Part 62 (1/2)

”In camera? Why?”

”Mr. Killian says he has some tapes. First we're gonna listen to 'em in camera.”

”Look, Judge-”

”You don't wanna go in camera, Mr. Kramer? You afraid you gonna miss your audience?”

Seething, Kramer looked down and shook his head.

Sherman was stranded back at the fence, the bar. Quigley was somewhere behind him, holding the heavy case. But mainly...they were behind him. were behind him. When would it begin? When would it begin? He kept his eyes fixed on the three figures at the judge's bench. He didn't dare let his eyes wander. Then the voices began. They came from behind him in menacing singsongs. He kept his eyes fixed on the three figures at the judge's bench. He didn't dare let his eyes wander. Then the voices began. They came from behind him in menacing singsongs.

”Your last mile, McCoy!”

”Last supper supper.”

Then a soft falsetto: ”Last breath.”

Somewhere, on either side, were court officers. They were doing nothing to stop it. They're as frightened as I am!

The same falsetto: ”Yo, Sherman, why you squirmin'?”

Squirming. Evidently the others liked that. They began piping up in falsetto, too.

”Sherrr-maaannnn...”

”Squirmin' Sherman!”

Sn.i.g.g.e.rs and laughter.

Sherman stared at the bench, wherein seemed to reside his only hope. As if in answer to his supplication, the judge now looked toward him and said, ”Mr. McCoy, would you step up here a minute?”

A rumble and a chorus of falsettos as he started walking. As he drew near the bench, he heard the a.s.sistant district attorney, Kramer, say, ”I don't understand, Judge. What purpose is served by the presence of the defendant?”

The judge said, ”It's his motion and his evidence. Besides, I don't want him rattling around out here. That okay with you, Mr. Kramer?”

Kramer said nothing. He glared at the judge and then at Sherman.

The judge said, ”Mr. McCoy, you're gonna come with me and Mr. Killian and Mr. Kramer into my chambers.”

Then he gave three loud raps with his gavel and said to the room, ”The court will now convene with the attorney for the People and the counsel for the defense in camera. In my absence the proper decorum WILL BE MAINTAINED WILL BE MAINTAINED in this room. Do I make myself clear?” in this room. Do I make myself clear?”

The rumble of the demonstrators rose to a low angry boil, but Kovitsky chose to ignore it and got up and descended the stairs of the dais. The clerk got up from his table to join him. Killian gave Sherman a wink, then headed back toward the spectator section. The judge, the clerk, the judge's law secretary, and Kramer headed toward a door in the paneled wall to one side of the dais. Killian returned, carrying the heavy case. He paused and motioned for Sherman to follow Kovitsky. The court officer, with a huge tube of fat rolling over his gun belt, brought up the rear.

The door led into a room that belied everything that the courtroom itself and the swell term chambers chambers had suggested to Sherman. The ”chambers” were, in fact, a single room, a single very sad room. It was small, dirty, bare, run-down, painted Good Enough for Government Work cream, except that the paint was missing in splotches here and there and peeling off in miserable curls in other places. The only generous notes were the extraordinarily high ceiling and a window eight or nine feet high that flooded the room with light. The judge sat down at a beat-up metal desk. The clerk sat at another one. Kramer, Killian, and Sherman sat in some heavy and ancient round-backed wooden chairs, the sort known as banker's chairs. Kovitsky's law secretary and the fat court officer stood up against the wall. A tall man came in carrying the portable stenotype machine that court stenographers use. How odd!-the man was so well dressed. He wore a lovat tweed jacket, a white b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, as flawless as Rawlie's, an ancient madder necktie, black flannel trousers, and half-brogue shoes. He looked like a Yale professor with an independent income and tenure. had suggested to Sherman. The ”chambers” were, in fact, a single room, a single very sad room. It was small, dirty, bare, run-down, painted Good Enough for Government Work cream, except that the paint was missing in splotches here and there and peeling off in miserable curls in other places. The only generous notes were the extraordinarily high ceiling and a window eight or nine feet high that flooded the room with light. The judge sat down at a beat-up metal desk. The clerk sat at another one. Kramer, Killian, and Sherman sat in some heavy and ancient round-backed wooden chairs, the sort known as banker's chairs. Kovitsky's law secretary and the fat court officer stood up against the wall. A tall man came in carrying the portable stenotype machine that court stenographers use. How odd!-the man was so well dressed. He wore a lovat tweed jacket, a white b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, as flawless as Rawlie's, an ancient madder necktie, black flannel trousers, and half-brogue shoes. He looked like a Yale professor with an independent income and tenure.

”Mr. Sullivan,” said Kovitsky, ”you better bring your chair in here, too.”

Mr. Sullivan went out, then returned with a small wooden chair, sat down, fiddled with his machine, looked at Kovitsky, and nodded.

Then Kovitsky said, ”Now, Mr. Killian, you state that you are in possession of information having a material and substantial bearing on the grand-jury proceedings in this case.”

”That's correct, Judge,” said Killian.

”All right,” said Kovitsky. ”I want to hear what you have to say, but I must warn you, this motion better not be frivolous.”

”It's not frivolous, Judge.”

”Because if it is, I'm gonna take a very dim view of it, as dim a view as I've ever taken of anything in my years on the bench, and that would be very dim, indeed. Do I make myself clear?”

”You certainly do, Judge.”

”All right. Now, you're prepared to submit your information at this time?”

”I am.”

”Then go ahead.”

”Three days ago, Judge, I received a telephone call from Maria Ruskin, the widow of Mr. Arthur Ruskin, asking if she could talk to Mr. McCoy here. According to my best information-and according to news reports-Mrs. Ruskin has testified before the grand jury in the case.”

Kovitsky said to Kramer, ”Is that correct?”

Kramer said, ”She gave testimony yesterday.”

The judge said to Killian, ”All right, go ahead.”

”So I set up a meeting between Mrs. Ruskin and Mr. McCoy, and at my urging Mr. McCoy wore a concealed recording device to this meeting in order to have a verifiable record of that conversation. The meeting was in an apartment on East Seventy-seventh Street that Mrs. Ruskin apparently keeps for...uh, private meetings...and a taped recording of that meeting was obtained. I have that tape with me, and I think the court should be aware of what's on that tape.”

”Wait a minute, Judge,” said Kramer. ”Is he saying that his client went to see Mrs. Ruskin wired wired?”

”I take it that's the case,” said the judge. ”Is that right, Mr. Killian?”

”That's correct, Judge,” said Killian.

”Well, I want to register an objection, Judge,” said Kramer, ”and I would like for the record to so state. This isn't the time to consider this motion, and besides that, there's no way of checking on the authenticity of this tape Mr. Killian purports to have.”

”First we're gonna listen to the tape, Mr. Kramer, and see what's on it. We'll see if it warrants further consideration, prima facie prima facie, and then we'll worry about the other questions. That meet with your approval?”

”No, Judge, I don't see how you can-”

The judge, testily: ”Play the tape, Counselor.”

Killian reached into the case and took out the big tape machine and placed it on Kovitsky's desk. Then he inserted a ca.s.sette. The ca.s.sette was exceedingly small. Somehow this secret miniature cartridge seemed as devious and sordid as the enterprise itself.

”How many voices are on this tape?” asked Kovitsky.

”Just two, Judge,” said Killian. ”Mr. McCoy's and Mrs. Ruskin's.”

”So it'll be clear enough to Mr. Sullivan what we're hearing?”

”It should be,” said Killian. ”No, I'm sorry, Judge, I forgot. At the beginning of the tape you're gonna hear Mr. McCoy talking to the driver of the car that took him to the building where he met Mrs. Ruskin. And at the end you'll hear him talking to the driver again.”