"So look what the wind dragged in." The Israeli finally folded down his newspaper."Or maybe the sanitation trucks."
"Always the compliments, Remi."
Reichardt, the blond with the scar under his right eye, was South African. Nordeshenko had worked with him many times. He had been a mercenary in Western Africa for fifteen years and had learned his trade well. He had been taught how to inflict terrible pain when most boys were learning grammar and mathematics.
Nezzi, the Syrian, he had gotten to know while on duty in Chechnya. Nezzi had once participated in a terror raid against the Russians in which a lot of schoolchildren got killed. Nezzi had blown up buildings, shot Russian emissaries, whatever it took. He could construct a bomb from materials one could easily find in a hardware store. Nezzi had no qualms about anything, no ideologies. In this age of fanatics, it made him a dying breed. Refreshing in a way.
"So tell us, Remi"-the South African shifted in his chair-“you didn't bring us out here to watch Albanian football, did you?"
"No." Nordeshenko tossed the newspaper over on their table. Facing them was the courtroom sketch of Dominic Cavello-the same one he had left in the judge's bed just a few hours before.
"Cavello." Nezzi wrinkled his brow."He's on trial, no? You want us to do a job on him while he's in jail? We could do that, I suppose."
"Have a drink," Nordeshenko said, signaling the waiter.
"I'll have oneafter, " the South African said."And as you know, our Muslim pal here lives the rigorous life of the Koran."
Nordeshenko smiled."All right." He lifted the newspaper one more time. On the other side was another courtroom sketch, one Nordeshenko had cut out of the paper from the trial's very first day.
Both killers stared at it. Slowly the message started to sink in.
"You want that drink now?" Nordeshenko asked.
Reichardt's look said,Lunacy."This is America, Remi, not Chechnya."
"What better place to break new ground?"
"Ouzo," Reichardt called to the waiter.
"Three," said Nezzi, shrugging.
The drinks came, and over the shouts for the football game, the men slugged them down, wiping their chins.
The South African finally started to laugh."You know it's true what they say about you, Remi: you'd be fucking dangerous if you ever got mad."
"Shall I take that as a yes, you're in?" Nordeshenko asked them.
"Of course we're in, Remi. It's the only game in town."
"Three more," Nordeshenko called to the waiter in Russian.
Then he picked up the paper, the sketch of the jury disappearing under his arm. They wanted a trial, these stupid bastards, they were going to get one.
They just didn't know the meaning of thetrial that was in store for them.
Chapter 24
NO ONE WAS ON the witness stand in the courtroom that morning. The press was cleared. The jury was being kept in the jury room. Judge Seiderman stepped in from her chambers and sent a fiery look hurtling toward the defendant in the second row."Mr. Cavello, I want to see you and both counsels in my chambers,now. "
As the judge was leaving the bench, she caught my eye."Agent Pellisante, I'd like you to join us as well."
Our group made its way through the wooden door on the right side of the courtroom to the judge's quarters. Judge Seiderman took a seat behind her desk, glaring. I'd never seen her so angry.
And she was glaring directly at the defendant.
"Maybe I didn't quite get this across to you, Mr. Cavello, but if you think I will ever bow to intimidation or your mob-scare tactics, you have picked the wrong judge and this is the wrong courtroom. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Your Honor." Cavello stood, staring right back at her.
"But what I particularly don't take to"-Judge Seiderman raised herself up-“is a defendant who thinks he's big enough to toy and interfere with the criminal justice system."
"Can Your Honor explain what it is you're talking about?" Kaskel asked, obviously confused.
"Your client knows precisely what I'm talking about, Mr. Kaskel," the judge replied, her gaze never wavering from Cavello's chuckling eyes.
She reached into a drawer, pulled out the copy of theDaily News, and threw it down on her desk. Facing up was a sketch of Cavello's courtroom look at Ralphie yesterday. GANGSTER STOPS TRIAL DEAD.
"This was in my bed last night.In my bed, Mr. Cavello! Under my covers. The evening edition broke around seven. My house was completely locked up and alarmed. No one had been inside since four that afternoon. You have an educated guess as to how this got there, Mr. Cavello?"
"I'm not an expert on these things, Your Honor." Dominic Cavello shrugged smugly."But maybe that's something you ought to take up with your alarm company. Or your husband. Me, I got a pretty good excuse. I was in that prison over there."
"I told you"-Miriam Seiderman removed her glasses-“these proceedings will not be disrupted by intimidation."
I had to give her credit. The judge was going toe to toe with Cavello. She wasn't backing down."This court has given you every opportunity to have this trial conducted in the open, Mr. Cavello."
"This court is making assumptions that it cannot possibly back up, Your Honor," Hy Kaskel said."Mr. Cavello has conducted himself by every rule and stipulation both sides agreed to in the pretrial hearings. You can't point the finger at him."
"I am pointing the finger, Mr. Kaskel. And if it's shown in any way that this is tied back to your client…"
"It's okay, Hy." Dominic Cavello restrained his lawyer."I understand how the judge must feel. She has to do what she has to do. It's just that I have friends who feel a certain way as well, and the problem is, they have to do what they think is right, too."
"What did I just hear?" The judge's gaze was electric, drilling in on Cavello's eyes.
"I tried to tell you from the beginning, Your Honor," Cavello said,"we're never going to see the end of this trial. What can I tell you? That's just the way it is."
I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Even for a bull like Cavello, to direct such a bold threat at the court was extraordinary.
"Agent in Charge Pellisante," the judge said, never flinching.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"I'm calling a recess for the day. I want the jury sent home. In the meantime, I'll decide how this proceeding is conducted from here on in."
I felt I had to voice my opinion."The jury should be sequestered, Your Honor. We can no longer take responsibility for their safety. Or even your own. We've mapped out various locations. I can have protective custody in motion as soon as you give the word."
"Nick," Cavello clucked, turning my way,"it's a big city. Hey, maybe you ought to be watching your back, too."
I stepped forward to take a slug at him-but someone behind me, this big, burly marshal, held me back.
"Do it, Agent Pellisante." The judge nodded."Set the wheels in motion. Sequester the jury."
Chapter 25
AROUND NINE THIRTY that night, Andie was folding towels in Jarrod's bathroom. Her darling son was in his pj's, sitting up in bed with a schoolbook open on his lap, but he was staring off into space.
"Mom, what's a promontory?" he called to her.
Andie came out and sat on the edge of his bed.