Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  The sandwich would add carbs to her system and elevate her glucose level. But she had no choice; she had to eat to preserve her strength—even though it meant also having to dose more insulin to prevent her glucose levels from rising too high.

  Looking at the clock on her pump, she waited about fifteen minutes, the amount of time it usually took for the insulin to kick in and lower her sugar. Only then did she eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  It tasted okay, sort of, but her recovered appetite was dulled knowing how much insulin she had just used up to cover the meal. And watching the insulin reserve in her pump reservoir observation window sliding dangerously lower only made it worse.

  And, to make matters still worse, her nausea was returning. Probably the combination of the peanut and jelly and the drug that man shot me up with me to knock me out. Uhh, I’m going to be sick. Right now!

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes before the top of the hour, when the Court proceedings would resume, the NBN-TV feed again went live.

  Nishimura smiled at the television cameras. She knew just how to play her viewing audience; she didn’t consistently get the ratings she did by accident. And her bosses hadn’t given her this one of a kind assignment for nothing.

  “Welcome back, everyone. Despite the somewhat abstract nature of the standing issues, the morning session certainly didn’t lack for tension or drama. It seemed to me that both sides were pummeled by the Justices. Chris, what can we expect during the remaining three sessions?”

  Elliott, his face already shiny with perspiration, coiled his neck and gave his necktie its obligatory tug.

  “This afternoon will be devoted to Article V of the Constitution, specifically the question of how and by whom the Constitution can be amended. Thursday morning’s session will examine the NoPoli Constitutional Convention. Thursday afternoon will be spent measuring the NoPoli Convention against the requirements of the Constitution. Given that all of these remaining issues were prompted by Congress’s appeal of the decision reached by the lower court upholding the 28th Amendment, Esposito will go first in each remaining session. Brooks will then follow.”

  “Which will bring us back full circle to Article V,” Nishimura said.

  “And perhaps other relevant constitutional provisions,” Elliott added.

  Nishimura turned to Kessler. “What about Klein? Won’t she appear in any of the remaining sessions, Steve?”

  “This is her first appearance in the Supreme Court,” Kessler said. “Brooks argued countless Supreme Court cases prior to being appointed to the D.C. Superior Court. It makes sense that Klein was tasked with arguing the easier standing part of the appeal while Brooks will handle the tougher constitutional challenge of the 28th Amendment.”

  The camera closed in on Nishimura. “If what we heard this morning were the easy part of the case, we’ll certainly depend on the two of you to help us interpret and understand what’s coming up next.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Tuesday, May 6, 2015, 12:50 pm

  LOTELLO KNEW where Cassie and her family lived; he’d dropped Madison off there many times. Even so, he looked around as if he’d never been there before. Nice house. Nice upper middle-class suburban neighborhood. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  He walked up to the front door, rang the bell, and waited. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. He was just about to move around the side of the house when the door opened.

  “Can I help you?” The man’s appearance didn’t fit the greeting. His tie was undone and hanging loose. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and rumpled. The words felt more like: What do you want?

  Lotello realized he had never met Cassie’s father before. Odd, he thought, given how close their daughters were. He wondered what kind of work the man did that he would be at home in the middle of a workday.

  “Hi. Name’s Frank Lotello. Cassie and my daughter, Madison, are classmates.” Consistent with his training, force of habit no doubt, Lotello nonchalantly inched forward into the doorway. He also stuck out his hand. The man in the doorway stared at it blankly before finally responding in kind.

  “Yes. Hello. I’m Cassie’s father. Mark Webber.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mark.” He released the man’s hand, which felt clammy and lifeless. Reacting to the man’s appearance and demeanor, Lotello inched forward a little more. “I was supposed to take the girls from school to the Supreme Court hearing this morning to watch Cassie’s grandfather. Cassie didn’t show. Madison was worried and made me promise I’d stop by and make sure everything was okay.”

  Webber stared at Lotello as if he were a visitor from another planet. Finally, he said, “Cassie wasn’t feeling well after her golf practice this morning. She decided to come home. She should have let your daughter know. I’ll speak to her about that. Cassie, I mean. I’ll speak to Cassie.” His eyes remained glassy, remote. “Sorry for your troubles.”

  An agitated grandfather in the courtroom this morning. Now a twitchy father in disheveled work clothes at home on a weekday instead of at his office. Something was definitely wrong. A family matter? Something else?

  “Actually, Madison gave me a message to pass along to Cassie. Can I say hello to her?”

  Webber hesitated. “Uh, now’s not really a good time. She’s sleeping. I’ll tell her to call Madison. Nice to meet you.” He backed away and started to close the door.

  Lotello thought about it. One part of him wanted to flash his badge and insist on seeing Cassie right then and there. The other part of him knew he had no right to do that and should butt out. Either way, whatever he decided to say now could prove incredibly awkward in the future on any number of levels.

  “Mr. Webber. Are you sure everything’s okay?

  “I am,” Webber said

  Webber didn’t sound convincing.

  They stood there eyeballing one another. Lotello didn’t have enough to go on. He would have to back off. See what more he might otherwise be able to come up with first.

  If the problem were inside the family, it was unlikely to get much worse in the near term, especially since Webber now knew Lotello was sniffing around. But if it were something outside the family, time might be of the essence. For now, Lotello was stuck.

  “Okay, then. Nice to meet you too.” Lotello reluctantly stepped back from the doorway. “Please tell Cassie we hope she’s feeling better soon.”

  “Will do. Thanks.” Webber closed the door without so much as another word.

  Lotello turned and walked back to his car. Not for a second did he believe Cassie was asleep in that house. He hoped his instincts were wrong and that she was in fact home and safe.

  * * *

  Webber hurried back to the kitchen, where Jill confronted him immediately, arms clutched across her chest.

  “Who was it? What’d he want? Something to do with Cassie?”

  He answered her questions as calmly as he could. She started pacing round the room.

  “Hon, settle down. We have to hang in here. For Cassie’s sake.”

  “Easy for you to say. It just doesn’t work that way for me.”

  “Damn, Jill. You think this is easy for me?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . . My God, Madison’s father is some kind of a detective. Do you think he suspects something? Could he mess things up? Maybe you just should have told him the truth.”

  “Jesus, Jill, that’s enough! C’mon. I’m the one who wanted to go to the FBI. But, no, we had to do it your way. Your dad’s way. I gave in. Now we have no choice but to give him a chance. That’s why I didn’t say anything to that guy. I couldn’t run the risk of screwing up whatever your dad might be putting in play this afternoon. You can’t keep waffling like this. At least until tonight, we have to stick with what we decided and see what happens.”

  “Don’t you start lecturing me.” She rubbed her eyes with clenched fists, as if that might somehow help. “It’s . . . .” She left the rest unsaid. So did he.

  CHAPTER 24


  Tuesday, May 6, 2015, 12:55 pm

  CASSIE’S NAUSEA tapered off after she tossed her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But now she was beginning to shiver. Either something was really wrong with her or the room was just too cold.

  She searched the walls for any kind of heater controls, but there weren’t any. So, she did the next best thing she could think of; she heated up some instant soup in the microwave and began sipping it. Slowly. Because it was hot. And she was also worried that she might get nauseous again.

  But she didn’t really have any choice. The shakes weren’t any fun either. The soup helped, a little, and at least it stayed down, but she was still cold. Grudgingly, she walked over to the cabinet, took out one of the sweatshirts, and put it on.

  Her first compromise. She wondered if there would be more.

  * * *

  Just five minutes before Hirschfeld had to return to the courtroom. Mark had told him that he would not be able to text Cassie’s assailants, that they were using untraceable burner phones. Whatever that meant.

  Mark’s generation certainly understood technology better than Hirschfeld’s. But who was to say that the kidnappers were running things the way Mark said? Hirschfeld definitely needed to reach them. And he needed to do it soon, before Cassie’s insulin ran out. He couldn’t see the harm in trying.

  Hirschfeld composed a short message in the cellphone box just below the last message he had received.

  I have information you NEED. Imperative we talk NOW. Please call me.

  It seemed straightforward. He hoped it would get their attention. Cassie’s life depended on it. He hit Send. And waited. Nothing. No response. He tried two more times. Still nothing. He wondered if that meant Mark was right about all that burner phones and SIM cards business.

  He looked at the time. He had to join the others in the courtroom. He had failed to reach them. What do I do now?

  CHAPTER 25

  Tuesday, May 6, 1:00 pm

  QUEUEING up early after the noon recess, Thomas succeeded in obtaining the same seat he’d occupied during the morning session. When Esposito took the podium to begin his afternoon remarks, the wording of Article V of the Constitution suddenly appeared in large, bright letters on the multisided monitor suspended from the ceiling.

  All eyes in the courtroom appeared to be glued on the display. For a moment, Thomas thought he had been transported to some NBA sports venue. As Esposito began his remarks, Thomas’s attention was drawn to the highlighted words on the screen.

  ARTICLE V OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES

  The Congress, whenever two thirds of both houses shall deem it necessary, shall propose amendments to this Constitution, or, on the application of the legislatures of two thirds of the several states, shall call a convention for proposing amendments, which, in either case, shall be valid to all intents and purposes, as part of this Constitution, when ratified by the legislatures of three fourths of the several states, or by conventions in three fourths thereof, as the one or the other mode of ratification may be proposed by the Congress. … (Emphasis added. Inapplicable language omitted.)

  “May it please the Court. Constitutional amendments must, one, be proposed either by Congress or at a convention called by Congress and, two, be ratified only in one of two specified modes selected by Congress. The participation of Congress is required both on the front and back ends of this process. Period. It’s not that complicated. In fact, it’s rather straightforward. NoPoli bypassed Congress from start to finish. Its 28th Amendment isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

  Thomas was ecstatic. He couldn’t have said it better himself. And he was intimately familiar with Article V. He’d memorized it. Word for word.

  Hirschfeld was the first Justice to intrude. “So, Mr. Esposito, tell us, is it your position that Congress can just run around willy-nilly extorting we the people and taking us hostage? Have I got that right, sir?”

  Thomas immediately sat bolt upright in his seat, laser-beam eyes staring right at Hirschfeld. Huh? Bad choice of words? Extortion? Hostage? Just a coincidence?

  “I’m sorry, Justice Hirschfeld. I don’t believe I said anything about extorting anyone or holding anyone hostage.”

  Associate Justice Larry Lukesh, tall, thin, and purposeful, entered the colloquy. “Hold on, counsel, I think you misunderstood Justice Hirschfeld. All he was asking you was whether you see anything in Article V, or anywhere else in the Constitution for that matter, that says Article V is the only way an amendment to the Constitution can be proposed and—”

  Hirschfeld broke in. “With all due respect, Justice Lukesh, I meant exactly what I said. I want to know if someone out there has the temerity to think the freedom of this great country can be taken hostage and extorted.”

  Slouched over in his seat, as if he were not feeling well, or perhaps just concentrating intensely on the discussion, Thomas frantically inserted the battery and a fresh SIM card into his phone and sent a text to Hirschfeld.

  Hell u think ur doing grampa? Playing with dynamite! Literally. Shut the fuck up! LAST warning.

  Just as quickly, he removed the battery and SIM card, snapping it in half, and slid everything back into his bag. As Thomas returned his attention to Hirschfeld, he could hardly believe his eyes. In full view for all to see, Hirschfeld casually raised his left hand to his cheek, cupped his three middle fingers to the heel of his palm, and placed his thumb to his ear and his little finger under his chin. The universal sign for CALL ME.

  A moment later, Thomas tapped one more text.

  3:30.

  He looked up from his bag just in time to catch the slight affirmative bob of Hirschfeld’s head.

  “Justice Hirschfeld,” Esposito said, “I assure you no one is trying to hold anyone hostage. Or to extort anyone. Plain and simple, the framers of our Constitution couldn’t have been clearer. They spelled out in Article V what is required to amend the Constitution. I’m just taking Article V as I find it.”

  Associate Justice Victor Stone, whose name, Thomas thought, ironically matched his sandy hair and fair complexion, interjected: “Mr. Esposito, I don’t want to quibble over the wording. As a recognized Constitutional scholar, are you aware of any language in the Constitution, anything at all, that provides any other means by which the Constitution can be amended?”

  “No, Justice Stone, thank you, I’m not. There’s no way NoPoli’s constitutional convention can be recognized for anything other than what it is: a pathetic, empty attempt to end run our Constitution. If there is any hostage taker here, it’s NoPoli.”

  “Hold it right there, Mr. Esposito,” instructed Chief Justice Trotter. “Let’s not get ahead of the Court’s announced agenda. We will be discussing the NoPoli convention on Thursday. You’ll have a chance to speak to that at the proper time.”

  “Thank you, Chief Justice, I understand. I have nothing further to add at this time.”

  “Well, then, thank you, Mr. Esposito, Trotter responded. We’ll hear next from Judge Brooks.”

  * * *

  Brooks knew exactly what he was about to say. What he was less certain of was what Hirschfeld had just said. And then it suddenly dawned on him. Extortion. Hostage. Hirschfeld wasn’t talking to Esposito when he used those words with him, twice no less. He was talking past him, to someone else in the courtroom, or watching on television.

  And that’s why Hirschfeld’s granddaughter didn’t show up this morning.

  Someone’s kidnapped that little girl!

  He had to get through the next hour and rendezvous with Lotello. He wondered if Lotello was having any luck on his own.

  CHAPTER 26

  Tuesday, May 6, 1:20 pm

  LOTELLO FOUND the sequence of events troubling.

  Cassie had texted Madison at close to eight to say that she was on the way and would meet her in a few minutes. If she then took ill in just a matter of minutes, wouldn’t she have sent Madison a second text that she was going home instead? Especia
lly when Cassie was supposed to meet Madison again in barely another hour to ride to Court. Whether she’d truly gotten sick, or something else had happened, how would the grandfather have learned of that so quickly, and been so completely off his game in Court?

  Lotello parked in the lot at the driving range where Cassie practiced. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. Given Cassie’s text to Madison, Lotello proceeded on the assumption that Cassie had finished at the range but then never made it to school. He decided to walk the route Cassie likely would have taken.

  It took him about twelve minutes. He saw nothing out of the ordinary along the way. He retraced his steps. More slowly, this time.

  He would never have noticed it but for the flicker of sunlight that momentarily flashed across his face.

  He knelt down. Sitting in a crack in the sidewalk staring back at him was part of an eyeglass stem. He took out a pair of latex gloves from his inside coat pocket and put them on. He picked up the cracked stem and examined it. It looked fresh, like it hadn’t been there very long. He removed a plastic bag from the same pocket, placed the stem inside, and zipped it closed.

  Lotello examined another fifty feet or so of sidewalk in either direction. It all looked the same, smudged, dirty, leaves here and there, even some doggie remains not too far away—except right around where he had found the stem. That area was nice and fresh, as if it had recently been swept clean.

  He took out his phone and captured the entire scene in a dozen or so pictures from multiple angles. Some up close and some further back.

  Satisfied there was nothing significant that he’d missed, Lotello hurried back to his car. He wanted to canvas the neighborhood for anyone who might have seen anything, but that would have to wait. He needed to get back to Court before it adjourned at three, and hook up with Brooks.

  CHAPTER 27

  Tuesday, May 6, 2:00 pm

  BROOKS MARCHED RIGHT up and seized the lectern. “Thank you, Chief Justice Trotter. May it please the Court … Oh…” Brooks pretended as though a thought had just occurred to him for the first time. “Excuse me, Chief Justice. NoPoli doesn’t enjoy the unlimited resources at Congress’s disposal. We’re unable to bring to the table, quite literally, the high-tech equipment my esteemed colleague, Mr. Esposito, enjoys. I wonder if Mr. Esposito might be willing—for the benefit of the Court—to put that attractive visual of Article V back up on his screen. And allow my colleague, Ms. Klein, to use his keyboard for just a brief moment.”