While Justice Sleeps(96)



The information contained in this box may impact your pending litigation against President Stokes. What I am doing today may be tantamount to treason, but I don’t see any other recourse. I pray to God I’m wrong.

Betty Papaleo



Beneath the letter, a memo had been typed out and, from his quick skim, numbered nearly ten pages in cramped, determined lines. Reports with yellow and blue covers and long, officious names were stacked beneath the memo.

The enclosed memo had Nigel dropping into a padded chair, his eyes devouring its contents. More than an hour passed before he broke away from the table. At his desk, he punched in her number a second time, unconcerned about the time difference.

“Someone knows,” he declared as soon as the connection was made.

Indira had grown used to the abrupt announcements. She waved associates from her office before replying, “About what exactly?”

“Everything. Hygeia, the president, Tigris, the funds. They’ve connected the dots.”

Her stomach pitched slowly. “Completely?”

“Just about.” He raked a hand through his hair. “A scientist at Homeland Security wrote a memo explaining what happened with the funds and Hygeia. We’ve got to contain this.”

“How do you know?”

“She sent it to me, and God knows who else might have a copy. Fuck.”

Indira didn’t speak for long seconds. Then she sighed. “Tell her.”

“Tell who what?”

“Your pet attorney. Use her to reveal the truth.”

“Are you insane? Tell her Hygeia attempted to manufacture a genetic virus to kill Muslims—with research illegally funded by the U.S. government—and the successor corporation now wants to take over my company? You don’t think this might damage our fucking merger?”

Indira shut her eyes, tempted to respond. But she’d kept that one secret too close to share it, even now. The time had come for damage control. The rest would remain buried. She exhaled lightly, soundlessly. “What have we to lose, Nigel? Either Ms. Keene will use what you tell her to stop Stokes, or Stokes will simply win without a fight.”

    “This is a major risk. The Court might rule in our favor without this.”

“Wishful thinking.” Indira rubbed idly at her leg, and she stretched the muscles without relief. “If you have this information, someone else does. We’ve lost, Nigel. Justice Wynn was our last hope. Now we simply need to destroy our enemy.”

“I’m no suicide bomber.”

“You are today.” Indira stared out from the glass and chrome of her office. If she focused their attention on the elephant in the room, perhaps no one would notice the mouse stealing through the cracks. “I’ll be in North Carolina tomorrow.”





THIRTY-NINE


Agent Leighton returned them to the apartment that evening, and she relinquished the detail to an Agent Foster. The taciturn man ushered them inside and warned them not to leave for the evening. Despite the cramped quarters, no one was willing to go home. Avery and Jared kept the conversation light, and Ling and Noah got the message. No explanations until they could be sure of privacy.

The television blared as they ate pizza. Around ten p.m., Avery’s cell phone rang. She checked the phone warily and noted that the number was blocked. no caller id in her world usually indicated a government line. She hoped it might be Betty Papaleo. “Hello?”

“I saw your messages.”

It was a male voice. Avery froze. Jared subtly gestured to the bathroom, and she gave a slight nod in understanding. “Hold on, please.” She raced into the bathroom and twisted the shower to on. The pounding of the water would muffle her conversation, and she had to hope that the surveillance did not include the bathroom.

She flipped down the toilet cover and sat hunched over the phone. “Hello?”

“Good evening.”

“Who is this?”

The lightly accented voice on the other end responded, “I would like to meet.”

“Who is this?”

“One of the bishops. And I would like to meet in the square.”

“Is this Dr. Ramji?” Silence stretched across the phone. Realizing he wouldn’t answer, she consented. “Where? When?”

    “In the square.”

“What square? Online? I don’t understand.”

“Ah. That is why…” He paused, then said, “No matter. Per his instructions, join me where the other scion of justice is known but not seen. Where the world meets.”

“Can you tell me anything more?”

“Only that we must meet in person if you are to finish this.”

Eager to learn as much as she could, Avery pressed, “I don’t understand. Where are you?”

“You will find me in the square.” He sighed heavily with obvious frustration. “He told me that you would understand. In the square. I will be in position from Queen’s Rook White to the Bird’s Opening. You have two days until I resign my position.”

The call terminated. So she had forty-eight hours to figure out where to go. She hunched over, still seated on the commode, and translated his instructions. Picturing a chessboard, she traced the air. Queen’s Rook White to the Bird’s Opening. Queen’s Rook White occupied the a1 position on the algebraic board. And the Bird’s Opening, one of the more popular opening attacks, moved a pawn to f4.

Stacey Abrams's Books