Pentecost had been stung by the issue of monitoring, but he had handled himself well, even though Green knew the man was angry. The dean would do well before the inquisitors on the Judiciary Committee.
Green nodded. “I accept your position, of course. Still, I would prefer a walk or a drive.”
The dean stood up, an almost mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. “A walk. I would prefer a walk. I think your car would be fine, but … I prefer a walk.”
Green carefully hid his anger, smiling as he did so. “You don’t have to worry; the car is rented. It has everything except microphones. But a walk is fine.”
Both men donned their coats and walked together out of the law school. To Green, the air seemed to be a bit colder.
The dean changed the subject. “I understand from our university president you worked for Reagan.”
“I’m surprised that your president’s office didn’t mention my origin in these parts,” Green said.
“They just mentioned the highlights of your career. They probably were read a press clipping from the White House.” He turned and looked at Green. “If I had done the checking, we would have known. I like to be thorough.”
They strolled along together. Even their outer clothing was similar. Students and faculty hurried by dressed in ski jackets or parkas, rough clothing suited to the environment. But both Green and Pentecost were outfitted in expensive cashmere overcoats and fashionable hats.
“Shall we walk toward the stadium?” the dean suggested. “It’s not quite as busy and it will be a bit more private.”
“Fine.”
They walked along for a while in silence. “I presume there’s some purpose in all this?” The dean tried to make the question sound light, as if he didn’t really care, but Green knew he had won their little waiting game.
“I think you know the purpose.”
The dean kicked at a rough piece of snow on the plowed path. “I believe I do,” he said. “But let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I’m wrong. I should prefer you to state what was on your mind, that way I won’t look like a fool if I’m incorrect.” He looked directly at Green. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“Yes, of course.” Green noted that the dean was an impatient man. “You have been recommended as a possible choice to fill the vacancy on the Supreme Court left by the death of Justice Howell. But I presume you already knew that.”
“Yes. Nothing official, of course. Reporters have begun calling, and some of my friends. But I asked my friends not to do anything on my behalf. Some of them had wanted to move even while Howell was ill. I wouldn’t allow it, and I won’t allow any activities of that sort until after the funeral.”
“Do you really think that was wise?” Green again hoped to provoke the dean into revealing a bit more of himself.
“Under the circumstances, it was the only decent thing to do. It would have been churlish to start campaigning for the job while poor Howell was in the hospital. Also, I think it’s indecent to start the drums rolling before the body grows cold.”
Green gave no indication of his thoughts on the matter. “Very honorable, I’m sure. However, there are other candidates, and none of them seemed to think it unseemly to try early on for the appointment.”
“To each his own,” the dean replied.
“It may have even cost you the job,” Green said, intimating some secret knowledge.
Pentecost looked at him and chuckled. “I doubt it. Let’s not examine it from any honorable viewpoint, just tactically. Our new president is a product of his environment. A go-getter by all means, but a gentleman. I think he’s the type who would resent such greedy and unseemly conduct.”
“And so that’s why you didn’t make any moves for the job?”
The dean’s face again assumed the defensive placid mask. “Not at all. I too would resent anything like that, no matter what the circumstances.”
Green reflected on the man. The dean had restrained his supporters as a smart tactical ploy. Pentecost had read the chief executive very well. And like a master chess player he had resisted charging into the easy and expected move. Green wondered if honor had had anything at all to do with it. It was one of the questions about the dean’s character that had to be answered.
“Honor is all well and good,” Green said, “but I think it may have cost you the match.”
“Do you?” The dean’s smile spread slowly over his face. “Then I suppose that’s why the White House sent you down here to talk to me? To tell me I can’t have a job I haven’t sought? Unlikely, Mr. Green, er, Jerry. No, I rather think the President appreciated my conduct. Do you see my point?”
Green didn’t reply at once, he allowed his silence to work on the other man. Finally he spoke. “Why do you think I’m here? It’s in connection with the Supreme Court vacancy, of course, but what do you think my function is?”
The dean seemed to assume an air of indifference, grasping his gloved hands behind his back as they strolled along. “I have several thoughts on the matter,” he said. “First, as I’m sure you know, I was being considered as a nominee the last time. I was waiting in the wings, with others, I’m told, in case that lady couldn’t make it through the Senate. At that time I was checked out by the FBI, and I know several key government people carefully reviewed my record. The American Bar Association and other lawyer groups cleared me and certified my competence for appointment. Therefore, I presume your arrival here, and your very short, ah, investigation, is some sort of final step as to whether or not my name will be put forward this time.” He smiled at Green. “Am I close?”
Green realized that the dean was also trying to provoke feelings and attitudes in him. So far, it had been mostly an even contest.
“How badly do you want the job?” Green asked quietly.
The dean made no immediate reply, but walked on for a while before answering. He seemed to be weighing his reply carefully. “I’m very happy here,” he said. “The law school has been the greatest achievement of my life. In a very real way, it has been my life. To stay here isn’t the worst thing in the world. However, the school is completely established. In other words, I wouldn’t mind a new challenge, a new mountain to climb, as it were.”
“And the Supreme Court would be that new mountain?”
The dean shrugged. “Not a bad ending to a career in the law, eh?”
“Have you consulted your wife?”
For only an instant there was fear in the dean’s eyes, but the bland mask covered it instantly. “There’s no problem there. Actually, I think my wife finds the Midwest somewhat confining. You know women. I rather think she would love the excitement, the parties, and so forth.”
Green had noted the alarm. “But have you asked her?”
Pentecost’s mouth drew into a tight line. “We haven’t discussed it since the last time I was proposed for the job. At that time she was most agreeable. I know of nothing that would have changed her mind.” He looked away from Green.
The dean obviously knew about his wife, just as Green did about his own. Perhaps Pentecost thought a change of environment might make matters better between them. Or maybe he didn’t really care. Maybe it was merely a convenient arrangement, and not a real marriage at all. Green wondered if the dean and he shared that in common, in addition to their taste in clothes.
“The reason I asked,” Green said evenly, “is sometimes family considerations can change a man’s plans.”
“In that area, I have no worries,” Pentecost answered briskly.
He knows all right, Green thought to himself. It would serve no useful purpose to prod him further in that area.
“Philosophically, what would you think your role might be on the Court, if appointed?” Green asked.
The dean stopped dead and turned toward him. “Look, let’s stop shitting around, shall we? They didn’t send you down here to sound out my philosophical views. You wouldn’t have been so worried about a recorder in my off
ice if that were true. You want something. This is a big bad world, Mr. Green, and although I may not approve of it at times, I damn well do understand it. Now why don’t we quit this game? I presume certain assurances are desired before my name is put forward.”
Green didn’t reply. He merely studied the dean’s face, a tactic to unnerve him, to make him believe he had committed a blunder. It was a useful approach in a trial or at a deposition.
The dean smiled. “In order to make that school back there I have had to deal with some of the most reprehensible politicians, both public and academic, since man’s first relative crawled out of the slime. I have promised, traded, and wheedled with all manner of men. So you can give me all the reproachful blank looks you wish, my friend, it won’t work. I know how this game is played. If you don’t choose to tell me now what is expected of me, you will before we finish our little walk.” The dean’s speech had been completely without any emotional display. He turned and resumed walking. Green followed and caught up with him.
“The late Justice Howell set things up so that he became the Supreme Court,” Green said as they walked. “He became the swing man. The Court was, and is, evenly divided between so-called liberals and conservatives on most issues. Howell used his vote to control the general direction of American law.”
“That’s well known,” the dean replied.
“If appointed, would you do the same?”
The dean again walked with his hands clasped behind him. “It’s possible, I suppose. I don’t think I could be classified as a liberal or a conservative. I try to look at most issues independently. On that basis, I could very easily become the swing man, so called. Of course, I don’t have to tell you that the Supreme Court is like the sands of the desert; it shifts endlessly, blown about by the political winds of the moment. But most presidents get one or two appointments to the Court during their term of office. Given the advanced ages of the present justices, I expect the Court will change greatly in the near future. Therefore, I really couldn’t look forward to a very long career as swing man, even if I wanted that role, could I?”
“Howell sometimes traded votes.”
The dean shrugged. “You come from one of the most powerful law firms in Washington, surely vote swapping comes as no news to you? It’s done in every appellate court in the land. Some more than others.”
“You approve of the practice?”
“It doesn’t matter if I approve of the sun, Mr. Green, it will come up anyway. No, as a matter of fact, I don’t approve of trading votes, but if it has to be done, I shall do it, albeit reluctantly.”
“The Judiciary Committee will be a rugged gauntlet to run. They’ll be waiting to take a whack at anyone the President puts up. The conservatives don’t want a liberal, and the liberals will be gunning for any conservative. Do you think you would be able to handle them?”
“I’m ready. If nominated, I shall prepare definitively. I’ve had to testify before committees, even hostile committees. I’ll have no trouble. Fortunately, there are no skeletons in my closet, by the way.”
“Are you sure?”
The dean looked at him, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Absolutely. Now shall we get to business? What is it that the President wants in exchange for the appointment?”
“That’s blunt.”
Pentecost laughed. “That’s honest. Well, what is it?”
The dean seemed somehow to have gotten the upper hand, for it was Green who now felt slightly uncomfortable. The dean was as experienced at handling people as he had said.
“There are several important matters coming before the Court,” Green began.
“Such as the Electoral College question?” The dean glanced over at Green, the knowing half smile again set upon his bland features.
“That’s one of the matters,” Green replied.
“Yes. An interesting case. Oddly enough, I’ve made quite a study of it. Constitutional law is my main card, as you probably know.”
“So I’m told.”
Pentecost smiled, this time broadly. “If the Electoral College system is defeated, that is, if the Court holds that the states have legally ratified the proposed amendment, then the President stands in jeopardy of losing the next election. If the system remains intact I’m sure he feels he has a better chance. Anyway, that’s the gist of the political speculation articles recently.”
The dean had gone right to the nerve.
“There have been articles,” Green said hesitantly.
Pentecost laughed. “That’s a gross understatement. The papers and magazines have been full of them. But, as I say, fortunately I’ve studied the issue very carefully. I doubt if the briefs or oral arguments would be as definitive as my own studies on the matter. So you see, I can honestly say how I would expect to vote on that issue, since I am already completely informed.” He smiled. “Convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes.”
“Now if I were to tell you that I believed the states had indeed ratified the constitutional amendment and the Electoral College was no more, I rather think I could count on continuing as dean of this fine law school, don’t you?” He laughed again. “However, after due study, I can say that because the two state legislatures reversed their original vote, the amendment was not ratified and the electoral system will stand. If appointed, that’s exactly how I shall vote. I presume that answers the burning question?”
“One of them,” Green replied.
“How old are you, Jerry?” The dean again idly kicked at a clump of snow.
“Forty-six.”
“That was my guess. We’re the same age. Interesting, isn’t it?”
Green shook his head. “Not particularly.”
The dean stopped, forcing Green to stop too. “Look, I have just obtained a huge grant for the law school from the Alesia Fund. I am to found the Samuel Alesia Chair for Administrative Law. The man who is appointed to that post will automatically be tenured. In other words, he will serve for life.”
“I’m familiar with tenure.”
“This job goes a bit beyond that. The grant is made contingent upon that feature. It’s a means of insuring independence, a specific demand by Mr. Alesia. So, even in the face of the shifting sands of academic politics or funding, the man or woman who occupies that chair has an absolute umbrella against the stormy future, so to speak.”
“So?”
The dean did not resume walking. He stood there, his hands clasped behind him. “You are a partner in one of the nation’s finest law firms, I realize that. And, based on that, I have a rough idea of your income, which I hazard goes beyond being merely substantial. I suspect that you may have aimed for that partnership in the same way I aimed to become head of a great law school.”
Green made no reply.
“At our age, despite success, men sometimes look for a change in career. Isn’t that so? I have seen that in so many of our contemporaries.”
“Yes, the middle-age syndrome.”
Pentecost beamed. “Yes. Now I rather suspect you were sent down here for more than the mere purpose of asking one simple question. The state national committeeman here is a dear personal friend of mine. The question and answer could have just as easily been handled through him. Therefore, I surmise, there’s an additional purpose.”
Green began walking, forcing the dean to resume.
“Jerry, I know you’ve talked to the university’s president about me. I know also you’ve talked to some of the faculty. I understand you even spoke to our resident weasel, Malcolm Whittle. Judging by all that effort on your part, I think the White House is looking for some sort of personal appraisal by you. Am I correct?”
Green walked on a bit before answering. “They want an appraisal. I imagine this is being duplicated by others who are looking at other candidates for the job. A great deal rides on who is selected for the Court. The President has to be sure that the person has the ability to fight his or her way through the Judiciary Committee. And he n
eeds to know the stand on the electoral question, of course. But in addition, he has to have some general appreciation of the character of the candidate.”
“And that’s your job?”
“I’m just part of it. I suppose they’ll take my report and add it to the other information they have about you and make a judgment from there.”
The dean pursed his lips and blew through them, then smiled. “I suspect you are a most competent lawyer, but you really are a rather poor liar.”
“Liar?”
Pentecost nodded. “A strong word, I admit. But you weren’t plucked out of Harley Dingell and made Special Counsel to the President just so your observation could be made part of a collection of other material. That doesn’t stand to reason, and you know it.”
“I rather resent.…”
“Why don’t we drop all this pretense, Green. My fortunes probably stand or fall on what you say. Don’t deny it, there’s no tape recorder here.”
Green again hesitated before replying. “My personal assessment will carry great weight, or so I’m told.”
“Or so you’re told? Modesty is such a becoming virtue, isn’t it? Well, you asked me about trading cases, didn’t you? You know as well as I that to question me about how I might dispose of a case is highly improper. But I answered it, did I not?”
“You did.”
“Then who is the greater sinner, Mr. Green? Who is less worthy of confidence? The man who answers the improper question, or the man who asks it?”
Green laughed despite himself.
“So here we are, you and I, a couple of very dishonorable fellows, trading away a significant portion of the country’s constitution for the promise of a job. Isn’t that what it amounts to?”
The Court Page 25
