While Justice Sleeps(123)
A bronze railing ran the length behind her. Red benches arrayed against the left side of the courtroom were crowded with reporters primed for an unusual sight. Across the room, red benches held guests of the justices, including invitations for Jared, Noah, and Ling, courtesy of the Chief. Black chairs in front of those benches held an assemblage of unusual guests, men and women who spent lifetimes avoiding the entry of a courthouse. The Speaker slouched in one chair, his shoulder nudging the majority leader of the Senate.
“Must hurt,” DuBose whispered.
“Hmm?” Ken cocked his head to listen to the low tone. “What does?”
“Having some girl hand you your wet dream and then snatch it back in public.” The Speaker spiked a finger toward the solitary young woman seated at the respondent’s table. “Son of a bitch almost had an open seat during recess.”
The majority leader nodded vigorously. “Had senators camped outside my door yesterday. Everybody screaming about recess appointments and right-wing judges. No one wanted to be on a plane Tuesday, and no one could afford to stay. Primaries are coming up fast, and everybody has to hit the money trail.” As the leader of the Senate, he scrupulously hoarded an immense war chest, but he’d stayed in power by taking nothing for granted. Especially the desperate acts of fools. What he didn’t know was what could happen today. “You went to law school. Does she have a shot?”
“How the hell should I know?” DuBose muttered. “Never heard of anything like this in ten years as a DA. Complaint zipped through district court and the appeals court like it had grease. Or an STD. My guess is, none of the judges wanted to be on either side of a bad ruling. Legal counsel says what’s happened is technically legal, but don’t quote her on it.”
“Think the law clerk will win? Knock Stokes on his ass?”
“Against the solicitor general?” The Speaker examined Avery Keene, who was hunched over a stack of papers. She scribbled notes on a legal pad, then paused to slash through what she’d written. He gave a chuckle. “The solicitor general will eat her for lunch.”
“Better hope he gets indigestion, or we’ll have a packed court unless we permanently cancel recess. In an election year, that’s impossible.”
“Sly son of a bitch.” Cracking his knuckles, DuBose cursed, “Damned if you do, defeated if you don’t.”
Behind them, a stir trickled through the crowd, and both men angled to see the latest development. A phalanx glided into the courtroom, and the Speaker cursed. President Brandon Stokes, attended by the U.S. solicitor general and a cadre of Secret Service personnel and assistants, threaded through the aisle.
Avery watched too, and the nerves that had been coursing now scraped with jagged spikes. President Stokes had not come alone. Major Vance walked a pace behind. Her eyes glued to their progress, she saw the president take his seat beside the Speaker and the majority leader. Armed men fanned out to cover exits and vulnerable points.
David Ralston, the solicitor general, strode over to Avery’s table, and she hastily stood.
“Ms. Keene,” he greeted her, his hand extended. She placed hers inside, and he gave the slender hand a perfunctory pump. “I understand from my staff that you’ve been very busy this week. A resignation one day and a complaint to invalidate it the next. I can’t for the life of me understand what we’re doing here, though.”
“Sir?”
“I’ve reviewed the tapes and your brief.” The smile he gave her gleamed with condescension. “You didn’t seem all that distressed when you relinquished Justice Wynn’s seat, Ms. Keene. No evidence of coercion.”
Avery bristled. “I’m a good actress.”
“But, my dear, this is a court, not a theater. You’d do well to understand the difference. I don’t take a lawsuit against my nation lightly.” He spun on his heel and took his place at his table.
Avery sank into her seat and returned to her notes, staring blankly. She hadn’t expected the president to actually come to the Court. To her knowledge, no sitting president had come to watch an oral argument. With him sitting next to the congressional leaders, the physical separation of powers had fully collapsed.
When she felt her internal chuckle edging toward hysteria, she dragged in a calming breath. Coming to the Supreme Court had been a gamble—a huge one. As the court of original jurisdiction, the Supreme Court had no obligation to follow the rules of civil procedure. However, in this court, there were no sympathetic juries or surprise witnesses.
She was winging it.
Hope rested in the gravity of the accusation and the vigilance of women and men obliged to seek justice. Behind her, in the gallery, Indira and Nigel sat still as statues. Their fates rested with hers.
They were all doomed.
Then the watch at her wrist ticked off ten a.m. Like everyone in the courtroom, including President Stokes, she rose to her feet as the eight justices filed onto the bench. The rostrum, a winged bend of mahogany, held seats for each one. She’d witnessed the spectacle dozens of times, first as a law student and then as a clerk. Never, though, she thought, as a petitioner.
Never with the ninth chair empty.
Chief Roseborough called proceedings to order at 10:03 a.m. “We’ll hear argument now on Associate Justice Howard Jefferson Wynn versus the United States of America.” The kindly brown eyes held no favor as they focused on Avery. “Ms. Keene, traditionally you would begin; however, we have received a special request from the solicitor general to make prefatory comments. Given the singular nature of this proceeding, we have agreed to permit him to address this body. Mr. Ralston.”