Well, that's one wild story that Stupenagel will never get…at least not from me, he thought. But he really did owe Stupenagel, and for more than just keeping her mouth shut, or at least keeping a story out of the newspapers-although that was partly due to the deal they'd struck that she'd get the whole Coney Island Four story first. When it was appropriate for him to talk about it, he'd give her the inside scoop.
Sometimes you have to trade with the devil, he thought, to get a deal made in heaven. And this deal was working out to be just that.
With the New Year, Bill Denton had been sworn in as the mayor of New York City. One of his first acts was to fire Corporation Counsel Sam Lindahl. Having served through a half-dozen administrations, Lindahl was completely caught off guard and hardly had time to stand up-much less remove anything from his office-when Clay Fulton walked in, told him the mayor wanted to see him, and then to come back to "remove personal effects only."
Denton had then named his own Corporation Counsel, a quiet but extremely competent civil attorney and Columbia law professor named Randall Canney. Then Canney's first public act-in concert with the timing worked out with Karp-announced that the District Attorney of New York County had been appointed by the governor to defend the city from the "spurious" lawsuit filed by the Coney Island Four and their attorney.
Hugh Louis had a nuclear meltdown on Brooklyn Insider with Natalie Fitz. He was so hot that the pint of pomade he'd combed into his hair for the show ran in greasy-looking rivulets down his neck as he mopped furiously at his face. "It's all part of the white racist military-industrial complex's conspiracy to undermine justice when it comes to the black man in this country," he said. "They pull out the biggest white man they got to stomp on my clients yet again."
"And you, Jayshon, what do you think?" Fitz asked the young man at Louis's side.
That I'd like to stick it up your white ass, he thought. "Mr. Karp has characterized me and my friends as 'vicious animals' and 'thugs' in newspaper articles," he said, placing a hand on his chest as if grievously wronged. "I'd just like to remind him that I was my class valedictorian that spring when I graduated from high school. I was also president of Young Businessmen of America-Brooklyn Chapter and the debate team. I planned to go to college to become a doctor so that I could return to my neighborhood and establish a clinic. But I guess Mr. Karp believes that all black people are animals and thugs. If that doesn't say 'racist,' I'm not sure what does." Word was that the television station had to cut to an unscheduled commercial break because Natalie Fitz was crying and couldn't continue for several minutes.
Louis had appeared at Karp's office in a more conciliatory mood. "Listen, Mr. Lindahl and I had reached a settlement…pretty much everything except the signatures," he said. "We were willing to accept a flat $100 million-"
"No," Karp said flatly.
"However, considering things have changed, I believe my clients would consider $40 million-that's only $10 million each-to have this little matter go away."
"No."
"Now, look here, Karp, you're going to be running for office next year, and I don't think you want the black and Hispanic communities pegging you for a racist-"
"No. Not one red cent," Karp said, trying to keep his voice level and to resist the urge to stand up and kick the shit out of Louis. "I'm busy. I think you can show yourself out."
"Enjoy the year, Karp," Louis said as he stood up. "It's the last one you'll spend in the NY DAO."
Karp had then thrown another brick at Louis at a pretrial hearing a few days later when he didn't ask for a continuance. "We're happy with the current trial date, your honor," he said to Klinger. "In fact, if you'd like to move it up that would be fine with us."
The tumblers were all falling into place. The day after Louis's visit, Police Captain Tim Carney's lawyer called and left a message with Mrs. Milquetost asking for a meeting. He had Newbury call with his response. "Come on down. We'll listen to what he has to say."
"What about a deal?" the lawyer said. "What can I go back to him with?"
"Nothing," Newbury shot back. "We'll hear him out and decide where to go from there."
Carney showed up with his young lawyer, Christopher P. Ferguson III, a cheap ambulance chaser in a Sears coat, who immediately began making demands. "He gets complete immunity or we walk."
"Walk," Karp said and pointed at the door. "You know the way."
The lawyer started to bluster, but Carney said, "Sit down, Chris, and shut up. They got us bent over a barrel." He turned to Karp and Newbury. "Sorry, my wife's sister's kid, just out of law school. Okay, here's the part you get for free; you don't have to give me a deal to listen. But if you think it's worth something to you and would like me to testify, then let's talk. And I'll throw in something you'll like a whole lot on an unrelated but very big case."
Carney then laid out how Lindahl had been steering the big-enchilada cases alleging police malfeasance and corruption to a few big law firms for years-"mostly Louis, Zulu, and Radinskaya."
Newbury shrugged. "We already have that."
"Yeah, but do you have proof that Lindahl was taking kickbacks for his kindnesses, as well as when he signed off on the payments and forwarded the No Prosecution files to your office?"
"We're listening," Karp said. He could almost feel the excitement boiling out of Newbury, though his old friend hadn't moved or said a word. The smoking gun is a friggin' cannon, he thought.
Carney smiled and said, "Yeah, I bet you are. There's more. Shakira Zulu was also paying some of her fellow city councilmen to sign off on the settlement payments, which, as you know, is required by law."
"So where do you and the esteemed union boss, Ewen, fit in?" Newbury asked.
"I'd advise you not to answer that," Ferguson said. "Not until we have a deal."
"Shut up, Christopher, you got a mouth on you like your mother," Carney said. "Essentially, I was paid to look the other way and make sure that Internal Affairs didn't poke our noses into certain cases and rubber-stamped whatever these law firms said. Some bad cops got off, the 'victims' got big settlements-part of which would also go to these firms that were supposed to be representing the cops. So they were double-dipping right there."
"And Ewen?" Karp asked, thinking he'd never liked the toad-like man.
"He kept the PBA membership in line if they started asking questions about the bad apples and made sure they were protected and kept on the force. No matter what anybody thinks, good cops don't like dirty cops."
"Dirty cops like you," Newbury said.
Carney looked down at his hands. "Yeah," he said, his voice breaking, "like me. I ain't got no good excuse, but I guess I was looking at the end of the line for my career, and what did I have except mortgage payments and college tuitions for five kids. I wanted more for my family…and, yeah, more for a dirty cop like me."
Karp felt sorry for the man. He knew Carney had a half-dozen medals for heroism, and Newbury's research seemed to indicate that he'd come to this point only within the past five years. Still, you agree to accept the pay when you sign up, he thought. You want to make more money, sell real estate. "It was still a crime," he said.
Carney nodded. Ferguson cleared his throat, and, when no one told him to shut up, proceeded. "I think now would be a good time to talk about a deal if you want my client to testify to what he just told you, as well as supply you with a sizable amount of documentation to back up these allegations."
"What do you want?" Karp said, looking at Carney, whose eyes were glued to the floor.
"No prison time-I wouldn't last two minutes in the general population. Whatever else you may think of me, most of my career was spent putting bad guys behind bars. A lot of them are still there."