"Not to mention the bad guys, all of them in businesses where every secret has a price tag. And the press is already starting to nose around. You're figuring you can lay the drug-lord killings off on Willis, maybe Manning was working undercover too, got shot, poor bastard. Excuse me, but I still can't believe that you and Clay Fulton were going to stand up and salute at an inspector's funeral for Dick Manning.
"Bill, what can I say? If I really thought you were a run-for-cover type of person, I wouldn't even be here. I was willing to hang out there for you when this started, but…"
Karp took a long slow breath and let it out. "I'm telling you, the time for that is way past. Nobody will believe the story, and to be absolutely frank, you're too damn honest to be a credible liar under the kind of pressure you're gonna have to face. Your only choice is how you want the story to come out.
"And what's the story? The business we discussed a while ago, the crazy-cop angle-that's ancient history. It never happened. The truth that'll come out is that the NYPD had a worm and they assigned the best they had to go after it, and it worked. The bad guys are dead. And look who's really responsible for the mess-not cops: some greedy Wall Street and political sharks. When those names hit the papers, the cop connection will be four inches in the second section."
Denton looked straight at Karp for a long time, until Karp's eyes ached with the effort of keeping his gaze focused on the other man's steel-blue eyes. Then Denton turned away abruptly and moved several paces away, as if to physically distance himself from the decision he had now to make.
At last he said, "What you've got on Reedy seems pretty light. How do you plan to get him?"
Karp told him, and an almost-smile moved across Denton's thin mouth. "That's a long shot, isn't it?"
"It's worked before," said Karp. Relief began to spread through his body; Denton was going to buy it.
Denton said, "OK, go for it. If it works, we'll play it your way. If not…" He shrugged, shot Karp a dark look, and went out of the door. Karp went back to his office at a trot, made a few calls, and then it was time for his meeting with Bloom. Karp had to push through a crowd of TV people, with their equipment, waiting for a statement from the D.A. on a particularly exciting East Side killing.
The district attorney was not glad to see him, nor was he happy at having his elaborate schedule interrupted.
When Karp came in, Bloom asked abruptly, "Is it about this business on East 63rd? My sister lives in the next building. Everyone's terrified, she says. Can't I do something, she says. It's a good building, how can they get at you in a good building?"
"No, I'm sorry, it's not," said Karp. "This is about the wrap-up on the drug-lord killings."
"Wrap-up, huh?" said Bloom with distaste. "It certainly took us long enough to figure out that it was another dope dealer. What was his name-Williams?"
"Willis," said Karp. "But he wasn't doing the killings. The actual hit men were two police officers named Manning and Amalfi."
Bloom began to smile, and then saw that Karp was not making a joke. "Oh, my God!" he said. "Not the ones who were on my…? Oh, that's all I need!"
"Didn't you know?" asked Karp. "I thought Roland told you the whole story."
"No, I didn't. He just told me this Fulton was really undercover and not the real killer. I had no idea…" He got up from behind his desk and paced briefly, running his fingers through his beautiful gray-blond hair. When he looked at Karp, it was clear that he had been thinking clever thoughts. "They've been arrested, have they?" Bloom asked.
"No, Amalfi's dead. Killed himself. Manning's at large, but he doesn't suspect that we know. We wanted him loose because we thought he might lead us to the people he was really working for."
A puzzled frown creased the TV makeup on the D.A.'s brow. "Working for? Surely it was Williams who hired them-"
"Willis. No, apparently the additional drug money produced by the scheme was being tunneled into a laundry operation run by some Wall Street types. I'm getting a report on the whole thing together for you. It's fairly complex." The D.A. had no comment on this. He just looked blankly at Karp, working his clenched jaw.
As Karp got up to go, he added, "But I just stopped by on my way out-we're going to pick up Manning right now. I wanted you to be fully informed, because it's going to be a huge scandal."
Bloom fixed his usual hearty false smile on his face and thanked Karp for coming by. As Karp went out the door, he said, "Umm, I don't have to tell you the importance of keeping this whole thing entirely quiet until we get Manning and we have a statement from him."
"Oh, of course," said the district attorney. "Mum's the word."
"I'm glad you're here," said Art Dugman as he opened the door. "The phone already rang once."
"You didn't answer it, did you?" asked Karp.
"No, but the tape's set up on the extension in the bedroom. You can listen in there. He'll probably call again."
Karp strolled through Manning's apartment and looked around. "Pretty nice," he said. "You detective sergeants do OK."
"It's the fringe benefits," said Dugman. Then the phone rang. Karp hurried into the bedroom, sat on the bed, hit the record button on the tape machine plugged into the phone receiver, and nodded to Dugman, who could see him by way of the bedroom mirror, and who was poised at the phone in the living room. They lifted the two phones simultaneously.
"Manning?" said the voice on the phone.
"Uh-huh," said Dugman,
"Jesus, Dick! Do you know what's happening? They raided the pier. Willis is dead. I can't get hold of Marcus Fane-they say he's out of town. Christ, the whole thing is going up in smoke."
The voice was wavering just on the edge of control. Dugman said, "Calm down."
The voice snapped back, "I'll calm down when you're out of the country, goddammit! They're coming to arrest you right now, and your place is being watched. Now, look, there's a private jet fueled and ready to go at La Guardia, the general aviation terminal, gate four. They're expecting you. They'll fly you direct to Grand Cayman, and after that it's the way we planned it."
Dugman cleared his throat heavily and looked over at Karp, who nodded. "Sorry, I just woke up. Why do I have to leave the country?"
"Why? For shit's sake, Manning! They have the tapes. Booth and Amalfi, they both name you, and Amalfi fingered Marcus. Fulton's free, and that sheeny bastard has the whole damn story. But he can't do anything without-"
"Amalfi's dead," said Dugman.
"I know he's dead. For God's sake, Manning, what's wrong with you? They think it's suicide now, but God knows what they'll turn up if they really start to dig into it. And now that they know who they're looking for, they can build cases on the other jobs you did. Do you want to go to jail for the rest of your life? I can't protect you anymore, don't you understand that? Now, get out of there!"
The voice rose nearly to a scream. Then, when there was no response, the voice said tentatively, "Dick! Dick? Are you there?"
Karp said, "No, Mr. Reedy, Dick can't come to the phone."
"What! Who is this?"
"This is the sheeny bastard, Mr. Reedy," said Karp. "I guess you don't want me to be D.A. anymore." "So," said Marlene after Karp had related the story of what had happened in Manning's apartment, "I guess he hung up pretty fast when you said that."
"Yes," said Karp, "he didn't stay to chat. Odd, because previously he was always so sociable."
"And the bad guys are in irons?"
"Surprisingly, yes. Maus and Jeffers grabbed Reedy moving out at a dead run, with his passport, a second, phony, passport, five grand in traveler's checks, and twenty grand in Krugerrands in his briefcase. We made the point to the judge that Mr. Reedy was not a good risk to stay for trial."