Death's Witness by Paul Batista Read Free Book Online

so far tried to create the impression that he got stock in lots of companies, including Mr. Klein’s, in return for favors. None of that’s true, and I believe that the case will be dismissed as against the Congressman after the government rests, because its case is speculative—”
    Judge Feigley cut him off. “The difficulty I’ve got with you, Mr.
    Sorrentino, is that you never seem to talk about the issue I’ve got to deal with. I asked why you’d object to Mr. Klein’s severance, not whether your client was guilty or innocent. I want an answer, not a summation.”
    “Because—and I don’t want to give out privileged information to Mr. Steinman—if the Congressman does have to put on a defense, we will show that Mr. Klein was really the prime mover behind an aborted scheme to bribe the Congressman and others—”
    Now Klein was on his feet. “You fuckin’ liar.” His face was transformed from the bewildered man who had walked into the room. He was concentrated. He was genuinely furious. He pointed at Sorrentino. “You’re a fuckin’ lyin’ Wop—”
    Three U.S. Marshals immediately threw open the door to Judge Feigley’s chambers and raced toward Klein. He may once P A U L B A T I S T A
    have been physically powerful but was now in fact old. The three agile men had no trouble controlling him.
    Sorrentino, as Neil Steinman noticed, was visibly upset.
    Klein’s fury was real, the instant rage of the hoodlum, and Sorrentino was its object. Steinman relished the thought that Sorrentino was shaken, plainly concerned that he had gone too far in antagonizing Klein. Steinman knew the FBI had secretly recorded a conversation of Sy Klein boasting that he was one of the only “guys still around” who knew where to go to “buy a shvartzeh for fifty dollars to bust people up.” That was its own 34
    kind of special power, and Klein had it. Sorrentino sat far back in his chair as he watched the marshals lead Klein from the room.
    Judge Feigley showed no sign of any emotion. “I think we’ve had enough for the morning. We know what all the issues are.
    You’re all dismissed for the day, and the jurors will be, too. I hope to have a decision by ten tomorrow morning.”
    She rose slowly to her feet, as did everyone else in the room.
    “One last thing. I’m telling you all right now I don’t want to read about any of this in the papers or see any of your faces on the news. I’m sealing the transcript of this session. You’re all officers of the court. I want silence. I’ll lock up the first one who talks.
    Period.”
    As she spoke, she looked at Vincent Sorrentino.

    * * *
    At ten the next morning, Judge Feigley stepped majestically into her courtroom. She wore black robes and tinted glasses, and her Lady Bird Johnson hair was freshly done, glistening. The spectator section of the courtroom had seats for two hundred people. They were all filled.
    She announced that the defense motions for a mistrial had been denied. The trial would resume the following morning. She also announced that the court had, on its own motion (she loved to use Latin expressions and said “ sua sponte ”), raised and considered the issue of severing Mr. Klein from the trial. She had determined to D E AT H ’ S W I T N E S S
    grant that motion and sever. A date for his separate trial would be set in the future.
    Standing to state his objection to the severance on the record, Sorrentino, without glancing at him, felt Selig Klein pass behind him as the old man left the courtroom.

35
    5.
    The head of the NBC news department called Julie seven days after she returned from Lowell. Although Stan Wasserman wasn’t an emotional person, he’d always been a professional and, unlike other people at his level in the news business, treated his writers and reporters, both men and women, with respect. He said three things to Julie: that what had happened to her and Kim was overwhelming, unimaginable; that she could come back to NBC
    whenever