While Justice Sleeps(112)
“I can’t say I expected to hear from you.” A statement belied by Vance’s skulking presence in his office, his ear pressed to an extension. “However, given your newfound responsibilities—and your access to a rather private number—I thought I should take your call. How can I help?”
“This is an awkward conversation, Mr. President.” The wobble of her voice required no pretense as she explained, “My mother is in trouble, and I think you can help me. I hope.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time. What’s happened?”
“Yesterday, a man contacted me. He told me my mother was being held hostage. In exchange for her life, he told me I’d have to commit an unconscionable act.”
Relishing his role, President Stokes flipped through the dossier Vance had provided for the morning’s exchange. Press clippings and rehab reports told a nasty, pathetic tale. “I hate to be indelicate, but your mother is a drug addict, isn’t she? Could this have been an attempt to extort some money she owed to dealers? She interacts with a vicious lot, I’d imagine. I hope you’ve learned from her mistakes. I’d hate to have the Court sullied at this vulnerable time.”
The flush dissipated. Her tone was icy as she reminded him, “My mother has her faults, sir, but no one deserves to be used this way. Not even an addict.”
“Certainly not,” he permitted graciously. “But one must be wary of the company you keep. As my grandfather told me more than once, you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas.”
Explains why my skin is crawling, Avery thought acidly. “The man who has my mother isn’t interested in money, Mr. President. He has a very specific goal, and he directed me to do something heinous in exchange for her life.”
“?‘Heinous’?” The word galled him, and he ground his perfectly straight teeth in offense. Heinous was a word for terrorists and madmen. Not for a man willing to sacrifice his political future to protect his country. Vance caught his eye, and he restrained himself, with effort. “What does he want, Avery?”
“He insisted I use my guardianship of Justice Wynn to terminate life support.”
“That seems rather sophisticated for drug dealers.” Stokes prided himself on the twin notes of shock and disgust. Outrage came next, a bluster of sound that covered his internal laughter. He’d have what he wanted soon. A matter of hours. “I blame these left-wing ideologues! Imagine, extorting you to use euthanasia to advance their agenda.” A fist pounded on the desk for effect.
Vance had warned him to play up his astonishment and to lay false leads where possible. According to the agent, blogs across the Internet already carried incendiary messages ordering the death of Justice Wynn. Should Avery decide to turn to the FBI for aid, no trails would lead anywhere near the White House, except for his coming act of chivalry. “I’ll double the protection on him at the hospital. Bring you in to speak with Homeland Security and the FBI. My liaison, Major Vance, will be in touch with you this morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” She’d spoken to Will Vance more than enough to suit her. The next time she saw him, she planned for it to be a perp walk out of DHS. “I appreciate the extra protection for Justice Wynn, but I proposed an alternative to the kidnapper last night, and he seemed amenable.” She let her voice drift into uncertainty. “I spoke with a friend of mine, who is also an attorney. We think that if I resign on Justice Wynn’s behalf, and you accept it, they’ll get what they want.”
“Justice Wynn off the bench.”
“Yes, sir.” You son of a bitch, she thought. She’d been certain before, but the smug note of satisfaction sealed it. “Would you be willing to do that, sir? If I tender his resignation, will you publicly accept it today?”
“Well, now, I’ll need to run this past White House counsel. We want to do this right.” Which is why he’d keep the Justice Department in the dark for now. His busybody of an attorney general had grown increasingly shrill about legal matters, and Vance had warned him to keep this away from any of the folks in the Hoover Building. “It’ll take a couple of hours, most likely.”
“I understand, sir. So you’ll do it?”
A heavy pause followed, then, “Yes, Avery. With a heavy heart and deep regret, I will accept his letter of resignation.”
“Thank you so much, sir. Should I bring the letter myself?”
“I’ll make sure they know to let you right in.” Sighing deeply, he added, “Keep sending up those prayers, Avery. Your mother will be safe.”
Though the words nearly strangled her, she repeated, “Thank you, sir.”
President Stokes disconnected the call and rocked triumphantly in his chair. A weight lifted, he spun around to Vance, barely containing his glee. Already, he could see the coverage on the evening news. “We should hold a press conference. A formal announcement on the South Lawn. The Keene girl is quite lovely. I’m sure she’ll look bereft, which is excellent for camera feeds.”
“Sir.”
Busy planning, the president bounded to his feet and folded his hands behind himself. “I want the Speaker and the majority leader here for the press conference. Rub my triumph in their faces. My conservative base will be delighted, and the liberals will just have to suck it up. Their lion has been neutered. Again. I’ll get my appointee on the Court this summer and be reelected by fall. I will have Bible-thumping, strict constructionists who believe that Miranda coddles criminals. The Right Reverend Donaldson can brush off his law degree.”