‘But it’s not Bill Sarney’s way?’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘True enough, but I did learn something from you, Bill. Tell me, what do you think would happen if I took what I have to Inspector Clark at Borough Command?’
‘Look, Harry, I didn’t arrange for David Lodge to get killed in the One-Sixteen, any more than I arranged for you and Bentibi to catch the case. It’s just something that happened, one of those random shit-storms life throws at you from time to time.’ Sarney turned to face me before delivering the punch line. ‘If you remember, right from the beginning, I advised you to cover your ass.’
‘That doesn’t answer the question. What would happen if I took what I have to Inspector Clark?’
Though Sarney looked as if he was ready to explode, he got the words out. ‘Nothing. Nothing would happen.’
I nodded. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard. Now tell me why nothing would happen.’
Sarney stared at me, his dark eyes disbelieving. Here he was, a Captain, being pushed around by a nothing detective he’d consigned to the rubbish heap. I might have reminded him that life, as he’d been kind enough to explain, was full of nasty surprises, but I held my tongue.
‘I wasn’t alone,’ he finally admitted. ‘There were others who wanted Potter and his crew taken down.’
Cops on the job call NYPD headquarters, at 1 Police Plaza, the Puzzle Palace. Within its walls, or so the common mythology goes, the levels of intrigue rival those of a Byzantine court. Exactly who is doing what, and to whose benefit, and for what reason, is never entirely certain. I looked over at the collected photos on the wall, Commissioner Ray Kelly with his crooked nose, his square jaw, his jagged line of a mouth. Standing next to him, Sarney was grinning like a kid left alone in a candy store.
‘We followed them for years,’ Sarney continued, ‘right through the killing of Clarence Spott, and the arrest of David Lodge. When Pete Jarazelsky was arrested for burglarizing that warehouse, I thought it was all over. I was sure Jarazelsky would flip. I still don’t know why he didn’t.’
‘Maybe he was afraid, Bill, afraid of Linus Potter. Maybe you were afraid, too. Maybe that’s why you didn’t go after him yourself, why you sent Harry Corbin instead.’
Sarney absorbed the insult with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘We knew about Greenpoint Carton,’ he explained. ‘That Jarazelsky, Szarek and Russo owned it, and we’d heard the rumors about Paco Luna, but we had no real proof. Then Szarek turned up dead. That got our attention, especially after we received word that David Lodge was going to be released.’
‘Somebody called you from Attica?’
‘Not me, Harry. And not anybody I’m willing to name.’
‘But you knew Lodge was coming out.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you knew he was claiming to be innocent.’ I poked Sarney in the chest, but he held his ground. ‘You knew there was going to be trouble and you did nothing to stop it.’
Now defiant, Sarney jammed his fists into his hips. ‘Yes, I knew that blood would flow, Davy Lodge’s or somebody else’s, and I didn’t give a shit. Potter and his little gang, they were a cancer growing on the job. We were determined to cut that cancer out, and we succeeded.’
‘Didn’t it bother you that some of that blood might have flowed from innocent bystanders like Adele Bentibi and Harry Corbin? If you recall, Adele’s features were permanently rearranged.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘it didn’t. Not before, and not afterwards.’
I hit him then, a right hand to the side of the face that drove him to the ground. When he didn’t get up immediately, I took a step back and waited for him to climb to his feet before continuing. ‘When you said nothing would happen if I took my case to the bosses, you were right. Being co-conspirators, they’d naturally have to protect you. But those tips you sent me? They’re part of the case file, and how I received them is already being questioned. You gettin’ this yet? Three days from now, Adele and I are going to meet with Ginnette Lansky to prepare our testimony before the grand jury. Ten days from now, Adele and I are going give that testimony. If we name you as the probable source of three of those tips, you will also be called to testify.’
I’d finally broken through. The anger dropped from Sarney’s face, the smug superiority too, as his dilemma became clear. If called to testify, Sarney could not hide behind his Fifth Amendment rights because he wasn’t being accused of any crime. That left him with a simple choice: he could swear that our conversation never took place, and expose himself to a charge of perjury, or he could name the bosses who’d conspired to bring down Linus Potter. Those bosses, they wouldn’t be happy about that.
Sarney twisted for a few minutes, standing before me on unsteady legs, one hand pressed to the side of his face. ‘What do you want?’ he finally asked.
‘First, I want a pipeline into the Puzzle Palace. I want to be able to come to you when I need help, and I want you to be seen with me in public. I want you to make a commitment.’
‘What else?’
‘I want a transfer to Homicide, Bill, the place where white knights go to die.’
Sarney’s laugh seemed genuinely amused, and perhaps a bit admiring, but his eyes had grown shrewd. ‘Are you telling me you can deliver Bentibi?’
‘I’m telling you those anonymous tips — all five of them — will remain anonymous. At least as far as we’re concerned.’
We were almost at the end now. It was time to finish up and go home.
‘You have to do your penance,’ Sarney explained, ‘and there’s no getting around it. You can’t shit on the bosses and expect to be rewarded.’
‘Even if certain bosses wanted me to shit on them?’
Sarney ignored the sarcasm. ‘And I can’t stop the rumors going around about you and your girlfriend being IAB snitches. Those rumors are comin’ from the PBA and that’s a world unto itself.’
‘Bill, are you telling me that you can’t deliver?’
‘No, I’m saying it’s gonna take time, and that it’s gonna be hard for you.’
The last part didn’t interest me. ‘How much time?’ I asked.
‘Nine months, a year.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘In the meantime, we’ll see about your rehabilitation.’ He shifted his weight, nodding to himself. ‘I’ll tell you this,’ he finally said, ‘it’s very good that you’re cooperating here. Certain people will be impressed.’
‘Well, let’s make them doubly impressed. Ten days from now, the Holy Name Society is throwing its annual dinner-dance at the Sheraton. Adele and I are gonna be there.’
‘And you want me to be there as well, to be seen with you?’
‘That’s right, Bill, and when I invite your wife to dance, I expect her to accept without hesitation.’
As Sarney considered the demand, his grin began to widen. Again, I sensed a degree of admiration, as if by playing his game, I was somehow flattering him.
‘OK, I think I can make that dinner.’ He reached out to touch my arm, a gesture as intimate as it was unwelcome. ‘And if you wanna dance with Rebecca, it’s fine, as long as you don’t ask me to dance with Bentibi. That’s one gesture I don’t feel up to making.’
This time, when I hit Sarney, his eyes rolled up in his head and he went over backwards, crashing to the floor. I stood over him for a moment, half-hoping he’d make some attempt to rise, but the man lay as unmoving as a corpse. I thought of Adele, then, waiting for me back in Rensselaer Village. When we’d finally uncovered Sarney’s contribution to the dramatics, her first instinct was to bury him. But she’d turned on a dime when I laid out my goal, and my plan to attain it. Her only moment of hesitation came after I announced my determination to confront Sarney alone.
‘I’m afraid you’ll lose control,’ she’d announced. ‘That you’ll do something you can’t take back.’