V-Wars

“You’ve hired Barel Grindberg as your campaign manag — ”



Mia was interrupted by Big Charlie’s iPhone, which made a three-tone beep and lit up. He glanced down at the status, and then winced. “I am sorry, Ms. Fitzsimmons, but that is one of my A.D.A.s and I’m afraid I must contact her immediately. Let me just say that Barel has managed all my campaigns to date, and she has done a superb job. I am quite fortunate to have her again.”



With that, Mia hit stop on the recorder, dropped it in her purse, once again lost her hand in Big Charlie’s oversized paw, and beat a hasty retreat out of his office. She’d been hoping to ask more about Grindberg, who’d been a player in New York politics for years, but the quote would be enough for the op-ed piece she was doing. It wasn’t as if she was going to be digging any kind of dirt in this interview. Maybe later, but for now, she was doing a puff piece that would make the candidate happy enough to give her more access.



Then, if dirt materialized, she’d be in a better position to find it. And if it didn’t, then she would have the inside track of a beloved community figure’s candidacy. She won either way.



— 2 —



News article in the Bronx section of the New York Daily News.



Several residents of the Edenwald neighborhood have reported a large dog or wolf roaming Needham and De Reimer Avenues near Baychester Avenue and Boston Road. Many garbage cans were turned over with the bags ripped open, and one resident — who asked to remain anonymous — said that the wolf or dog injured her cat.



NYPD’s Animal Control has been notified, and a source at the 47th Precinct has stated that uniformed officers are keeping an eye out. No animals have been reported missing from the Bronx Zoo.



— 3 —



“The field’s completely clear at this point. Ayala was the only holdout, and he’s on board now, especially if you give him that promotion you’ve been promising him for a year.”



Barel Grindberg looked up from the notes on her legal pad to see that Big Charlie was staring at the display on his iPhone, which sat on the conference room table. “Uhm, hello? Coulda sworn we were having a meeting here.”



“Hm?” Big Charlie looked up. “My apologies, Barel, I am simply concerned about maman. I have not heard from her all day, and it is rather unlike her to be out of touch for this long a period. What were we discussing?”



“Bernie Ayala. He agreed to drop out and endorse you if you give him that promotion to homicide.”



Shaking his head, Big Charlie blew out a breath. “I only have refrained from promoting him due to the budget. If he’s willing to accept the job title without the salary bump —”



Barel grinned. “He’ll pretend to be pissed, but he’ll take it. He wants murders so he can run when you finally get around to retiring.”



“That should be four years from now.”



“Yeah, right. That’s what you said four years ago.”



“Maman changed my —”



Holding up a hand, Barel said, “Please. Save it for the reporters. By the way, I loved that op-ed piece Fitzsimmons did for the News.”



That got the trademark Big Charlie smile. “As did maman. And she generally has very little use for reporters.”



Barel filed that away. While she did tease her boss about it, Marie Charles’ likes and dislikes often had a profound impact on her son’s decisions. If Fitzsimmons was someone Marie liked, it meant that Big Charlie was likely to give her access. She jotted down a note to have her guys vet the reporter.



Running a hand through the mess of steel wool she laughingly referred to as her hair, Barel opened her mouth when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.



The conference room of their Boston Road campaign headquarters had windows on the east wall that looked out on the rest of the main campaign office. On the far end was the glass door to Boston Road, which flew open to reveal Judy Alejo, the D.A.’s press secretary. A tiny Latina woman, Judy had a lovely round face that looked disarming and charming most of the time — all of the time if she was in public or anywhere near a journalist or camera.



The only way she betrayed her mood was if she was biting her lip. The right side meant she was nervous or concerned about something. Having the left side between her teeth meant she was pissed.



“This isn’t good,” Barel said as Judy made a beeline for the conference room. She was holding a round disc in her hand.



“You’re not gonna believe this,” the press secretary said without preamble as she threw the door open.



“What is it, Judy?” Big Charlie asked.



But Judy didn’t say anything, instead walking over to the DVD player on the table against the north wall and pushing the open button. After dropping the disc in, she grabbed the remote and turned on the flatscreen that was mounted to the west wall.



It was a Channel 12 news report. Based on the stamp in the lower-left-hand corner of the screen, it was just aired a couple of hours earlier that day.



“If you thought the Bronx D.A. race was over when three-termer Hugues Charles announced that he’d be running again, you’ll have to think twice. Big Charlie has a challenger, and it’s long-time activist Mickey Solano. Nishan —”



“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Barel was livid.



Judy hit pause. “I thought you said you took care of him.”



Trying not to grind her teeth, Barel said, “I thought I did, too.”



In a much calmer tone than either of the two women in the room with him, Big Charlie said, “I do not believe that it is entirely bad. Play the rest of the story, please, Judy?”



Nodding, Judy hit play. For her part, Barel thought she was, if anything, underreacting, but said nothing, wanting to see the rest.



“— da Henry has the story.”



The image cut from the anchor desk to Nishanda Henry, a tall, striking African-American woman. Barel had always thought she was wasting her talents on the local level, as she had good instincts and camera presence. But she actually said she liked staying in her own borough.



“Mickey Solano hasn’t been a practicing trial lawyer in many years, although he is a full partner in a local law firm, but now he’s running for Bronx District Attorney.”



Barel rolled her eyes. “That momzer was never a trial lawyer. Only time he saw the inside of a courtroom was when he got called for jury duty.”



Now the image was that of the square jaw, slicked hair, and wide eyes of Mickey Solano. “It’s time for a change. Hugues Charles is a good man, and he’s done fine things for this city, but most of them have very little to do with being the man who prosecutes crimes in this borough. Mr. Charles has done a great deal to streamline the process, to unclog the courts, as his press releases would have you believe, but it’s come at the expense of truly punishing those who deserve to be punished.”



Rising to her feet, Barel gestured at the television. “That fucking pisher better not be pulling the death penalty mishegoss out of his tuchas.”



Judy stared at her a moment, then looked at Big Charlie. “Okay, that’s four Yiddish words in a minute. Now will you agree that this is bad?”



“When did I use Yiddish?” Barel asked, confused.



Having paused the DVD again, Judy smiled. “Pisher, mishegoss, tuchas, and momzer. I don’t even know what a momzer is. I mean, I can guess from the context, but —”



Waving her arms back and forth, Barel rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan and said, “Play the damn tape, would you please?” She hated when she started sounding like Uncle Eli.



Nishanda was back on: “Solano was an advocate of New York’s death penalty statute that was passed in 1995, and w —”



“Did I call it?” Barel asked.



“ — as a vocal opponent of the state supreme court ruling of that statute being unconstitutional in 2004. He has dedicated a large amount of time and money to advocating for the reactivation of the statute and allowing the death penalty in New York once again.”



“This is what the momz —” She caught herself. “This is what the asshole’s going with? Elect me D.A. so I can enact a death penalty that never got used during the ten years it was legal?”



Solano was talking again. “It’s all well and good for Mr. Charles to point to the reduced crime rate, but that’s simply him taking credit for a citywide and nationwide drop in crime since he took office. Advanced technology, better crime-fighting procedures, COMSTAT — these are what reduced the crime rate, not a man who happened to be in the right place at the ri —”



Judy talked over Nishanda. “Can you believe that shit? He lobbied against COMSTAT for three years, and now he’s talking about how it did your job for you?”



Solano was talking again. “— ave nothing but respect for Big Charlie. I like him a lot. But this isn’t personal. This is business, and I’m putting myself in the business of giving the Bronx a better District Attorney.”



Barel turned to Big Charlie, who was staring at his iPhone. “So do you agree that it’s bad? He’s a legit threat to you. That was why I thought he was dealt with — the whole thing was that you’d run this year and he’d make a run in four years. So what the fuck changed?”



Big Charlie looked up, with a sad expression. “Nothing changed, Barel. He simply was upset when I announced, after the conversation we’d had in April.”



Glowering at him, Barel simply said, “What conversation in April?”



“I told him that I was not going to be running. He was going to announce on Memorial Day.”



“And you were going to share this with me, when, exactly?” Barel asked tightly.



“Or me?” Judy was chewing pretty hard on her left lower lip. “Jesus, Charlie, you can’t just leave shit out. We need to know things like that. We can’t afford to be blindsided.”



“If it makes you feel any better, Mickey is not particularly pleased with me, either.” He held up the iPhone, and Barel snatched it out of his hand.