigorously. "No, that's what's been wrong with our thinking on this case. It's all based on common plan, pattern, or design. That's dead. Even if we caught him with a girl, and the panty hose and the whole deal there, we'd have nothing. A first-offense sexual assault. I want him for the knife job. The Wagner."
Marlene bristled. "You think I don't? And what do you mean 'wrong'? The pattern is our whole case. That's how we caught him, for Chrissake."
"That's how you caught him, sure, but that's not how you're gonna get him," said Karp. "You have to tie him… no, you have to get him to tie himself to the murder. And the only way to do that is…" He paused for several minutes, his eyes unfocused, his long index finger moving from side to side like a metronome, working out the play. At last he looked at her and said, "Shit, this could work!"
"What?"
He told her. She wrinkled her fine brow. "You think so? That he'll go for it?"
"It's worth a shot. I'd have to convince him that I'm as dumb as he thinks we are. Give me a couple of days to set it up, and we'll find out."
Later that evening, Karp called Fulton at home.
"I got a little problem you could help me with," Karp began.
"I got a problem too, Butch," Fulton replied. "I was just gonna call you. Amalfi tried to arrest me today. Did you know he was turned? Somebody's got him on a wire."
"Shit, no!" Karp said. "I don't know anything about that. Who was it?"
"Internal Affairs, the dirt-bags. But that's not the worst of it. You know how we were thinking that these shitheads were looking to set me up and lay all the killings on me? Well, it went down today. Manning sent me and Amalfi over to a hospital to kill Nicky Benning. I went in and faked it and then I figured Amalfi would be laying to take me out. I got the jump on him and I found this goddamn wire."
"Have you told the chief yet?" Karp asked.
"No, I wanted to talk to you first, see if you'd heard anything."
"Shit, that's a laugh! I'm the last to know and the first to get fucked," said Karp. "Look, the main thing is, this deal you had cooked up with Denton is out the window. We got to go to him together and rethink the strategy here. For starters, we got to at least sit down with whoever is running Amalfi. Our main job now is to nail down the case against Manning and Amalfi and pressure them to drop a dime on whoever is running this game. My thinking is, if it's presented as a massive high-level corruption thing, it'll take some of the sting out of cops being involved. That should bring Denton around to handling it like a real case."
"Yeah," said Fulton, "but I already know who's running it. Amalfi told me. It's Fane. And parties unknown."
"Oh, that's perfect! That's great! Bloom puts together a drug task force and half the people on it are in the dope business. Look, Clay, you have to get off the street. Things are gonna get crazy, starting tomorrow."
"Uh-uh," said Fulton, "we got nothing on Fane, except for Amalfi's say-so, which isn't worth shit. You're talking about a U.S. congressman here. We need a smoking gun."
"Clay, let me worry about constructing the fucking case, OK?" said Karp. "We got other ways of getting Fane. Meanwhile, when Manning finds out Benning's still breathing, he's gonna come after you."
Fulton chuckled. "Yeah, I thought of that. I had Benning moved to another hospital. I'll tell Manning he was gone when I got there."
"Fine, but what makes you so sure Amalfi is gonna be such a sweetheart? How do you know Manning doesn't know about the wire and you already?"
"Amalfi's shitting in his pants, Butch. He's got IAD on his ass, he's looking over his shoulder all the time. He won't do dick. Believe me, it's not gonna be a problem. Speaking of which, you said you had a problem."
It took Karp a few seconds to remember why he had called. "Oh, yeah. The reason I called, I need to borrow a murderer."
Fulton's rich laugh came over the line. "You came to the right place." "What is this, some kind of joke?" said Alan Meissner, his voice angry across the phone line.
"It's no joke, Mr. Meissner," said Karp calmly. He had called Meissner shortly after he had finished his call with Fulton. Marlene was in bed and Karp was stretched out on the couch in the living area, relaxed and radiating sincerity into the mouthpiece.
"We really need your help on a police matter."
"Oh, really? What matter? And why me?"
"Well, let me be perfectly frank with you," Karp said. "The police are working on a series of multiple rape-murders. There's a pattern there, but they can't figure it out. I suggested that you would be ideal for helping them."
Meissner laughed. "You people must think I'm simple. OK, I'll bite: tell me why you think I'm ideal."
"Because you know the bar scene in New York. Because you're extremely intelligent. And because you beat the rap."
"I beat the rap because I was innocent, Karp."
"Yeah, of course. But let's say for the sake of argument that you beat it because you're too smart for the police. OK, we accept that; we can't beat everybody. And just between you, me, and the lamppost, it was a shitty case. A bunch of women whining because they forgot how to say no, and then trying to tie it to a nasty slash murder. Real thin. And let me say this: I could care less if it was you with all those women. That's past.
"But the guy I'm talking about is a complete crazy. A razor artist. All we know about him is he's black. And real smart. In fact, if I had to guess, he'd be one of the only guys we've come across who was possibly smarter than you."
"I seriously doubt that, Karp."
"Well, give it a shot, then. Listen, I'm under a lot of pressure from the bleeding hearts around here to move on these rape charges. Not that we'd win, but it'd put you through a lot of trouble and embarrassment. If you help the police in this one, you'd look a lot better."
A long pause. Then Meissner asked, "What would I have to do?"
"Just look at the case files, talk to the cops, give them the benefit of your experience. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."
Meissner uttered a low chuckle. "OK, you talked me into it. But, Karp, if I get one hint that this is some kind of scheme to entrap me, I walk out, and I'll bring so much shit down on you you'll stink for the rest of your life."
"Hey, that's great," said Karp sincerely. "You got a right to be suspicious. But it's on the level. I'll send a driver around for you about ten tomorrow." The next day was frustrating for Marlene: half a dozen court dates, racing from one courtroom to another, calling missing witnesses, fighting to focus on what she was doing, trying not to think only about what Karp was doing, up at the Twenty-eighth Precinct. Nothing started on time, of course, so her carefully constructed schedule was in tatters by eleven-thirty.
At the noon recess, she called Karp, but he was not yet back from the precinct, where he was supervising the first phase of their Meissner plan. Even Marlene agreed that she couldn't participate. Meissner might go for a complaisant Karp; having Marlene there would spook him out of his shoes. The afternoon passed in much the same manner. When she broke free at four-thirty, she raced to Karp's office, rushed through the crowded outer room, and flung open the private door without knocking.
"You should knock, Marlene," Karp said. "I could have been picking my nose."
She ignored this. "What happened!" she cried.