Authors: William Bernhardt
20
“W
hat the hell was that?” Senator Hammond asked, pounding on his own conference table. “They walked all over us!”
Ben stared at the floor. “I wasn’t expecting them to go attack dog so soon.”
“You should’ve been!”
“I thought they would at least let him get through his opening statement!”
“You were dead wrong. Anyone with any political sense—”
“Which would exclude me, something I’ve been trying to tell you since you started roping me into this! This was your idea, not mine, remember?”
Roush came between them. “Boys, calm down. You’re misdirecting your anger.”
Christina concurred. “He’s right, you know. You should be ticked off at Keyes and Matera, who couldn’t wait ten minutes before they started with the dirty tricks and sabotage.”
Hammond passed a hand across his wrinkled brow. “They’ve made it clear with their opening salvo that there will be no pretense of fairness in this confirmation struggle. It’s going to be partisan politics right down the line.”
“Then we’re already dead in the water,” said Roush. “There are more of them, I mean, more of me, I mean—” Roush took a deep breath. “More Republicans than Democrats. If they all follow the leader, I lose.”
“But will they?” Sexton, the D.C. lawyer asked. “Some of the Republicans on the East Coast are in a bit of a bind with this one. Roush was selected by their President, after all. If they reject someone who is still technically the President’s nominee, it might look as if they’re voting against him just because he’s gay. The backlash in New England, or perhaps California, could be considerable. Safer to just pass the party’s nominee.”
“Not if President Blake doesn’t want them to.”
Sexton shrugged. “The President is a nice man. But he can’t get them reelected.”
“Unfortunately, the poll data indicates that most of the American voting public is not on our side,” Beauregard said, passing around the latest figures from a late-night phone poll. “A plurality of Americans oppose Roush’s confirmation.”
“Why?”
“Variety of reasons. Mostly because he’s gay, but there are also Democrats who think he’s too conservative, Republicans who think he’s too liberal, or will emerge as a closet liberal now that he’s emerged from another closet. A few people are actually knowledgeable about real issues, and have concerns about his position on the death penalty, abortion, and other topics in perpetual political limbo. There’s a wide spectrum of concerns. Problem is, when you add all those things together, you get a lot of people who don’t want to see Thaddeus on the Supreme Court.”
Roush’s head fell into his hands. “And if the people are against me, I can’t count on anyone’s support. Maybe I should withdraw.”
Hammond’s jaw stiffened. “Is that what you want?”
Roush shook his head. “No, it’s not what I want, but—”
“I don’t think a man with your background gets where you are today by quitting.”
“But if it’s all futile—”
“That’s what they said about desegregation, fifty years ago. Most Americans initially opposed that, too. Like it or not, Tad, you’ve become a symbol. And let’s be honest—in some respects, you’ve asked for it. The only question is what you’re going to symbolize. The futility of fighting? Or the dawn of a new era.”
Roush sighed. “Right at the moment, I’d be content to symbolize ‘hardworking judge most people have never heard of.’ ”
Christina laid a hand on his shoulder. “That ship has sailed, Tad. Are we going to throw in the towel, or are we going to go back out there and give as good as we got? Or better.”
Roush smiled a little. The expression in his eyes made a verbal response unnecessary. “Wish I knew where they’d hit next.”
“I may be able to help you there,” Carraway interjected. “PR 101. Your biggest audience for any televised hearing will be on the first day of questioning.”
Beauregard passed around another file. “Remember, even Justice Roberts was grilled about advice he gave gay rights advocates a decade before he was nominated, and that man had a wife and children. They’re sure to hit you on the issue that troubles Americans the most. Play on their greatest fear. Xenophobia. The fear of the different.”
“The ‘gay lifestyle?’ ” Ben asked.
Beauregard nodded. “Count on it.”
21
R
ichard Trevor waited about a fourth of a mile down the main trail on Theodore Roosevelt Island, near a huge statue of the famed Rough Rider. The clearing was ornamented with two stone bridges crossing small canals and a pair of large decorative fountains. Despite being permanently lodged in the center of the Potomac River, it was not a common stop for tourists. Easy to get to but not heavily populated, it constituted an ideal meeting place for the city’s top lobbyist and a somewhat timid judge who still wasn’t sure he wanted to campaign for an opening that didn’t quite exist yet.
“Judge Haskins?” Trevor said as the older man approached.
Haskins was gazing at the statue, which showed the former President standing with his right hand raised.
Trevor shared the view. “Looks like he’s being sworn in right before your eyes, doesn’t he?”
Haskins was slow to respond. “I was thinking he looks like he’s in one of those great girl groups from the fifties.” He noted the lack of response from Trevor. “Never mind, son. You’re too young.”
“You know, there’s a swearing-in ceremony just like the one that big bronze man is experiencing—for new Supreme Court justices.”
Haskins raised a finger to his lips. He was wearing a coat with the lapels up and his reading glasses. Not exactly anything that could be called a disguise, should he be spotted, but enough to minimize the chances of being recognized, just the same. “Are you Trevor?”
“I am, sir. And let me say that it is an honor—”
“Yes, yes, I know. Your assistant…what was her name?”
“Melody.”
“Yes, that was it. Very persuasive young woman.” He glanced at the gentle downward slope of the trail. “Shall we walk?”
“Sure.” No problem for an experienced lobbyist like Trevor. He did half his business this way. Keep moving. Less likely to attract attention. Politicians acting like spies. “I want to thank you for meeting with me. It’s quite an honor, chatting with a hero such as yourself.”
“Oh, please don’t—”
“Especially when I’ve been trying for so long. Without success. Mind if I ask what changed your mind?”
“Well…your assistant suggested the possibility that the President was considering another Supreme Court nominee. I mean, if the current one fails.”
“Not much of an ‘if.’ More like a certainty.”
“Yes, that’s what my friends in high places tell me.”
“But that’s been true since the day Roush was nominated. Why are we meeting now?”
Haskins walked a good hundred yards without speaking, kicking the leaves and staring at the horizon. “Did you watch the hearing this morning?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t mean to be unkind, but…that was a pretty pathetic spectacle. Appalling.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Whatever you may think of his personal life, Roush clearly is not ready for the public spectrum. National attention. And who is that idiot they’ve got acting as his advisor? It’s almost as if someone on his support staff wants him to fail. Or his handlers are sabotaging him from within.”
“Sad, but true. So what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking there’s going to be another nomination made soon.”
“And you’re wondering if it could be you.”
Haskins pursed his lips. “I’ve never sought a higher position. I am very content with my job on the Tenth Circuit. I don’t—”
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, sir. Most of the people I know think you should have been chosen in the first place.”
“Well, I don’t know…”
“Your heroism at the Hilton brought you into the national eye for a reason, sir. God has a plan; he doesn’t play dice with the universe. If I may be so bold, I believe the President made a mistake ignoring that in the first place. I’m told he regrets it.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I’m also told that when the Roush nomination is crushed, or more likely he withdraws, President Blake wants to be ready to make an immediate replacement nomination, one that everyone will support.”
Haskins stopped, leaning against a tree and brushing mud off the soles of his shoes. “I can understand that. His time is ticking. But what’s all this got to do with me?”
Trevor smiled. “Modesty aside, sir, I think you know. I represent a number of lobbying interests, all of which share some common…philosophical beliefs. And we all believe that you would be the perfect next choice for the Supreme Court.”
“And these interests would be…”
“People who do not accept the nomination of a man who flagrantly violates the tenets of the Old Testament in his daily life.”
“Ah.” Haskins continued to walk silently down the grassy pathway. “The Christian Congregation.”
“So, what do you think? Are you interested?”
“Am I interested? What judge wouldn’t be interested in a promotion to the Supreme Court of the United States? The question isn’t whether I’m interested.”
“I can assure you I can deliver the support of the people I represent.”
“That’s just it. It isn’t a matter of what I want. It’s who I want to get into bed with.”
Frown lines crossed Trevor’s face. “What are you—?”
“It’s just an expression, son.” He looked back and gazed at the statue behind them, sighing quietly. “Would you prefer a military metaphor? The question is which hills I want to capture.”
“I don’t quite—”
“I only get one ride, son. One chance and then it’s over. I didn’t ask for all this attention. I have no experience in these matters. I don’t know anything about Washington politics. If I take this step, plunge myself even further into the limelight, I have to make sure I’ve got the strongest backers possible.”
“With respect, sir, you’ll never have a better opportunity. The need for a nominee coming so soon after your feats of heroism—”
“You think I don’t know that? Nonetheless, the President passed me over the first time. He could do it again. For that matter, how can I be certain the Roush nomination will fail?”
“Well.” Trevor stopped walking. “I think I can promise you that.”
“Nothing personal, but you can’t guarantee anything. Not even if you own every politician on the Judiciary Committee. I’ve always been an honest man and I’ve conducted an honest life. I can’t risk anything that might undermine my integrity. If you can’t offer assurances—”
“I think I can.” He popped open his briefcase and produced an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“See for yourself. It’s the reason the Roush nomination is certain to fail.”
“If this is about him being gay—”
“It’s ever so much more than that.”
Haskins held the envelope as if it were a dirty diaper. “I can’t open this here. Out in the open.”
“Then don’t. Take it home. Show it to Margaret. Then reach your decision.”
Haskins stared across the horizon. The sun was beginning to descend, and the orange of the sky melted into the orange of the falling leaves. Times like this, Washington, D.C. seemed like the most beautiful city in the world. So long as you didn’t travel too far from the center.
“This has to be on the up-and-up. I have a good life. Wonderful wife, three lovely daughters. I can go back to Denver and be perfectly happy.”
“I know you can, sir. God has blessed you many times over. So take a look at the information in the envelope. Please.”
“I suppose there’s no harm in just looking.”
Trevor took Haskins by the shoulder and steered him toward the end of the trail. “Of course not. There’s only divine providence. God wants you on the Supreme Court, Judge. I’m certain of that. He wants you in there pitching for him. Fixing so much of what’s wrong with this country today.” He patted the judge on the back. “Just read the file. And know this.” He peered deeply into the judge’s eyes. “If we can bring down one nominee, we can guarantee the next.”
22
L
oving stood stupidly at the front of the room while twenty-four pairs of underage eyes stared at him from the floor. To their credit, none of the children broke out of position and only a few stopped chanting. Loving wasn’t sure what to do. So he just stood there staring, shirtless, in a pool of broken glass, wondering what den of evil he had stumbled into this time.
A middle-aged woman wearing warm-up shorts and a tank top walked agitatedly from the side of the room. “I thought I made it clear. The class is full!”
Loving cleared his throat. “I need—”
“Yes, I know it’s hard to find a placement in Georgetown this time of year. But these grandstand dramatics won’t help you. I assume you’ll pay for the door.”
“Well…yes…”
“Please put your shirt back on. As you may have noticed, there are children present.”
Loving meekly shook the glass out of his shirt and put it back on.
“If you’d like to place your child on the waiting list, please do so. But at present, there are no—”
“I’m lookin’ for a girl—”
The woman gave him a long look. “You must like them young.”
“No, I’m lookin’ for a
woman.
A woman named—”
“Excuse me.” She turned back toward the class, which appeared to be foundering somewhat without leadership. The chanted mantra had been replaced by private whispering. “Class, listen to me. I want you to use your imagination and go to a happy place.”
Loving rolled his eyes.
“I want you to envision somewhere that always makes you happy. An amusement park. The zoo. McDonald’s. The ocean. Imagine that place, then let your mind take you on a vacation there while I talk to the nice man who broke the window.” She bent down and turned up the volume of the boom box slightly.
“That somethin’ classical?” Loving asked.
“The Tao of Healing.” She put one hand on her hip. “Now kindly tell me why you’ve burst into my yogababy session.”
Loving knew he should stay on topic, but he couldn’t resist. “Yogababy?”
“What, you haven’t heard of it?”
“I’ve heard of Yogi Berra.”
“Very amusing. For your information, the yogababies movement is nationwide. Our DVD has sold over a hundred thousand copies.”
Loving’s eyes wandered to the happy faces and sunflowers painted on the walls and ceiling. “Aren’t these toddlers a little young for yoga?”
“Absolutely not. Balanced lives begin with balanced children.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“It’s very good exercise.”
“So is T-ball.”
The woman cringed. “And the meditational tools they learn here can benefit them throughout their lives. Why, I have students who started with me when they were two who are in their teens now, still practicing the same asanas I taught them.”
“The same…”
“Asanas. Yoga positions.”
“There’s more than one?”
Her eyes traveled skyward. “This is beside the point. Could you please explain what you are doing here?”
“I’m looking for a woman named—”
She whirled around and clapped her hands. “Students. Unflap your butterfly wings.”
In unison, the small children wiggled their arms and legs.
“Now I want you to adopt the shavasana.”
The children lowered themselves to the floor mats, lying on their backs, and closed their eyes.
“Shavasana?” Loving asked.
“It means ‘corpse pose.’ ”
“Lovely. Look, while the kids are nappin’—”
“They are not napping,” she said indignantly. “They are meditating.”
“Whatever. Listen, I’m lookin’ for a woman named Trudy.”
“I don’t know anyone named Trudy.”
“Well, that’s odd, ’cause I just followed her down here.”
“Maybe she’s Nadya’s friend. She was late bringing Chandler.”
“Is Nadya a blonde wearing a bright orange pullover?”
“I’m sure I didn’t notice what she was wearing. All the parents drop their children off and then they disappear, usually to the Starbucks across the street. I don’t allow the parents to observe. It destroys the children’s ability to focus, to ascend to a higher plane.”
“How much higher can they get when they’re…” He glanced at the room and calculated an average age. “…three?”
“You might be surprised. It’s actually much simpler for these children. Their minds are still pure and unsullied by the cynicism and stress of the modern world. They reach spiritual equilibrium much more readily than you or I.”
“Well, when will this Nadya—” As if in answer to his question, in the rear of the room, through a windowpane, Loving spotted the blonde he had seen upstairs. “Excuse me.”
The woman grabbed his wrist. “What about the window!”
Loving reached into his pocket and threw back one of Ben’s cards. “Send the bill to this address.”
He raced to the back of the room, trying not to step on any of the tiny yogis trying to get in touch with their inner adults—although actually, he noticed that several of them were sound asleep—and pushed through the rear exit.
Nadya had walked up the steps to street level and was about to cross the street. “Stop!” he yelled.
To his surprise, she did.
Loving ran to her, huffing breathlessly and wondering, once again, if it was safe for him to be seen in the open. “Where’s Trudy?”
Nadya looked at him strangely, or rather, as if he were very strange. “I don’t know. Who are you?”
“My name…” He pondered for a moment. Was it really safe to give the woman his name? Or advisable? Sure, kiddie yoga seemed innocuous enough. But Leon had warned him that danger lurked in unexpected places. He had suggested that Trudy could give him the information that he needed. But that didn’t mean she—or her friends—were safe. Maybe he shouldn’t give her any details that would help any other trigger-happy friends she might have track him down.
He wasn’t quite sure what won out—his sense of honesty or his lack of imagination. “My name’s Loving. I work for Senator Kincaid.”
“I don’t believe I know—”
“Don’t sweat it. No one does. I’m lookin’ for Trudy.”
“Really?” Her nose wrinkled. “Do tell.” She gave him the once-over. “Who would’ve guessed? You seem so—well, I shouldn’t stereotype. Takes all kinds, right?”
Loving stared at her dully. “Huh?”
“It’s none of my business—”
“Look, lady, I’m a private investigator. I’m tryin’ to get a lead on the woman who was killed at Judge Roush’s press conference.”
All at once, Nadya’s face became serious. “I’m sure Trudy had nothing to do with that.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I just—I just know it’s not something Trudy would go in for.”
Loving grunted. “I appreciate your vote of support, but I’d still like to talk to her. Could you please tell me where I might meet her?”
Nadya backed away from him. “No…No, I don’t think I can do that. I don’t think I want anything to do with you. And I don’t think Trudy will, either.”
“Please,” Loving said, grabbing her hand. “Help me find her.”
“No.” She shook her hand loose. “And if you touch me again, I’ll scream.”
Well, I’m handling this masterfully, aren’t I? Loving thought. He released her hand. “Just tell me where Trudy is.”
Nadya continued retreating. “No.”
“I know you’re going to meet her later tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Where are you meeting?”
The woman bumped backward into a small Toyota hatchback. “I’m warning you. Leave me alone.”
Loving noticed that the stack of books she carried contained a small Filofax calendar. He considered making a grab for it, but doubted he would be successful. “Please tell me where you’re going to meet.”
“I’ll scream! If you don’t stay back, I’ll scream!” She jammed a key into the car door, threw all her belongings in the backseat, then locked the car again. “I’m going to get my coffee now. I have a cell phone. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the police.”
“Are you meeting Trudy at Starbucks?”
“No! I’ve got maybe an hour to myself, for once in my life, until I have to pick up my boy. I do not expect to be disturbed.”
“But all I want to know is—”
“See?” she said, holding up her cell phone. “All I have to do is punch one button and the police are on their way.”
“But all I want—”
“Leave me alone! Me and Trudy both!” Nadya turned and ran down the sidewalk, then disappeared into the coffee shop.
Loving stood on the sidewalk berating himself for his stupidity. He’d handled that like a prize chump. If only they’d been sitting around a bar or something—that was more his natural milieu. He understood those people. Neurotic moms who take their tots to yoga class he didn’t know.
He stared at the Filofax calendar in the backseat, probably containing the vital information about the rendezvous he wanted. He could break the window, but it was a crowded street and that would undoubtedly attract attention, possibly even set off a car alarm. He could wait until Nadya emerged from the coffee shop and try her again, maybe follow her, but that was risky, especially given her excitability. He’d do it if he must, but there had to be a better way.
All he had to do was figure out what that better way was.