The Gun Runner's Daughter (41 page)

BOOK: The Gun Runner's Daughter
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“Gentlemen. We have high crimes, and we have misdemeanors.”

Then he turned to Nicky and nearly lifted him off the ground with a hug.

When the papers had made their rounds, Nicky, accompanied by the aides, copied them on the office Xerox. Meanwhile the videocassette was duped on four VCR decks. Then the aides took the
originals; one placed them in a locked briefcase with a slim gold handcuff closing the lock and wrapping around his wrist, hidden by the sleeve of his overcoat, and the three left the office. Nicky
then handed out copies to interns, who collated them with cover letters and began to fax, from the five machines Jay had installed for the purpose, copies of Allison Rosenthal’s transcripts
and photographs to a list of ninety-five fax numbers Jay had compiled, ranging from President Clinton’s office and that of the Senate leaders to the country’s top newspapers and the
state’s top legislators.

While the faxes went off, Jay saw his other visitors out, then stood next to Nicky, wordless. Once, he reached his arm around Nicky’s shoulders and squeezed his arm, hard.

That, Nicky thought, looking up at Jay, is pure joy.

The faxes took a couple of hours. Then it was time for Jay and Nicky to leave for Stan’s offices, where, before the virtual entirety of the American news media, Nicky was
to give a press conference to announce that he had received unimpeachable proofs, that morning, from the office of the U.S. attorney, Southern District of New York, currently engaged in the
prosecution of Ronald Rosenthal, detailing the central participation of Senator-elect Gregory Eastbrook in the illegal sale of military equipment and technology to Saddam Hussein throughout the
eighties, sales that resulted finally in the necessity for an American military engagement that cost the country some half-billion dollars a day. And, in the opinion of the
NAR
’s
lawyers, the criminal action it detailed would, if taken seriously, require nothing less than the resignation of Senator-elect Eastbrook. Finally, Nicky Dymitryck would say, in his opinion, and the
opinion of the four other people who had read the documents, that there was no way on God’s green earth that these documents would not be taken seriously, because they were supported by
memorialization in the form of photographic evidence.

Or, as Jay Cohen put it later that day, over a bottle of champagne, poor Mr. Eastbrook was about to take the ride of his fucking life.

2.

It was, however, a short celebration that took place in the offices of the
NAR.
For one thing, the
NAR
was rushing the transcripts to press that evening. But more
important, in the steadily accelerating pattern of events that now set themselves in motion, there was little time for partying.

At nine o’clock that night, as Nicky and Jay proofed the type of the
NAR
’s publication of Allison’s transcripts, the
New York Times
Saturday edition came over the
fax.

This time, the story of Esther Rosenthal’s arrest had a large-point headline, but it was column two on the left.

Center of the page, the banner headline was devoted to Nicky’s press conference about the Eastbrook revelations.

Underneath this, a second article reported that the U.S. attorney had moved for a directed conviction in the Rosenthal prosecution.

But the right-hand column—the column reserved for the most important news of the day—held the story of the hour, and it was a story that, Nicky thought ruefully even as realization
flooded over him like a cold shower, was absolutely impossible to predict.

For it detailed that during her extradition hearing in state court, while discussing her diaries, introduced as evidence for the records they contained on her fraudulent rentals of her
father’s vacation properties, Esther Rosenthal had addressed the provenance of the transcripts and photographs that Nicky had revealed that day.

Esther Rosenthal, who is known as Allison, stated that the Special Counsel to the U.S. Attorney David Treat Dennis had told her about the videotape last summer on Martha’s Vineyard,
where the families of both hold property. She did not know where Mr. Dennis had obtained the videotape, which implicates Senator-elect Gregory Eastbrook in the illegal sales of military
equipment and technology, ranging from cluster bombs to nuclear know-how, to Iraq prior to the Gulf War. In so doing, they also undermine Ronald Rosenthal’s defense against Arms Export
Control Act violations, probably fatally.

Ms. Rosenthal, who was visibly upset, then went on to say that throughout the summer she had been coerced into providing Mr. Dennis with evidentiary material from her father’s secret
files, which Mr. Dennis then introduced in court in a series of surprise maneuvers that virtually assured the directed conviction of Mr. Rosenthal. Questioned as to the identity of the person
who had coerced her, Ms. Rosenthal, pointedly ignoring her lawyer’s attempt to intercede, informed the court that she had been coerced by Mr. Dennis himself. She then went on to say
that Mr. Dennis and she had been involved sexually during the entire pretrial period, as well as during the trial. This relationship, Ms. Rosenthal said, dated from their childhoods,
including a brief period of sexual involvement while Ms. Rosenthal was under age and Mr. Dennis was in college. Given their long-standing relationship, she had been shocked when Mr. Dennis
had failed to recuse himself from her father’s prosecution, and only later come to understand that he intended to use that relationship to further the prosecution’s case. Finally,
she added that Mr. Dennis had been moved to the U.S. Attorney’s office due to the influence of his father, currently serving as White House Counsel, and that the case was expected to
launch Mr. Dennis’s political career. This, she thought, was surprising given Edward Dennis’s long-standing enmity toward Mr. Rosenthal over Mr. Rosenthal’s development of
his Martha’s Vineyard property, as well as the unethical, if not illegal, nature of the White House involvement in a criminal trial.

During the exchange, Ms. Rosenthal’s lawyer, Robert Stein, who also represents Ronald Rosenthal in his current prosecution, listened, visibly in the same shock as the rest of the
court. Ms. Rosenthal was then remanded into custody pending the organization of a separate hearing, which is presumed to be scheduled for tomorrow.

Ms. Rosenthal’s Greenwich Village apartment was sealed this afternoon by the FBI, which has refused comment on the case. A source close to the investigation who spoke on the
condition of anonymity revealed to the
Times
that a first investigation had found both evidence of Mr. Dennis’s presence, ranging from fingerprints to court documents and clothes
in the apartment, as well as Ms. Rosenthal’s diary, in which Mr. Dennis figures heavily. According to this source, the diary documents Esther Rosenthal’s daily provision of
material from Ronald Rosenthal’s private files to Mr. Dennis, as well as the pressure Mr. Dennis exerted to ensure that provision, including physical violence. This same source
confirmed that Edward Treat Dennis had indeed used his influence to place his son in the U.S. Attorney’s office, and that Mr. Dennis Senior is prominent in the Washington circles behind
the prosecution of Ronald Rosenthal.

In a telephone interview, Mr. Stein was prepared only to comment that he had entered numerous objections to the prosecution’s leading of a key witness, and that his exceptions to key
elements of the prosecution’s evidence were a matter of public record.

Following the article, Max Holtz, just returned to New York, had been considerate enough to fax the front page of the
New York Observer,
which had rushed to press an issue containing
photographs of David Dennis and Allison Rosenthal in conversation at a dusty Little Italy bar.

One set of neural controls was sufficient to govern both Jay and Nicky as they read the story, so precisely did their eyes move in unison. When they reached the end, their eyes
met.

“What the fucking hell is up with this?”

Nicky, wonderingly: “She is trying to disbar David Dennis.”

He saw the realization dawn in Jay’s eyes as he spoke the words. Jay turned to the editorial assistant who had brought the fax, then stayed to watch the reaction.

“Deb, call the press and tell them we’re holding the issue for a few days. They give you trouble, tell me.”

She left, unwillingly, and Jay and Nicky returned their attention to each other. Jay spoke first.

“You didn’t tell me this girl was brilliant.”

“Is she?”

Jay answered at once. “Oh, yes. She’s not disbarring Dennis, Nicky. Fucking him was enough for that. She’s scuttling the entire prosecution.”

Nicky’s voice rose. “She’s going to scuttle a federal prosecution? She is going to have to
prove
everything she says. She is going to have to face David Dennis in open
court.”

“Never. Never in a million years. They’re
never
going to court over this.” Jay was holding a hand to his forehead as he talked, tipping back in his chair. “Where
the fuck did she learn how to do this?”

Nicky, flatly: “I don’t get it.”

And Jay, brought to himself by the question, turned to his associate editor, his face so full of wonder that he did not even bother noting Nicky’s noncomprehension. “Nicky, this was
supposed to be a nice, quiet little vendetta against a rich Jewish arms merchant. It was not meant to be a goddamn bloodbath. Christ, man, look at the body count: one senator-elect, a White House
counsel, a deputy U.S. attorney. I’ll give you dollars to dimes that before this is over the attorney general resigns, and if Sid Ohlinger weren’t the oiliest bastard in the universe,
I’d have said his ass is out of Washington too.”

“Then why’d they start the damn trial?”

“Man, they started it in Clinton’s first year. They needed it to keep NATO in the Bosnian peacekeeping force, and it seems they had a personal vendetta to boot. October surprise, I
don’t doubt. Back then, these guys were drunk with power anyway. Now it’s midterm, their approval ratings are in the fucking garbage. This is not the kind of publicity they were looking
for.”

Jay shook his head, once, decisively. “I don’t think they’ll see Allison Rosenthal in court, I don’t think there’s any way in hell. I think, they get a chance at a
mistrial, they’d drop the case. And you know what? I think Allison Esther Rosenthal, whatever the fuck her name is, understands all this and more.”

The dawning wonder of understanding was overtaking Nicky now. “That’s crazy.”

“I don’t think so.”

A long silence, staring at each other. Then Nicky tried another angle. “That might be true, but an admission from David Dennis is still the only thing that could kill the
prosecution.”

“No. The evidence is still inadmissible. Dennis dumped the case they’d prepared, based the whole case on new evidence, and now every bit of it is inadmissible.”

“What evidence?”

“The evidence David Dennis coerced from her. You see? She gave him a line of prosecution that convicted her father, and he went for it. Now he’s been shown to have coerced it from
her. It’s all inadmissible, and Rosenthal’ll probably have double jeopardy on his side, too. That must be what she’s doing. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Dennis didn’t coerce anything from her.”

“No? That may be, but they still got his tighty-whities on her bedroom floor. And there’s no way that tomorrow morning he won’t stand accused of it.”

Nicky blanched as he realized the truth of that. Still, he went on:

“That doesn’t mean he coerced anything from her. Dennis’ll fight it in court.”

“And while he’s doing so, everything he’s introduced into evidence from the girl’s information is inadmissible. She’s made the truth—the fucking
truth!—legally inadmissible. She sticks to her guns, they’ll be months in court over this, and the fact remains, this guy was fucking that girl. Where’s their prosecution during
all this? Jesus Christ Almighty, by the time they get back to trial—if they get back to trial—Rosenthal’ll have a Knesset seat, and you can’t extradite a Knesset member even
if you convict him in absentia.”

But Nicky’s stomach was plummeting, plummeting. Deep in his belly, he absorbed how profoundly, how utterly he had been betrayed. Then, with a real effort of mental will, he managed to say:
“But she’ll still face prosecution on Ocean View. Even paying back the money won’t matter. Jail time for interstate wire fraud.”

“Is that right? Are you sure? Do you know what she has in mind?”

There was something penetrating in Jay’s question, and Nicky registered the sureness of his instinct. He answered quickly, before Jay figured it out.

“No. But in any case I don’t think she cares.”

“No. I don’t either. Maybe she’ll serve some jail time. But she’s scuttled a federal prosecution long enough to save her father. You know what this is? This is
desperation. This is genius. It’s a covert operation of the soul.”

But still Nicky was not done. He thought, eyes direct on his boss, for another moment. Then, as if completing the description: “It’s the most shocking abuse of the system. It’s
the most shocking betrayal.”

Jay was unconcerned. “Bullshit. It’s the way the law works.”

“No. It’s a shocking abuse. What is this—post-Iran-contra law? Does someone teach this shit somewhere?”

“Hey, Nicky. You teach this shit. You teach this shit every time you write a fucking article. You think your readers in D.C. share your outrage when you write about sleazy deals in the
arms trade? Boy, they read you to find out how to do it. Come on, Nicky, you telling me you’ve never fucked some Paris air show hostess to get to a source? The law? The fucking law?
I’ve seen you break the law on four continents.”

“I broke bad laws for good reasons.”

“Oh, come off it. Everybody’s got a greater fucking good that lets them do what they want.”

Nicky was nearly shouting. “I never did anything nearly this cynical!”

“Really?” Jay looked at him, suspiciously, and again, Nicky felt his boss on the edge of understanding his role in this. “You call it what you want. You ask her, she’ll
tell you her father’s the Jew being scapegoated for a government vendetta. She has overturned an unjust prosecution of her father. If the law is subservient to the truth for you, then it is
for her too. You can’t have it both ways, pal. And in any case, fuck Rosenthal, and why? Because we get to indict a very bad man, a man who has only slightly less contempt for the
Constitution than he has ignorance of it, a man you yourself called ‘a radical enemy of democracy.’ That’s justice, and it’s reason enough for anything else that
happens.”

BOOK: The Gun Runner's Daughter
6.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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