She also decided to go through another hour of exercise, not just to help her blood sugars but also to maintain her conditioning.
* * *
With a few minutes left before Thomas had to queue up in the Courtroom admission line, he switched on his phone and launched the camera app.
Geez, the girl was at it again. All she did was exercise. What a waste. Not going to make a damn bit of difference in the end anyway.
* * *
She’d been jogging in place for about twenty minutes when she heard the ceiling camera start humming again. Maybe another chance to make him feel guilty. “Hey, can you hear me? Does that thing have a microphone? You know, it’s really become kind of lonely around here. If it’s not too much to ask, could you please maybe bring me some books or magazines to read? Maybe some puzzles. Anything like that.”
No answer. After only a moment, the light on the camera went out.
So much for that bright idea. Time for a little cardio. She shadow-boxed for a few minutes, working in several types of kicks—ax, hook, butterfly, roundhouse—and then collapsed onto her bed. For variety, she liked working on the self-defense stuff. Never know when it might come in handy.
She was trying so hard to keep her spirits up, to stay positive, but it wasn’t easy. She missed her family. And her friends. A lot. She even missed taking Whitney out for his morning walks.
And no matter how hard she tried to push it away, she was incredibly frightened. The man really scared her. He was just too weird. She tried not to think about it, but she couldn’t help wondering how long she was going to be here, and what was going to happen to her. If I get out of here, I’ll never complain about my chores again.
The workouts helped. They kept her mind off things, and she knew they lowered her blood sugars. But then, without warning, it all closed in on her. She couldn’t catch her breath. She felt like she was suffocating. And then the dam just burst wide open, and the tears came flooding down her cheeks.
But then, slowly, she thought of the man again. And the fact that he could turn that camera on again anytime he wanted, and start spying on her again. She hated that. And she hated him. Stop it! Concentrate. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. She wiped her face off on her sleeves and gradually pulled herself back. She couldn’t let him see her like that.
As she drifted off to sleep, her mind returned to the insulin supplies the man had brought to her yesterday. And that he had mentioned her poppy rather than her mom or dad.
CHAPTER 64
Thursday, May 8, 9:30 am
IN SPITE of arranging for FBI agents to be in the Courtroom for the remainder of the case, Reyes had decided to spend the morning there himself. Maybe the afternoon as well. He’d provided a description of Thomas, but knew he’d personally have the best chance of recognizing him. Assuming Thomas was even in the Courtroom. He alerted the lead agent at the back of the Courtroom of his presence, scanned the gallery, then took a seat in the rear with a good vantage point.
* * *
Thomas closed his eyes. He thought about how the girl wanted him to get her some reading material and puzzles. Quite the little princess. Like Thomas was her manservant. Like he had nothing better to do. Her poppy might hang on her every wish, but certainly not Thomas. Besides, how would I know what girls her age like to read? And why would I even care?
He reopened his eyes. Off to his right, less than ten feet away, he saw none other than Manny Reyes speaking with some guy wearing an earpiece. As Thomas continued to watch out of the corner of his eye, the two men finished speaking and Reyes took a seat in the back of the gallery. Glancing around the Courtroom as inconspicuously as possible, Thomas spotted at least three more suits with the same earpieces.
These agents weren’t in the Courtroom on Tuesday, but here they were today. He thought about what their sudden interest in the case might be, and whether it possibly had anything to do with him. He had left a voicemail message for Reyes after legal argument on Tuesday, but his message was perfectly harmless and he hadn’t said anything about why he was in town.
Still, Reyes was nobody’s fool. He could have reasoned that if Thomas had chosen to return to D.C. at this particular moment, it might well be due to some interest in the 28th Amendment Supreme Court goings on. But such interest on the part of a loyal soldier and teammate shouldn’t be of any concern to Reyes.
If Reyes were now looking for Thomas, there could only be one possible explanation: Hirschfeld must have broken his compact with Thomas, talked to someone about the girl, perhaps even to Reyes himself. No matter how, it appeared that Reyes was now aware of what was going on, had probably connected it to Thomas due to his voicemail message, and was apparently upset with Thomas for not coordinating his plans with Tuttle and Reyes in advance.
Girl wants magazines and puzzles? Yeah, right. What for? Your precious grandpa just let you down, big time. You’re not going to need any damn magazines and puzzles.
* * *
Nishimura, Elliott, and Kessler had just spent thirty minutes reminding the television audience what arguments they would be hearing this morning. Fortunately, this was pretty much per script and pro forma because Nishimura’s mind was elsewhere. She was anxious to know if Joey were having any luck. Why hasn’t he called?
* * *
When Webber first entered the Courtroom, he also managed to find a seat at the rear of the gallery. He noticed two conspicuous men standing together near the entrance.
The large one, resembling an NFL lineman, was wearing one of those Bluetooth earpieces. The other bore a distinct resemblance to the images he had poured over after speaking with Adams, and Googling “White House Chief of Staff Manuel Reyes.”
Adams was right. Reyes was somehow involved. Mark felt his pulse quicken. It took everything in his power not to get up, rush over to them and shout: “What have you done with my daughter?”
CHAPTER 65
Thursday, May 8, 10 am
WITH LEAH KLEIN seated to his right, Brooks watched Hirschfeld and his eight colleagues take their seats. It was precisely ten o’clock. Standing at the lectern before the Court Marshall had even conducted his opening ritual, Esposito appeared to be wound really tight. Trotter greeted everyone, both those in the Courtroom and those watching on television. He invited Esposito to begin his remarks and reminded him that he had one hour. Meaning, Brooks noted, whatever portion of that one hour the Justices didn’t appropriate for themselves.
Brooks knew as well what needed to be said on NoPoli’s behalf in the second hour, but, of course, that would have to be refined on the fly depending on what transpired in the next sixty minutes.
“Good morning, Your Honors,” Esposito began. “If it pleases the Court, Article V of the Constitution sets forth the two procedures by which the Constitution can be amended. First—”
“Excuse me, counsel.” It was Chief Justice Trotter. “I know I’m losing track of these things in my advancing age, but isn’t this Thursday morning?”
Brooks smiled at the attempt at levity, no doubt heightened by the presence of the TV cameras. This was at Esposito’s expense, and on his clock. It was fine with Brooks.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Esposito responded. “I don’t think I follow your point?”
“Our discussion of Article V was Tuesday afternoon. This morning is reserved for consideration of the NoPoli constitutional convention.”
“Yes, Chief Justice, you are, of course, correct, but discussing NoPoli’s so-called constitutional convention without some contextual background would, I respectfully submit, be difficult. Especially when circumstances prevented me from fully addressing Article V on Tuesday.”
With a slight wag of his head, it was now Brooks’s turn to feign confusion. And innocence.
“Very well, Mr. Esposito,” Trotter said, “I suppose a little context would be fair. Forgive my intrusion.”
“Not at all, Your Honor. As I was saying, Article V spells out how the Constitution may be amended. The
NoPoli convention was not conducted in accordance with—”
Justice Taser was all but up on her feet. “That’s not context, Mr. Esposito. That’s argument. If all you have to say about the NoPoli convention is that it was conducted outside your take on the scope of Article V, I think we can all acknowledge your position and you can yield the floor to Judge Brooks. Do you or do you not wish to be heard further about the actual characteristics of the NoPoli convention?”
“I do, Justice Taser.”
“Well please proceed then. I’m sure all of us would like to hear what you have to say about the actual convention before you run out of your allotted time to say it.”
No doubt Brooks was enjoying Taser a lot more than Esposito. He couldn’t be sure if it were just her style or her obvious support of the 28th Amendment, but either way Taser was doing all she could to prevent Esposito from finding his rhythm. And eating into his time as well. He’d get another shot at Article V this afternoon, but his attempt to do that now was getting him nowhere.
“Thank you, Justice Taser. Assuming for sake of argument, as NoPoli would have us believe, that Article V is a constraint only on constitutional amendments sponsored by the government, and not by the governed, the NoPoli assembly still did not satisfy the requirement that the governed must act—when they are permitted to do so—through a majority of them. Even NoPoli does not dispute this constitutional predicate.”
This time it was the generally soft-spoken Justice Galanti who growled, “Mr. Esposito. We just don’t seem to be coming together on the same page here. First you were trying to take us back to our Tuesday afternoon discussions about the meaning of Article V. Now you seem to be turning to what we are supposed to argue this afternoon. Once and for all, I’d like to know if you have anything you’d like to bring to the Court’s attention this morning about the actual characteristics of the NoPoli convention, which is the sole topic on this morning’s agenda? If not, perhaps you really should consider yielding your time.”
“Very well, Justice Galanti.”
“Very well what, Mr. Esposito,” Justice Lukesh inquired. “Are you yielding?”
“Not at all, Justice Lukesh. I will point out the characteristics of the NoPoli convention that I then wish to argue further this afternoon.”
“Well, then, Mr. Esposito, it would be helpful if you would please move to that,” Justice Stone said.
Brooks knew that Stone was expected to vote to invalidate the amendment. He was obviously attempting to encourage Esposito to accomplish something toward that end this morning.
Esposito must have realized he wasn’t getting anywhere trying to game the Court’s agenda. He finally quit trying, resigning himself to itemizing the convention’s characteristics, the deficiencies of which he would then argue this afternoon. He first ran through the procedures NoPoli employed to select and seat its 50,000 delegates and 20,000 alternate delegates. He then did his best, strategically, but inaccurately, to argue that the delegates and alternate delegates were all long-standing members of NoPoli, and therefore not a true representative cross-section of the governed.
Finally sticking to this morning’s announced agenda, Esposito actually spoke for some time without further interruption. Brooks was impressed. Esposito had methodically and effectively ticked off every vulnerability in the NoPoli convention that he would have raised had he been in Esposito’s shoes. As for the Justices, Brooks couldn’t tell whether they agreed with Esposito or had lost interest.
Near the end, Hirschfeld lobbed Esposito a few softball questions designed to allow him a chance to emphasize the homogeneity of the NoPoli delegates and alternate delegates and to suggest that they did not fairly represent the American public. It struck Brooks that Hirschfeld wanted to monopolize the remainder of Esposito’s time so that none of the Justices with a different point of view would have much opportunity to cut in.
At the completion of Esposito’s designated time, Trotter interrupted the unofficial Hirschfeld and Esposito team to thank Esposito for his remarks and to state that they would take a ten-minute recess before hearing from NoPoli.
* * *
Webber watched his father-in-law going at it with Esposito, the lawyer he understood to be representing Congress. He was pleased that his father-in-law was doing everything possible to shoot down the amendment and save Cassie. His views were quite different than those he generally espoused at family events.
Webber hadn’t noticed anyone during the past hour paying any inordinate amount of attention to Hirschfeld. When he spoke, people watched him. When he was quiet, they didn’t, at least as near as he could tell. But it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He hoped he’d have more luck as the day progressed. Enough to endure the wrath Jill would visit on him for being MIA on the home front.
* * *
Brooks and Klein had originally decided that Brooks would take both of the Thursday sessions. However, Hirschfeld had beaten Klein up pretty badly on Tuesday. Brooks knew she was down. He wanted her to know that his confidence in her had not been shaken. So last night he had asked her to first chair the Thursday morning session.
It was now NoPoli’s turn to speak about the convention. Klein and Steve Kessler had run the convention. No one knew it better than Klein did. She approached the lectern, carrying only one thin notepad. Good sign, Brooks thought. No crutches. Less was more.
And so it was. The Justices let Klein speak with almost no dislocation. Ultimately, Stone, Lukesh, Nettleman, and Hirschfeld each put her through her paces, attempting to demonstrate that NoPoli was an elitist organization that did not reflect a broad spectrum of the country.
Brooks had assumed all along that Stone and Nettleman would each be against the amendment. Hirschfeld was a surprise on Tuesday, but no longer. Klein was armed and ready. She methodically walked the Justices through the manner in which each state chapter of NoPoli had independently selected delegates who reflected a balanced composition of their respective state citizenry, free from any centralized NoPoli influence or control. In this way, Klein argued, the 70,000 NoPoli delegates and alternate delegates from across all fifty states of the union represented a true national microcosm of Americana.
It would now be up to Brooks to pull it all together that afternoon. Hirschfeld had been turned into an outright adversary. It would effectively be Esposito and Hirschfeld together against Brooks. Not particularly fair odds, two to one. But then Brooks figured Hirschfeld and his granddaughter hadn’t felt they’d been dealt a fair hand either.
CHAPTER 66
Thursday, May 8, 11:00 am
DURING THE TEN-minute recess between the two halves of the morning session, Thomas’s mind returned to the Courtroom presence of Reyes and his goons. In the worst possible way, he wanted to believe this was just some kind of security detail, perhaps alerted to some possible terrorist threat attributable to the high-profile nature of the Supreme Court and this case. But Reyes had nothing to do with security. And the last thing he would do would be to place himself in any possible harm’s way. Once again, Reyes’s presence could only mean one thing: he had sorted out what had brought Thomas back to D.C. Still, he wondered why that would bring out Reyes and his support team. Sure, Thomas understood that he had lost his stripes, and was no longer affirmatively a member of their team, included in their plans. That was precisely why he was here to make amends, to earn back his stripes. But are they actually against me having another chance to show that I do deserve a seat at the table?
* * *
Poppy was still on her mind when Cassie woke up. Something the man said had bothered her. He told he got her diabetic supplies from her grandfather. But her grandfather didn’t have any of her diabetic supplies and would have had to get them from her mom and dad. Kids were usually kidnapped to get something from their parents. The man should have been speaking to her parents, not her grandfather. Why then wouldn’t he have gone directly to the source, her parents, to get her insulin and supplies?
CHAPTER
67
Thursday, May 8, 11:55 am
JOEY HAD FOLLOWED Mark Webber to the Courthouse parking lot, then into the queue to enter the Courtroom for the morning session. By the time Joey got to the front of the line, security had stopped letting any more people in.
He flashed his NBN-TV credentials. That did the trick; they let him through.
It took a while, but he finally spotted Webber sitting in the last row of the gallery. Webber seemed less interested in the proceedings than in another spectator only a few seats away from him. Every now and then, Webber scanned the gallery. He appeared to be looking for someone, but his attention always returned to the nearby spectator. Maybe, Joey thought, it was because the subject of Webber’s interest was well-known White House Chief of Staff, Manny Reyes.
Reyes was also restless, gazing around the Courtroom, as if he too were looking for someone. Joey wondered whether they possibly could both be searching for the same person.
At the noon recess, Reyes joined a wooden looking guy standing at the back of the Courtroom. They exchanged a few words and then walked out together. And there was Webber, right on their heels.
Joey tried to follow, but the exit was crowded; he lost them. When Joey got outside, Webber and Reyes were nowhere to be found.
* * *
Nishimura felt her cell phone vibrate. Seeing it was Joey, she anx iously picked up.
“I’m here at the Courthouse.”
“You’re supposed to be watching Webber,” she whispered, looking around to be sure no one was listening to her.
“Followed him here this morning. He just left. Guess who he was following?”
“Joey—get to the point.”
“Manny Reyes.”
Nishimura hesitated, unable to process what that might mean. “Where are they now?”
Brooks-Lotello Collection Page 18
