While Justice Sleeps(39)

“Every day for a year. I was quite insistent and pathetic as a child.”

“But nothing happened?”

“Every summer, I snuck down to the Court for the last day of the term, hoping to see him. Did it every year until I turned eighteen.” Before she could ask about how he gained access, he explained, “The clerk of court had been fond of my mother. So he always saved me a place.”

“What happened when you turned eighteen?”

“I begged my way over to his chambers. I saw him. He was arguing with someone, and I saw him look at me. He never even paused. I didn’t wait around after that. But I finally realized that I was eighteen years old, and I would never be a part of his life.” Jared rolled his shoulders once, a jerky movement quickly controlled. “The next morning, I joined the Navy and went off to see the world.”

When Justice Wynn was in the throes of a good fight, he barely paid attention to anything else. She didn’t know if he had even noticed Jared, let alone recognized him, but Avery still found herself appalled. She stopped herself from offering sympathy, asking instead, “How long were you in?”

    “Long enough.”

“Care to be more specific?”

“Not really.”

“Why not? What? Were you a SEAL or something?”

“Or something. I was a boring analyst. Then I came home and put my training to use. I run a consulting firm doing computer and electronic security.”

“An analyst in naval intelligence? That’s not boring.”

He shrugged. “Not exactly.”

“What, exactly?” Nothing in the trim, hard man before her suggested physical weakness. “What was wrong?”

“I was up for a fairly special promotion. They ran blood tests and a DNA panel. The doctors told me I’d tested positive for a congenital defect I inherited from my father. A sleeping killer in my brain that will render me as useless as the judge one day.”

“Boursin’s syndrome.”

“Yes.” When he saw the look of pity, Jared shook his head. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” he commanded. “Listen, we’re all going to die sometime. I just happen to have a good idea of what will kill me, if not when.”

Avery wiped all expression from her face, exorcised it from her voice. “I talked to Justice Wynn’s doctors. There’s no cure.”

He stretched an arm across the table, his fingers splayed close to her. “Not yet.”

Avery’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

This was his opening. Jared leaned forward and lowered his already raspy whisper. “The judge believes there is a gene therapy under development that could cure me.”

Avery frowned. “Dr. Toca didn’t mention a protocol.”

“Because it’s not on the market. According to the judge, there’s a company that has figured out which genes are killing my brain, but they need access to a certain technology to continue trials. The potential delivery system is proprietary and in the hands of an overseas company. It’s called a restriction enzyme sequence. And it’s manufactured by—”

    “Advar. The GenWorks merger.”

Jared visibly stiffened. “So you know about it. Advar’s biogenetic technology, if coupled with GenWorks’ pharmaceutical research, could save my life.” Jared took a quick glance around the room and leaned toward her. “President Stokes is trying to kill the last hope I’ve got.”

A cure, she thought dazedly. “Could the merger save your father?”

Jared hesitated over the lie, then shook his head. “No. It’s too late for him. But he does know about what’s happening to me. He told me about GenWorks and Advar. About you.”

“What? He was in contact with you?”

The waiter materialized beside them and set a plate of French fries in front of Avery, with a hamburger for Jared.

When they were once again alone, Jared explained, “Yes, he told me that if anything were to happen to him, I should find you.”

“But…why?” The question had been hovering in her mind for hours. “If he reached out to you about his illness, why give me his POA and not you?”

“I don’t know.” Jared bit into his burger and chewed on it thoughtfully. “I hadn’t been in contact with the judge since that day at the Court. Then, one evening, about four months ago, he appears at my apartment. Tells me he needs to talk to me.”

“Did you?”

“No. I slammed the door in his face. An hour later, I left my apartment on my way to a bar or something. Anything. And he’s just standing in the hallway. Waiting.”

“You talked to him, then.”

“No. He followed me to a bar on the corner. Just waiting for me to acknowledge him. Three hours later, when he wouldn’t go away, I cursed him. Still he didn’t say a word.” His voice softened as he spoke. “Finally, I told him to sit down. He looked like he could fall over. We shared a scotch, and I asked him what he wanted after all these years. I assumed he’d come to say he was sorry.”

“He apologized?”

“The judge? Of course not.”

That didn’t surprise her. “What did he say?”

“He told me he was dying.” Jared pushed his plate aside. “Said he was trying to help me, but that it was complicated.”