A Naked Singularity: A Novel (92 page)

“Goddamnit,” I said.

“Oh great,” Assado said. “What a fortunate coincidence, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m late for work.”

“This won’t take long, you have that picture?”

“No.”

“I thought you wanted to cooperate?”

“ . . .”

“Never mind I’ll get the OCA. What I wanted to ask you was whether you’ve heard of the Video Vigilantes.”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay, have you heard of the Video Vigilantes?”

“Yes.”

“Good, so you know what they do. Well as luck would have it, seems that night they had a camera, or actually several cameras, trained on 410 and the surrounding areas, including the roof.”

I literally felt blood rush to my face but said nothing.

“Are you okay?”

“ . . .”

“Well of course we’re still waiting to get the actual tape. It has to be located among the thousands the Vigilantes have. But within a few days we should have it and I guess then we’ll know for sure if my theory about the roof is right.”

“Good for you, good luck with that.”

“What do you think I’ll see on that tape?”

“I have no idea.”

“Really? None?”

“None. Why, what do you think you’ll see?”

“Well no point in speculating, won’t be long now. Guess I’ll be seeing you once I get the tape.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Remember what I said about town.”

“What? About it not being big enough for the both of us?”

“Funny. No about not leaving it.”

“Where would I go? I love New York. You know I’ve been thinking about it and really the best way to put it is that this city never sleeps.”

He nodded his head up and down. “Goodbye counselor,” he said and left.

I went back upstairs, called the office to say I wouldn’t be in until the afternoon, and resumed writing. For the next several hours I lost myself in what I was doing and I don’t think stopped typing for more than twenty seconds at a time. When I finished I was done. I printed the brief, stuck it in a box, and went to the office.

Toomberg wasn’t in his office when I stopped by with the box late that afternoon. I left it on his desk with a hastily-composed note and looked around. There were all sorts of diplomas and plaudits and seemingly any tome ever created with The Law as justification. As I walked out he came in:

“I finished it,” I said. “Left it on your desk.”

“Really? Great I’ll bring it home tonight. I’ll probably finish reading it tomorrow on the long train ride.”

“Train?”

“Yes I’m going to D.C. tomorrow, to watch the argument on
Atkins
.”

“You’re going to the Supreme Court?”

“First thing in the morning. Listen, I think it’s going to go really well from what I’m hearing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just from what I’m hearing. You know, the word on the street.”

“I’m sorry the what? The street?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Listen, don’t get your hopes up Toom.”

“No it’s not just me, I have a friend who clerks for one of the justices and when I talked to him this morning he seemed to maybe agree with me.”

“He did.”

“He’s a bit tight-lipped so its hard to say definitively but I thought so”

“That’s something I guess.”

“Darn tootin.”

“What’s that with the tootin?”

“I’m sorry I’m just excited. Everything just seems to point to them ruling that you cannot execute the mentally retarded without violating the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Just be careful you don’t cruelly and unusually punish yourself by getting too excited. Remember until they rule anything’s possible. Speaking of, when would they rule?”

“Not for a few months but that’s the other great news. Until the Supreme Court rules Alabama can’t do anything to Jalen.”

“So this thing isn’t actually due?”

“No we still need to comply with the time limit to preserve everything but at the very least, regardless of how the court ultimately rules, Jalen has a few more months. Like I said I think the court’s going to ultimately save this kid’s life. I’m optimistic.”

“You really think those nine fucks would do that?”

“Oh, show some respect. That’s the Supreme Court of the United States of America and yes I do. Maybe.”

“I hope you’re right and I’ve never known you to be otherwise Toomie.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Just tired, from writing.”

“You should go home and rest, you haven’t looked good for a while.”

“Is Tom back?”

“Vacation.”

“Still?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“This is like the longest vacation ever. What about his case? The woman torched her kid. I’m supposed to be working on it with him and he hasn’t talked to me in weeks.”

“He got relieved on that.”

“What?”

“Sure, a while back. You didn’t know?”

“Why?”

“It was right before he went on vacation as I recall.”

“Not when, why?”

“No one knows really.”

“What the fuck is going on here exactly?”

No one knew, I went home.

I did feel better when I thought of Jalen being safe for at least a few more months, couldn’t wait to write him with the good news. I supposed Toomberg was right about the respect thing too, especially if the nine were going to rule the way he thought they would.

When I saw Assado sitting in the hallway just to the side of my apartment door it took all my restraint to keep from kicking him in the face. “Who are you?” I said. “Can I help you?”

“I thought you might want to let me take a look around your apartment,” he said and he pointed at my door.

“Why would you think that exactly?”

“Well I know you want to cooperate so I thought you would save me the trouble of getting a warrant.”

“A warrant, really? A warrant based on what Assado?”

“Detective.”

“I’m curious Mondongo, what evidence, if any, you would present in support of that warrant.”

“Are you saying I
cannot
enter your apartment?”

“That’s right. Now I’ve answered all your questions, answer my single one. What would you say to get that warrant?”

“Remember before, I told you how I think most of the people I arrest actually feel relief? For whatever the reason, I
have
observed a need to confess among the guilty, a need to purge so to speak. What do you think about that?”

“I think this is as good a time as any to end this conversation as well as any future contact.”

“You think? Because frankly I feel like we’re just getting started. Have you ever been to confession?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because I’m told the person confessing really does feel a lot better afterwards. More to the point, have you heard of a show called
Clerical Confessions
?”

“A show?”

“Yeah on TV. Well actually it’s not TV it’s HBO. Heard of it?”

“No.”

“You sure? Anyway I guess what happens is they secretly videotape people confessing. As in to a priest, you understand?”

“I think so.”

“When I first heard about the show, it’s in pre-production now, I didn’t give it much thought. But now I picture all sorts of law enforcement possibilities attaching to it. Are you catching my drift? I mean can’t you imagine a videotape showing an individual confessing his sensational crime to a priest? Sure there’s all sorts of clergy privilege issues but imagine the priest willingly providing the tape apparently in some sort of retaliation for the confessor having destroyed his little cubicle or whatever they call it. Can you imagine all that? What would you make of it?”

“Once again I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about?”

“Not the slightest?”

“Not.”

“Okay well since you won’t let me in I guess I’ll be leaving. Of course if you haven’t figured it out by now we’ll probably be seeing each other fairly soon. Unless there’s something you want to say to me now.”

“There is.”

“Shoot.”

“You have change for a dollar?”

He did and after he left I went outside and used it to call Dane from a pay phone.

Quid rides? Mutato nomine de te fibula narrator
.

—Horace

The Benitez/Hearns fight would not be the last between members of The Quintet. Incredibly, the year 1983 would belong to Roberto Duran. The same fighter everyone wrote off as washed-up following his loss to Laing was reborn that year, cementing his status as one of history’s truly great fighters in the process.

First, in January of that year, Duran fought Pipino Cuevas. The fight featured two former welterweight champions each trying to register a much-needed significant win. At twenty-six, Cuevas was five years younger than Duran and, having followed the Hearns disaster with two impressive knockout victories and a close decision loss, certainly appeared to have more left than the seemingly spent Duran who had lost two of his last three fights and who had failed to score a knockout victory in eight fights and almost three years. Cuevas appeared to have the clear advantage is what I’m saying. Instead, Duran began his latest series of surprises by stopping Cuevas in the fourth round.

The impressive victory removed some of the taint of the Laing loss and as a result Duran was given a shot at the WBA junior-middleweight title held by Davey Moore. Moore, a good fighter with impeccable amateur credentials, was one of Boxing’s rising young stars having won his title in just his ninth professional fight and having made three defenses, two of which were highly impressive knockouts of very good fighters. He was far bigger than Duran with a sculpted body and legitimate punching power and he was favored by a clear most. The fight was held on June 16 in Madison Square Garden before a decidedly pro-Duran crowd.

The stage was set for the young champion to finish what Laing had started by convincingly defeating Duran and thereby hastening the end of his career. Of course by the time the fight was stopped by his corner in the eighth round, Moore had lost every round, his eye was grotesquely swollen, he had visited the canvas ass first, his mother had fainted in the audience, and he lay against the ropes with seemingly little clue to where he was or what he should do next. Improbably, Roberto Duran was again a Champion of the World. The arrogant Duran surveyed the boxing landscape and saw no one he wouldn’t fight.

That included Undisputed Middleweight Champion Marvelous Marvin Hagler who had gone to court to make the part starting with Marvelous his legal name. Hagler had all the looks of a dominant champion and I’m not just referring to the bald head, chiseled body, and menacing beard. During his three year reign he had made seven successful defenses all by impressive knockout and overall he hadn’t lost a fight in eight years. As a natural middleweight he was another opponent who was considerably bigger than the five-foot-seven Duran and, unlike Duran, he was in his prime as a fighter. Duran signed to fight him on November 10, 1983, in Vegas, in what would be Hagler’s first superfight. Given the extreme unlikelihood that Duran would fight cautiously by either grabbing or moving and Hagler’s obvious punching power, the potential for Duran’s first conclusive knockout loss loomed large.

But once again the greatness of Duran was undeniable. Although he lost a close decision there was no question who the more impressive fighter in that ring was. Against a far bigger and stronger opponent who many suspected, correctly it turns out, would ultimately prove to be one of the greatest middleweights in history, Duran, years removed from his prime and fighting a full twenty-five pounds higher than his ideal weight, was very effective, as expected rarely taking a backwards step but more importantly also boxing brilliantly at times and never really being in trouble. In many ways the loss was his most impressive fight. Throughout the Hispanic community Duran was back, the disgrace against Leonard forgotten based on the way he had engaged and defanged the perceived monster Hagler. Everywhere, that community’s Boxing-mad fathers bought their sons a
papa rellena
and told them Roberto Duran was our greatest fighter and again a true Man.

Boxing being a zero-sum deal, Duran’s gain in prestige was Hagler’s loss. For all the reasons stated, his failure to stop the older, smaller man reflected poorly on him. While Hagler waited for his chance at redemption, Duran decided to keep making big money and signed to fight Thomas Hearns for his WBC junior-middleweight title.

Meanwhile Sugar Ray Leonard watched the Duran/Hagler fight, saw Hagler’s apparent vulnerability, and decided he should unretire and fight Hagler after all, despite the risk to his eye. The plan called for him to first fight a tuneup bout against someone named Kevin Howard. On May 11,1984, Leonard fought Howard and he didn’t look good, even hitting the canvas for the first time in his career before winning by ninth-round knockout. Discouraged by his performance and what it seemingly bode for a fight against Hagler, Leonard immediately retired again.

The Hearns/Duran fight took place about one month later on June 15, 1984 and it was one of those rare boxing events that actually inspires nothing short of awe-filled fear. With thirty seconds left in the first round Hearns landed a clean right cross (what else?) to Duran’s jaw and Duran went straight down. He got up, not overly well, and survived the following flurry as the bell sounded. This is where the fear part came in because between rounds Duran, who had over seventy professional fights at the time, mistakenly went to a neutral corner where his trainers had to go and fetch him. In other words, this was a punch he wouldn’t be recovering from but you also knew his corner wouldn’t stop the fight. At the start of the second Hearns swarmed Duran against the ropes, mostly missing, until he seemed to step back to give himself room to throw his signature punch. The right landed squarely to the side of Duran’s face and his reaction was instantaneous. His gloved hands dropped like an abandoned marionette’s and he slowly crashed face-first to the canvas, unable to break his fall in any way. The referee immediately stopped the fight, probably thinking a casket needed to be ordered. Duran’s cornermen rushed into the ring to stand him up. After some time Duran pushed them away and seemed to ask what was happening.