“I’m only the messenger, Alex. I haven’t met her yet,” Mercer said. “I just think we’re going to have a handful with Salma. Maybe you ought to plan to meet with her pretty soon-nip this in the bud. Reach out to her before the problem officially lands in your lap. Just keeping you up to speed.”
“I’m at City Hall with Battaglia. About to meet Statler. Call you later.”
I went downstairs and the aide stepped aside so that I could enter the room.
Paul Battaglia had his back to one of the five large arched windows that overlooked City Hall Park. Tim Spindlis had tucked himself into a corner of the room, positioned to catch everything that went on. The DA lifted a hand to gesture to me, formally introducing me to Mayor Statler, who came forward to greet me.
“Want to close that?” he said, his deep voice resonating like a friendly growl as he gestured to someone behind me.
I turned to see that he was talking to Rowdy Kitts, standing behind the door, beneath the portrait of some long-forgotten politician. Not only was Rowdy back on the mayoral detail, but he was clearly welcome and trusted in the inner sanctum.
“Thanks for coming over, Alex. I know you’ve had a long, difficult day. Roland, here, told me you were out at the scene of the disaster quite early. He’s told me even more about you than your boss. You’ve done some fine work for the city, young lady. I can’t think of anything more despicable than men who abuse women and children.”
Kitts came around to stand beside the mayor, and I smiled to acknowledge him and his effort to make up with me, before I thanked Statler.
“You’ve been here before, I know,” he said, watching me take in the elegant appointments of the reception area. “It’s my favorite place in City Hall.”
The Governor’s Room, I had learned from many long waits through council testimony, had been named that because it was used almost two hundred years ago whenever New York’s governors were visiting the city from Albany. It boasted a brilliant collection of American portraiture, and had played host to everyone from the Marquis de Lafayette to Albert Einstein. It was the backdrop for both Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses Grant when they lay in state in the adjacent rotunda, and the desk that Statler sat at had belonged to George Washington, in the days when New York was the nation’s capital.
“Easy to understand why it is.”
“I’m going to have to give a press conference tonight, Alex. There’s been an enormous amount of pressure on my staff about both of these breaking cases, and for a change, it’s national media that’s wanting to know details. It’s not just a matter of the Post making up ridiculous headlines over nothing at all.”
“I think I’ve told you everything Alex knows, Vin,” Battaglia said, walking to the center of the room. “You’re not going to have her standing next to you for this media circus. It’s simply not appropriate.”
Battaglia didn’t like his assistants talking to the press. He was a genius at manipulating reporters himself-even entire editorial boards-on issues of great significance or on petty personal gripes, but he was right to expect us to try our cases in the courtroom, and not on the steps of the courthouse or City Hall.
Statler stared at me, not responding to the district attorney. “Roland has given me a pretty good idea of what went on with all the detainees this morning. And the poor victims who died. It would be very helpful if you were available to answer questions about trafficking and, well, sort of how these women are duped and used by the perpetrators.”
“I’m not going to expose her to that kind of publicity before the investigation is even under way, Vin.”
The mayor continued to stare at me. I felt stupid not being able to answer for myself, but those had been Battaglia’s orders.
“Roland says you’re the only person who has the experience and credibility on this issue to speak for me,” Statler said.
“He’s exaggerating, of course.” I didn’t think Battaglia would mind if I politely demurred.
“Use Donny Baynes,” Battaglia said. “It’s his goddamn task force.”
“What do you think happened to that one young woman on the boat, Alex?” the mayor asked, ignoring Battaglia. “The one who might have been killed on board ship.”
“Go on, tell him what you told me,” Battaglia said, removing the cigar from his mouth and pointing it at me with eyes as sharp as a cattle prod.
“I’ll know more by tomorrow. I think it would be premature for you to say anything about that victim’s specifics until there’s been an autopsy. I’m sure Detective Kitts has explained that the ME’s preliminary observation suggests some causality other than drowning.”
“I think they’re going to want more specifics than that, Alex. This isn’t going to be covered just by local kids on the crime beat. I’m talking Brian Williams and Katie Couric and Larry King. This is a major disaster on our beach, in our city. It’s an international story.”
“Use Donny Baynes,” Battaglia said again.
Tim Spindlis nodded his support across the room. I wondered if he knew how foolish he appeared to be to the rest of us. I wondered why Battaglia had felt it necessary to cart Tim along to this meeting.
The mayor turned toward the district attorney and took his hands out of his pants pockets. “I can’t very well use Baynes and you know it, Paul.”
“Why not?”
“Because Donovan is one of Ethan Leighton’s closest friends. Weren’t you aware of that?”
I had forgotten to tell Battaglia about Baynes’s relationship with Leighton. It hadn’t seemed important as we rode to City Hall. The district attorney looked at me and scowled. Tim Spindlis mimicked his expression.
“I put Baynes next to me on the podium and when these reporters move on to story number two, the congressman who mistook his penis for a brain-excuse me, Alex-they’ll jump all over Donny. ‘Did you know about the love nest? Ever meet Leighton’s girlfriend? Donny, did he tell you about the baby?’ ” Statler was shaking his head. “Baynes is a good guy. I can’t hang him out that way.”
“That’s why you want Alex? Hang her out for press potshots? It’s not happening, Vin,” Battaglia said. “Sit down. Alex’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know about human trafficking right now. Then we’ll get out of your hair.”
“Give me the basics, will you? Tell me the relevant laws while you’re at it.”
I knew how smart Statler was, and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to educate him about this difficult subject. The questions that would most interest the media-who the snakeheads were, where the Ukrainians would have been sent if they’d landed, and what would become of them now-were things that no one could answer tonight.
Battaglia folded his arms and listened as I told the mayor what information I thought he’d need for the press conference. Watching over us-hanging on the walls of the stately room-were all the major politicians from the time of the Revolution, heroes of the War of 1812, and luminaries from every walk of the city’s history.
When I paused to think of what other legislative issues might be raised, the mayor took another direction.
“What do you know about Leighton and his lady friend?” the mayor asked. “There must be some details you can tell me.”
“Not her case,” Battaglia snapped.
“But I understand one of the detectives who’s involved in the investigation also met with Alex on the beach. Someone from the task force.”
“Don’t let the press go there,” Battaglia said. I’d filled him in on what Mercer had told me. “They’ll have all they need from the criminal court arraignment. That’s been finished by now. Public hearing. More facts than we’ve got to give you.”
“Ethan’s a sick kid, don’t you think, Paul? Terrific wife and family, throws it all away for some little-who, who is she? What do you know about the girlfriend?”