Deadlock (33 page)

“Don’t quibble with me,” Levering said, pointing his finger at her. “You know what I’m talking about. You indicated to me in private, and to the public at large, that you were going to continue your course as it had been in the past. Nobody ever thought you’d go . . .”

“What, Senator?” Millie said. “Were you going to say crazy?”

“Actually,” Levering said, “I was going to say nuts.”

Millie felt lightning flash inside her head. She wanted out. Now.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Helen said to Levering.

“Millie,” the senator said, giving her an I-feel-your-pain kind of look. “No one wants this to be hard on you, or the Court. And no one is denying you the right to think about life, make some personal changes. But you need to step back and look at the big picture. The picture of this country of ours, of the rights and laws that we’ve built up painfully over the last hundred years.”

What was this, his Fourth of July stump speech?

“You are in a position, not only as chief, but as the key vote, to tear down that delicate edifice,” Levering continued. “Wouldn’t you agree that this should be a matter of sober reflection? Of patience? I understand you had a law clerk resign over this.”

How did he know that? The idea of leakage from within the walls of the Court filled Millie with a sickening dread. “That happened,” Millie said. “So?”

“Don’t you see the danger?” Levering said. Helen, looking at Millie, nodded in agreement, as if Millie should see it, too. Levering leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You take the angry resignation of one clerk and you expand the reaction over an entire nation. You’ll have civil strife like we haven’t seen in a generation. All because of religious f — ”

Millie thought he was about to say
fanaticism.

“ — fervor,” Levering said.

Millie felt all of her muscles tensing, especially her hands, which she opened and closed in front of her.

“We just want to know,” Helen said, “if you’ll think about it, talk to us, talk to me. We can get through this, Millie. We can.”

“Get through it
how,
Helen?” Millie said.

“We have someone you need to meet,” Helen said. “Trust me.”

Millie felt the last reserves of any sort of trust for Helen nearly canceled out by the presence of Sam Levering. But this was not just about trust, or about one justice. The integrity of the Supreme Court itself was involved. For that, she would stay, if only to figure out how to keep the senator’s creeping tentacles out of the sacred chamber.

|
5

Anne wasn’t sure of the precise moment she decided to take up smoking again. It just happened.

She stood outside the Plaza Hotel in New York and lit up. Why Ambrosi had chosen this place to meet was beyond her. It was so public. So old-style gentility.

Inhaling the smoke as if it were life-giving oxygen, Anne watched the upscale afternoon crowd milling about. A hansom cab pulled up in front with a giggling couple in their early thirties. They seemed blissfully happy. Anne immediately hated them.

Why wasn’t
she
happy? Everything was going her way, wasn’t it? She was taking care of business for Levering and she was good, so good. That weasel of a detective, Markey, had no idea what he was up against. He’d fade out soon enough.

So why should she be smoking as if her life depended on it? She laughed at that. A life lived in dependence on tobacco products? Well, why not? She remembered a bumper sticker she saw once: “Everybody has to believe something. I believe I’ll have another beer.”

I believe I’ll have another smoke.

One of the Plaza doormen looked at her with a leer. Anne shook her head, as much to herself as to the doorman, and turned back toward Fifth Avenue. At the same time, she fished out another cigarette and turned her thoughts toward Levering.

He was losing it, whatever “it” was. His general anxiety level seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds. If it wasn’t for the paycheck, she might have considered leaving his employ.

Was she losing “it,” too? She shook off the thought. Losing was not in her program. Ever since her parents had died, she had trained herself to win at all costs. All costs.

She took a few steps down the sidewalk, just to get moving. The steamy air of the New York street was, in its own way, bracing for her. She breathed deeply of its mix of smoke, fumes, and dust.

She was just about to turn back toward the hotel when she saw Elijah.

Her jaw dropped. The burning cigarette in her fingers fell to the sidewalk. Had Ambrosi shipped Elijah to New York?

Anne didn’t even glance down. She couldn’t. Elijah was walking straight toward her.

She felt a scream rising in her throat, but even then her mind said something about being in front of the Plaza Hotel, idiot, and do you want to make a spectacle?

Her mind zipped back to the last time she’d seen him, when he’d told her that it wasn’t too late. Like some ghostly herald from Shakespeare.

Should she run? That would be an even bigger spectacle, some crazed chick in heels tottering down the street.

Or she could mace him again.

She reached in her purse, fumbled around. It was in there somewhere. Where?

He was within ten feet of her, looking past her, when she realized her error. It was not Elijah. It could have been his brother, though. The similarity in build and bearing was striking. But it was definitely not him.

Anne felt chills run through her body as this New York version of the crazy prophet passed her without a glance.

Oh, she was closer to losing it than she thought. What was going on with her? She dug in her purse for another cigarette.

“Hey!” Ambrosi’s voice. The word came out like a hard
A.

She dropped her purse.

“What is up with you?” Ambrosi said. He was dressed all in black, a silky black suit with matching shirt and tie, and dark glasses. He looked like midnight on two legs.

Anne let fly a few choice words as she gathered up the things that had spilled out of her purse. Ambrosi watched.

“You could help me,” Anne said.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Did you hear what I said?” She was crouched down, trying hard to keep her tight dress from tearing and, at the same time, keep her undergarments from being exposed to the gawking pedestrians.

“Cool off, baby,” Ambrosi said.

When Anne finally had her bag restuffed, she stood up and said, “Did you take care of our problem in D.C.?”

She imagined him blinking in mock disgust behind his shades. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just reassure me.”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Done.”

Anne shook her head. “You escorted him where?”

Ambrosi looked at his nails. “Look, babe, I didn’t give you the whole thing. We had to go all the way.”

Anne looked around, as if FBI cameras were homing in on them. “You killed him?”

“Whacked. Remember?” He laughed.

“We didn’t ask you to — ”

“You can’t do anything now,” Ambrosi said. “It’s over. Wanna do the Oak Bar?”

Too late.

“Yeah,” she said to Ambrosi. “Let’s get a drink
now
.”

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6

The park faced the Potomac. Its gentle murmur in the October afternoon was in sharp contrast to the jangling alarms inside Millie. Despite Helen’s presence and soothing voice, she sensed something was very wrong. And she was determined to find out just what that was.

“Over here,” Helen said. She led Millie toward the eastern end of the park. There were a few scattered people around, some lolling in the shade of birch trees, others at picnic tables having lunch. She wondered if any of them had any idea who was here. A United States senator and the chief justice. No one seemed to notice.

Helen stopped at a table where a lone woman sat. The woman looked up at Helen and smiled. It was clear they knew each other.

“Millie . . . I mean Justice Hollander,” Helen said. “I’d like you to meet Toni Ridge.”

The woman smiled at Millie and extended her hand. She was around thirty-five and wore a conservative business suit. She might have been a lawyer or an accountant. Or an actress playing one. Her hair and eyes were movie star quality.

“I’m very honored to meet you,” Toni Ridge said.

Mystified, Millie said, “Thank you.”

“I thought you should meet her,” Helen said. “She works in one of our NPPG offices in Maryland. Legal counsel.” Helen motioned for everyone to sit.

“You know Senator Levering, I believe,” Helen said to Toni. The look that flashed across Toni’s face suggested to Millie she knew him quite well. But all she said was, “Of course.”

Helen took charge, as if running one of her meetings. “I wanted you to see a human face, Millie. Someone whose life you have touched profoundly.”

Millie looked at the beautiful young woman. She appeared to be the picture of urban success. She even wore a wedding ring, prompting Millie to imagine a square-jawed husband who also had movie star looks.

“Toni, why don’t you tell Millie, I mean, the chief justice, just what this is all about,” Helen said.

“I’d be happy to,” Toni Ridge said. She folded her hands in front of her, like a guest on a talk show. “Madame Chief Justice, when I was in law school, at Georgetown, I fell in love with your opinions. Not simply because I agreed with your opinions, but because of the writing itself. No one on the Court is a stylist like you.”

“Thank you,” Millie said quietly.

“I knew then I wanted to follow in your footsteps,” Toni said. “I wanted to learn the law and hopefully, someday, become a judge. Who knows, maybe I’d end up on the Supreme Court. It’s a wild dream, I know.”

“Everything worth attaining starts as a dream,” Millie said. Despite the odd circumstances, Millie felt an affinity for the woman. Anyone who loved the law . . .

Smiling shyly, Toni said, “Yeah. I believed that. Anyway, I really took to law school. I made
Law Review
, everything was going great. And then . . .”

The trailing off of her voice was like the change in score in a movie. What had once been a light, airy scene was suddenly ominous, with things lurking in shadows.

“Go ahead,” Helen told Toni. “You’re among friends.”

The young woman looked at her hands. They were no longer folded demurely. Now the fingers squeezed against the back of her hands, bunching the skin.

“Well,” Toni said after a long sigh, “it was in my second year, toward the end. Everything had gone along so well. I had a great job lined up for the summer. I was going to be editor-in-chief of the
Law Review
. There was even a chance” — Toni gave a small laugh — “that I might be number one in my class. I was neck and neck with a guy named Harold Rose, and I was determined, boy. I wanted that.”

She looked down at her hands, still stretching her skin as if trying to pull some comfort from them. Helen put her hand on Toni’s, patted them.

“Anyway,” Toni said, “I was going home one night from a long stint at the library, walking across campus. I guess I was stupid. Why did I have to go around by the athletic field? It was a straight shot to my apartment by way of the student union.”

She paused, took a deep breath, continued. “He was waiting in the doorway of the women’s locker room. I tried to run the other way. But he got me.”

Now Millie started to see. Not only what Toni was going to describe about that night, but also the effects. It was beginning to be very clear why Helen and Levering wanted Millie to hear this. She thought of stopping everything right then, but could not bring herself to interrupt the woman’s story.

“He was strong,” Toni said. “Massively strong. He got tape over my mouth without any problem and carried me like a sack of laundry to the grassy strip between the gym and locker room. And that’s where it happened. That’s where he raped me.”

Millie swallowed hard, caught between empathy and incipient anger.

“Sure enough I got pregnant,” Toni said. “Sure enough they never caught the guy. That didn’t matter. What mattered was now everything I had worked for and hoped for was going to be torn down. There was no way I could carry a baby to term. But I knew I wouldn’t have to.”

Toni looked at Millie with large, watery eyes. “I knew that because of your principles,” Toni said, “that a woman’s right to choose was safe and strong. I found myself going back and reading your opinion in the Messier case, where you so eloquently defended
Roe v. Wade,
because of how far our country has evolved in morality and ethics since that time. When I went in for my procedure, I was actually happy.”

A creeping sensation wound its way up Millie’s spine, like curling fingers pushing and pulling at her.

“And that’s my story,” Toni said.

“Thank you,” Helen said.

Millie said nothing, but felt like Helen and Levering were waiting for her to respond. Give Toni a
Thanks for sharing
or something, and then a
Thanks for setting me straight.