Сидни Шелдон – Rage of Angels (страница 3)

They took the oath, their voices subdued.

When it was over, Di Silva said, ‘All right. You’re sworn officers of the court, God help us. This office is where the action is, but don’t get your hopes up. You’re going to bury your noses in legal research, and draft documents – subpoenas, warrants – all those wonderful things they taught you in law school. You won’t get to handle a trial for the next year or two.’

Di Silva stopped to light a short, stubby cigar. ‘I’m prosecuting a case now. Some of you may have read about it.’ His voice was edged with sarcasm. ‘I can use half a dozen of you to run errands for me.’ Jennifer’s hand was the first one up. Di Silva hesitated a moment, then selected her and five others.

‘Get down to Courtroom Sixteen.’

As they left the room, they were issued identification cards. Jennifer had not been discouraged by the District Attorney’s attitude. He has to be tough, she thought. He’s in a tough job. And she was working for him now. She was a member of the staff of the District Attorney of the County of New York! The interminable years of law school drudgery were over. Somehow her professors had managed to make the law seem abstract and ancient, but Jennifer had always managed to glimpse the Promised Land beyond: the real law that dealt with human beings and their follies. Jennifer had been graduated second in her class and had been on Law Review. She had passed the bar examination on the first try, while a third of those who had taken it with her had failed. She felt that she understood Robert Di Silva, and she was sure she would be able to handle any job he gave her.

Jennifer had done her homework. She knew there were four different bureaus under the District Attorney – Trials, Appeals, Rackets and Frauds – and she wondered to which one she would be assigned. There were over two hundred assistant district attorneys in New York City and five district attorneys, one for each borough. But the most important borough, of course, was Manhattan: Robert Di Silva.

Jennifer sat in the courtroom now, at the prosecutor’s table, watching Robert Di Silva at work, a powerful, relentless inquisitor.

Jennifer glanced over at the defendant, Michael Moretti. Even with everything Jennifer had read about him, she could not convince herself that Michael Moretti was a murderer. He looks like a young movie star in a courtroom set, Jennifer thought. He sat there motionless, only his deep, black eyes giving away whatever inner turmoil he might have felt. They moved ceaselessly, examining every corner of the room as though trying to calculate a means of escape. There was no escape. Di Silva had seen to that.

Camillo Stela was on the witness stand. If Stela had been an animal, he would have been a weasel. He had a narrow, pinched face, with thin lips and yellow buckteeth. His eyes were darting and furtive and you disbelieved him before he even opened his mouth. Robert Di Silva was aware of his witness’s shortcomings, but they did not matter. What mattered was what Stela had to say. He had horror stories to tell that had never been told before, and they had the unmistakable ring of truth.

The District Attorney walked over to the witness box where Camillo Stela had been sworn in.

‘Mr Stela, I want this jury to be aware that you are a reluctant witness and that in order to persuade you to testify, the State has agreed to allow you to plead to the lesser charge of involuntary manslaughter in the murder you are charged with. Is that true?’

‘Yes, sir.’ His right arm was twitching.

‘Mr Stela, are you acquainted with the defendant, Michael Moretti?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He kept his eyes away from the defendant’s table where Michael Moretti was sitting.

‘What was the nature of your relationship?’

‘I worked for Mike.’

‘How long have you known Michael Moretti?’

‘About ten years.’ His voice was almost inaudible.

‘Would you speak up, please?’

‘About ten years.’ His neck was twitching now.

‘Would you say you were close to the defendant?’

‘Objection!’ Thomas Colfax rose to his feet. Michael Moretti’s attorney was a tall, silver-haired man in his fifties, the consigliere for the Syndicate, and one of the shrewdest criminal lawyers in the country. ‘The District Attorney is attempting to lead the witness.’

Judge Lawrence Waldman said, ‘Sustained.’

‘I’ll rephrase the question. In what capacity did you work for Mr Moretti?’

‘I was kind of what you might call a troubleshooter.’

‘Would you be a little more explicit?’

‘Yeah. If a problem comes up – someone gets out of line, like – Mike would tell me to go straighten this party out.’

‘How would you do that?’

‘You know – muscle.’

‘Could you give the jury an example?’

Thomas Colfax was on his feet. ‘Objection, Your Honor. This line of questioning is immaterial.’

‘Overruled. The witness may answer.’

‘Well, Mike’s into loan-sharkin’, right? A coupla years ago Jimmy Serrano gets behind in his payments, so Mike sends me over to teach Jimmy a lesson.’

‘What did that lesson consist of?’

‘I broke his legs. You see,’ Stela explained earnestly, ‘if you let one guy get away with it, they’re all gonna try it.’

From the corner of his eye, Robert Di Silva could see the shocked reactions on the faces of the jurors.

‘What other business was Michael Moretti involved in besides loan-sharking?’

‘Jesus! You name it.’

‘I would like you to name it, Mr Stela.’

‘Yeah. Well, like on the waterfront, Mike got a pretty good fix in with the union. Likewise the garment industry. Mike’s into gamblin’, juke boxes, garbage collectin’, linen supplies. Like that.’

‘Mr Stela, Michael Moretti is on trial for the murders of Eddie and Albert Ramos. Did you know them?’

‘Oh, sure.’

‘Were you present when they were killed?’

‘Yeah.’ His whole body seemed to twitch.

‘Who did the actual killing?’

‘Mike.’ For a second, his eyes caught Michael Moretti’s eyes and Stela quickly looked away.

‘Michael Moretti?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Why did the defendant tell you he wanted the Ramos brothers killed?’

‘Well, Eddie and Al handled a book for –’

‘That’s a bookmaking operation? Illegal betting?’

‘Yeah. Mike found out they was skimmin’. He had to teach ’em a lesson ’cause they was his boys, you know? He thought –’

‘Objection!’

‘Sustained. The witness will stick to the facts.’

‘The facts was that Mike tells me to invite the boys –’

‘Eddie and Albert Ramos?’

‘Yeah. To a little party down at The Pelican. That’s a private beach club.’ His arm started to twitch again and Stela, suddenly aware of it, pressed against it with his other hand.

Jennifer Parker turned to look at Michael Moretti. He was watching impassively, his face and body immobile.

‘What happened then, Mr Stela?’

‘I picked Eddie and Al up and drove ’em to the parkin’ lot. Mike was there, waitin’. When the boys got outta the car, I moved outta the way and Mike started blastin’.’

‘Did you see the Ramos brothers fall to the ground?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And they were dead?’

‘They sure buried ’em like they was dead.’

There was a ripple of sound through the courtroom. Di Silva waited until there was silence.