While Justice Sleeps(129)
Whether the claims stuck, the reporter explained, would be irrelevant. Impeachment hearings would begin in less than a week, and the live telecast would be carried, uninterrupted, on every media feed.
Avery listened as the floating heads on the conservative network debated whether she would lose her license to practice law and be disbarred. An international manhunt had been declared for Major Will Vance, who, sources reported, was the real architect of the debacle. One commentator brazenly offered a tentative defense of the Tigris Project, warning that until all the evidence was out, America should withhold judgment. A slightly appalled counterpart tried to change the subject, musing that it would be decades before Stokes or Vance came to justice.
Avery slumped over her desk in Justice Wynn’s chambers, her head cradled in her arms. When she’d asked about Major Vance, the agent on duty had told her that by the time he’d gotten word to the Secret Service to detain him, the ex-soldier had slipped out of the courtroom and vanished.
Ling had offered to check on Rita at the treatment center, while Jared and Noah trekked over to the Hoover Building to fill in more of the blanks for Agent Lee. In the Justices’ Conference Room, with its blue leather seats and paneled walls, the justices deliberated on her complaint and the fate of their comrade.
The dimly lit office matched Avery’s mood. She’d toppled a president, but her mentor still lay inert to the world.
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
Avery’s head shot up, her throat working toward a scream. One that died when she saw the gun in Major Vance’s grip. “Are you going to kill me?”
Vance contemplated the shadowed eyes, the tousled hair. He set a duffel bag on a small table just inside the office. “You set me up.”
“You murdered innocent people.”
He came inside and gently shut the door. “How long had you known about the bugs in your apartment?”
“Awhile.”
“And who told you about Hygeia?”
“Betty.” She inched her hand along the desk toward the phone. Willing her voice to stay level, she continued, “Before you killed her.” Her fingers slid farther along the desk.
“Touch the phone, and I will kill you immediately, Ms. Keene.” He waved the gun at her, rummaged through the bag, and threw a zip tie onto the desk. “Bind your right hand to the chair, please.” When she complied, he crossed to her and secured the other to the desk’s center compartment.
Terrified, tied, yet oddly calm, Avery waited until he moved back to the door. “Why are you here? Everyone thinks you escaped after oral arguments.”
“Unfinished business. And it’s easier to hide in plain sight. Basic rule of warfare and covert operations.” He leaned against a bookcase near the door. “I understand the president is laying the responsibility for this squarely on my shoulders.”
“He says you blackmailed him about Hygeia and ran the project without his knowledge.”
“What do you think?”
“That it was your idea, and he loved it.”
He was silent for a moment. “You and I both know that Stokes had nothing to do with Justice Wynn’s coma. How did you do that?”
“I did nothing. But the president should be careful who he shakes hands with. Especially in public.”
“The graduation?”
Avery shrugged, but Vance gave an appreciative nod. “Crafty bastard. He had something on his hand to transfer the prints to the bottle. Unexpected. And impressive. But Stokes will find a way to wriggle out of it.”
“By claiming Justice Wynn set him up?”
“He’ll try.”
“He’ll fail. Justice Wynn is a brilliant man—and you and President Stokes underestimated him.”
“Which is why I owe you an apology.”
“For kidnapping my mother?”
“For that too, then.” He inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. “You protected Wynn.”
“Of course.”
“I initially assumed that he picked you because you were sleeping with him.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know. You’re loyal, Ms. Keene. A rare trait.” He listened for noises beyond the door. “Stokes likes to fashion himself a patriot.”
“He’s not.” Feeling brave, Avery added, “And neither are you. You’re monsters.”
“It was a noble joint operation.” The sigh was almost too low to reach her ears. “Human life is a casualty of war, Ms. Keene. And make no mistake, we are at war.”
“Not with prisoners from India or a nurse for an old man,” she argued before she could stop herself. “Don’t delude yourself, Major Vance. Killing Nurse Lewis and Dr. Papaleo and diverting taxpayer dollars to a proxy to prepare for genocide are not acts of war. They are acts of cowardice.”
“Tigris is a weapon, and we have enemies who will not hesitate to use it. They must be destroyed.”
“You can’t believe that. What happened to you?”
“Don’t be na?ve,” he snapped. “I did what patriots do. I served my country. And when it was necessary, I protected her against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
“None of those people you killed were your enemies. Besides, it doesn’t matter why you did it. It’s over now.”