Free No Safe Place by Richard North Patterson Page B

pleasure, the most vocal members of the black community had suddenly dropped their demand for his indictment. Liam’s new allies …
    Kerry clutched Liam by the sleeve of his coat. “Did
you
save my father?”
    For a time, Liam appraised Kerry with what, beneath the heavy lids, seemed a very intense interest.
    “It’s as I said,” he finally answered. “Do the right thing, and things tend to come out right in the end. That applies to Michael too.”
    The night James Kilcannon won election to the New Jersey State Senate, he barely acknowledged either parent. It was in keeping with how he had gotten there—going away to Princeton; becoming a leader of anti-Vietnam demonstrations; casting his lot with the reform wing of the party. To his supporters he was attractive, articulate, and the antithesis of machine politics. They did not know or care about his family.
    Nonetheless, Michael and Mary Kilcannon drove to attend Jamie’s victory celebration. Jamie was plainly uncomfortable at this; his most extended mention of family was of Kerry. Remarking on his brother’s age, the victorious candidate grinned and said, “You’re next, Kerry—if you can get your grades up a little.” The clip was notable enough to show on TV: the handsome new state senator was himself only twenty-four.
    Watching Jamie on television, Kerry scowled; it had been weeks since Jamie had spoken to him, and he saw himself as a prop. Kerry was much more concerned with the race between Gibson and Addonizio for mayor of Newark, on which Liam Dunn’s future rested.
    The night of the election, Liam’s house was guarded by police. The week before, someone had lit a brick doused in gasoline and thrown it through a window.
    Liam had been reluctant to have Kerry stay with them, let alone go out with him that night. But Kerry insisted. “You say this is history. I want to see it.” So he went with Liam in the back of a squad car driven by a tight-lipped policeman to the victory celebration for Kenneth Gibson.
    The exultant crowd—some white, mostly black—was filled with a sense of unleashed energy; though black voters were now the majority in Newark, no black man had ever beenelected mayor. Watching with Liam as Gibson declared victory,Kerry felt an answering sympathy that surprised him; the pow-erlessness of these people had been taken for granted, and now they would have their day. The streets near City Hall were filled with celebrants.
    “You’ll never again see a white mayor of Newark,” Liam murmured on their way home. When they arrived, Liam’s house was quite safe; Vailsburg was quiet as a tomb. Liam said hardly a word.
    The next month, with the mayor-elect’s support, Councilman Liam Dunn became chairman of the Essex County Democratic Party. Liam’s adversary, Paul Slattery, never ran for anything.

THREE
    At sixteen, Kerry Kilcannon fought in the Golden Gloves.
    Jack Burns had held him back as long as he was able. But Kerry had grown to one hundred forty-five pounds stretched over five feet ten inches; he had fought in exhibitions, trained tirelessly. This was the only way he could know how good he was.
    His father and mother came to Kerry’s first match, part of a crowd numbering a few hundred—Michael somewhat contemptuous of his slender son’s chances, Kerry’s mother unsure if she could watch. Perhaps, Kerry thought bleakly, it reminded her too much of home.
    His first opponent was an Italian boy, Joey Giusti. Shorter and barrel-chested, Joey tried to push Kerry against the ropes and batter him; through the earholes in his head protector, Kerry heard the cheers of Italians as Joey threw punch after punch. Kerry simply burrowed into a crouch and took them—on the arms, the shoulders, the top of his head, everywhere but thechin—as Joey’s partisans roared and Kerry’s father shouted, “Fight, dammit, fight.”
    At the end of round one, Kerry had thrown three punches.
    Sitting on his bench, Kerry made himself ignore his