He got lucky. He’d recently admired the artwork of a street vendor and bought Linda and Jill hand-painted Mother’s Day cards. The artist put the two cards in a brown paper bag. They were in his briefcase awaiting Mother’s Day this Sunday. The brown paper bag was just large enough to hold the insulin supplies.
He dropped the supplies in the “28” trash container, fighting the impulse to look around, see if there was anyone lingering within eyesight. What would I do if I saw someone looking at me? Instead he hurried to the other end of the Botanic Gardens, where he sometimes ate his lunch when he felt like he could use some fresh air. He sat down on “his” bench to recover.
After a moment he allowed his eyes to close and let the sun warm his face. He really didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to contact the kids. To get in his car and go straight to their home. But the man had been clear. No calls, no messages, no detours inside a building, any building. Until the man called him again.
No telling when that would be. What else was there to do but wait?
So helpless. He could only imagine how Cassie must be feeling.
CHAPTER 53
Wednesday, May 7, 2:05 pm
CIRCLING IN THE VAN, Thomas cautiously watched the drop spot for fifteen minutes after the old man left, checking for anything out of the ordinary. The problem was that if anyone were canvassing the area, waiting for him to show, they’d know their job. They wouldn’t position themselves too closely to the drop. They wouldn’t draw attention to themselves. But they wouldn’t leave, either. So each time he circled he looked for familiar faces, loiterers, bench bums, chatting couples. Anyone lingering in the area.
Sooner or later he’d have to take a chance, snatch the supplies from the trash—before some homeless forager did. If the authorities grabbed him, so be it. One bite on the capsule and it really won’t matter any longer. I’ll be gone. Knowing I failed. Again. That knowledge more painful than the capsule.
His luck held. Sometimes you had to make your own luck. He found the brown paper bag right where he’d told the old man to leave it, grabbed it out of the trash, quickly carried it away, didn’t stop to check the contents until he was back in the van. Only then did he take a look to be sure there were no tracking devices. That it contained only more of what the girl already had with her.
He headed back to the forest, wondering how long to leave Hirschfeld twisting in the wind. He’d get to the cabin, give the girl the supplies, take his bows. If no one came busting in on him within an hour, he’d go back out, place another call to the old man away from the cabin. Let him go home.
* * *
Brooks paced around his home office, exceeding his quota of exercise for the day. The resumption of oral argument in the morning wasn’t the source of his distress. He couldn’t get Hirschfeld’s granddaughter out of his mind. Assuming his and Lotello’s assumptions were correct, what must the family be feeling, not to mention the poor little girl herself?
Why hadn’t he heard from Lotello by now? If he didn’t hear soon, he’d have to call Hirschfeld, the rules against one-sided calls to judges in a pending case be damned.
Finally, his phone rang. He was so anxious he forgot to look at the incoming number. “Brooks.”
“It’s me, Judge. Sorry to be—”
“Not a problem, Detective. I was just sitting here working my crossword puzzle. You know how it becomes more challenging by the middle of the week. What, pray tell, have you been doing to while away your day?”
“I get it, I get it, but until a few minutes ago I had nothing worthwhile to tell you.”
“Nothing worthwhile. How about you let me be . . . the judge . . . of that?”
“Haha,” Lotello responded. Beyond that, he just filled Brooks in on his morning, beginning with the DMV, then his trip to the Webbers’s home, the family reluctantly coming clean on the kidnapping, and the girl’s insulin shortage.
“I promised I wouldn’t do anything without their okay,” Lotello added. “Right now, I’m totally stumped. I don’t have anything to tell them. Or anything more to tell you.”
“Not very encouraging,” Brooks said. “Insulin’s not available over the counter. Hirschfeld must intend to reach out to the kidnappers in Court tomorrow, force some kind of meeting with them in person. If that hasn’t already happened. My guess is the family didn’t fully level with you today about their plans.”
“I agree.”
“If possible, you need to stick on Hirschfeld when he leaves Court tomorrow. For now, call the family back, tell them you’re continuing to honor their wishes. See if they’ll agree to let you know if they hear anything more from the kidnappers.”
“Okay, but how long can we continue to let them run the show?”
“I don’t know. As an officer of the Court and a lawyer for NoPoli, I also don’t know how long I can sit idly by and allow Hirschfeld to undermine the proceedings, and our case, as clearly he is attempting to do.”
“I thought you said Cassie’s safety was our first priority. Are you changing your mind?”
“There are no easy answers here. A young girl’s life against one of the most important cases in the history of our country. And that’s if the kidnappers will turn her loose under any circumstances. If you learn anything more from the family or come up with any bright ideas, please call me right away. No matter the hour. Otherwise, stay by your phone tomorrow.”
“There is one more thing you may want to know, Judge.”
“And you were planning to tell me that when?”
“Just as I was about to leave the Webbers’s place, Anne Nishimura, the broadcaster who’s televising the Court sessions, showed up unannounced, with a cameraman, wanting to interview Hirschfeld’s daughter.”
“She what? Good God, Detective, you let that slide until now?”
“She said she was doing a piece on the families of all of the Supreme Court Justices.”
“Of course she is. And I’m queen of the faeries.”
“Webber sent her packing.”
“Not good. She obviously smells something. Probably the same Hirschfeld double-talk I picked up on yesterday. All the more reason to keep your phone close.”
“You got it, Judge.”
CHAPTER 54
Wednesday, May 7, 3:15 pm
STILL FEELING the wrath of President Tuttle, Reyes had spent an already busy day anxiously wondering what Thomas was up to. And hoping to hear something further from him. It didn’t happen. Guardedly, he approached one of his contacts at the NSA. That was useless. In spite of all of NSA’s infamous wire-tapping prowess, they told him there was nothing they could do if a caller kept his calls short and used multiple phones and SIM cards.
The more Reyes thought about it, the more his instincts told him it was no small coincidence that Thomas had surfaced again out of the blue just when one of the most important Supreme Court cases in the country’s history was about to be heard and decided. Reyes could almost see the wheels turning in Thomas’s head: The sense that the amendment was a threat to the government—his government. And that he was the only one who could save it.
Reyes arranged for several FBI agents to discreetly attend the Court hearing tomorrow, to keep their eyes and ears peeled. Knowing Thomas as he did, Reyes was not optimistic. If Thomas wanted to be in Court, he’d be there. And he’d surely make it his business to be invisible.
CHAPTER 55
Wednesday, May 7, 3:00 pm
ALERTED by the click of the lock, Cassie was up on her feet before the man entered the room. It made her feel more like his equal when she was almost able to stand eye to eye with him. This was one time she didn’t mind being as tall as she was. They were nearly the same height.
“What’s doing, brat?”
“Just chilling, monster man, wondering what you’re hiding in there. You must really be ugly if you think that thing improves your looks.”
“Your material’s getting stale.”
“I’ll work on it. You need to
give me a little notice the next time you plan on stopping by.”
He tossed the brown paper bag down on the bed. She looked at it with a mix of fear and hope. “Brought you a little gift.”
“The only gift I want from you is for you to let me go.”
“Check out the bag.”
She was dying to know what he was so proud of, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Not interested.”
He marched over, tore open the bag and spewed its contents out on the bed, violently enough that some of it missed the bed altogether and landed on the floor. “Look at all the trouble I’ve gone to for you. The least you could do is show me a little appreciation.”
She saw the vials of insulin and other supplies. The exact brand of insulin she used. Try as she did, she couldn’t hide her relief.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Was that a thank you?”
“The stuff is probably fake.”
But she knew it wasn’t. Insulin was clear like water, but it had a slightly different look. Plus, the vials matched the ones she knew, and the sealed caps appeared unbroken.
“Oh, it’s the real stuff, kid. Only the best for you.”
“How’d you get it?”
“All you need to know is that you now have all you’ll need. For a long time.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot. Yeah, she now had plenty of insulin. But what did he mean by “a long time”? Will I ever get out of here?
“If you have to know, I got it from your grandfather.”
“Poppy? Is he okay? Did you hurt him?”
He left the room, locking the door without answering her questions.
* * *
Once back upstairs, Thomas pulled out one of his phones. With all of her problems, the girl seemed to be more worried about her precious Poppy than she was about herself. Or all the trouble he’d gone to for her and all the risks he’d taken. With all of Hirschfeld’s troubles, Thomas couldn’t help but envy him. Ironic. He punched in the number.
“Yes?”
“She has her insulin. Go home, Grandpa.”
* * *
Hirschfeld looked at the time on his phone, not believing his eyes. He must have dozed off right there on the park bench. No one passing by had bothered to see if he were okay. He thought for a moment what it was like to be homeless, truly destitute and alone on some cold park bench. But he heard what the man said. And he had to remember that he was not in this all by himself.
He speed dialed the number. He heard Jill’s voice.
“Cassie has her insulin.”
“How? What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Is your mother there with you?”
“We’re all here, Dad. Mom’s holding up better than we are.”
“I’m on the way. I’ll be there as quickly as I can. I’ll explain everything I know.”
CHAPTER 56
Wednesday, May 7, 5:00 pm
LOTELLO WAS SITTING with Leah in her home office, belatedly filling her in. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not,” she said. “NoPoli’s board had lunch today to go over where things stand on the case. You know Steve’s acting as one of the TV consultants. He mentioned that the TV people were focusing in on Hirschfeld; that they thought he was behaving strangely. They’re suspicious. According to you, Cyrus was more than suspicious. I guess I must have been unconscious.”
“You don’t need to go there,” he said. “There’s a lot going on. And this is your first time in the Supreme Court. Your hands are full.”
Lotello knew she was not buying his long overdue attention, or letting him off that easily. “And driving the kids home from school this afternoon, Madison told Charlie and me what the two of you had been up to on her lunch break.”
“We weren’t ‘up to’ anything.”
“Why didn’t you bother to tell me?”
“I was just about to. It’s not like my plate hasn’t been pretty full too.”
“Well, a little sooner would’ve been nice, Frank.”
“Leah—”
“Go update your daughter.”
* * *
“Okay,” Lotello answered, exiting from Leah’s home office. He had chosen not to tell her that he’d already updated Madison. She’d cornered him the minute he came through the front door.
PART FOUR
The United States Supreme Court Day Two Argument, And More
CHAPTER 57
Thursday, May 8, 6:00 am
IN THE EARLY MORNING DARKNESS, Brooks could barely make out Hirschfeld’s features. He was, however, exactly where he said Brooks would find him, between the water and the northerly trail winding toward Georgetown Waterfront Park. As good a spot as any for two people not wanting to be seen together.
The man gripped the guardrail running along this stretch of the Potomac, gazing into the water below as if afraid he might fall in. Aside from the occasional jogger detouring off the Capital Crescent trail, still a rarity at this early hour, they were entirely alone. For the time being.
Brooks walked up and handed the man a steaming cup of coffee, a symbolic peace offering. The man hesitated at first, then reluctantly took it in both hands, as though to ward off the morning chill.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Brooks said. “I can only imagine what you and your family have been going through.”
“Cyrus, if you could imagine that, you wouldn’t have called, let alone forced this meeting on me.”
Hirschfeld took a sip of coffee, grimaced, then looked off across the water once more.
“You and I have no quarrel, Arnold. We both want exactly the same thing, to—”
“What’s that, Cyrus? What is it we both want?”
“To bring your granddaughter safely home. And to let this case run its natural course, whatever that might be. Can we please sit?”
Brooks pointed to a nearby bench. Another small peace gesture. Hirschfeld didn’t move.
“Cyrus. Have you told Esposito we’d be meeting? Invited him to join us? You know the rules as well as I.”
“I’ve not told anyone about this meeting, and I won’t,” Brooks said. “You’re certainly free to do so if you wish. Personally, as an officer of the court, I’m much more concerned about silently sitting by without reporting to Trotter what I now know. And that’s without taking into consideration my duties to NoPoli as its legal counsel. To me, this little tête-a-tête pales by comparison. Can we now please turn to the subject of your granddaughter?”
Hirschfeld sighed, then moved to the bench and sat. “I’m listening.”
Brooks sat down next to Hirschfeld. “Two days ago, your granddaughter—”
“Cassie. Her name’s Cassie.”
“My apologies, Arnold. I meant no disrespect.”
Hirschfeld ignored Brooks’s atonement. “Cassie’s been kidnapped. I know that. You know that. The man you sent to my daughter’s home, Lotello, the detective, he knows that. Fine. Everyone knows that. So what?”
“The kidnapping required at least two people. One grabbed her. The other drove the vehicle. A white Nissan van. An older model. We have the license plate.”
Hirschfeld frowned at Brooks.
“How do you know all this? What have you done, Cyrus? Hopefully nothing that might put Cassie in greater peril than she already is.”
Brooks recounted Lotello’s efforts of the past few days, the retracing of Cassie’s route from the driving range, the neighborhood canvass, the lone witness, the description of the vehicle, and its partial license plate.
“Are you telling me,” Hirschfeld asked, “you know who owns the van?”
“No.” Brooks found it hard to look his old friend squarely in the eye. “I wish we did. So far, a dead end on that front.”
Hirschfeld lowered his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.
“And now there’s the woman broadcaster poking her nose in things as well. I assume Lotello told you she showed up
at my daughter’s home while he was there?”
“He did. Your son-in-law was smart to turn her away, but I don’t know that’ll do any good. You weren’t that circumspect in Court on Tuesday. She’s a reporter. She may have become suspicious of your particular choice of words. Just as I did. Let’s hope she doesn’t know Lotello was there when she paid her visit.”
“Let me get this straight,” Hirschfeld said. “You insisted on this meeting, risking exactly the kind of exposure you fear would occur if this woman discovered your detective was at my daughter’s house, but you have nothing whatsoever new or concrete to tell me?”
“Lotello also told me Cassie doesn’t have enough insulin to see her through this.”
Hirschfeld glanced away. “That’s been taken care of.”
“How?”
“It truly is none of your concern, Cyrus.”
“You’ve met with the kidnappers?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what?”
Hirschfeld begrudgingly told Brooks about the drop outside the Botanical Garden.
“The man I dealt with was hideous. But Cassie now has enough insulin for the foreseeable future.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m glad to hear that. So we’ve bought some time.” He used the word “we” intentionally. Time for his old friend to realize that whether he liked it or not, they were in this together. “But that just brings us to the next problem.”
CHAPTER 58
Thursday, May 8, 6:15 am
NISHIMURA WAS FRUSTRATED. Something strange was going on with Hirschfeld and his family. Something Lotello’s presence at the house yesterday confirmed. However, despite hours of online research keeping her at it until after two this morning, she’d been unable to turn up anything useful.
She had to be careful, and not ask the wrong questions or approach the wrong people. The story could be absolutely explosive. She didn’t want anyone beating her to it.
Brooks-Lotello Collection Page 16
