by Martha Carr
The Vice President gave a nod to one of the interns who jumped to her feet and began digging through the boxes by her chair.
“I’ve prepared a brief summary of the appropriate candidates for everyone to consider. Each of these names has been vetted and will offer diversity for the general public while operating within acceptable Circle boundaries.”
“In other words, a good photo op,” said Secretary Leland, tersely.
“Call it whatever you want,” said the Vice President, unmoved. “If you’re going to get lost in semantics, this process may be painful because we are going to make some decisions today. The other two we will address today are the District of Columbia Circuit, which also has three out of their eleven, including the chief judge.”
“Too bad about Chief Judge Wickett,” said the Secretary of the Interior, Florence Inez. Ty had heard that the Chief had died from a sudden discovery of a blood disorder. He was dead just weeks after the diagnosis.
“And the thirteenth Circuit, which should have twelve judges has four openings.”
“Four?” said Ty, startled. “There’s only two. Finley, and Travis,” he said. “Who are the other two?”
The Vice President’s eyes narrowed. “Judge Preckert has accepted a post to the U.S. Court of International Trade. We received the good news this morning. Judge Spencer on the CIT has not been doing well. I spoke with his family and it appears he is failing. He’d like to step down while he can with some dignity. We have been doing our utmost to keep that from the public and I trust that this information will not travel outside of this room. Nominations can only come from sitting federal judges and this is truly the one place we cannot afford to have vacancies.”
“We’ve had a vacancy on that court for some time,” said Ty.
“It’s already been handled,” said the Vice President, shaking her head, trying to quiet the room.
“Who’s the other judge leaving the 13th Circuit?” asked Justice Inez.
Ty was trying to quickly follow the trail to figure out who would benefit most from the shuffle.
“Justice Sheedy is also being moved to the Court of International Trade. There has been the one vacancy there for some time,” said the Vice President, nodding at Ty.
“That’s a third of the judges who sit on the 13th Circuit and they don’t use temporary replacements,” said Ty. “For that matter, neither does the ninth or D.C.,” he said, taking notes. “And if Judge Spencer is the one stepping down then a new Chief will have to be appointed on the Court of International Trade.” Ty’s eyebrows went up as he started to put things together. “That means we would get to put someone in place who decides what cases get heard in trade and by which judge for a few decades, if we choose someone on the younger side.”
A thought was starting to take shape in his mind. There was something wrong but he couldn’t quite grasp it. Two judges from the 13th Circuit on the CIT and a new Chief.
“Thank you for making my point,” said the Vice President. “That’s why we will be making some decisions today to help along the process.”
“The Supreme Court is seen as the flagship where things are ultimately decided but the truth is they only hear at most one percent of cases and it’s the Circuit Courts where the real decisions are made,” said Secretary Warren, looking back and forth between the other Secretaries and the Vice President. Ty kept his attention on the Vice President. She seemed to be encouraging the Secretary.
“The public has been trained to pay close attention to who’s appointed to the Supreme Court but the appointments to the Circuit Courts glide by largely unnoticed. Think about it,” he said, sounding impassioned, “We are in control of the Senate, who ultimately approves the nominations, which means these can be fast tracked with nary a ripple. No noise, no fuss.”
“These decisions can’t be rushed,” said Secretary Gifford, suddenly sitting up straighter, his eyes wide open. He’s noticed something, thought Ty. What am I missing?
“I don’t think already waiting six months on something this important is a rush job,” said Secretary Warren, glancing at the Vice President. She gave him a small nod. Ty saw the exchange between them and wrote a note to himself to have lunch with Secretary Warren. He seemed far more likely to be too talkative than the Vice President.
Secretary Gifford was flipping through the pages of the Vice President’s report till he got to the page that held the suggestions for the Thirteenth Circuit. Ty leaned over just enough to see what he was doing.
The Secretary ran his finger down the page, quickly scanning the backgrounds on each nomination and his anger seemed to grow, the more he read, till the skin of his neck turned red, standing out against the starched white of his collar.
He stopped midway at the name for the suggestion for who could become the new Chief Justice of the Thirteenth Circuit, digging his fingernail into the name before flipping the report shut and abruptly standing, shoving his chair backward. His aides immediately stood up as well, waiting by their chairs to see what to do next.
“Do you need a moment,” asked the Vice President, a condescending cloyness to her tone.
“You don’t need me here for this rubberstamp,” said the Secretary, venom in his voice. “But rest assured, this is not a done deal.”
He gathered his things as his aides rushed to his side, pulling his chair out of the way.
“Stay Allen,” said Secretary Inez. “We should work through this as a group.”
Secretary Gifford moved faster than Ty would have thought he could, and without saying another word, as other members of the Cabinet tried to change his mind. Ty kept his focus on the Vice President who seemed to be smiling at the sudden departure. She glanced over at Ty and seemed to remember where she was, replacing the smile with her usual stony façade.
Ty gave her the same nod she had bestowed on Secretary Warren, trying to let her know he was working at the pleasure of only the President. He didn’t try to follow Secretary Gibson. There was time to find him later and learn the significance of the Thirteenth Circuit. Right now, he needed to represent the President’s wishes and stay in the meeting. Something was being decided here that would change the game. He could see it unfolding but some crucial information was missing.
But the spell was broken.
“I prefer to have the chance to read through this thoroughly and give the President my recommendations,” said Secretary Leland. “It’s not necessary for anyone to agree with me,” he said, glaring at Secretary Warren.
Secretary Aguirre was already moving toward the door with his aides in his wake. Secretary Inez rose, shutting the report. All of the aides at the window started to rise, watching their respective Secretary.
Ty kept watching the Vice President, mostly because of what she wasn’t doing. She wasn’t barking at anyone, insisting they stay. Instead, she was standing there calmly, watching everyone gather their things. Whatever it was that she wanted was accomplished, he thought. That can’t be good.
She suddenly turned her attention to Ty, waving him over. “Ty, do you have a minute or two to get some coffee? I’d like to get the chance to chat now that you’re settling in to your new role. We will be working closely at times, of course. It would be helpful to have an open communication.”
“Of course,” he said, mentally pushing back his schedule. He was far too curious about what Ellen Reese wanted to say to him to pass up the meeting. This was apparently the next part of her plan.
It was a short walk down the hall to the Navy Mess that looked more like a throwback to a 1970’s country club with the wood paneling and framed pictures of sailing vessels surrounding round tabletops covered in white linens. The political elite and the occasional celebrity ate in the dining room that was manned by the U.S. Navy.
Ty Nichols and the Vice President were offered a table in the center of the room in deference to their standing high up in the food chain. Ty gave a wave to the Speaker of the House and felt a chill go down his back at the sight of
one of the judges from the Ninth Circuit dining with a Senator. He looked away before they caught him staring.
“Over here is better,” said the Vice President, seating herself in a table in the corner of the room, without bothering to ask if it was reserved.
Ty knew better than to even mind much less argue and took a chair next to her, sitting down, knowing full well the staff would never say a word to Ellen Reese, either.
“Ty,” said the Vice President, resting a hand cold to the touch on top of his hand, “We are in a delicate negotiation, don’t you agree?”
“I can see that you think so,” he said.
She squeezed his hand. “You are a member in good standing of the Circle as well as working at the pleasure of this President. That gives you twice as much motivation to lay our roots as deep as possible into the ground while we can. Almost everything we can do has a certain degree of transience to it, except for a few key areas. These judgeships are one crucial area.”
“I heard your pitch,” he said, and saw the spark of anger in her eyes. He realized he was in a dangerous spot and there was far more going on than he was able to grasp just yet. But, he was also well aware that Ellen Reese planned to use him, no matter what, which meant he was already in danger of something. At least, this way, pissing her off gave him some chance at figuring things out before it was too late. No need to walk right into the trap, he thought.
“It wasn’t a pitch,” she spit out, lowering her voice so no one could hear the threatening tone. “It was common sense. We didn’t fight this hard and lose so many valuable people just to mismanage our way right back to where we were two years ago,” she snapped. She was breathing harder, her anger building.
“You sound a lot like Management,” said Ty, calmly, trying to push her further.
“I’m no fan of Management but at least they had a bigger picture,” she said. “It was their lack of a choice that turned everything sour. Not their ability to use their resources.”
“What resources?”
The Vice President seemed to lose her train of thought and sputtered, trying to find the right words.
“You, you know, these openings,” she said, looking around the room. “Where is our waiter?” she said in a loud voice.
“What resources?” he repeated.
“Every resource at our disposal,” she hissed. She stopped and made a point of taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment as she patted the sides of her carefully coiffed hair, even though there wasn’t a hair out of place. Ty knew he had pushed her far enough, for now. She wasn’t going to give up anything else right now and he couldn’t help wondering if he was risking something beyond his job.
“It looked like the meeting was a success,” he said, changing direction.
“Hardly,” said the Vice President.
“You couldn’t have thought you could arm wrestle a Cabinet into coming up with a group of nominations that quickly.”
“No, I suppose I didn’t but at least now there’s a pool everyone is considering. That’s progress, wouldn’t you say? It’s more than we’ve managed all this time.”
“Odd how many vacancies there are, don’t you think?” asked Ty, looking down at the menu. Most of the others in the dining room were regulars and the waiters were bringing them a plate without even ordering.
“There was a war,” said the Vice President in a hushed voice. “Things happen in a war. What I want to know is what side do you stand on?”
“I serve at the pleasure of the President,” said Ty. “What other side is there?” he asked, smiling. He knew he was being recruited, but he wasn’t sure who was on the other team.
“There are resources gathering that would like to see an end to the constant conflict,” she said. “You have to know that Management won’t stay down on their knees forever. And, if history is any kind of predictor they’ll come back with a taste for revenge. They have no limits to what they’re willing to do just to get it, either. A complete waste of time.”
“I thought that was what the Circle is trying to do. Stop them from regaining power and bring an end to the violence.”
“We are, we are,” she said, nodding. “But I like to know an idea will work and all of this playing fair has never been tested before. Too much of it leans on everyone even wanting to play fair. What if there were a third solution that combines the best of both and has already gathered a war chest so that we have the means as well as the motivation? What would you think of that?”
“I’d think you would want to include the President,” he said, wanting to cut her off. “No, nothing for me,” he said to the waiter. He stood up and leaned in to whisper, “Otherwise, we’d be talking about treason.” He was done being cordial.
He walked back to his office and paced for a while trying to figure out the best way to brief the President.
“Mary, can you come in here?” he called to his secretary.
She poked her head in the door. “You can use the intercom on the phone. Might be easier,” she said, tilting her head to the side. She reminded him of his mother.
“If you needed to get background information for something sensitive that would protect the President, what would your former boss have done?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s an easy one. He’d contact Fred Bowers. Give the word and I’ll send the message.”
“You know how to reach him?” asked Ty, incredulous that his secretary could reach a rogue Circle operative.
“I know how to send a coded message. Mr. Bowers does the rest. He’s good people.”
“Then consider this the word. I need to speak to him, the sooner the better. But no one else can know.”
“That goes without saying,” she said, quietly shutting the door as she went back to her desk.
Ned Weiskopf was also busy collecting background information. At night he had been tracking the bologna slicing, at first to see how it was done and if it could be replicated, looking for a way to help his dad.
But, it wasn’t long before he saw the second set of transactions that were slightly larger, piggybacking on the ones left by Mark Whiting. He carefully tracked them, taking his time so he wouldn’t leave a trail of his own. On the second night he suddenly realized something. Those were still happening, which meant he could track them to their end point.
He started by looking for clusters of trades in banking systems that didn’t regularly deal in U.S. currency. That would be the paths of least resistance or scrutiny. Esther had already been teaching him how to follow the money for a couple of years now. No one in his family knew.
Ned had decided on his own to keep it to himself and Esther never asked too many questions. “Then, there’s less for me to lie about,” she said, shrugging.
Ever since her bookstore had blown up and the Keeper was almost lost, Esther had been quietly teaching Ned what she called, helpful things to know, just in case.
“I used to do this with your father,” she said. That gave him comfort these days, knowing his dad was better trained than his captors might realize.
A lot of her tips had to do with how the two structures, Management and the Circle were structured. A series of cells that only spoke to one above or one below. But the rest was about the movement of currency. “Your parents would not be happy if I showed you anything about counter-surveillance or weapons handling just yet. Maybe after you have a driver’s license,” she had said.
That was fine with him. There was so much to learn with just those two topics and one new bit of information lead to so many new questions. He felt his heart pounding and went back to the different trails, watching them intersect and noticed another pattern. Significant deposits were being made into banks in Angola and resting there. Every other deposit kept moving till they reached Dubai.
He tracked the money again and again through Uruguay, Luxembourg and Dubai and wasn’t getting anywhere. “Damn it,” he yelled, slamming his hands down on the desk. “Again,” he said, retracing his steps.
He rubbed his face and checked the time. He had been at this for two nights ever since he had seen the paperwork and he knew he had to figure it out fast or abandon the plan and come up with something else.
It wasn’t until the twenty-first time he carefully walked through the thousands of intersecting trails that he noticed an error. It had only happened once. So small he had missed it every other time.
Someone had withdrawn a small amount of money and transferred it back into U.S. currency that tracked through the New York Banks and then from Virginia to New York to Chicago. It was just under ten thousand dollars, below the maximum amount that would trigger reports to any U.S. agencies alerting authorities to take a look and freeze accounts.
“I have you,” he whispered, wanting to let out a holler when he saw the pattern emerge. He was sure it was George Clemente taking the funds and moving them around to other locations. It fit with what he was able to glean from his mother and Esther, especially Esther.
That’s when he decided to return the favor and started stealing the money back.
The first step was to set up the frame where all the money would travel. He already knew from studying what Jake’s father had done that the Cayman Islands were the best place to park the money, and it helped that the monies had never previously travelled through that location.
But before it could arrive there, he had to set up other accounts along the way to hide his tracks in places that didn’t share information. This part would be more difficult. He would have to double back and move the same money through countries where the money had already been. Sometimes even the same banks. The money would have to be scrubbed of its origins enough that the banks wouldn’t notice.
Fortunately, George Clemente had already moved the money offshore and wasn’t using U.S. currency, which helped to keep things low key and speed up the theft. Any transfers in U.S. currency would have required the money to travel back through New York banks, which was George Clemente’s misstep. Ned wasn’t going to make the same mistake.
