legitimate identification card for a New York State trooper. Putting it on the counter for Kim to see, but holding one finger on it, Parker said, “At the end, I need the original back. Undamaged.”
Kim squinted at the ID, then frowned at Parker. “This is actual,” he said.
“That’s right. That’s why I got to get it back.”
This was what Cathman had come up with, out of the state files; a solidly legitimate ID taken from a trooper currently on suspension for charges involving faked evidence against defendants. Whether the trooper was exonerated or not, Cathman needed to be able to put that ID back in the files, and soon.
Kim pointed at the photo of Parker and then at the ID. “You want this,” he said, and then pointed at the photo of Wycza and again” at the ID, “and this.”
“Right.”
Kim wrote some scribbles on the order form, and then, in the right-hand charge column, he wrote, “$500 each.”
Parker put his hand palm down on the form. When Kim looked at him, waiting, Parker took the pen from him, and with the form upside down, he crossed out “each.” Putting the pen down, reaching for his wallet, he said, “Pete told me your price structure, and said you were fair in your charges.”
Kim gave a sour look, and a shrug. “No doubt,” he said, as Parker slid five one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and put them on the counter, “he also told you I do very fast work.”
“You’re right, he did.”
“This is complex, this brochure.” Kim thought about it. “Three days.”
“Thursday. I’ll be here Thursday afternoon.”
“I close at five.”
“I’ll be here,” Parker said.
Kim peeled off one copy of the order form and pushed it across the counter toward Parker, but Parker shook his head, not taking it. “We’ll remember each other,” he said.
10
On Assemblyman Morton Kotkind’s letterhead stationery, Lou Sternberg addressed Andrew Hamilton, New York State Gaming Commissioner, and wrote as follows:
As you know, I have been opposed to the further legalization of gambling in New York State, beyond the lottery and the bingo for tax-exempts already existing. I have been in particular opposition to the installation of a gambling ship on the Hudson River, worldwide symbol of the Empire State, site of the first inland European exploration, by famed Henry Hudson in his ship the Half Moon,of what was to become the United States of America.
The will of the people’s representatives, at this time, has seen fit to look the other way at the potential for abuse in this introduction of casino gambling into the very heart of our state, where our children can actually stand on the riverbank and see this floating casino, and judge thereby that such activity has the blessing of their elders.
Other esteemed members of the Assembly have assured me that the operation of this floating casino is utterly reputable, that the potential for corruption has been minimized, and that the anticipated tax revenues and economic benefits to the depressed areas of the Hudson River Valley far outweigh any potential for mischief or malfeasance. I am far from changing my attitude in this matter, but even my most severest critics have always had to acknowledge my open-mindedness. I am prepared to listen and to observe.
In this regard, I have decided to undertake a factfinding tour of inspection of the floating casino on Friday, May 23, this year, on the eight P.M. sailing from Albany. I wish this mission to be as low-key as possible, with no excess attention paid to me and my two aides who will accompany me. I would ask merely for one escort from the ship’s complement to conduct me on my tour. I will expect, of course, to see every part of the ship.
At this point, I would take strong exception to this tour of inspection being used for publicity purposes to suggest that my opposition to casino gambling in New York State has altered or diminished in any way. I shall myself make no contact with the press, and I would ask that your office and the operators of the floating casino do not alert the press to this tour of inspection. After the event, if you wish, we may make a joint public announcement.
My assistant, Dianne Weatherwax, will telephone your office from my constituent office in my district in Brooklyn on Wednesday, May 21, to finalize the details. Any questions you may have should be raised through her, at that office.
May I say that, although I do not expect to have my opinions on this issue changed, I would welcome convincing evidence that casino gambling is not the scourge I have long believed it to be.
Yours sincerely,
Morton Kotkind
Sternberg was proud of this letter. “It sounds like him,” he said. “Some of it is even from his speeches, like the children on the riverbank. And besides that, it’s the way he talks.”
It had been part of Sternberg’s job to meet Kotkind, study him, get to know him, befriend him. There was a bar near Kotkind’s Brooklyn law offices on Court Street where lawyers went to unwind after their hard days, and it had not been difficult for Sternberg, short and stout and sour-looking, to blend in among them, cull Kotkind from the herd, and share a scotch and soda with the man from time to time.
And now Sternberg was upstate, at Tooler’s cottages, with the letter. Parker and Wycza and Noelle and Carlow all read it, and all agreed it sounded like a politician/lawyer starting to reposition himself from off that limb he’d climbed out on.
Giving the letter back, Parker said to Sternberg, “So you’ll meet up with him on Tuesday”
“We already got an appointment,” Sternberg said. “We’re both gonna be in court that day, him in state civil, me in housing, and we’re gonna meet at the bar at five o’clock, have a drink before we go home to the trouble and strife, share our woes with the judges. That’s when I slip him the mickey.”
“What I want is him sick,” Parker said. “Through Saturday. Sick enough so he doesn’t go to any office, make any phone calls, put in any appearances anywhere. But not so sick he gets into the newspapers. Assemblyman
