"Pitching is the name of the game today, buddy, and the Yankees have real depth in the bullpen."

This was very frustrating. I tried to explain the facts of baseball life to her, but she said, "Look, I can get us into the press box at Yankee Stadium. You come and see the Yankees play, then we can discuss this intelligently." "I wouldn't go to the Bronx if you paid me. But I'll watch a Yankee game with you on TV."

"Good. I want you to watch them against Detroit next week." Well, anyway, it was a good night, and we had fun, and the next morning I felt a little better than I had the morning before. Capisce?

CHAPTER 32

We spent a few more days at the Plaza, but neither Frank nor I ever mentioned or alluded to the subject of my wife's being his mistress. But I could tell he was still burdened by the subject, and he could tell I was not. I don't mean to suggest I was playing with him; he was not a man to be played with. But apparently he had some human feelings like the rest of us mortals, and I sensed he felt he'd gone beyond the bounds of even Machiavellian behaviour and crossed into actual sin. Well, Father what's-his-name could issue him a quick absolution over the phone. "Say two Hail Marys, Frank, when you get a chance. See you at Communion."

Anyway, on one of those days at the Plaza, I had lunch with Jack Weinstein, whom I took a liking to. On another day, I called Alphonse Ferragamo, whom I had taken a disliking to. But I was nice to Alphonse, as per my client's orders, and Mr Ferragamo and I agreed to fight fair and clean, but we were both lying. Alphonse – not me – brought up the subject of my client's cooperating in other matters of interest to the Justice Department in exchange for Justice dropping the charge of murder. I replied, "He's not guilty of murder." Mr Ferragamo informed me, "Well, we think he is. But I'll tell you what. I'll talk to Washington about a blanket immunity for Bellarosa if he wants to talk." "How about absolution?"

Ferragamo chuckled. "That's between him and his priest. I'm talking immunity from prosecution for good information."

Good information? What kind of information did the stupid son of a bitch think the don of dons had – the location of a bookie joint in Staten Island? Bellarosa had plenty of good information; he just wasn't going to give it to the Justice Department.

"Immunity on anything he testifies about under oath," said Alphonse, which is not quite the same as blanket immunity in exchange for unsworn information. This guy played it slick. I thought a moment. If, in fact, Frank Bellarosa squealed, the Mafia in New York would be crippled for years, maybe forever. And perhaps for that reason alone, his paesanos wanted him dead. He simply had too much information and he had a good memory.

I said to Alphonse, "Mr Ferragamo, my client knows nothing about organized crime. But if he did, I think he'd rather speak to the State Attorney General than to you."

This got Alphonse a little worked up. The nice thing about a federal form of government is that you can play off one level of government against another. They taught me that in civics class. Well, they didn't, but they should have. Alphonse said, "That's not a good idea, Mr Sutter. That won't get your client off the hook with the United States Government."

"And cooperating with you won't get my client off the hook with the New York State government."

"Well… let me work on a joint immunity sort of thing. Would that be what you're looking for?"

"Maybe. And we have six parking violations in the city. We want those fixed, too."

When I heard him force a laugh, I knew I had him by the short hairs. He said, "So you present this possibility to your client, Mr Sutter. You seem a bright and reasonable man. Maybe a man like you could convince your client to make a really smart move."

"I'll tell him what we discussed." You have to understand that every prosecutor in America would like to get just one break like that in a lifetime; a top-level bad guy who was willing to sing for a year into a tape recorder and rat out a thousand other bad guys. To tell you the truth, it was a good deal for Frank. Ferragamo, in effect, was offering Frank Bellarosa his life. But very few of these paesanos made deals, and Frank Bellarosa was the last man in America you would approach with a government offer. But Alphonse was asking, and I had to make sure he was offering the real thing, and it was my duty to pass it on. I said to the U.S. Attorney, "Meanwhile, we really want a quick trial date, Mr Ferragamo, or I have to start complaining to the press." "My case is ready, Mr Sutter. My office is working on a date."

Bullshit. "Fine. When can I speak to the government witnesses?"

"Soon."

Horseshit. 'Thank you."

Understand that U.S. Attorneys don't often speak directly to defence lawyers, and when they do, they're a bit arrogant and bullying. But Mr Ferragamo had probably been reading about John Whitman Sutter in the newspapers, and he must have gotten the impression that I was someone with power, and he was being nice to me at least until he had me checked out. Also, of course, he wanted me to get Frank to sell out. But there was the matter of my perjury, which must have perplexed him. I said to Alphonse, "I saw you on TV the other night, Mr Ferragamo, and I didn't appreciate the inference you made that I was lying about my client's whereabouts."

"I didn't actually say you were lying, nor did I use your name. I said we are investigating the alibi."

"Meaning you're sending Justice Department investigators around to my community and my offices to see if anyone can tell you where I was on January fourteenth of this year. I don't like that."

"Be that as it may, Mr Sutter, that is how I must proceed." He added, "It may have simply been a case of mistaken identity on your part. Correct?" "I know whom I saw."

"Well, if you're willing to say that, and ten years in jail for perjury doesn't frighten you, then I suppose you know where you were on January fourteenth. That was the day before you flew to Florida for vacation, wasn't it?" Mamma mia, first the IRS, then this guy. Why was everyone so intent on getting me into a federal prison? It must be my attitude. I replied, "You're wasting your time and the taxpayers' money, Mr Ferragamo. But I respect your thoroughness and diligence."

"Thank you. Please think about what I've said. Whatever we can work out for your client, we can also work out for you."

I bit my lip, my tongue, and a pencil, and replied, "Thank you for your time." Anyway, I spoke to Jack Weinstein in his Midtown office the next day, as you don't talk about these things on the telephone. I outlined what Alphonse Ferragamo had said and added, "I know what Frank's answer is going to be, Jack, but this is perhaps his one last chance to save his life, and to start a new life."

Weinstein stayed silent a few minutes, then said to me, "Okay, John, I'm Ferragamo and I have you for perjury and you're looking at maybe ten in a federal prison. Okay, what I want from you is all the information you have on your friends and relatives and business partners that can put them away for cheating on their taxes, for playing fast and loose with SEC rules, for doing a little coke and marijuana, maybe for price-fixing, and for all those other little white-collar things that you winked at over the years. Okay, so your partners will go to jail, your wife's family goes to jail, your family goes to jail, your old school buddies go to jail, and you go free. What do you say, John?"

"I say fuck you, Alphonse."

"Precisely. And it goes deeper than that with those people, my friend. It's some kind of ancient distrust of government, some primitive code of honour and of silence. Capisce?"

"Yes, but the world has changed, Jack. Really it has."