"Yeah, yeah."
Manhattan's Senior Executive Assistant District Attorney, Jack McCoy, barely afforded a glance at the pair of detectives headed the other direction, one a stocky African-American with a goatee and a pony tail and the other tall, lanky, and gray-haired. The taller of the pair was pulling a black fedora low over his glasses, their tint already changing in reaction to the sunlight outside One Hogan Place.
Walking beside McCoy was his assistant, Connie Rubirosa. She glanced back at the departing detectives and shook her head. "That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"That's Munch for you," McCoy responded. "He's a conspiracy nut. The first time I met him, he started going on about the Red Mass." He handed his briefcase to the security officer and stepped through the metal detector.
