Reedy cleared his throat and spoke in a pleasant tenor voice. "Thanks, Sandy. I don't have much to say. I'm flattered myself to have been asked to serve. I see our role, mine and Congressman Fane's, mainly as support, getting the word out to the community that something's being done to clean up this mess, to stop these monsters from thinking they can flout the law and kill with impunity on our streets.
"That, and generally overseeing the conduct of these cases, so that citizens can believe that the… processes of the law retain their integrity. The police, the courts, and so forth. Right now we're in the early stages. It's a police matter, so let's hear from the police."
He turned and looked across the table at Manning. Manning glanced briefly at his partner and said, "All right, as many of you know, we finally have an arrest in one of these killings. A man named Tecumseh Booth. The police picked him up night before last. He's got a long sheet. He was spotted at the scene of the crime by an informant. Right now we're keeping him on ice; maybe when he sees we're serious about this he'll want to talk.
"On the other seven murders-not much, but we have people working on them. We have other likely victims-major traffickers-under surveillance. Sooner or later somebody's going to make a mistake."
Manning spoke further about the details of the surveillance operation, what resources were being applied to it, and then summarized the circumstances of the eight killings, focusing mainly on the most recent one. "We think we have some real chances with the Joker Brown hit. It's fresh, anyway. We got a witness says he saw Brown talking to a black male shortly before he disappeared."
"That sure narrows it down," said Hrcany, as if to himself. All eyes turned his way.
"Did you have a comment, Roland?" asked the D.A.
"No… actually, yes, I did have a comment. I didn't catch the charge on this Booth guy."
"Charge?" asked Manning.
"Yeah. What did you charge him with? Intentional murder? Driving without a license… what?"
A barrage of looks was exchanged around the table. Papers were thumbed through. Finally Manning said, "We actually haven't decided yet. It depends."
Karp spoke up. "Another point of clarification, Detective Manning: are you or Detective Amalfi the arresting officer here?"
"No."
"But the arresting officer was in your squad? Or out of your precinct?"
Manning paused for several seconds before replying. "Not exactly. An associated unit."
"An associated unit," Karp repeated. "Does this associated unit have a name?"
Manning slowly pulled out a small loose-leaf pad and paged through it. "Detective Maus was the arresting officer," he said.
"That's interesting," said Karp. "And since Maus doesn't work for you, he works for…?"
Manning paused again, waiting for someone to say something. No one did, so he said, "Ahh… Lieutenant Fulton, over at the Two-eight."
"Thank you," said Karp. "That's what was confusing me. I was wondering why Lieutenant Fulton was not present, since I was given to believe that he had been placed in charge of the dope-dealer murders."
Dwight Hamilton now spoke for the first time. He had an elegant voice, quiet but nevertheless commanding attention. "Fulton won't do."
"What does that mean, Mr. Hamilton?" asked Karp.
Hamilton smiled sadly and shook his head and said, "I'm very much afraid you'll have to get that from the police, Mr. Karp."
Karp had turned inquiringly toward Manning, when Bloom said peevishly, "Would you please tell me what's going on here? Why are we getting bogged down in these details? Let's stick with the big picture, people!" He might have said more, had not Wharton leaned over to him and begun whispering rapidly behind his cupped hand, like a Shakespearean villain.
Karp resumed his conversation with Manning. "Detective, can you illuminate us here? Why won't Fulton do?"
Manning shrugged. "Hey, I just go where they send me, boss. Maybe they think Fulton is unreliable. There's a lot of money floating around up there, around drugs. Maybe some of it ended up in the wrong place."
"Who's 'they,' exactly? Is there an active investigation now on Lieutenant Fulton?" Karp snapped back.
"That would be confidential information," said Manning.
"Fine," said Karp "Let's talk about nonconfidential information, then. Our prisoner, Booth. My colleague here asked a question about the legal situation with respect to Booth. What's the charge, and what's the evidence?"
Bloom broke in again. "Butch, could we move on? All these legal games can be dealt with later."
"Oh, legal games? Sorry, I thought legality was the point of this operation. But since you bring up 'games,' I'd like to have a turn. See if anyone remembers this one: in all criminal prosecutions the accused shall have a right to a speedy and public trial by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law; and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor; and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense. Ring a bell?"
Bloom relieved himself of a small chuckle. Wharton assumed a pitying grin. No one responded, and Karp went on. "What I've heard here is that somebody has been arrested and imprisoned for going on forty-eight hours without a charge, and without, to my knowledge, anybody from the D.A.'s office interviewing him, or even being informed of the arrest-"
"Hold on, Butch," Bloom spluttered. "I was informed."
"Right, I forgot. So you've personally interviewed the prisoner and determined that there's sufficient evidence to support a charge under law? No? Gosh, that's a shame. Because when I call Tom Pagano over at Legal Aid and tell him that we're holding a prisoner who hasn't even seen a D.A., much a less a defense lawyer, and is being held without charge, God knows what kind of shit is going to hit the fan!
"Besides which, we have omitted to invite either the arresting officer on our big breakthrough, or his superior, and we have hanging in the air an innuendo against the reputation of that superior, who happens to be one of the most decorated members of the NYPD."
"Fulton's dirty," said Manning flatly.
Karp turned on him, eyes narrowing, and met Manning's defiant gaze. "Is he? Are you from Internal Affairs?"
Manning smiled. "You know I wouldn't tell you if I was."
"No, you seem like a pretty tight-lipped guy," said Karp. He was about to go on, but something nagged at him-the last conversation he had had with Clay Fulton. Fulton was certainly not himself. Could it be true? It took some of the steam out of him. Damn Fulton! Why hadn't he kept in touch?
Reedy jumped into the tense silence. "What we have here, it seems to me, is an example of why we need this task force. There's an accusation in the air, unfounded maybe, but there it is. There may be others. We're all grown-ups here. I don't think it implies any disrespect for the police department to say that corruption has been a problem, especially in the drug area. We also see what happens when there isn't coordination. Everybody starts playing their own game, running their private systems, their private deals.
"Let's start over. We have a suspect. Obviously, the thing to do is what Mr. Karp has suggested so eloquently-bring him into the compass of the law, but at the same time being conscious of the need for the utmost security. I'm sure the business about who's running the police end can be straightened out by consultations with the NYPD at the highest levels. But above all, let's keep talking to each other! I trust that will suit both Mr. Karp and Detective Manning?"