The Intern(35)

She thanked him for lunch with tears in her eyes.

“Not just for lunch. Say thank you for this, too,” Sylvia said, picking up the tube that contained Kathy’s diploma and waving it at her.

Kathy threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Uncle Ray.”

“Aw, well. You’re a very deserving girl, Kathy. It makes me proud to help you out.”

“I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Have you thought about your future? I got to tell you, you’d make one hell of a lawyer. You got the brains, the excellent record. The looks. Who would’ve thought that skinny kid with the pigtails would turn out as pretty as her mother?”

Ray was not a big believer in credit cards. He threw down a wad of cash, and they got up to leave. On the street, Kathy said she had to go pack up her dorm room and move out. The plan was, work for a few months, save enough for a plane ticket and Eurail pass, then bum around Europe for a while and figure out her life. She had a few leads on waitressing jobs.

“What do you want with waitressing?” Ray said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s a dirty business. Your clothes smell, men grab your ass. Come work for me in the office, with your mom. There’s plenty of projects that could use attention. I’ll pay you ten bucks an hour. You’ll save enough for your vacation in no time.”

By then, she understood that Ray’s law practice was not a hundred percent above board. You couldn’t be Eddie Wallace’s best friend and closest associate without bending the rules occasionally. But she didn’t see how that would affect her if all she was doing was secretarial work. And the offer of easy desk work at a good wage was hard to turn down.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’d love to have you. Just come in with your mom on Monday, and we’ll put you to work.”

“That would be great.”

“I’m warning you, though, I’m gonna keep bugging you about law school. You know I got no kids of my own to follow in my footsteps. I consider you like my own. I’ll pay whatever financial aid doesn’t cover, just like with college.”

She smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “Wow, thank you, that’s a beautiful offer. And very generous. I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

“I’m serious. Think about it. You could graduate debt-free,” he said.

Kathy didn’t know it at the time, but some debts went beyond money. Her debt to Uncle Ray would be like that.





14


Five years later In the first year that she was a prosecutor, the debt came due.

It had been a long day of listening to wiretap tapes in a windowless room. Ten hours straight of the bug in the barbershop where Salvatore Fiamma planned his hits. But the tapes were useless. Locker-room talk, sports teams, the manicotti they had for dinner last night. When those guys had something incriminating to say, they took a walk around the block. Kathryn could’ve told her boss, You’ll never catch them. They’re too smart for you and way too vicious. She knew that, from Ray. But she was a junior prosecutor, only six months on the job. And her connection to defense attorney Raymond Logue was not something to brag about. On the contrary, it was something to hide.

She walked down the long hallway toward her boss’s office to give her report, hesitating on the threshold. BRADLEY MCCARTHY, CHIEF, ORGANIZED CRIME, the nameplate read. She was afraid to go in, or more accurately, ashamed. Despite not having done much to compromise herself yet, she’d done enough. Ray ambushed her on her mother’s birthday, at a celebratory dinner in the North End, over a plate of lasagna. He waited until Sylvia went to the ladies’ room to lean in and say he needed a favor. A small thing, nothing really. Have I ever asked you for anything before? It was only information, he said. She wanted to say no. But it was Ray, and she owed him so much. She made a deal with herself. She’d pass him information, just not enough to compromise herself too badly, or harm anyone else.

She knocked and pushed open the door. Brad was on the phone. He covered the receiver with his hand.

“Anything?” he mouthed.

She shook her head. He motioned for her to sit.

“Yes you are, yes you are. Daddy’s good girl.… Hon? Hon, are you there? Yeah, someone just walked in.… By ten at the latest.… I promise, I’ll work from home this weekend so you can have a break.… Kiss the kids for me. Love you.”

Brad hung up and scowled at her. “Really? All those tapes, and nothing?”

Kathryn shrugged. “I got a good recipe for manicotti out of it.”

He laughed. She crossed her legs, which were famous around the office. Brad was a devoted family man, but he looked.

“What’s your take?” he said. “Did the bug get blown somehow? A leak?”

Well, yes, and the leaker was sitting right in front of him. She felt sick. And yet she told herself that there were other ways besides a wiretap to make a case. They’d get Fiamma eventually, and she would help them. She would even things out in the end.

“I don’t think so. They’re just careful.”

“It costs an arm and a leg to monitor. I’m starting to think we should take it down.”

“Your call.”

“It’s a tough one. A lot of high-value targets come into that barbershop. Half the syndicate. I keep thinking they’ll slip up eventually, but…” He shook his head. “There’s another way we could go. With our new star witness, I’m thinking we take a direct run at Old Man Fiamma.”