“He can’t, but he thinks you can help me.”
“How can I? The workings of the Court are confidential until the justices issue a final decision. I couldn’t tell you anything, even if I thought I knew it.” But the GenWorks case was a black box, and if Justice Wynn could have resolved it, why hadn’t he? Instead of putting himself into a coma, like his doctors suspected. Avery’s mind swirled with possibilities, but none of them made sense. If all it would take to save his son was one vote on the Court, surely Justice Wynn would have done that himself. No reason to bring her into this.
“Avery? Where’d you go?”
“What? I’m sorry, Jared. I really don’t know how I can help you.”
Impatient, he leaned across the table. “You have to, Avery. The judge said you’d know how to put the pieces together. What pieces?”
Jamie’s warning played shrilly in her head. Save us. Forgive me. Why would saving their lives require forgiveness? And who was she to be in the middle of this?
Avery shoved her chair back and stood. “I’m not sure what your father thought I knew or told you I could do, Jared, but I don’t know anything. I’m sorry about your illness, but I can’t fix this for you. For either of you.”
SIXTEEN
Jared quickly rose, stepping toward Avery and placing his hand on her arm. The gravelly voice lost its anger in a plea. “Avery, you know something. I saw it.”
“You’re imagining things,” she whispered, unwilling to attract attention.
“I’m sorry.” Jared dropped his hand. “Please, don’t leave. Look, my father has asked me for one thing in the last twenty years. To come to you if he got too sick to do it himself.”
“This isn’t about him,” she argued, sitting again. Jared sat again as well. “It’s about you. Justice Wynn isn’t coming out of his coma. Anything I do saves your life, not his.”
Jared lowered his voice and locked eyes with Avery. “You’re right. But I’m not sure that’s all there is to this.”
Save us. “What do you mean? Why?”
“Because I don’t think the judge loved me that much.” He exhaled sharply. “He was anxious when he talked to me. Frightened. Kept looking over his shoulder as we talked. There’s more to it. This is about more than me and some disease that’s killing us both.”
“The doctors said he might have shown signs of paranoia.”
“Paranoia—or knowledge? He kept telling me that it was too dangerous to tell me the truth, but that this was a matter of national security.”
“Jared, he could have been having delusions. And he knew what you did in the Navy. Maybe guilt was creating a fantasy scenario where he could save your life.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know. He never gave me details, but he would rant about the president. He truly hated President Stokes, and he didn’t like his doctors. But he said that if he ran out of time, he had a backup plan.”
“Which is?”
“You.” Jared held her gaze. “That’s why he told me to come to you if anything happened to him. That the fate of the world would be at stake. It sounds like hyperbole, but he was dead serious.”
“And you don’t think he was delusional and paranoid?” she protested.
“I don’t know what to think. He broke a twenty-year silence to come and warn me. That has to mean something. His mind was crystal clear on that, Avery.”
She thought about the folder she’d found on Wynn’s computer. Of Jamie Lewis’s dead body. Of the caller’s cryptic warning. “Did he tell you anything else?”
“He was insistent—he said if he didn’t make it to the end of term, you’d have to finish it for him.” Jared scrubbed at his face. “No, I don’t know what ‘it’ is. I’m not a lawyer, so I didn’t question what he meant.”
“I don’t know either,” Avery replied honestly. “This could be the last stages of his disease, Jared. Seeing threats where none exist.”
“Or maybe seeing something no one else could.” Jared leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. “What can you tell me about the GenWorks case? Legally.”
Avery had been assigned to help with the research on GenWorks, which made her more privy to the workings of the conference committee than others. “Only what’s already known. An American genetics company wants to merge with an Indian biotech firm and share technology. The president objected and stopped the merger—first time in history.”
“Why?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Recalling the day of the oral arguments, Avery frowned. “There’s the moral issue of genetic research. These companies are manipulating the basic elements of our humanity. Cloning sheep and mapping the human genome was simply the beginning. The hyperbole about ordering a genetically perfect child or manufacturing new limbs isn’t science fiction. Stem cell lines are producing more and more data, and what used to take years can now be done in weeks with CRISPR. It’s a new frontier, but no one is in charge.”
“You agree with President Stokes?”
“I didn’t say that. Critics say that President Stokes expanded the limits of executive power beyond the Constitution. As dangerous as biogenetics may be, so is a president who has authoritarian leanings.”
“So who is right?”
“I don’t know. I’m not on the Court.”
Hearing her annoyance, Jared asked, “What else can you tell me about the case?”
“That none of the normal ideologies held up. Justices were all over the place during the questioning. The core issue is the Exon-Florio Amendment. It’s supposed to balance national security interests against America’s interest in foreign investment.”
Warming to her topic, Avery leaned forward. “Nigel Cooper, the head of GenWorks, is claiming that the president does not have any valid national security concerns, but is simply being a protectionist in retaliation against India since they shot down his signature trade deal last year. India agrees with China on a few trade routes, and six months later, Stokes blocks the biggest tech deal in India’s history. Because of the national security angle, the case gets fast-tracked, and here we are.”
“You agree there are national security implications of sharing that kind of technology with a foreign country. President Stokes may be a prick, but he’s not wrong.”
“Neither is Nigel Cooper, but his public feud with the president doesn’t help either one of them with credibility. GenWorks might be his baby, but Nigel Cooper poured millions into a super PAC in the last election to defeat the GOP, and he’s at it again. Billionaires will be made overnight if the merger goes through. He could be a trillionaire if their technologies actually work.”
“Or we weaken our national security by putting dangerous technology in enemy hands.”
“India isn’t our enemy,” Avery cautioned.
Jared’s expression offered little comfort. “No, but India is now friendly with other countries who are definitely not our allies. Add to the geopolitical mix the kind of technology that can change DNA, put it in the wrong hands, and it could become weaponized—for profit. Or it could save my life.”
“It could save a lot of lives,” Avery agreed. “This isn’t a clear-cut issue, which is why folks are so at odds.”
“So do you think the merger should proceed or not?”
Remembering her role, Avery responded carefully: “I don’t have an opinion.”
“Okay. For the sake of argument, what happens in a split decision?”
“In the event the Court is equally divided and declines to issue a decision, then the lower court ruling would stand.”
“And if that case is GenWorks?”
“Because the lower court agreed with the president, the merger fails.”
“With the judge out of the way, the odds are in the president’s favor, right?”
“You’d think so, but it’s not so cut-and-dried. The pr
esident wins if there is a split decision or if they decline to issue a decision, which is an option. But the Court can also continue the case and not issue a ruling until the next session. If they want, the justices can hold a rehearing and start the process all over again. There are a number of options. It’s a chess match.” As the words left her lips, her thoughts raced. Las Bauer. How had she missed it?
“That’s just like the judge,” Jared murmured. “I just wish I knew which piece I was and which square I was on.”
In the square. Lasker Bauer. Her mind continuing to swirl, Avery stood abruptly. “I have to go.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just, I have to go.” Watching him closely, she said, “Lasker Bauer.”
“What?”
Other than confusion, she saw no other reaction. She leaned in closer. “Lasker Bauer?”
“Avery, what are you talking about?” Concern replaced confusion.
“You play chess?”
He shook his head. “Not since I was a kid. The judge taught me, but I only played to make him happy. I never wanted to look at a chessboard again after he sent me away.”
“But you were just talking about pieces and squares.”
“Something the judge said to me that last night. He told me to watch which square I was in and to keep my eyes on all the pieces.”
“And the names Lasker and Bauer?”
“No one I know.” Jared paused. “Avery, you’ve had a rough day, and I’m not helping. It’s almost one in the morning—you should get home.” He tossed some bills onto the table. “Come on—I can give you a ride.”
Her instinct to protest was overwhelmed by a wave of bone-weary exhaustion, and she accepted. They navigated out of the restaurant, and he guided her to a black ’67 Corvette parked down the block. Avery slid across the butter-soft seat and felt her body relax. Jared climbed into the driver’s side, and she gave him the address.
“Nice ride.”
“Belonged to my aunt and uncle. We used to work on it every weekend. They gave it to me for my twenty-fifth birthday. Beat the hell out of my used Honda Accord.”
“I once got to drive a ’68 Charger,” she said sleepily. “Best joyride ever.”
“ ‘Joyride’?”
“Forget I said that.”
The streets were empty this time of night, and the desolate blocks clicked by in silence. Suddenly Avery thought about the security detail she’d evaded back at her apartment. If she arrived in a car at the front door, they’d certainly report her to the Chief.
Her building occupied a corner of Fifteenth and Q. As they neared the apartment block, she asked, “Would you mind circling and then driving down the alley? I don’t want to go in the front.” Jamie Lewis’s pale corpse flashed before her, and Avery felt a chill.
Jared gave her a knowing look, but instead of asking questions, he turned the corner, cut off his headlights, and drove down the narrow alley. In the shadows, he put his car in park and got out to open her door. Despite her protest, Jared escorted her to the fire escape. “I assume this stealthy approach has something to do with the police detail out front.”
“How did you—?”
“Military intelligence, Avery.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She fumbled in her bag for her key. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more.”
“Not yet. But you may remember something.” He held up his hand before she could reply. “I don’t know him the way you do. But he was afraid—and so are you. I want to help.”
Avery hesitated, then reached back into her bag. “Here’s my card.”
“Thanks.” He squeezed her hand once and turned toward his car.
“Wait.” On impulse, Avery rummaged in her bag for a pen. She plucked the card from his grasp and scrawled a number across the back. “That’s my cell.”
“Good. I thought I was going to have to hack the phone company to find you again.”
She grinned. “You can do that?”
“Sure.”
Avery hesitated, then scribbled a second number on the card. “I received a call today from an unknown number. It came in around four thirty p.m. to my cell—not the Court’s line. Do you have a way to track it? Figure out who called?”
Jared nodded in the lamplight. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Grateful, she smiled at him. “Thanks, Jared. And let me know you made it home safely, okay?”
Jared returned the grin, a slow, slightly crooked curve that skittered her pulse. “Will do. Take care, Avery…thanks for meeting with me tonight.” He gave her a polite kiss on the cheek and pointed up at the fire escape with another smile. “I’ll wait until you’re inside.”
“Thank you.” Before she could do something foolish, Avery climbed the three flights of the fire escape and entered the apartment building through the unlocked window in the hall.
As she rounded the corner, she stopped. “Rita. What are you doing here?”
“Hey, baby.” Her mother scrambled up from the floor, dark red hair hanging in greasy hanks over her pale, mottled face, the green eyes she shared with her daughter glassy and red-rimmed. “Waiting for you. I’ve been knocking for an hour. Where were you?”
“None of your business.” Avery pocketed her key and blocked the door. Rita had never been inside this apartment, had never had occasion to case it for movable objects easily sold. Avery planned to keep it that way. Legs braced, she asked flatly, “How did you find me?”
The coquettish smile slipped a fraction. “I didn’t know you were hiding.”
“How?”
“I don’t have to tell you.”
Avery could read the signs of a recent high and knew she’d get no good answers anyway.
“What do you want? If it’s money, I’m all tapped out right now.”
“I don’t always come around for money, honey.” She giggled at her rhyme.
Avery inched away, but Rita closed the distance between them, her eyes battling with thick layers of mascara. The once bright green had been dulled to a drab olive of unremarkable hue. Feeling abruptly weary, Avery lifted a hand to ward off her advance. “Rita. What is it?”
Teetering on heels too spindly for wear, Rita pouted, “I just wanted to talk to my baby. I’ve been waiting all night.” She ran black-tipped nails through her disheveled hair. “Can’t we go inside and sit? This floor is hard, and I could use a quick shower. Maybe dinner, if you’ve got it?”
Avery saw the gleam of avarice. If she opened the door, she’d be cleaned out by the weekend. Steeling herself to reject the pitiable woman who had given her life, she sighed. “It’s very late, and I’ve got work tomorrow. Go away, Rita.”
“Go away? Is that any way to speak to your momma?”
“If she’s you, absolutely.” The sharp retort escaped before Avery could bite it off.
Rita responded with a quick slap across Avery’s cheek, followed by a moan of regret. She tried to hug her daughter, who froze. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I just lost my temper. Baby, I’m so sorry.”
Then, on cue, came the weeping. Tears ran down poorly rouged cheeks, dripping their sincerity on Avery’s throbbing skin. Wrapped in the emaciated arms, her nose buried in the rancid scent of unwashed hair, Avery felt despair creep through her heart. A lifetime of carefully plotted escape from this woman, this mother, and she’d never been able to shake her.
Oh, she thought spitefully, to be Jared Wynn. Both shared the death of one parent, but he’d been blessed with the disinterest of another. Why hadn’t the bus accident claimed the woman instead of the man who’d given her life? She remembered a broad-shouldered, handsome man with rich brown skin and a booming laugh. He was the one who quietly soothed away the taunts about her having a white mom and a black dad. Who explained Rita’s mercurial nature and sudden streaks of mean over fast games o
f chess. Who celebrated her strange memory when others called her a freak. Even her faintest memories of her father glinted more brightly than the best day she could recall with Rita.
She raised her arms and untwined Rita’s serpentine grip. Plastic bangles clacked with the motion. “I don’t have anything for you. Please go, Rita. Just go.”
“Well, I have something for you!” Gone was any pretense of maternal affection. The threat slid out smooth and practiced, serrated by jealousy. “I might not get inside your apartment, but I know where you work. You want me to come and visit tomorrow? Maybe say hello to your boss. Tell them all about the real Avery Keene.”
“They wouldn’t let you in,” Avery retorted, ignoring the first trill of fear.
Rita heard it anyway. “It’s a public building, baby. And when I tell them it’s an emergency, they’ll have to show me right into your fancy office. How do you think the big law firms will feel when they find out how you abandoned your mother? Or maybe I’ll tell them how you used to help me score? Remember that, Avery?”
Memories, burning, freezing, coursed through her. No one would wait for an explanation, not the white-shoe firms. They had no need for a tainted black lawyer with her druggie mom, not with so many pristine candidates vying for their attention. One whiff of scandal and her Yale Law degree wouldn’t be worth the paper or the student loans. All they’d see was a darker-skinned version of Rita—a potential drug addict, not a rising star.
Exhausted, Avery asked, “Will twenty dollars make you disappear?”
“If I could have slept on your sofa. But I’m probably gonna have to find a shelter this late at night. A hundred ought to do.”
“I don’t have a hundred on me.”
“You also said you had no cash,” Rita reminded her slyly. “You’ve got it in your apartment. Probably stuck inside a book.”
Which she would move to a safer place the instant she made it inside. Avery opened her purse and grabbed her wallet, keeping it hidden inside. “I’ve got eighty dollars, Rita. That’s the best I can do.” She held up the cash and waited.
Rita pinched the bills out of Avery’s fingers and turned toward the elevator. She teetered on her stilettos, and she glanced over her shoulder. “I hope you get a daughter just like you one day. A frigid bitch who thinks she’s too good for you.”
While Justice Sleeps Page 13
