Around two that same day, a delegation comprised of Evon, Amari, Klecker, and Robbie arrived at the Temple in the surveillance van. Judge Winchell had signed an order authorizing the FBI to seize Barnett Skolnick's Lincoln and to remove the taping system from it. Skolnick had hired Raymond Horgan, Sennett's old boss in the Prosecuting Attorney's Office, to represent him, and Raymond had turned contentious when he was served with the seizure notice. He'd forced a brief hearing in front of. Judge Winchell at noontime, but he'd ultimately surrendered the key, rather than require the car to be towed. While Raymond was almost certainly posturing for purposes of negotiation, Moses Appleby had directed Klecker to make an elaborate video for the benefit of a future jury, not only depicting the removal of the equipment but also demonstrating how the taping of Skolnick had taken place. When that was done, Sennett and McManis had agreed that Bobbie, with an FBI escort, could pay a short visit to the chambers of Magda Medzyk.
In the wake of the news about Kosic, everyone seemed off-kilter. Evon herself did not know what to make of it. They'd spent so many months telling themselves there were mortal dangers to what they were doing that a fatality could hardly be called unexpected. But she'd never envisioned it might be one of the bad guys. No one was collecting for a wreath, but even Sennett had wondered out loud if he'd overdone it this morning. Rollo apparently believed him when Stan told him he had no way out.
Rollo'd had his revenge anyway, since he'd taken with him the last hope of prosecuting Tuohey. Brendan's defense was now patent: blame Rollo, say he was the mastermind. Clothed with the authority of the Presiding Judge, Kosic had collected money, made assignments, given orders, all without Brendan's knowledge, much as the government's own evidence would show had occurred with Walter and Malatesta. The bastard had misled poor, trusting Tuohey and then taken his life rather than confront the boss and friend he'd betrayed. That would sell with the public, even some segments of the bar. Kosic had saved Tuohey not only from indictment but also from ridicule.
In the Temple garage, an agent operated a standard video cam as Kiecker showed how he'd punctured Skolnick's tires. Then the Lincoln was repositioned out in front of the courthouse. For the camera, Robbie briefly stood on the spot where he'd met Skolnick, then he entered the Lincoln and turned the key to power the system. Standing outside the surveillance van, Klecker used the remote to turn the camera on and off a couple of times; then the van was driven down the block to demonstrate the range of transmission. Once everything had been acted out for the jury, Feaver killed the ignition.
With the Lincoln parked right in front of the courthouse, they decided it was best to take Robbie in from here now and to remove the equipment later. Amari remained behind in the surveillance van down the block to watch over everything. Klecker had brought a bulletproof vest for Robbie, but Robbie refused it and turned petulant when Evon attempted to persuade him to put it on.
"A lot of people in there want to kick my ass, but nobody's gonna shoot me in broad daylight." He hiked off alone, forcing Klecker and Evon to catch up.
Robbie was in and out of Judge Medzyk's chambers in ten minutes. He said he'd spent most of the time waiting for her to get off the bench. Magda had made her law clerk stand in the room as a witness, which had proved a mistake, because she had been unable to keep herself from crying near the end.
"She's pretty Catholic," said Robbie to Evon on the way out. "She turned herself in to the -Supreme Court Judicial Disciplinary Committee." He had suggested nails through the palms might have saved her time, which was when she'd asked him to leave.
They emerged from the courthouse with Klecker a few steps ahead. Evon was supposed to cover Robbie from the rear, but he was still smarting from the visit. What he felt worst about, he said, was that Magda had seemed resigned to the world of locked closets and prim restraints where she'd been cloistered when they'd first taken up. "She's at less than zero now" was how he put it. Whatever he'd given her had been jettisoned as she'd yielded again to the in terrorem lectures she'd practiced on herself over a lifetime.
Evon heard him out, unexpectedly pricked by sympathy for both Robbie and the judge. Then she let him take off a few steps ahead of her as she surveyed the broad plaza around the courthouse for signs of danger. There was nothing notable, attorneys with briefcases, messengers, clerks, citizens all moving briskly. The spring chill had persisted and the wind, a winter remnant, snapped the flags overhead, ringing the halyard of one of them against the steel pole. A few passersby cast looks at Robbie, who had suddenly grown recognizable thanks to the morning press, but they made no movement toward him.
Reaching the center of the plaza, he skirted the large modem fountain where the water was now running again, cascading over the stepped planes of travertine. Circling the perimeter, Robbie stopped in his tracks. Evon dashed two or three steps, until she saw the problem.
Brendan Tuohey was no more than ten feet away, hurrying back to the courthouse with a heavy briefcase. The weight of the satchel and the fact that he was uncharacteristically alone left Evon with an intuition that he'd been cleaning out safe-deposit boxes he'd shared with Kosic. Whatever the accuracy of that conjecture, the Presiding Judge, a man long practiced in concealing his troubles, appeared grayer and grimmer today. He was deep in thought and did not notice Robbie at first, even as Feaver stared at him. But when he finally glanced up, the fury that shot through his expression exposed him to the core: anger lay at the heart of Brendan Tuohey like fire in a forge. His long face, with its uneven complexion, settled into a harsh smirk, a poor attempt at his customary effort to evince feelings that had no connection to what was actually taking place within.
Klecker by now had looked behind and seen Robbie stopped, but hadn't yet realized why. Evon circled a fmger at her side so that Alf would double back, but he was never going to get close enough. Instead she crept as near as she dared, and took a seat on the fountain's low basin, only a few feet from Robbie. She was fairly certain Tuohey wouldn't recognize her. She tried not to stare at either man, affecting the perplexed expression of the average citizen seeking a respite after receiving the usual scuffing from the law. Tuohey's words were blown to her in the wind, wavering as it rose and fell.
"Speak of the divil," he said. "Quite a bit of talk about you today, Robbie. Many good folks seem quite vexed. Must say, I'm a bit surprised to see you about in these parts-"
Feaver said he'd had a little unfinished business.
"I'd quite imagine," said Tuohey. From the corner of her eye, Evon caught the older man creeping closer. "It's always been my lot to reassure folks about you. `Known Robbie his entire life. Always trusted the boy. No need to doubt him.' That's what I've been saying. But now I read the papers, Robbie."
"You can cut the crap, Brendan. My life's over. My prize for flipping on you is a trip to the pokey."
Klecker by now had reached the other side of the fountain, but the two men remained far closer to Evon. Bobbie seemed to be aware where she was and had edged a step or two her way. She remained directly downwind in the cool breeze and still within earshot. Tuohey was taking no chances, however.
"Can't imagine a truthful word you'd say about me that would be the least concern. But the penitentiary'll be a good place for you, Robbie. Give you time to contemplate your sins. You've been up to some terrible mischief over these years, if what the papers are saying is true."
"Brendan, you're not impressing me with this routine. I'm not wearing my electronic underwear anymore. Some big boy stole my toy." With that, Robbie stepped over the side of the fountain and into the low retaining pool. It was only knee-deep, but, looking in Tuohey's direction, he flopped down for a second into the frothing basin, then spun up like a dog, shaking off water in long silvery spangles. Feaver extended both arms laterally to demonstrate the lack of telltale bulges in his clinging garments. The temperature still hadn't reached much over fifty and Feaver eventually drew his arms back, encircling himself in the chill. His designer sweater now hung to his thighs and he still hadn't left the pool.
Tuohey watched him with his mouth pulled to the side. puzzling it through.
"You're a dramatic fellow, Robbie. I'll give you that. Master of the scene. I remember you, six years old and singing show tunes like your front stoop was Broadway. Only it wasn't, was it?"
"No, Brendan, I'm not in a Broadway musical. But neither are you. It seems kind of shitty that only one of us is going to the can."
Tuohey took his time, assessing this bitter reassurance and the mood in which it had been offered. Robbie was doing a great job of punching his buttons, and in the whirlwind of feelings, Tuohey had drifted a few steps but was unable to make himself simply walk away.
"You've always lacked perspective, Robbie. You've had blood in your eye whenever you heard my name since you were nine years old, lad. You never much cared for the way I'd take your Maine out on that sleeping porch in your apartment and give her a recreational screw on Sunday night. But you know, Robbie, mother or not, the woman had her needs. I've always realized what the burr was under your saddle when it came to me. And been good to you a hundred times over, ever since. For her sake. And yours. Not that it made an acorn of difference to you." The rage, so rarely near the surface with him, boiled over again as he pondered Robbie, still up to his knees in the turning water. "Just a mercy fuck now and then for a horny divorcee, and look what it's come to. Can you imagine? And a dead fuck, at that."
Having driven the nail in as far as he could, Tuohey turned in the direction where Evon was seated and swept by her and Feaver, without a glance at either of them. Bobbie hopped out of the fountain. He was tightly bound in his arms and bent nearly double in the cold, but he wasn't finished. He called Tuohey by his first name.
The judge paused to deliberate, but remained unable to resist the contest and turned halfway.
"Pity about Rollo," Robbie said. Across the short distance that separated the two men on the plaza, Evon half expected the sizzle of a high-voltage arc. It was even now. They'd each trampled on the other's grave, but Robbie had one more shot, purely for vengeance. Apparently, he was well past the point of calculation. "You just remember, Brendan, while you're out in the free air, that the big difference between you and me is that I looked after my best friend."
He'd struck Tuohey dumb with that, much as intended. A victor of kinds, Feaver sprinted the twenty or so yards to Skolnick's Lincoln in a metered space at the curb. Klecker had not recovered the key from him, and Robbie slid inside. He was not thinking about much, he told me later, besides getting out of the cold and turning on the heater full blast.
Evon approached Klecker on the other side of the fountain. "Whoa," Alf suddenly said. Wheeling, she caught sight of Tuohey, hiking rapidly back toward Robbie and the Lincoln. She began running, but Tuohey was already motioning for Robbie to roll down the window. If Tuohey went to the briefcase, she realized she'd have to draw on him, but instead the judge set the case on the curbside and briefly poked his gray head inside the car. He reached in with one arm. When he turned back to the courthouse, there was a discernible spring in his walk.
Whatever Tuohey had said, it had troubled Feaver. He shook his head dumbly when she asked for an account. In the meantime, Amari, in his cowboy boots and his sportcoat, had come dashing across the avenue to the car. Joe, who was far more intense than McManis but generally as contained, was rattling both hands in the air.
"You're the greatest c.i. I ever worked with," Amari cried. He grabbed Feaver by both shoulders through the lowered window. "The sharpest. The best. Definitely the best." After a moment, she understood. Once Robbie had jumped in the Lincoln and turned the ignition, the camera had revived. Amari had been able to start the taping system, capturing the interlude when Tuohey leaned into the auto. "If I saw what I think," said Amari, "you just bagged this guy."
All four of them rushed back down the block to the surveillance van. Alf cued the tape, and the image of Robbie in his wet clothes resolved out of the jumble between scenes. He had one arm around himself as he rocked back and forth on the red leather of Skolnick's auto. He was fiddling with the heater controls when he suddenly started in response to Tuohey's motions offscreen. Robbie groped for a second before he found the chrome button to lower the automatic window. From the way he drew back, it was clear that Tuohey had leaned in, but he wasn't fully visible. Only the top of his gray head and his gnarly hand appeared within the frame. Out of the wind, though, his voice was clear as he pointed.
"Speaking of your best pal, Robbie," he said, "when Morton came to warn me on Tuesday about what you were up to, I left him with a message for you. Mind now, Bobbie. So many tongues are wagging about you, you might get confused. So I want you to remember, when you get this, that it came from me." On the screen beside Feaver, Tuohey rotated the hand with which he'd been pointing. His thumb suddenly came up. With the extended index finger it had the form of the imaginary pistol little boys forever point at each other. And then, to remove any ambiguity, Brendan, in a bare second, let his long thumb fall like a firing hammer and his hand jump in recoil.
"He's threatening you," said Meeker. "My God, we have him on tape threatening a federal witness!"
"I'm telling you," said Amari. "It's a dead-bang obstruction."
Amari and Klecker cuffed each other, then Alf shook Evon. Klecker started for Robbie, but Feaver had already gotten up to rewind. He wanted to see it again. He replayed the tape, standing right near the screen so he could listen, and then rewound and replayed it once more. By the third time, it was clear which line of Tuohey's he was recuing. `When Morton came to warn me on Tuesday about what you were up to…' She was baffled herself about what it meant.
Alf hailed her up front so they could all call McManis together.
"Off the skyscraper, through the window, off the scoreboard, nothing but net," said Jim. He permitted himself a single giddy laugh.
They had yet to remove the camera from the Lincoln's roof. They drove both vehicles to the federal building, where the entire company, save Robbie, left the van and worked with two evidence techs to extract the equipment without any permanent damage to the auto. Then they returned to the LeSueur, where, they'd been told, a substantial audience was already gathering to watch the tape.
Robbie was too cold to come along, preferring to get into a change of clothes he kept in the office. For his protection, Evon accompanied him up. This morning, there had been frantic calls from the office about TV crews parked in reception, but building security had routed them by now. Two rent-a-cops were guarding the door.
This was the first look any of his employees had gotten of Robbie since the news broke, and he strolled through the overdecorated corridors of his own office to a remarkable silence, deepened both by his bedraggled appearance and by the presence of Evon, who seemed to vacillate between friend and foe on an hourly basis. Outside his door, Bonita, looking a bit bleary, shook her dark tresses.
"You don't want none of these messages," she told him.
Evon made Robbie promise not to leave the office without calling; then she returned to McManis's, where they'd held off the viewing until everyone was together. McManis and all the other UCAs, as well as the local gents from the surveillance squad, were elbowed into the conference room. Sennett came huffing in last and delayed one second further to call me, but my office reported I was with a client.
Alf slid the cassette into the recorder and worked the controls.
The screen filled with snow.
Alf rewound and fast-forwarded. He fiddled with the connections. Eventually he realized the tape was blank. He went back to the van to search and returned only with an empty box. It was quite some time before they started looking for Robbie, and that was long after he'd brought the tape they wanted down to me. ROBBIE HAD BEEN A SIGHT in my reception area. His clothing was still wet, and for warmth he'd put on a heavy overcoat, a spare he kept in his office. His hair was clinging to his face, looking, without its blow-dried buoyancy, like the plumage of a crow that had been jumped by a cat.
He asked to see me alone. I was in a meeting, but he promised to be only a minute. In the little reading room side my office, he handed me the cassette and told me what was on it.
Ostensibly, he wanted legal advice about whether he had any grounds to retain the tape. We both knew that was dubious, but Robbie was shopping for time. He had visions of Sennett making a nighttime visit to Mort's home. The tape would be the feature presentation on Mort's big-screen TV, while Stan banged away, trying to find out what Tohey had meant when he said it was Dinnerstein who'd warned him what Robbie was up to. Robbie wanted to get the answer to that one himself, and, more important, ensure that Mort knew he had no more time before hiring an attorney. Sennett's terror tactics, especially his threats of prison, would turn Morty to pudding.
I asked Robbie if he'd told Mort he was working for the government. I'd long suspected that Robbie had informed Dinnerstein months ago, but Feaver insisted he'd kept his partner in the dark, not out of any commitment to Sennett, but because he had realized that telling Mort would place Dinnerstein in an impossible position. Sheilah Dinnerstein would never have forgiven her son if she knew he'd done nothing when he had a chance to save his Uncle Brendan. Even on Monday, after Evon's melodramatic appearance at the office, when she'd identified herself as FBI Special Agent DeDe Kurzweil and served that subpoena, Robbie had told Mort only that he had the situation 'completely covered.'
"He must have scoped it out on his own," Robbie said. "I don't know how. But I figure Brendan was up his alimentary canal with a router the past couple weeks. You know, `What's the story with Robbie, why's he so strange?' I still can't believe Morty told him what he figured. I mean, it's Brendan, for Godsake. What'd he think his uncle would do, throw me a tea party?" Robbie was abject, unable even to face me, which was just as well, since I could not think of an appropriate consolation. Blood thicker than water? I realized Robbie had been protecting himself from just this moment when he'd chosen not to tell Mort in the first place.
He headed back up to see Dinnerstein, promising to call e as soon as they were done. By six, I'd heard nothing. I had several urgent messages from Stan Sennett by then which I'd failed to return. I was sure, though, that agents id fanned out seeking Feaver, and I expected McManis Stan at my door any moment. My inside line rang at that point. It was Robbie on his car phone. He'd just been driving around, he said. He told me I should call Mort's lawyer, Sandy Stem. Feaver was about to hang up and I shouted to him to wait.
Had Mort explained, I asked. Had he said how he came tell Tuohey?
"Yeah," said Robbie. For a moment he seemed determined to say no more. Then he gathered himself to the task and added, "He said Stan Sennett asked him to do it."