“Oh, my goodness! Look!”
Eli was quick and the first to examine the paper she held in trembling hands. Allan and Lauren joined him, pushing close. Allan reached for it, but Eli caught his wrist hard, squeezing Allan’s ego at the same time.
“It would be best if you didn’t touch it. The lab doesn’t like to work any harder than it has to when it lifts prints.” His advice was friendly, the pressure on Allan’s hand wasn’t. Lauren stepped around and took Allan’s other hand. Connected to her, he finally stepped away.
Taking a Kleenex from the box on Barbara’s desk Eli protected any existing prints on the paper while he held it up. This time they all read the rambling treatise that pretended to political substance. There was no signature; none of them doubted what it would be if it were there.
“Henry Stewart.” Allan looked at her, but Lauren shook her head.
“I don’t think so. Cranks are a part of the business. I think this is a piggyback, and I’m surprised it didn’t happen earlier. Henry’s been so docile through this whole thing. I just don’t think it was him.”
“That could have been an act,” Allan suggested.
“It could be anyone in the cell, or it could be anyone else with a grudge or a fantasy,” Eli said then asked all three, “Are the marshals on Judge Caufeld?”
“He keeps dismissing them,” Barbara said. “He thinks the idea that anyone would hurt him for doing his job is ridiculous.”
Eli barely looked at any of them. “We’ll have to put our men on him then. I’ll talk to Mark Jackson about it.” Eli slipped the message back into the original envelope and held it gingerly. “Do you have a bigger envelope I can put this in?”
Barbara gave him one and Eli slipped it in, smiling his thanks. Allan started toward chambers.
“Mr. Lassiter,” Eli called, “I’d appreciate it if you could hold off going in there until I’ve had a chance to talk to the judge.” Eli hesitated. There seemed to be more he wanted to say but decided against it. He held up the envelope. “I want to talk to him about this for one thing.”
The moment was tense and Allan did little to ease it.
“All right. I’d like you to tell him that we were here and that we’re concerned.” Allan walked to the door. “Call me, Lauren. Tell Wilson to call me, Barbara. Let’s not play any games. If anything happens to him, I’ll hold you personally responsible.” That was said to Eli and it was Lauren who offered an explanation if not an apology after Allan was gone.
“They’re close. You’ll have to forgive him.”
“No problem. I’d feel pretty bad if everything wasn’t done to protect that man in there, too.” Eli put his hand on her arm. “This is a tough spot for you to be in, what with the trial and everything. If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to be here for a while. I’ll give you a call just to make sure you know he’s handling things okay.”
“Thanks. If you can ID this back to Henry, I know Wilson will revoke bail. I won’t let him say no.” She lifted her chin toward chambers then smiled at Barbara. “Promise you’ll call me if you need anything.” With a nod to Eli, she said something she never thought she would say to an FBI agent. “I’m glad you’re here, Eli. Thank you.”
“Just doing my job the way I was taught to do. Same way you do yours.”
“Yeah. Taught by the best, huh?” Lauren smiled gently. “He just really doesn’t need any more trouble right now. Not now when so much is happening.” She left with a small, sad wave.
Eli watched her go knowing Lauren Kingsley had no idea what trouble might be in store for Wilson Caufeld or that he was the one who was bringing it. Without another word, Eli knocked on the door to Wilson’s inner chambers.
“Eli.” Wilson took off his glasses and smiled a greeting. His pleasure was perceptible, and Eli walked with measured step to shake the man’s hand.
“Judge.” He nodded, still smiling though not with his usual ease. “I’ve got something you should see.”
Immediately sobered, Judge Caufeld waited patiently while Eli removed the threatening letter. It was half out of the envelope when the door opened ,and an anxious Barbara poked her head inside.
“Everything all right in here?”
Eli nodded and the woman backed out, closing the door quietly. Still Wilson said nothing. He put his glasses back on as Eli put the paper in front of him. Hands clasped under the desk, Wilson leaned over and read it. When he was finished, he sat back and sighed, rubbing his eyes as Eli refolded it and sealed the envelope.
“Trouble, Eli. Nothing but trouble. That’s what this case has been. I’m too old for this much trouble.”
“Yes, sir.” Eli sat down. He too clasped his hands in his lap and sat silently for a moment with the judge. He looked at the floor briefly, considering the word trouble. They looked at one another.
“You have something on your mind other than this drivel.” The judge nodded curtly at the letter in the envelope.
Eli nodded gravely. “Judge, I’m afraid I’m not going to be making matters any easier for you.”
Caufeld steeled himself with an almost imperceptible tightening of the muscles in his shoulder. But the judge’s distress, if indeed that’s what it could be called, was most evident in his eyes. Caufeld waited. Eli took another envelope out of his jacket pocket and passed it over the desk. It seemed that Wilson Caufeld looked at it for an eternity. When it was clear he was not going to take this envelope, Eli laid it on his desk and said quietly but without apology:
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about 1985, sir.”
The air in Wilson Caufeld’s lungs escaped through his barely open lips. The room seemed to darken, though it was hours before nightfall. Eli never took his eyes off Wilson. There was much to be learned at a time like this. Experience dictated that this was when he would discover something that usually did no one any good.
“I see, Eli,” Wilson finally said as he touched the envelope lightly.
“Yes, I thought you might,” Eli answered sadly.
Wilson listened to what Eli Warner had to say. He even managed to thank Eli for coming to him first. A flaw in a subject’s background was usually worked up and presented in writing and given to the powers that be. Eli’s visit was a most welcome consideration. He spent no more time than was necessary imparting his information, outlining the course he’d be pursuing in his investigation and determining that Wilson would not be shedding any light on these curious findings until the time was right. Eli was respectful when informing Wilson Caufeld that he would continue with his investigation, and then he was gone.
Two hours later, Wilson called Allan, who promised to come to chambers by seven. He was there at seven forty-five. He was late, as usual, and unrepentant. Wilson heard Allan’s hearty hello to the men in the hall who had appeared to guard him an hour before Barbara left. He watched as an agent held the outer door open for Allan and almost chuckled at the appropriateness of it as an analogy for Allan’s life. Doors were always held open for him by those who assumed he deserved the courtesy or had earned the honor. Wilson heard Allan’s promise: sports tickets for the men who kept safe the life of his precious friend. Yes, Wilson would have laughed if it all hadn’t been so sad. The price tag Allan put on Wilson’s safety was equivalent to a box seat at Dodger Stadium. But then Allan came through the door of chambers, brightening the office with his grin and energy and confidence and Wilson couldn’t fault anyone for falling under Allan’s spell.
“Glad to see you finally got smart, Wilson. Those are good guys out there. You’ll be fine. What’s the word? Was it Henry? Did they pick up prints? Did they pick up Henry?” Allan stopped at the credenza, flipped open the cupboard and grabbed a bottle of water from the small refrigerator hidden inside. He frowned at the label. “Judge, we’re going to have to upgrade this fridge a bit”
He tossed his bottle of water from one hand to the other, and slipped out of his jacket, like a juggler, taking no notice of Wilson’s silence. The last
flourish as he sat down was to loosen his tie and cross one long leg over his other knee. He had arrived and was anxious to get this meeting going.
“I knew you wouldn’t banish me till this thing was over.” He sobered, but only slightly, and opened his water. “It’s scary when someone’s taking potshots at you, even if they are on paper. You need people around who care about you, Wilson. I only want to say one other thing and then we don’t have to talk business. I really hope you’ll reconsider and revoke Henry Stewart’s bail. I suppose there’s no question as to what you’ll be doing about George.”
Wilson had meant to take control of the moment, but his resolve had deserted him. He felt dry inside, as if the life had been sucked out of him. He would have given anything not to have to face Allan with this news. Eli would have been kinder to demand an answer to his questions rather than gifting Wilson with time to consider a course of action. Actually, Eli would have been kinder to put a gun to his head.
“So,” Allan said, tiring of the one-sided conversation.
“Is this a celebration, or have you just decided to break the news to me gently that you’re going to ruin your entire future and let George Stewart walk?”
Wilson was still. Allan took another drink. This time, when he was done, he let the little bottle swing by his side, held casually between two fingers. With his other hand he touched the knot of his tie. It was already loosened.
Wilson took a deep breath. He felt a hundred years old as he moved far enough so that he could lace his hands on the desk in front of him. Wilson’s head was lowered. The desk lamp was on but not the overheads, so the shadows cast were deep and long. In that light, Wilson’s heritage was more evident than it had ever been. His dark eyes may have pointed upward but they looked back to a time in history when men like him had to swallow their pride, standing mute and strong to keep their neck out of a noose. That time was past. Wilson’s survival was no longer that of the body, but of the soul and that was a much harder fight. Allan, Wilson knew, believed in survival but he doubted he believed in the soul.
“Allan, this isn’t about the Stewarts. This afternoon the FBI agent who is conducting my background check came to see me.” Wilson tipped his head up just enough so he looked like Wilson again.
“I met him,” Allan acknowledged tentatively. “Lauren seems to think he’s a great guy.” Allan was watchful, attuned to the nuances of the judge’s behavior.
“Lauren suffers no fools. Eli Warner is a man dedicated to finding the truth and he has stumbled upon something in my history that affects you. He has discovered our lie.” The word caught in Wilson’s throat. He held his head high so that the lump would pass away. “Mr. Warner is most concerned about the last year you were with the firm, the year before I took the bench.”
Allan Lassiter froze, only to relax with extraordinary grace and alacrity. He was a talented chameleon, changing with the light, conforming to the lay of the land in anticipation of danger.
“Really? Well, that’s interesting.” He swung his water bottle up, took a drink, and then put it on the desk. “I don’t know why I thought I wanted this. How about a real drink? Still keep Jack Daniel’s on hand for me?” Allan walked to the credenza again and opened the cabinet. He bent down, one hand holding the cabinet door, the other on the top of the piece of furniture. When he spoke, his voice was even, his words well thought out. “I can’t believe you’re even worried about it. It happened so long ago. I don’t know what he could have found, since there was no paper trail.”
He poured himself two fingers then wandered toward the desk. Gone was the playful, irreverent man Wilson loved, replaced by the lawyer Wilson had taught and trained and been so proud of.
“There was obviously something that made Mr. Warner take notice, Allan. He asked appropriate questions.”
“Did he lay it out for you? Everything?” Allan put his glass down on the desk and it hit hard. When he took his seat, he was wiping a bourbon stain off his cuff. It was unusual for Allan to be so careless, or to betray his agitation. Wilson had lived longer, so he could control his disappointment.
“No, but he has astute questions to which he will find answers. He alerted me to his concerns as a courtesy and asked me if I would prefer answering his questions immediately.”
“And?”
“I asked him for some time. I told him there was someone else who would be affected by this investigation. I told him I had to consider his situation.”
“Why didn’t you just bring him over to my place for dinner so we could all talk about it?” Allan waved, letting it stand as an apology for the sarcasm. “It’s all right. Damage control shouldn’t be too tough.” Allan planted himself on the edge of his chair. His body was taut, his jaw locked. Here was the intense Allan who could work until dawn and argue with the angels on the devil’s behalf. Here was the man that Wilson always hoped Allan would not become. “I can call Mark Jackson and see if we can have this guy reassigned. I’ll tell him that I was disappointed with the way Warner handled the threat.”
Allan’s mind churned with options. He discarded the first and tried the second on for size. “No, no, we’ll tell him that we believe he’s a competent investigator, but there’s some sort of personality conflict that’s alienating your colleagues. Jackson will read between the lines. If he decides not to, then I’ll be here with you when you talk to Warner. We’re not talking rocket scientist here if this guy’s spent his career doing background. We can convince him that to go further would be detrimental not only to you, but to the president who nominated you.”
Wilson raised a hand wearily. “Allan, stop. You don’t demean Mr. Warner by saying things like that; you only prove how short-sighted you are. I might point out that you demean me when you assume I will agree to such action.”
“That was never my intent,” Allan objected. “My intent is to protect you, Wilson. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.” Wilson watched him spin his tale. It was a good one, with just the right inflection of humility. Pushing away from the desk, Wilson stood, turned his back, and walked to the window. Gently Allan rapped his knuckles on the desk as if to call him back. “What’s going on, Wilson?”
Wilson didn’t answer. He looked out at the city. Twinkling lights gave the whole damned deserted place the look of a fairyland. He wished day would never come. But the sun was coming, Eli was bringing it.
“Allan, while I waited for you to come, I thought about what we did all those years ago. I thought about what I’d become and what you’d become.” Wilson tired of the view and looked at Allan. “I concluded that we were never the same after the moment we made our pact. We were never quite as close, never quite as open with one another, and that’s because you can’t be totally honest in a relationship if there is a secret that’s kept, and consequences aren’t faced. I’ve spent my life making sure the people who come before me face what they’ve done and accept the consequences of their actions. Sadly, I made an exception in your case and it ruined us both.”
“No, Wilson, it did not. You’re about to make sure that it does, though, and that’s what I can’t fathom. I’m willing to accept that you don’t give two cents about me, but your future, Wilson!” Allan raised his arms as if framing Wilson’s glorious destiny.
“Oh, Allan, don’t play-act with me.” Wilson’s shoulders fell in disappointment. “You know that I acted because I loved you, and now I must act for me and my conscience. In my courtroom I’ve been harsher than I should, to people I don’t know, because I tried to make up for my failings when it came to judging you. It’s time to set the record straight. It’s time for me to accept my punishment if it comes to that.”
Allan blew out a breath, his head tilted up. Wilson was reminded of a picture from a childhood storybook where an ominous cloud with cheeks full, and lips pursed, blew the cold north wind across a cowering earth. That picture had frightened him as a boy. He wasn’t afraid now, but he was sad that they would have to face a storm which ne
ither of them would survive.
“You’re going to tell Warner about what happened, aren’t you?”
“No, I’ll let him find out on his own if he can.”
“And if he does and if he reports it?”
“I’ll answer any questions put to me by the Senate,” Wilson said flatly, “and I will answer them truthfully.”
“You’ll ruin me, Wilson.”
“I suppose it would be too much to ask that your first thought would be of me,” he said sorrowfully. Wilson shook his head when it appeared Allan might backtrack toward feigned sympathy. “Yes, there will be problems for you. Obviously, there can’t be any prosecution, but there will probably be action by the bar, your clients will have to decide if they would like to continue their association if you retain your license.”
Allan stood up quickly and reached across the desk, startling Wilson as he picked up the telephone and put it in front of the old man. He wrenched the receiver off its cradle and held it out to Wilson. His voice was calm, in contrast to his actions.
“One phone call, Wilson, and this goes away. Take your pick: the president’s appointment secretary, the chief of staff, the president himself if you like. You can spill your guts to them and get your absolution. You won’t scandalize these men. They’ll look into things and figure out what to do. If they can’t do anything, they’ll let you walk away quietly. No one will be the wiser.”
Wilson eyed the phone then let his eyes meet Allan’s. Both men knew exactly what his answer would be, but for Allan hope sprang eternal until he heard the words.
“I will not cover a crime with a lie again. God has seen fit to present me with the crowning glory of my life, my nomination. At the same time, He has reminded me that I am truly not worthy of the honor bestowed on me. This is a test of my mettle, Allan. This is a test of what kind of judge I will be, because now I must judge myself and you.”
The Mentor Page 15