"Wait!" Karp yelled, but there was no other response. He and Marlene hurried over to the window and looked down. A large man jumped in the driver's side of a big, dark, but otherwise nondescript American sedan and immediately sped off.
"Well?" Marlene asked.
"I hear Battery Park is very romantic in the subzero cold on a dark night when the chance of frostbite is ridiculously high," he said.
"Karp, you sweet-talking devil, I'm in," she replied.
32
Wednesday, January 26
Karp looked up from his notes and turned around as the courtroom spectators suddenly began buzzing. District Attorney Breman had entered the courtroom, although today she wasn't smiling or chatting with the press. The previous night's television reports, as well as that morning's newspapers, had jumped all over Swanburg's testimony and its implications for the plaintiffs' case.
The New York Times's editorial board had even opined that "perhaps" Breman had moved too quickly to exonerate the Coney Island Four "and a more studied approach may have been called for." However, Karp noted, the Times reporter Harriman's "news" story had been slanted with words like "ambushed" and "sly district attorney for the County of New York" and "obviously slanted" testimony from the defense forensic expert.
"While the only undisputed fact is that Villalobos's semen was found on the victim's clothes," Harriman wrote. Meanwhile, "sources close to the plaintiffs" were sure that "the jurors are smart enough to see beyond the smoke and mirrors thrown up by Karp."
Harriman was now sitting in the row behind Tyler. In fact, quite a few members of the press, as well as the courtroom buffs, were now sitting on the defense side of the courtroom, apparently voting with their butts for whoever was winning the case.
Breman, however, walked down the aisle looking neither left nor right and took her customary seat behind the plaintiffs' table. Going down with the ship, Karp thought, as he looked at the plaintiffs and their attorney, who sat looking at his notes as he patted the moisture off his face.
Three-fourths of the Coney Island Four sat staring sullenly at the table. Sykes, on the other hand, was staring at him. Gone was the amiable valedictorian with the falsely imprisoned veneer he put on every day for the benefit of the press and jurors. The look he gave Karp now was of unabashed hatred.
"Are we ready to call the jury?" Judge Klinger asked. When she entered the courtroom that morning she'd actually given Karp a slight smile and nod, which left him somewhat nauseous.
"Well, actually, your honor, there is a matter I'd like to bring up first," he said loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the courtroom.
"Yes, Mr. Karp, please proceed," Klinger said nervously.
"Well, before we run into this issue in front of the jury, I wanted to inform the court that I may be calling Captain Tim Carney of the New York Police Department to the stand," he said.
"And I will object to that," Louis said, rising tiredly from his chair. "Captain Carney is not on any list of witnesses I have. Nor was he, to my knowledge, involved in the original case."
"Your honor," Karp said, "I may call Captain Carney as an impeachment witness, and as we all know, such witnesses do not have to be on a witness list."
"And who and what will he be impeaching?" Klinger asked.
"Mr. Villalobos," Karp said. "Mr. Carney can testify to the veracity of a taped conversation between District Attorney Kristine Breman and Mr. Villalobos in which the former admits to having received a letter from another inmate named Igor Kaminsky, who contended that Mr. Villalobos admitted to him that the plaintiffs initiated and participated in the assault on Ms. Tyler."
Karp was gratified to see Klinger turn white as the courtroom erupted into bedlam. Breman stood and fled, with reporters after her like a pack of wild dogs after a deer. "That's ridiculous," she shouted over her shoulder at the questions thrown at her retreating form.
Klinger finally remembered to pick up her gavel and pound until the courtroom-at least those who hadn't run off to file stories or chase Breman-quieted down. "Is there anything else, Mr. Karp?" said the judge, the fear that she would be named next clearly in her eyes.
Let her stew, Karp thought, and wonder if I have a copy of the letter. "Yes, your honor, I ask that Kristine Breman be subpoenaed by this court and notified that she may be required to appear as a witness for the defense."
"Now, hold on a damn minute," Louis said. "I know nothing about these tapes. How were they obtained? Are they even legally admissible?"
"You can ask those questions of Captain Carney if I need to call him to the stand," Karp said. "But first let's see how Mr. Villalobos answers my questions. Perhaps he'll tell the truth, and there'll be no need for an impeachment witness."
"Well, Mr. Karp, unless we know how these alleged tapes were obtained I will not allow Captain Carney to take the stand," Klinger said. "So before that point, I expect that you will ask for an evidentiary hearing first. Now, if the theatrics are over, I'll ask the jury to be seated."
Karp was not particularly bothered by the ruling-he was mostly just stirring the pot, hoping the judge might "find" the Kaminsky letter, using some lame excuse as to why she'd kept it. On a personal level, it had been fun to watch Breman running from the jackals in the press, but he had a bigger bomb waiting in the wings anyway.
When the jury was seated, the judge gave him the nod and he recalled Villalobos to the stand. To warm up he asked the obviously nervous witness to repeat his testimony regarding how he alone had raped Ms. Tyler and that he'd used a piece of driftwood to assault her. He knew that the jurors would be comparing the disgusting persona of Villalobos and his statements to that of Jack Swanburg.
"Mr. Villalobos, do you recall telling anyone that this whole 'confession' was made up?" Karp asked.
"That's a lie," Villalobos hissed, looking at Louis.
"You never said that the plaintiffs were the first to assault and rape Ms. Tyler?"
"More lies. You lie," Villalobos shouted.
"Then, perhaps you've forgotten your former cellmate, Igor Kaminsky?" Karp fired.
"I had a lot of cellmates," Villalobos said. "I don't remember every one."
"Well, then," Karp said, looking toward the back of the courtroom where Clay Fulton, who had been waiting by the door, disappeared, "maybe seeing his face would remind you."
Fulton returned to the courtroom escorting a thin, white male with one arm. "Do you recognize Igor Kaminsky now?" Karp asked.
Marlene and Karp had shown up at Battery Park a few minutes before midnight, standing in the chill until an old man followed by a large younger man walked up to them. "Thank you for coming, nephew," Vladimir Karchovski said, kissing Karp on the cheeks. "Oh, and finally I meet your beautiful bride, the lovely and-so I'm told-quite inventive Marlene Ciampi."
"Marlene, I'd like to introduce to you my great-uncle, Vladimir Karchovski," Karp said.
"What? I didn't know you had a great-uncle Vladimir," Marlene said, extending a hand and blushing like a schoolgirl when the old man took it and raised it to his lips.
"Ah, unfortunately, we are an estranged family due to our…um…career choices," Vladimir said. "But come, it is cold outside and I'd like you to accompany me for a boat ride."
"Where?" Karp asked.
"Why, Ellis Island, of course," Vladimir said.
"Ellis Island? Why?"
"Please, just humor an old man. It is to make a point to you and to someone else important to me. And you know how we Russians love the dramatic gesture."
Vladimir and his bodyguard led the way to a small speedboat that waited at the dock. "Please, step aboard my steed," Vladimir said.
"Aren't you worried about the park or harbor police?" Karp said. "I don't believe that Ellis Island is open at this time of night."