Personal injuries (47 page)

For this effort, the FBI had put the entire Kindle County Field Office at the Project's disposal. Sennett had fielded a full squad of Assistant U.S. Attorneys who were grinding out subpoenas to banks and currency exchanges and the courthouse, which would be served tomorrow to prevent records from going astray. In the meantime, several `flip teams' had been organized. Klecker and Stan's First Assistant, Moses Appleby, were sent after Judith and Milacki. Another group would go to the homes of various clerks-Walter; Pincus Lebovic; Crowthers' clerk, Joey Kwan. Sennett reserved the top targets for himself.

Amari's people had staked out Kosic all day. The idea was to catch Rollo alone so that Sennett could confront him with the array of incriminating evidence the government had developed and offer Kosic the deal of a lifetime to turn on Tuohey. But Rollo never left Brendan's side, although this, more likely, was for protection and counsel in a moment of crisis, rather than to foil Stan's plans. Once surveillance put the two back inside Tuohey's house in Latterly, Sennett decided to go after the others, leaving Rollo for the next morning.

At the bottom of the stairs, they found Skolnick huddled on a new tartan sofa-a colonial piece with dark maple arms-watching the Trappers game on TV. He was dressed in green pajamas with black piping, and a velvet bathrobe, adorned at the pocket with the crest of a family to which he surely did not belong. The room was clad in lacquered knotty pine and newly carpeted. The astringent factory odor of the rug did not quite obscure a lingering smell of mold. Along the paneled walls, built-in pine shelves were filled with family memorabilia, snapshots of children and grandchildren, trophies earned by Skolnick's kids in long-forgotten athletic triumphs, and a few photos from Skolnick's official life, including one 8 x 10 from his induction as a judge more than a quarter of a century ago. In it, he stood flanked by a large group, including Tuohey and the dear departed Mayor Bolcarro, as well as Knuckles, Skolnick's connected brother. By now Evon recognized all the faces, which appeared so much more appealing in youth that she had to suppress an impulse to laugh. Looking around, she realized the basement had been refinished recently. She made a note to get the IRS guys Sennett had in the background to go through Skolnick's financials for evidence of how he'd paid for the renovation. Nine would get you ten there'd be no credit card records or checks. Barney, almost certainly, had been a cash customer.

Skolnick jumped up to welcome them. "So come in, come in."

Sennett introduced himself as Skolnick was pulling the wooden barrel chairs from his leathertopped poker table into a circle, a task with which Tex Clevenger rendered wordless assistance.

"I know you, I know you," said Skolnick. He mentioned a moot-court function at Blackstone where they'd met. He resumed his seat on his sofa, pulling his robe closed to assume whatever dignity he could under the circumstances. He cast a final shameless glance at the game and then used the remote to darken the set. "So, fellas," he said, "what have we got here?" He always proved as dim as Robbie's initial portrayal.

Every now and then, given the peculiarities of certain statutes, the United States was forced to appear in the Common Law Claims Division, and Skolnick seemed to believe that Sennett and his coterie had arrived for that reason. An emergency motion of some kind.

"Judge, I'm not here as an attorney, at least not one appearing before you. I need to ask you a few questions. On behalf of the government of the United States."

"At eleven at night? This can't wait till the morning?" Confusion swarmed over Skolnick's large pink face, and he glanced to the others as if they might explain. When his eyes lit on Evon, the only female, he smiled very slightly and she found herself mildly surprised by the impulse to respond in kind. It was like being nice to an infant or puppy.

"There's a case I'm concerned about, Your Honor." Stan named it. "Involving a painter who fell off a scaffolding? A widower? There was a motion for a judgment on the pleadings. Do you recall that?"

Slowly, very slowly, Skolnick was beginning to realize there was some gravity in this situation.

"Mr. Sennett," he said. "I can call you Stan? Stan, there are hundreds of motions before me. Thousands. Thousands, actually. You should come and sit in my courtroom one day. It's not like the federal court, you know. I know a lot of the fellas sit on the federal bench-Larren Lyttle I know for years and years-and it's not the same. We still give argument now and then. We don't have fulltime law clerks. It's a terrible backlog. And one motion, you know, it can look just like another. Now, if you had the papers, the documents, I'm sure I'd remember."

Sennett nodded and from her briefcase Evon withdrew Robbie's motion and McManis's response. Sennett let them drop on the new colonial coffee table, which matched the sofa arms.

"So I'm supposed to start reading this stuff at eleven at night?" He murmured in Yiddish under his breath. "You know what that means? A horse should have such luck. Wait. Where are my glasses?" He found the spectacles in his pocket. "All right, all right," he said. He tossed his head back and forth as if he were reading a score, mumbling a few of the phrases aloud. There was no indication he was really taking them in. "Yeah, so okay, so there's a problem here?" In his perpetual blue suit, Sennett was implacable. He turned his face for one second to scratch at his cheek.

"Judge, do you know a lawyer named Robbie Feaver?"

Skolnick sat back. Sennett finally had his full attention.

"Feaver?" Skolnick's tongue, like some furtive animal, appeared briefly and circled his lips. "I know Feaver. I know thousands of lawyers.

"Judge, did you have any private meetings with Feaver while you were presiding over this case?"

"Talk to him, sure. He's a likable fella. You tell him a joke, he tells you a joke. Did I see him on the street? In the courthouse somewhere? Of course. You should pardon me, Mr. Sennett, Stan, but that's not exactly a federal case."

"No, Judge, I'm asking if you ever met privately with Feaver to discuss the merits of this lawsuit and the outcome?"

"You mean without-Who's on the other side of this thing?" He thumbed through the papers.

"This guy, McManis?" Skolnick paused, his heavy face slowly gravitating through the motions of thought. Was that his problem? This new guy, McManis? Was he beefing? Recognition suddenly flooded his expression. He pointed at Jim, finally drawing the intended impression, albeit far later than anyone might have predicted. "That's you! I see, I
see
! So you ran to the U.S. Attorney without even a how-do-you-do to me? I'm a reasonable fella. Tell me what's on your mind. You think we need this in the middle of the night?"

Sennett asked again if Skolnick met privately with Feaver during the case and Skolnick did an unacceptable version of what was meant to be a hearty laugh. His breath got caught up and he could not manage the kind of heaving exhalation he'd intended. His color, too, was rising.

"Well, I certainly don't remember anything like that."

"You'd remember that, wouldn't you, Judge? Discussing privately with a lawyer how you're going to rule on his motion?"

"Well, you know, lawyers can say most anything, Stan. They're not timid creatures. The
baytzim
, balls, on some guys, frankly. Sometimes I leave court, I say to myself, Barnett, you're too nice, you should have held that young fellow in contempt. But I don't." His bovine form rose and fell with his shrug, as if he himself were baffled by his benign nature.

"Judge, didn't you meet with Feaver on March 5 in your automobile?"

"Oh!" said Skolnick suddenly. He was happy as a child. He remembered now: Feaver had a flat and Skolnick picked him up while Robbie was flagging a taxi. He laughed as he gestured toward Jim. "So you saw that and got the wrong idea? Silliness," said Skolnick. "Stan, my friend, may I make a suggestion? Just be plain, Stan. Tell me who said what and I'll give an honest answer. As best I can. To the best of my recollection."

Sennett asked again if Skolnick had talked to Robbie about the outcome of the painter's case on March 5 in his Lincoln. Skolnick finally denied it.

"Did you meet with him in your car again on April 12?"

"This is a crazy discussion. We're playing ring around the rosy. If Feaver was there-and I said 'if'then he was there for a good reason. That's all I know. That's all I can say.

"And giving you two bribes-$10,000 on March 5 and $8,000 on April 12-wouldn't be good reasons, would they, Judge?"

Skolnick took quite a bit of time, apparently weighing the correct response, and then forced himself through the motions of outrage. After a slight quaver to start, he became quite convincing.

"You come here, in my home, and say such things to me? I took a bribe? Me? Barnett Skolnick?

After twentysix years on the bench? Me, who could have retired with a full pension four years ago?

I don't need this
tsouris
, Stan."

"You're saying those things didn't happen, correct, Judge? You never met with Robbie Feaver to discuss the painter's case? You didn't receive a $10,000 payoff from him in March, or $8,000 in April because you'd forced McManis to settle before he was able to conduct any discovery? Is that what you're saying?"

"You're darn tootin that's what I'm saying. You're darn tootin. Nobody gives Barnett Skolnick money. That I would throw a case?" His face appeared on the verge of crumbling; a lip wiggled and his eyes watered at the ugly insinuation. He pointed again at McManis. "You go to hell," Skolnick said to him. "Go ask Feaver, for crying out loud. This is a complete
bubble meize
, a wives' tale. He'll tell you that."

Stan nodded to McManis, the faintest foreshadowing of a smile apparent. Evon figured he had stifled a naughty impulse to simply lean back and call, "Come a-w-w-n down." Robbie's tread was deliberate. He arrived looking quite drawn, ducking his head to avoid a soffit where the acoustical tile ceiling dropped to box out a heating duct. Evon gave Robbie credit. He looked straight at Skolnick and he did it with no smugness, no anger or pride. He wouldn't play it Sennett's way. He was unhappy to be here. Then, when Sennett lifted a finger, Robbie opened the button of his suit coat, undid his shirt, and displayed the FoxBlte, which had been positioned for show just under his heart. Even though she knew what was coming, the moment had the piercing effect of one of those sci-fi movies where a totally appealing character is revealed as a robot or some other creation with a mechanical brain and no blood, rather than a person. Even as Feaver continued to face Skolnick, there was a certain vacancy to Robbie's expression. After six months of skipping along the government's tightrope, he was starting to lose his balance. Of course, he'd had a day to remember, starting at 6 a.m. with a revolver pointed at his forehead in a serious way. He'd told all of them in the van afterwards that, given what had happened at Evon's place, he'd realized as soon as he saw the cop that Tuohey had sent him. He saw it for what it was, a clever pretext for a frisk, one he couldn't complain about. He was still thinking Tuohey would show up, when the revolver was drawn.

Ì heard the snap on the holster, and I was like, Well, okay, so this is how it's going to be. And I was actually all right with it, and then I thought, Oh my God, Rainey, how can I do this to Rainey?'

He cried at that point. McManis, Sennett, Evon, and I were all in the van with him, and I took the tears as a sign of the overwhelming terror he'd endured. I'm sure only Evon understood the full implications. Sennett, who'd remained visibly upset by the way things had gone awry, dispatched Robbie for home. He would be under twenty-four-hour guard now and there was a tap on his phone. Were it not for Rainey's condition, McManis would have preferred to move both of them. As Robbie had disrobed, Skolnick had actually stood up from his seat on the family sofa. He issued a tiny, stifled outcry, ticking his head in disbelief. Barnett Skolnick, however, was not entirely without resources.

"You crummy son of a bitch," Skolnick said to Robbie. He seemed momentarily surprised by his own show of gumption. He coughed then and grabbed at his chest and, finally, in pure frustration began to weep. The extraordinary pile of creamy white hair resembled the topping on a soda fountain creation, almost luminescent against the sanguine hue that rose through his brow. As Skolnick continued crying, Sennett directed Tex to play back some of the recorded output from the Lincoln. Tex turned on the TV Skolnick had been watching and found the VCR. He replayed the section in which Skolnick acknowledged the envelope Robbie had buried in the seat, saying to Feaver, '
Genug
. We're friends, Robbie. We've done a lot together.' Skolnick rocked on the sofa with his eyes closed, weeping and murmuring, "Oh God, oh God,
oy vay
, oh God." He could not have seen much of it. But he'd already gotten the point.

"I'll never live through this," he told Sennett when it was over. "Never. I'm a dead man. I'm totally a dead man."

"You'll survive, Judge. It's up to you to decide how hard this goes for you." Skolnick issued a tiny disgusted sound. Even he wasn't stupid enough not to recognize the pitch.

"Sure." He pointed to Robbie. "I should be a
schtoonk
like him. Right? That's what you want to tell me, right? That's why you're in my house in the middle of the night." Sennett remained himself, calm and unrelenting. The Angel of Death. Skolnick was exactly where he wanted him. Already broken.

"You can help yourself. You can help yourself a great deal. A
great
deal. You have a lot to tell us. But I can't offer you the same opportunity later. Right now, tonight, you have to tell us everything and agree to help with the people we should be concerned about. We don't think you're the mastermind." Again, for the fleetest instant, a nasty grin played at the corners of Stan's mouth.

"We know somebody put you in that courtroom. We know that not every dollar you receive remains with you. There's one name especially." Sennett sat down on Skolnick's new coffee table and, virtually knee to knee with the man, spoke in a low, intense tone.