The Gun Runner's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

with her father. No one could. Even trying to screw up the LSATs hadn’t helped, just committed her to going to NYU instead of back to New Haven. The best she’d
been able to do was convince him that a year of finishing in Paris was what every girl needed after graduation, and then she’d managed to extend that to two.
    But at the end of the second year, while she had been relaxing into a hot Paris summer, her brother had called her home. And even after he died, the deal had stood. Without either of them
questioning it, she’d started law school at NYU in the fall after Pauly’s death.
    And although her father had never mentioned his business to her again—never directly—he had, after Pauly’s death, come to treat her confidence as assumed, which was strange, as
if Pauly’s suicide had made her an accomplice.
    Nothing, then, changed for Allison Rosenthal. As the dry August of 1994 swelled toward fall, by day she went to the offices of DG&B, a meditative, rote exercise in which
she had no stake; by night she sat in the Corner Bistro, alone or with Martha, where the bartenders protected her from all comers. Or read. Or padded around her little apartment in her underwear,
watching the saturated summer night reflecting from the surface of Eighth Avenue.
    In mid-August, in a dinner during a Group of Seven trip to Europe, Clinton was reported to have referred to the Rosenthal trial as categorical proof of America’s commitment to uphold the
European Union’s embargo of the Bosnian Muslims. Allison stayed away from work that day, and so was at home midmorning to receive, by messenger, a letter from Bill Dykeman asking her, in
light of her father’s approaching prosecution, to take the rest of her internship off with full pay. When the smart of the affront had subsided, it occurred to her that now she could spend
the rest of the summer at Ocean View Farm, her childhood home, and for the first time since her father’s arrest the chill lifted.
    But not for long. While she was packing that day, to go up to the island, Bob Stein called to tell her he had received a federal notice of seizure on her father’s property, including his
business, his Park Avenue home, and his summer estate, Ocean View Farm.
    She listened to Bob with incredulity. Did they not know that Ocean View had been Pauly’s last home? Did they not know that everything else, for her, was gone? Briefly, it occurred to her
that one by one the doors of her life were closing, and with each closing door she lost one of the small rosary of people she loved: her grandparents at Borough Park; her mother in Brooklyn
Heights; and her brother, her dear, dead brother, from Ocean View. Now her father was exiled and they were taking Ocean View from her too. Then she interrupted.
    “Wait a minute, Bob. You’re saying my dad’s going to be convicted.”
    Silence. Then: “I’m saying the seizure’s going to take place in the fall. You knew they were using RICO, honey. We won’t be able to stop that.”
    “Why?”
    Stein let dead air sit on the phone.
    “Cause he’s guilty, right?”
    “Allison. Calm down.”
    “Bob. Do something for me, okay?”
    “Yes honey.”
    “Don’t call me again. You hear?”
    She must sound to Bob, she thought as she hung up, exactly like her father.
    And it was only then that Allison Rosenthal’s quiet courage failed and, alone at the desk of her apartment, in sunlight mediated by the leaves on the London plane tree outside her window,
she let herself feel the horror of everything that had happened since July 1st, everything that had happened, just as Martha had worried, not to her father, but to her.

CHAPTER 2

    August 1, 1994.
    Washington, D.C.
    1.
    The first hint, to the outside world, that Ronald Rosenthal’s arrest on Arms Export Control Act violations was not going to go away was extremely understated. So much so
that David Treat Dennis, Dee, might have missed it.
    It was August 1, and page 15 of the
Washington