"Three-three deal?"Assad asked.
"Yes. Quite ingenious, actually," Petrov said, now half sitting on the edge of the desk closest to the doorway. "With six of nine justices gone, you can imagine the fear among the Democrats.' stakes are enormous: abortion, the death penalty, affirmative action, gay rights. Only one president in history has ever had the chance to fill so much of the court in one shot. Do you know who that was?"
Petrov paused for effect: "George Washington. So, when the names of the president's original six nominees, including me, were leaked, it was really no surprise that the Democrats vowed to filibuster should the president try to pack the court with judges like me, who seek the original meaning of the Constitution.
"The Republicans don't have enough votes to defeat a filibuster, so the Dems could hold up the confirmation of new justices indefinitely unless the Republicans vote to repeal the right to filibuster-what's called the `nuclear option.' And the polls show that the very idea of going nuclear is tremendously unpopular with the public."
"And McKenna helped broker a deal?"
"Yes, he came up with a solution to avoid outright congressional warfare and somehow convinced the administration to sell it to Congress. It's pretty simple. The administration and Democratic leadership each would come up with a list of three nominees, and each side agreed not to challenge the nominees on the other's list: hence the name, `the three-three deal.' It's not perfect, but it's grounded in history. I've heard that McKenna came up with the idea based on what George Washington did with the first Supreme Court. Washington's first appointments to the then six-member court were three nominees from the North and three nominees from the South."
Petrov stopped talking and stared at Milstein, who seemed to have tuned out and was rummaging through the papers on Parker Sinclair's desk.
"Mind if we look around?" Assad asked.
"Help yourself," Petrov said.
"His computer," Milstein said. "Where is it?" The workstation had a keyboard and monitor but an empty laptop docking station.
"I don't know. He probably took his laptop home. Please let my office know if it's not in his effects. We use encrypted hard drives, so it would be impossible for whatever thugs did this to pull any information from it, but I'd still like to know if it's missing."
"Of course," Assad said. "We were at Parker's apartment this morning and there was no laptop, but we'll let you know if it turns up.
"I'll be in my office if you need anything. For confidentiality purposes, I'd appreciate your telling me if you take any of Parker's things-particularly any of his work papers."
Assad thanked Petrov while Milstein continued prowling about the room. Sitting in Parker Sinclair's chair, she opened the center drawer of his desk, where a business card caught her eye:
TUCKER THORNBERRY
WASHINGTON POST
Milstein took out her cell phone and dialed the reporter's number.
MetLife Building, Manhattan
cKenna punched a key on his laptop that brought up the next slide on the conference room screen.
"We've discussed the limited scope of what my office reviewed; now I'd like to discuss some specific cases. Our analysis of every case pending in the Supreme Court at the time of the assassinations suggests that only two warrant further inquiry: the Hassan case and the Nevel Industries case."
McKenna took a sip of water from a paper cup. "The Hassans are brothers from a wealthy family-both of them playboys and black sheep."
He clicked another slide, and up popped a cover of Business Week. It showed two young men standing back to back, wearing black suits and black ties, under the headline "THE BROTHERS BILLIONAIRE."
"They were sued for fraud in federal court by U.S. investors who had sunk tens of millions into a Saudi-based investment company. It turned out to be just another Ponzi scheme. The brothers used the company as their private piggy bank. In short, the Hassan brothers stole an estimated two hundred million."
Someone in the room gave a low whistle at the figure.
McKenna continued, "The trial court found them liable, the appeals court affirmed the judgment, and they appealed to the Supreme Court."
"So why do you think the case is worth looking at?" an FBI agent asked, "Just because of the amount of money at stake?"
"Partially, yes," McKenna replied. "But the main reason is that the Hassan brothers would benefit greatly from the delay in the case caused by the assassinations. A delay in the Supreme Court would allow the brothers, who have several homes outside the U. S., time to hide their assets because many foreign courts don't allow collection of U. S. judgments or even freezing of accounts until all U. S. appeals are complete. The delay created by Black Wednesday was invaluable. The extraordinary sum of money at stake, combined with the brothers'ties to organized crime in the U.S. and abroad, put the case on our list. A more detailed analysis is in your briefing book."
After fielding several more questions, McKenna said, "Okay, let's talk about the second case my office identified-Nevel Industries. This is a business dispute between two government contractors, again with millions of dollars at stake. The plaintiff, a competitor, sued Nevel claiming that the company had improperly obtained government contracts that should have gone to the plaintiff. Nevel's CEO, a man named Griffin Nash, who is at the center of the allegations, used to be the president's chief of staff. The Supreme Court had accepted review of the case to address the scope of the attorney-client privilege. The plaintiff alleges that Nevel was abusing the privilege and withholding documents that might reveal improper contacts between Mr. Nash and the White House. The company suing Nevel had steadfastly refused to settle, but was having financial troubles. The delay in the Supreme Court caused by the assassinations left the financially beleaguered company no choice but to settle the lawsuit with Nevel. That, in turn, ensured that the documents will never see the light of day."
"That seems pretty speculative," said Randolph Wolcott, one of two senators appointed to the commission, and a staunch supporter of the president.
"You're right, Senator. And this is a good chance to emphasize a key point: everything my office identified is speculative. We don't know that any case is connected to the assassination of the justices. Again, my office's assignment was to identify the top cases of interest. That, as you know, is one small piece of the investigation. The law enforcement officials will report on what are likely to be the most promising leads."
"So are you saying that everything we just heard was a waste of time?" the senator challenged.
"No, that's not what I'm saying," McKenna replied. "What I'm saying is that my office was assigned a narrow task: to identify those cases pending at the court where parties connected to the litigation may have benefited from Black Wednesday, or cases with anything else about them that might warrant a closer look. With that in mind, Hassan and Nevel Industries should be considered the best of the worst, since we found nothing beyond conjecture in any of the cases. Let me add, though, that Nevel was included not only because the company might benefit from delay-it also happened to be the very case about to be argued right before the gunman started his rampage."
After answering another round of questions, McKenna said, "And finally, there is a new development." The automatic blinds opened with a hum and everyone's eyes began adjusting to the light. "It may turn out irrelevant, but while we're all here, I think it's worth mentioning. I learned early this morning that one of Second Circuit Judge Ivan Petrov's law clerks was murdered last night."
A low rumble filled the room. "Right now the murder appears to be just random street violence, but because of the clerk's connection to a high-profile judge, one rumored to be on the short list to fill the current vacancies on the high court, the media will undoubtedly try to make more of it. Plan on it."
"Did you get the contact information for the detectives handling the case?" said FBI Deputy Director Frank Pacini, head of the commission's multi-agency federal law enforcement arm.
; "Yes. I'll give you all a written report as soon as I return to the office. For the law enforcement officials here, however, I'd be happy to discuss what little I know on the break. Any other questions?"
The room was silent. His presentation had provided no solid leads just more speculation. On the lunch break, the law enforcement types, desperate from their own lack of leads, were anxious to talk to McKenna about Parker Sinclair. McKenna didn't mind, since Parker's murder would draw interest away from the two cases he had identified, especially Nevel Industries.
Noon Brooklyn, New York
etectives Milstein and Assad drove by the concrete barricades lining the street in front of the courthouse at Foley Square and onto the Manhattan Bridge.
"Want to do dinner tonight?"Assad asked, scanning traffic on the massive suspension bridge.
Milstein stared silently out the window at the East River. "Maybe. Where?"
"Oh, you know, anywhere's fine."
"Maybe," she said absently.
Assad knew that "Where?" meant what part of the city, lest they risk their jobs by being seen together. Rumors of their relationship at the station had only heightened her paranoia. Behind their backs, some of the detectives referred to them as whatever Hollywood couple was hot at the moment: Brangelina, Bennifer, TomKat. Some of their more racist brothers in blue were less playful, once leaving an Osama bin Laden doll posed in a sexual position with a bent-over Barbie on Milstein's desk.
They arrived at the Greenpoint neighborhood in Brooklyn and double-parked in front of a poorly maintained four-story walk-up on Driggs Avenue. Dakota Cameron, law clerk and, until today, Parker Sinclair's office mate, buzzed them into the building.
She was waiting for them on the landing outside her apartment door. As they reached the top of the stairs, Assad gazed at her for a long moment. She did not look the part of a conservative federal law clerk. Dakota wore a tight-fitting blouse that was cut low at the neck displaying the alluring curves of her breasts and a tight skirt accentuating her long, smooth legs.
"Ms. Cameron, we really appreciate you letting us come by on such short notice," Assad said.
"No problem," Dakota said.
Her voice was sultry and her eyes seemed to sparkle when she spoke, both of which Assad suspected drove the male clerks in Petrov's chambers to distraction. The detectives followed her into her apartment. It was small and exceptionally clean with pressed-wood furniture and worn shag carpet. They sat on a futon couch in front of a coffee table piled high with books, including The Brethren, The Nine, Supreme Conflict, and The Kincaid Court-staple best-sellers featuring the Supreme Court.
"Coffee?" Dakota asked. Both detectives declined.
"I'm not in the mood for any, either," Dakota said, holding up a huge mug. "But if I don't drink enough, I'll get a major caffeine withdrawal headache."
"Your job," Assad said. "It must be pretty demanding." He looked into her eyes, trying hard not to blink as she stared back at him. He was accustomed to women responding to him, and used it when necessary.
"Yeah," Dakota replied. She crossed her legs and fussed with her hair. "The law clerk community refers to the grinding two years with Judge Petrov as `the gulag."'
"He works you hard?"
"Yeah. He's not like other judges. He's much younger than most, for one thing, and he doesn't ever seem to sleep. And while most judges require only a one-year commitment, he requires a two-year clerkship. So between writing decisions and helping him prep for speaking engagements and public appearances, it can be hard. Not everybody makes it through."
Assad gave her an admiring stare, then said, "We're trying to find out if there's anyone who'd want to hurt Parker."
Holding the mug with both hands, she took a sip of coffee. "I can't think of anyone. I mean, he wasn't all that well liked at the court, but that's just because he made the other clerks look bad. He worked around the clock and was one of the judge's favorites. Petrov's a'feeder' to the Supreme Court, so there's a lot of competition."
"Feeder?" Milstein asked, lightly bouncing a pen on the notepad in her hand.
"'There's a handful of appellate judges the justices turn to when interviewing for clerks. Every year, at least one of Petrov's clerks moves up to the Supreme Court. At least that's how it used to be before Black Wednesday."
"You're hoping for a spot?" Assad said, pointing his chin at the books on her table.
"Any clerk who said they weren't would be lying. But there's no telling what's going to happen until new justices are confirmed. Mind if I get some more coffee?" she said getting up and walking toward the drab kitchen off the living room.
"Of course not," Assad said, watching as she carefully filled her mug from a pot perched in a coffeemaker.
When she came back, she sat a little closer to Assad and seemed to forget Milstein was in the room.
Assad asked, "Was there anyone in particular at the office who didn't care for Parker or had issues with him?"
"Not really. Nothing overt, anyway-more passive-aggressive, petty stuff."
"Like what? Can you think of any examples?"
"Like not including him when other clerks went out to lunch or drinks-that kind of stuff."
"He have a girlfriend?" Milstein asked.
"Not that I know of," Dakota answered, still looking at Assad. After a moment she said, "We dated a little." She fussed with her hair again.
"Dated," Milstein said. "Past tense?"
"Yeah, Parker and I decided we were better as friends."
Holding Dakota's gaze, Assad gently asked where she was last night. She replied that she was working late; the other clerks could verify.
"Did you know Parker's plans for last night?"
"No. He left the office earlier than usual. I asked where he was going, but he avoided answering, so I backed off. I thought it might be a date."
"He actually went to a function at Columbia. His old boss, Solicitor General McKenna, was giving a speech. Apparently Parker invited him to dinner afterwards."
"That's a little surprising," Dakota said.
"Why?"
"I thought he and McKenna had a falling-out, so having dinner together just isn't something I would expect, though I guess Parker wasn't one to burn a bridge."
"A falling-out?" Milstein said, "About what?"
"Parker wouldn't say. All he'd ever tell me was that McKenna changed when his son got sick. His four-year-old was diagnosed with a terminal illness toward the end of Parker's clerkship, shortly before McKenna was confirmed as solicitor general. Something happened that made Parker think less of him."
"He didn't tell you what it was?" Assad asked.
"No," Dakota said. "Parker hated gossip and was a tight-lipped kind of guy generally."
"Do you recall the last time you two discussed McKenna?"
Dakota lifted her gaze to the ceiling as she considered the question. "I know we talked about all the press McKenna was getting after he was shot, but I don't remember anything specific. Before that, I kinda remember discussing him when McKenna's wife got killed in a car wreck last year. I remember because it was so sad that McKenna lost his only kid and his wife, too, in such a short time. Parker went to the funeral in D.C."
"He went even though they had a falling-out?"
"All McKenna's former clerks went-it would have looked bad if Parker didn't make an appearance. And like I said, Parker had high aspirations, and he would have seen it as a chance to possibly network with D.C.'s legal elite who were there."
"Do you have any idea what Parker's problem with McKenna was?" Milstein asked.
"Rumors, innuendo-we'll take anything," Assad added with a soft smile.
Dakota sank back into the coach, and put a finger on her chin. "In the insular appellate bar, there's no shortage of rumors about McKenna, but nothing, I think, that would relate to Parker."
"What type of rumors?"
"Well, it's not too hard to find them if you just Google McKenna-there's a lot of talk about why the pr
esident nominated him to the bench and then for SG."
"I thought McKenna worked for President Winter when Winter was governor of Ohio?" Assad asked.
"Yeah, that might explain the Ohio judicial appointment. But solicitor general is different. the SG is essentially the dean of the Supreme Court and appellate bar, and McKenna wasn't part of the `club.' Lots of people wondered if the appointments were a quid pro quo for keeping quiet about the intern." Dakota didn't have to explain what she meant by "the intern"; stories about the alleged affair had dogged the president since his campaign. "The intern had worked for Winter and McKenna back in Ohio, and there's a lot of speculation that if anyone could corroborate the claims about the affair, it was McKenna. It's all just gossip, though. Partisan stuff."
"You don't have any idea why Parker would ask McKenna to dinner?" Assad asked.
"Really, no clue."
"Could Parker have been meeting McKenna about Judge Petrov's Supreme Court nomination?"
Dakota tensed.
"Don't worry, Dakota, the judge already told us," Assad added.
"I can't imagine why he'd do that. But I will say that Parker's been acting a little funny the last few days."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing I can pinpoint. He just seemed ... off."
"Any idea why Parker might be talking with a reporter?" Milstein asked, not mentioning the business card she had found in Sinclair's desk.
"No idea," Dakota replied quickly. "That doesn't sound like him at all."
Milstein's cell phone rang, and she moved to the other side of the room, out of earshot, while Assad continued to question Dakota. It was the medical examiner. As she listened to the ME'S report on the preliminary examination of Parker Sinclair's body, she noticed Dakota inch closer to Assad on the couch and touch his arm. Milstein rolled her eyes and turned away from them to concentrate on the report. It revealed no forensic evidence to connect anyone to the murder. Sinclair had been stabbed repeatedly, and the initial cuts were clean. He was standing close to his killer-someone familiar, perhaps. It would have been bloody; the perp's clothes would have been soaked. Milstein recalled McKenna in his running shorts last night, saying his street clothes had disappeared from the hotel gym ...
The Last Justice Page 3