While Justice Sleeps

by Stacey Abrams

  Avery thought about the dead scientists and their missing partner. The trail of breadcrumbs left by Justice Wynn led directly to Ani Ramji. The rest of them were likely in a cabin in Georgia. “I think we need to look for him. Physically.”

  “Go to India?”

  “Not yet. In the square must mean more than the chess game. If Ani is the key, then Justice Wynn expects us to find him. But I don’t think he’s still in India.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’ve planned this out too well. A trip to India to find him would be unfeasible. If we’re meant to find him, he’s here—in the U.S.”

  Jared said, “I’ve checked passport entries and flight manifests. Ani Ramji has not entered the country in the last year. Of course, he could have traveled under an alias, and if he has, I have no way to track him.”

  “Why not take out an ad?”

  Everyone turned to stare at Ling, who’d made the suggestion. She shrugged. “If you chased him digitally, why not hedge your bets? Take out ads and ask him to meet you. In the square.”

  “Because we still don’t know where that is,” Noah reminded her.

  “Avery will figure it out. In the meantime, you use social media to make contact. Assume he is here, then post in multiple channels and let him know you’ve figured some of it out. Tell him to meet you in the square.”

  “Run digital ads to track down one guy?” Noah asked. “That’ll be incredibly expensive if you want to saturate the market.”

  “What other choice do we have? We need something concrete, and he’s our best hope.” Holding up her hand to stop Noah’s rebuttal, she added, “Yes, running digital ads will be expensive, but now isn’t the time to be cheap. The Supreme Court session ends in less than two weeks. Which is why it’s good we have half a million dollars at our disposal.”

  Avery turned to Noah. “I need a corporate alias to place the ads and a social media account—ChessdynamoDC. Untraceable to me. Can you do it tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I’ll set up a shell to place the ads and then create the profiles. That’s more exciting than the research I’m working on now. What is the message?”

  “ ‘ChessdynamoDC. In the square. Waiting for you.’ ”

  “That’s it?”

  “Run digital ads that tag anyone playing chess online or who searches for chess-related info or searches for info on Justice Wynn. If he’s as dedicated to the game as he seems, he’ll see it. Hopefully, Dr. Ramji will understand, and he’ll contact me through Wynn’s game or the ChessdynamoDC DMs.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  She looked around the table. “If anyone has a better idea, I’m willing to listen.”

  “While we go snipe hunting with digital ads,” Jared said, “I’ll set some pop-ups. If the person enters the right sequence of search terms on most of the engines, they’ll get an invitation to connect with you.”

  “And what about your screenshots? What do they say?”

  Opening one, he read it swiftly, getting the general gist. “TigrisLost starts off by talking about losing his job for speaking out against the advancement of evil. He calls on the Sansad to take action.”

  “The Indian parliament,” Noah explained helpfully. “Take action on what?”

  “He claims that because of his actions, the world was about to learn of Hygeia’s tyranny. However, before a full investigation could be launched, Advar bought out a controlling interest in Hygeia. Got all their patents and their data. He alleges that Advar promised the government they would bury the truth.”

  Jared flipped to another screenshot. “This one was from a few months before. TigrisLost claims that Hygeia recruited certain subjects based on odd factors.”

  “Such as?”

  Squinting at the screen, he read, “A tendency for L1, L3, R2, HM69.”

  “What are those?” Noah asked. “More algebraic notations for a phantom chess game?”

  “Not quite.” Ling stood near Jared. “Haplogroups. Those numbers are code for genetic and archaeogenetic mapping.”

  Avery leaned over, peering at Jared’s screen. “Mapping what?”

  “Chromosomal DNA markers. Y chromosome instead of mtDNA, which is matrilineal.”

  “The markers refer to specific regions of origin, based on either the mother’s or the father’s DNA. Researchers know that there are certain diseases that have a higher prevalence among ethnic groups. Like sickle-cell anemia among those of African descent or Sjögren-Larsson syndrome in Scandinavian countries.”

  “And the numbers there, what’s their significance?”

  The doctor reached for Jared’s computer. “May I?” Jared slid the laptop over without a word. As Ling typed, she explained, “I’m not a geneticist. However, there is a human evolution project that tracks the Y haplogroups—the genetic groups—and measures their frequency in certain regions. It’s part of what those DNA tests rely on to tell you about your ancestry.”

  “If you can get this from a twenty-dollar test, what’s the big deal?” Noah scoffed.

  “The ancestry tests are superficial, but they use a basic premise. The Y chromosome is transmitted from father to son largely without mutations, and it escapes recombination, so it has the best ability to show lineage.”

  Noah quipped, “Giving new meaning to ‘like father, like son.’ ”

  “Exactly.” She broke off, reading the screen intently. “Oh. This is interesting.”

  Avery asked, “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Gimme a second.” Ling continued to scroll through, then shook her head. “These haplogroups. The designations he cited. In India and Pakistan, there are specific groups that have these markers.”

  “What parts?” Avery asked.

  “The Burusho people of Pakistan. The Lodhas. The Indian states of Kashmir, Assam, and West Bengal.”

  “That makes sense—for an Indian scientist to be studying groups in his geographic region, right?” Noah offered. “Maybe he was developing the newest version of 23andMe for the subcontinent.”

  “Not if it’s related to why all his colleagues are dead,” Jared reminded the group. “But Pakistan and India were one country until the British partitioned it in 1947. Hindus in India and Muslims in the newly created Pakistan. Of course, nothing is that simple. Family ties, historical alliances, all of it meant that the clean division was anything but. Stands to reason that the ethnic groups would have something in common. Why would this be worth studying, Ling?”

  Before Ling could answer, Avery interjected, “The partition was a geopolitical solution to a more complex issue. These groups that we’re looking at have one notable characteristic that links them outside genetics.”

  Noah stared at the screen. “Which is?”

  “Think about why the division happened—to separate ethnic and religious groups who once lived in the same nation.” Avery looked at her friends, her eyes troubled. “If I’m not mistaken, all these people are part of the Muslim minority that remained in India.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  A cold silence fell on the room.

  “Hygeia experimented on Muslims?” Noah asked, incredulous.

  Avery balked at her own discovery of the thread linking the groups. Justice Wynn could not have known about a potential for religious experimentation and said nothing. Holding up a hand, she reminded them, “Let’s slow down. We have screenshots of some research, a merger stalemate, and a missing scientist. A handful of facts. One, that TigrisLost was a scientist for Hygeia. Two, that Dr. Ani Ramji is likely TigrisLost. Three, that Hygeia engaged in gene therapy experimentation, which is why the president says he objected to the merger.”

  “Four,” Jared added, “that their subjects were selected from regions of the world with a chromosomal connection. And five, that everyone who helped Dr. Ramji is now dead.”

&nbs
p; Noah scrubbed at the back of his neck. “A biotech in the middle of India was studying genetic markers and Muslims. Sounds kind of sinister.”

  Ling held up her hands. “Hold on. These regions also have Christian populations, and Jews and Hindus. We don’t know what the markers were used for. I warned you, I’m not a geneticist.”

  “Like I said, we have data but no proof. So we need more information.” Avery shoved her chair free of the table and stood. “Jared and I will head to Georgia in the morning to see if Justice Wynn left more information that will help us explain this. Ling and Noah, can you keep looking into these companies? Anything you can find. I want to rebuild his notebook. And get those digital ads going. We need Dr. Ramji.”

  “I’ll put the summers on it,” Noah offered. “I’ll also call our counterparts in India. See if we can track down Dr. Ramji any other way.”

  “No!” Avery thought of the dead nurse who’d called her. The missing scientist, his dead compatriots, and her not-so-secret admirer. “For now, it’s just the four of us. No one else.” She met each person’s eyes in turn. “Agreed?”

  The chorus was unanimous: “Agreed.”

  * * *

  —

  At the White House, President Stokes turned on the evening news. A blandly handsome twentysomething read from a teleprompter, joined by his preternaturally lovely, ethnically indescribable cohost.

  The co-anchor gave a knowing look to the camera. “Associate Justice Wynn has been an enigma during his entire tenure on the Supreme Court. Scott, what can you tell us?”

  Scott Curlee, looking equal parts somber and excited, answered from the split screen: “Davis, Justice Wynn goes into his third evening in a coma with the question of who will decide his fate still unanswered. He is known among Court watchers as the swing vote on controversial issues, and he is notoriously hard to predict.”

  The woman cohosting the broadcast asked, “Scott, are there cases pending where his vote might prove pivotal?”

  “Well, Phoebe, Justice Wynn is widely expected to be the deciding vote in the international case of GenWorks v. U.S. As we have reported for months, GenWorks, an American biogenetics firm, seeks to merge with India-based Advar, a major biotech company poised for explosive growth in the next year. Advar holds a patent on a new gene therapy practice that some claim may cure deadly diseases immune to conventional treatments. But Justice Wynn’s sudden illness casts a shadow over the future of both companies. The merger was expected to be a swap of cash and stock, with a heavy footprint in both countries. If the presidential objection remains, this could be a heavy blow to future international mergers.”

  “Why the controversy?” Davis queried.

  “Because under the Exon-Florio Amendment to the American Foreign Trade Act, the president has the authority to suspend or prohibit any foreign acquisition of a company that poses a national security threat. You may recall that President George W. Bush almost used this same provision to stop the sale of a port in Florida to a Middle Eastern company.”

  Phoebe asked, “Does President Stokes believe an Indian company poses the same risk?”

  “It’s a good question. No president wants to be seen as a sticking point in commercial dealings.”

  Davis nodded. “And President Stokes is basically saying they should have gotten his permission. This sounds more like something President Putin would say.”

  Scott gave him a chiding look. “Not exactly. President Stokes asserted that biochemical and biogenetic technology shared between GenWorks and Advar would place the nation in jeopardy because the Indian company would be the surviving entity.”

  “But Nigel Cooper has said he intends to head up their American division.”

  “So he says, but anyone who has watched these mergers in the past knows that what gets promised doesn’t necessarily happen. President Stokes has been consistent about his objection to genetic testing and stem cell research.”

  Phoebe smiled at the invisible audience. “India has become a major player in the international debate about human genetic testing, and they have been much more lenient than the U.S. Some members of Congress have introduced bills to criminalize the type of genetic research they’re conducting. President Stokes may be afraid that allowing the merger will put him in a tough position about bioethics right before the election.”

  Davis chimed in, “There has also been a great deal of tension between the president and India since the Indian parliament refused to approve a trade deal President Stokes promoted heavily. Is the president’s decision also revenge for their refusal to do a deal he’d staked his reputation on, Scott?”

  “Insiders have speculated about that, but I’ve seen no proof.”

  “Do you think President Cadres would have made such a controversial decision?” prodded Phoebe.

  Scott shook his head. “Conventional wisdom says no. President Cadres was a conservative, but his fatal heart attack means we’ll never know. President Stokes is certainly more aggressive on foreign affairs, but what would we expect from a decorated war hero? India has been accused of aligning itself with nations angry about American trade policy. President Stokes clearly believes this is his responsibility.”

  Davis nodded sagely. “Thank you, Scott.” A second screen popped up to replace the reporter. “We are now joined by renowned political scientist and judicial scholar Dr. Christina Greer. Thank you for joining us.”

  “Delighted to be here.”

  “The Supreme Court is expected to issue a ruling on GenWorks and Advar before ending its term on June 30, little more than a week from now, correct?”

  Greer responded, “The Fourth Circuit upheld the president’s decision, and GenWorks appealed. The Supreme Court took up the case and heard oral arguments in March. Wall Street is watching for this decision, but the way it will go is a toss-up.”

  “And what was Justice Wynn’s involvement before he fell ill?”

  “His line of questioning at oral arguments indicated that his sympathies lay with GenWorks. Handicapping the other justices based on their questions and prior rulings, with Justice Wynn out of commission, there are rumors of a split court. In that case, the lower court ruling stands and President Stokes wins.”

  Phoebe frowned into the camera. “And if, speculating only, Justice Wynn does not pull through?”

  Dr. Greer gave a brief look of sadness, then offered her opinion in solemn tones: “Then President Stokes may have his decision upheld and an open seat to fill. Our prayers are with Justice Wynn and his family, but as macabre as it sounds, a vacancy dramatically improves the president’s stature and the importance of this year’s elections.”

  “What if the Court simply fails to rule?” Phoebe asked.

  “Then the case remains active. This merger would create instant billionaires among a number of GenWorks’ stockholders and employees. Nigel Cooper is accusing President Stokes of killing jobs in a bad economy, and his complaints are having an effect.”

  “Have there been any updates on the justice’s condition?”

  “Not to my knowledge, Phoebe,” Dr. Greer replied.

  “Thanks, Christina.” Phoebe’s face filled the screen. “We’ll be watching the Court, the hospital, and the stock market closely as this saga continues to unfold. For more news on the implications of a delayed decision, let’s turn to our financial analyst, Harold Faub.”

  Harold joined on the split screen. “Thanks, Phoebe.”

  President Stokes hit the mute button, already aware of what Faub would say. If the Court chose to rule in favor of GenWorks, he would face another stunning loss heading into a dicey presidential contest. If the Court ruled against GenWorks, the White House had a major victory against genetic experimentation.

  A victory for him, but the markets would rebel. Chaos would reign briefly, like it always did, until he found a way to prop up the market and f
orced Congress to help him.

  It would be a masterstroke, one where he would solve the very crisis he’d created. Just in time for November.

  * * *

  —

  Dr. Elizabeth Papaleo, onetime chemist and current head of Strategy, Policy, and Budget for the Science and Technology Directorate, bent over a spreadsheet tome dense with acronyms and cost overruns her subsection would be called upon to explain to the House of Representatives on Friday for its hearing titled “Gaining Efficiencies in Science and Technology Spending in a Rapidly Changing Global Environment.” Just the thought of it all made her head ache. Already, the prepared remarks had been sent up the chain of command to the undersecretary, and the redacted text sat by Betty’s elbow. Duly approved budget allocations never seen by legislative eyes would get no hearing in front of the House Budget Committee.

  Taxpayer funds spent under the budget function of national security enjoyed a shield of privacy, a mantle peeled away only within the confines of men and women with clearance levels well above any normal elected official. Her file contained the deeper dive of allocations, ones that rolled up into more innocuous phrases like Research, Development, Test, and Evaluation. Those would be the entries discussed with the House Budget Committee and its defense dollar hawks. And, according to the request from the Supreme Court of the United States, the file would be discussed with someone in their shop on Friday.

  In the basement of the S&T division, she sat cross-legged on the floor of the storage room. She combed through reams of reports she’d dragged from the dust into the meager fluorescent light flickering above. In her domain, the green-and-white dot matrix printouts had not been relegated to museums. Instead, the billions they’d be called to account for found temporary homes in cramped, poorly lit closets and in musky subbasements teeming with shadows. She had lugged the boxes of reports from their hiding places, hunting for needles in a sky-high haystack.