Loving would have loved to stop and gawk, but he recalled that Leon told him that Trudy wouldn’t be found in the business operation proper—she’d be in the basement. That was starting to make a lot of sense to him. What better front for a criminal operation than a church? Or maybe the church was legitimate, but rented its basement to raise extra cash. Either way, it was likely to escape the scrutiny of law enforcement eyes. Very clever, in a satanic sort of way.
Keeping careful watch to make sure no one spotted him, Loving began searching for the way to the basement. He moved sideways down the main corridor, keeping his face to the wall as if he were intensely scrutinizing something, while searching for a stairway that led downward. He spotted a heavy reinforced door with a black nameplate that looked as if it might fit the bill. Just before he reached it, however, two women emerged from opposite ends of the adjoining hallway.
Loving rapidly turned away from them.
“Well, hello, girlfriend!” one of the women said.
“Back at ya, sweetheart!”
Loving stood in front of a glass window—the display case for an immense library, as it turned out—and he could see the two women reflected in the glass. They were hugging. Both appeared thirtyish. One was blond and petite, while the other was a larger, but still very attractive, brunette. The brunette was wearing a tight-fitting dress and had a pink boa wrapped around her neck—not exactly standard church garb.
“You understand what’s going down today?” the brunette said in hushed tones.
“Sure do. I think Michael has really been sweating,” the blond replied.
“I know I would be. Who would’ve ever imagined—”
“I know, I know. It’s unbelievable.”
Loving strained to pick up their words. Were they talking about the murder of the mystery woman at the Roush press conference?
“I’m still not sure about…you know,” the brunette said.
“Oh, I do, I do. But at some point…maybe change is good.”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s time to take…a new position.”
“Just so Michael stays calm. Just so everyone stays calm. That’s the main thing.”
“Agreed. Got to keep our heads together.”
“Absolutely, honey. I better get downstairs.”
“Understood. But I’m going to see you tonight, right?”
“Count on it, Trudy.”
Loving’s neck stiffened. It was her!
Should he confront her now, or wait until she was alone? Loving wasn’t sure which approach would be best, and while he was deliberating, the two women slipped down the stairs.
He waited a respectful few seconds so it wouldn’t be obvious he was trailing them. Maybe his caution wasn’t necessary—the women didn’t exactly look like contract killers—but at this point, Loving didn’t feel it was possible to be too careful. The door squeaked as if it hadn’t been oiled since the Rock of Ages was formed, and the steps weren’t much better. Loving did his best to enter stealth mode, but the environment made it challenging. By the time he reached the foot of the stairs and turned left, the women had disappeared.
No matter. There were only four doors off the passageway. Two of them were dark, not that that necessarily ruled out the possibility of a clandestine meeting. He crept close to the first and cupped his ear to the window.
Nothing. Silly to think there would be anything. He started toward the next door, relaxing a bit—and then he remembered what Leon had told him. Danger may lurk in the most unexpected places.
He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and moved on. Still nothing.
The third door was slightly ajar. Though the room was dark, Loving was able to ascertain that there was no one inside. And that left the last door on the left…
As he crept closer, he could hear talking. No, as he continued to approach, he realized it was only one voice, one voice speaking in a steady tone, almost a monotone. No, several voices, but all speaking in unison—that was it. He couldn’t make out the words, but something about the voices gave him the creeps.
He moved in even closer, then crouched beneath the window in the door so he couldn’t be seen. There was movement inside, and some music playing softly in the background. Someone’s boom box? Maybe playing to drown out the voices? Something to prevent electronic eavesdropping?
Slowly, gently, he tried the doorknob. Locked.
Still crouched, he examined the lock. Just a simple push-button number in a flimsy wooden frame. He knew he could break it. But not without being noticed.
He heard more movement inside, followed by the sound of a door opening. Was there another entrance? Was it possible Trudy was escaping through a rear exit?
There was no more time to waste. He took off his T-shirt, wrapped it around his hand, then thrust it through the glass. The window shattered, sending glass flying. Moving as quickly as possible, he turned the knob to release the lock, then rushed through the door.
Inside, he found three rows of people sitting on the floor. Little people. Children. Five and younger. All of them sitting with their thumbs and forefingers touching, palms turned upward, in the lotus position, staring at the man who just broke into the room.
“Ommm…”
20
“What 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 coun
t 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
Richard 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, b
ut 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.”
Capitol Threat Page 13
