Free Once a Killer by Martin Bodenham Page B

hidden behind the base of the podium, rolled forward onto his toes, adding another two inches to his height.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here this afternoon,” he said in his barely disguised Brooklyn accent. He waited for the photographers to stop clicking away before continuing. “For those of you who do not know me, I am Assistant Director Fabrizio Caravini, responsible for the FBI’s financial crimes unit in New York City.” He stopped and took a sip of water, not to quench his thirst, but to make sure the journalists had enough time to capture an accurate record of his full name and position. Nothing irritated him more than when he saw his name in print and it was spelled incorrectly. Sometimes, he was convinced they did it deliberately to wind him up.
    “As many of you will have heard by now, this morning, in the United States Southern District Court, Timothy Callahan, the former CEO of Parmadin Asset Management, was found guilty on nine counts of conspiracy and securities fraud. This follows an exhaustive two-year investigation by my team as part of our increased focus on insider trading, something I promised you when I took on this role five years ago.” He paused long enough to scan the room for any approving nods. There were none. What did he expect from a bunch of cynical journalists? “I expect more indictments to follow in the coming months as we escalate the resources we devote to this particularly pernicious crime. I am determined to maintain New York’s leading position in global financial markets by making it clear to corrupt money managers and other members of the criminal fraternity who think they can game the system that they will be caught and punished.” He stared right at the TV camera in the center of the room. If the skeptical hacks in the room didn’t appreciate him, he’d make sure the TV audience at home did. After all, they were the ones who really mattered. “Your greed and crooked practices have no place here in this great city. You will not be tolerated.”
    The media conference lasted another half an hour, most of which was taken up by a question-and-answer session. How much money had Callahan made from insider trading? Would he be forced to give it back? How many other suspects did Caravini’s department have under investigation right now? When could they expect to see more criminals brought to book? Why was it that, in spite of countless securities laws and SEC rules, so many on Wall Street still believed they could cheat the system? Then the question he’d been waiting for: when was he going to announce his candidacy for mayor? The good people of New York needed a Rottweiler like him to clean up other areas of the city.
    Afterward, Caravini returned to his twenty-third-floor office overlooking Federal Plaza.
    “Another great performance,” said Abi, his leggy, blond personal assistant when she brought through his usual strong coffee. “I’ll make sure to watch it again on this evening’s news. I’m so proud of you.”
    She had one of those voices that made her raise the intonation at the end of each sentence, making statements sound like questions. Caravini found it irritating, but he’d never say anything.
    He grabbed the coffee. “Thanks. I’m not sure I’ll have time to catch it.” In truth, he’d already telephoned his wife before the conference to make sure she recorded the live broadcast. Provided she didn’t deliberately screw it up, he’d watch it several times over when he got home and then again at the weekend before filing it away with all the other recordings.
    Abi flashed her bleached white teeth. “Is it true they want you to run for the mayor’s office?” She had no idea Caravini had planted the mayor question by leaning on one of his journalist contacts, who owed him a favor.
    “We’ll see. I need to give it a lot more thought. My work here is not done yet, but if the people come calling…”
    “You’d make a great