Lotello smiled at Brooks. “Yes.”
“Very smooth, Detective. Good to know you haven’t lost your repartee. Did Justice Hirschfeld turn Reyes onto the kidnappers? Not according to Hirschfeld.”
“Then how would Reyes have any knowledge about the kidnapping? And why would he have been in Court yesterday?”
Brooks could almost see the wheels turning in Lotello’s head. Or at least in his eyes.
“No. You’re not telling me—”
“Oh, you are so sharp, Detective. I just can’t slip anything past you.”
“Tommy Thomas? And Reyes? Again?”
“Maybe so. Or maybe this time Thomas is just a loose cannon acting without a handler.”
“Jesus. The description Hernandez gave me of the van’s buyer isn’t far off from how I remember Thomas. It didn’t occur to me at the time because there was no reason for me to make that connec tion. Doesn’t this make things more . . . I just don’t have the words.”
Brooks’s mind drifted back to the death of Bernie Abrams on the eve of the Norman trial. First, Leah Klein’s mentor and one of my own best friends. Now, Hirschfeld’s granddaughter. Where does it end? “That’s putting it mildly. Or, more accurately, not putting it. This is becoming very personal, Detective. At least for me. If not, I suspect, for you as well.”
“So much for any hope against hope that the assailants might just be bluffing about killing Cassie.” Lotello didn’t say anything further.
“So,” Brooks added, “did you think I didn’t hear your question a moment ago about what other options we have? I think you may now be ready for my answer.”
CHAPTER 93
Friday, May 9, 3:00 pm
NISHIMURA WAS STILL REELING, trying to decide what to do. Hirschfeld’s wife really threw her a curve. Breaking this story was a virtual lock on a Pulitzer Prize. Unless perhaps her story was found to have contributed to a youngster’s death. Either way, was she really prepared to live with that prospect on her conscience? She had a little more time to think all of this through. She would give herself until tomorrow to decide.
CHAPTER 94
Friday, May 9, 5:30 pm
THOMAS WAS DISILLUSIONED. He didn’t know with absolute certainty that Reyes and POTUS were lying to him, but he sure didn’t have the feeling they were in his corner, had his back, appreciated all he was doing. For the country. For them. Hadn’t he always loyally carried out his President’s wishes?
His thoughts turned to the girl and her grandfather. What loyalty they displayed toward one another. Their relationship was . . . admirable. That was it. Their relationship was admirable.
First, Mother and Father. Now, Reyes and POTUS. Is it something about me? Could there be something wrong with me?
* * *
Reyes took the call. “What’d ya find out?”
“He was driving an older White Nissan van when he spoke to you. If he hasn’t ditched it or moved on, we’ll get him. Just a matter of time.”
“Good work. Don’t let up. Stay on it. Around the clock. We may not have much time. Let me know the minute you have something. No matter what time it is.”
Reyes was about to hang up when it occurred to him. Like his own boss, he didn’t always remember. “Thanks.”
* * *
Cassie heard him come down the steps, unlock the door, and enter her room. It bothered her that she was now thinking of this hole as ‘hers.’ That was the last thing she wanted. She stood, but didn’t back away.
“Hey, brat, had some pizza and spaghetti left over from my dinner last night. Thought by now you might be more receptive, maybe a little tired of the palatial stuff I originally stocked for you.”
Wow, what’s got into him? All of a sudden he’s like my best friend. She thought she should probably play along. “Sure, why not? The food in the palace here is becoming a little dull. And now I have enough insulin to cover the carbs in your Italian delight.”
“I brought some plastic utensils. Nothing strong enough to inflict any wounds.”
“Uh, sorry about that. You understand. You would have done the same if the tables had been turned. This junk actually tastes pretty good, Frank.”
“Frank? Name’s not Frank. I didn’t tell you my name.”
“Short for Frankenstein.”
“Oh yeah, right. Very funny. Say, how long do you hit your tee shots on average?”
“Between 210 and 230. Sometimes 250. Do you play?”
“Now and then. I like Congressional. When I’m in town. My tee shots are usually about 200, maybe 220.”
“Well, what do you expect? You’re not a pro like me.”
“Pretty cocky, brat. I think I could give you a game.”
“Anytime, Frank. So, where do you play when you’re not in town?”
She knew she had gone too far the minute the words were out of her mouth. She should have quit while she was ahead, knowing from his slip that he wasn’t local. He tightened up the minute she snooped. He instantly turned quiet and sullen. She watched him pack up the scraps and boxes. He walked out of the room, and locked the door. Guess he’s no longer my best friend. That didn’t last very long.
CHAPTER 95
Saturday, May 10, 7:30 am
“LANCER SOLUTIONS.”
“Anonymous Party.”
“You’re up early. More questions? Any decisions?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Yesterday, we talked about delivery, but only philosophically, the need to assure no gaps in possession and control of the asset. I need to go over some details with you.
“Shoot. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“Sunday would be best for me. Will that work for you?”
“I work 24/7. Sunday’s fine.”
“If we’re on, you’ll receive a call from me or one of my associates at this same number at approximately ten o’clock—”
“Is that oh-ten-hundred or oh-twenty-two hundred? The latter might be cutting it a bit tight in terms of the follow-up work. Other Party has to conclude things by early Monday.”
“Oh-ten-hundred. Morning. I’ll provide you with an address for pickup. You’ll need to move very quickly because the goods are highly perishable and will need to be secured and promptly remediated. We’ll be evaluating your performance under a zero tolerance policy.”
“Understood. No problem. That’s always the case with our clients. Will you need a receipt?”
“Not necessary. We’ll know.”
“Very good, A.P. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with our services. If O.P. performs as well, we will not need to speak again. Thank you for allowing Lancer Solutions to be of service.”
CHAPTER 96
Saturday, May 10, 8:30 am
HIRSCHFELD WATCHED Trotter lead the discussion around the table. One by one, the Justices expressed their views, many of them forcefully. The arguments were occasionally heated, but never discourteous. They debated, but they didn’t shout. If there was not affection, they at least maintained a genuine respect for one another. With an exception or two.
No one was budging. The issue on standing to bring the lawsuit was still seven to two in favor. With Hirschfeld voting to invalidate the amendment, the vote was still five to four in favor of upholding. Hirschfeld was outwardly composed. Forced to oppose what he deeply espoused, he was suffering internally. He imagined the other Justices recognized how curious his stance was, but undoubtedly were at a loss to explain it. None, however, chose to press him.
Trotter assigned the drafting duties. He would write the majority opinion upholding standing and the amendment. He asked Nettleman to write the dissenting minority opinion favoring invalidation.
Ordinarily, the opposing opinions would be circulated to all of the Justices who would then be given several months to offer their editorial input before the opinions would be finalized and announced. Because of the short turnaround here, Trotter scheduled a second meeting for Sunday morning to collectively
edit and finalize the two opinions.
* * *
Nishimura had to decide. NBN-TV had scheduled two thirty minute live specials Monday morning, the first just before and the second immediately after the Supreme Court Justices took the bench to announce and read their majority and minority decisions. The first would recap the Tuesday and Thursday arguments and describe the announcement procedure. The second was to discuss the decision and its likely consequences for the country.
If Nishimura chose to reveal the story without waiting for the promised Hirschfeld family exclusive, she’d have to decide between the first and second specials. History might not be kind to her if she were perceived as possibly impacting the outcome of the judicial process by going first. Or the fate of Cassie Webber.
If she waited until the second special, she would reduce the prospects of any blowback in reporting the story. Waiting for the promised exclusive would definitely be more professional, but entailed risks of its own. What if the family reneged after the decisions were announced? What if someone else beat her to the punch in the meanwhile? What if NBN-TV executives decided to give the plum to someone higher up in the network? She could control her destiny now, but not after the existing programming was concluded.
But something kept nagging at her. Was there something she was overlooking?
* * *
Hirschfeld could not put it off any longer. He’d thought about approaching Lance, to see if he would be willing to release Cassie to her family once she was delivered to him. He concluded that was pointless. If the amendment were upheld and Lance did not return Cassie to her kidnappers, Lance’s reputation and business interests would surely suffer, as well perhaps as his own physical well-being.
He hesitated one last moment. And then knocked on the door to his colleague’s private chambers.
“Enter,” Gaviota said with his customary zest. Seeing Hirschfeld, he added, “Hola, amigo. Como estás?”
“Bien. E tu?”
“Bien, gracias. But why do you not look so good, amigo?”
“Jose, tengo una problema. There’s no way to sugar coat it. I need to ask you for a favor. A huge one. I wouldn’t ask if I had any choice.”
“Well, one does not have to be a rocket scientist to know something is terribly wrong given that you are voting opposite me on this matter. Very strange for sure. Siéntete, por favor. Dígame tu problema.”
Hirschfeld told him as succinctly as he could. Gaviota’s expression registered a range of emotions, from outraged to wary to stunned, but his eyes retained a sad embrace for his colleague and friend.
“This I didn’t imagine. Who would?” He shook his head. “You’ve come to me, I assume, because you believe I can help somehow. I’m not sure how, but . . .”
Hirschfeld told him—and watched the blood drain from his face.
“Arnold. I would do anything I could for you. You know that. I love Cassie as if she were my own flesh and blood. But this . . .”
Hirschfeld waited, letting the silence make his point.
“Arnold, I don’t know. How would we do this?”
“At the last minute, you would simply change your vote. Five to uphold would become five to invalidate. Trotter’s opinion would become the minority and Nettleman’s would become the majority. Once Cassie was released and was safely home, I would come forward, thank you for your selfless compassion and understanding, and resign from the Court. The decision could be set aside on grounds of undue influence, and revoted. The disgrace would be mine alone.”
“The disgrace would not be yours alone. It would be mine as well. I would also have to resign from the Court. But that’s not the issue, mi hermano. I would gladly do that, for Cassie and for you. The issue, however, is the possible indelible stain on the integrity and sanctity of the Court. Who would be next? What would they try next? To bend the Court’s will.
“I need to think about this. Very carefully. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow when we meet to go over the draft opinions. If my answer is no, I will never speak to anyone of this meeting.”
“I understand.” Hirschfeld offered a grave smile. “Thank you, Jose.”
He walked out of Gaviota’s office and closed the door behind him. There was nothing left for him to do now but head back to the kids’ home to wait for the FaceTime call he desperately prayed would be coming. If the kidnappers agreed to his insistence on that.
CHAPTER 97
Saturday, May 10, 10:20 am
AFTER SPEAKING to Lance about the details of the girl’s delivery, Thomas’s next call was to Hirschfeld. He had been procrastinating, but it was time. He couldn’t put it off any longer. “Showtime, Gramps, you ready to FaceTime?”
“Now? I’m on the turnpike. Give me a minute to pull off the road and stop my car.”
Thomas decided to keep Hirschfeld thinking that he was being monitored. “I know where you are, old man. That’s why I called now. We’ll call you back in five minutes. Only 48 hours to go until Monday morning. Drive carefully. Your granddaughter needs you around to vote to invalidate the amendment.”
* * *
Hirschfeld had pulled his car off the turnpike and found a spot to park. He was waiting for the call. Five minutes stretched into ten. Finally, his phone rang.
He answered using the FaceTime app, just the way Cassie had once taught him to do. “Hello?”
“Poppy! It’s me, Cassie. Can you see me? I can see you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, baby. I can see you perfectly. How are you?”
“Homesick, a little tired, but I’m okay, Poppy.”
She didn’t look so good to Hirschfeld. Not at all. She looked nervous, anxious. He could tell how she really was, no matter what she said. He wondered if the man knew too, or even cared.
Thomas cut in. “Okay, enough small talk. I’m putting the document and a pen in front of the girl. Make your speech. Fast. I’m still hurting from the last time the brat had something sharp in her hand.”
“What did you just say?” Hirschfeld asked the man.
“Forget it, Gramps, stick to the business at hand.”
With this maniac, Hirschfeld had no way of knowing how much time he had. And he didn’t want to get into an argument with him in front of Cassie. He suppressed his curiosity about the man’s remark, at least for now, and spoke directly to his granddaughter: “Listen to me, baby. Do you see the document there?”
“Yes. I just read it. I think I understand it. Well, sort of. Am I outta here now, Poppy?”
He could sense her fear and confusion. He wanted to kill the man. Literally. But he had to focus. “Soon, baby. I wanted you to see the document and know what’s going on. You need to sign the document below the other signatures. It’s Saturday morning now. This afternoon, you’ll be going to a safe place. I—”
“Tomorrow, Gramps,” Thomas interjected. “I’ve worked it out with Lance, but it can’t happen until tomorrow.”
“Who’s Lance?”
“None of your business, brat.”
“I wasn’t asking you, Frankenstein.”
“Frankenstein?” said Hirschfeld, who could only hear but not see the man.
“Yeah, Poppy, he wears a Frankenstein mask so I can’t see his real face.”
That’s a good thing Hirschfeld thought to himself. “It’s okay, baby, tomorrow’s fine. Just one more day. I wanted you to hear it from me. That moving you like this is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about it. I don’t want you to be scared. By Monday, you’ll be free and home, with your mom and dad.” Hirschfeld watched Cassie sign the document. “I just saw you sign it. That’s great. Now, give it back to—”
“The creep. It’s alright for me to call him that. He calls me brat. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I did stab him pretty good. Deeper than I meant to.”
“You did what?”
“I told you, Pops, forget about it.”
Cassie handed the document back to the man.
“And the pen too, girl,” Thomas s
aid. After a moment, during which Hirschfeld watched him put pen to paper himself: “Okay. I’ve now signed the document too. Are we done?”
“I guess so. Are you sure you’re okay, Cassie?”
“I’m fine, Poppy. Honest. Tell Mom and Dad and Nanny not to worry. Madison also. I know she’s upset, too. And don’t forget to rub Whitney’s tummy for me. By the way, is this man Lance a creep too?”
“No, baby, Lance is not a creep. He’s a good man. He’s helping us to bring you home. We all love you, honey. See you soon.”
“Enough already,” Thomas said.
Hirschfeld watched Thomas grab the phone away from Cassie.
“Listen up, Grandpa,” Thomas continued, “you need to retrieve the signed document at the usual pickup spot in exactly one hour. Remember, I’m watching you. No funny stuff. Not any sooner and not any later. The girl’s counting on you.”
“I—”
Hirschfeld watched his phone turn dark. He realized Thomas had terminated the call.
* * *
Hirschfeld wondered how the kidnappers always knew where he was. He figured one of them must be tailing him. And they must have bugs planted in the Court. And on his phone or maybe in his car too. He called the house anyway. He didn’t see how it would hurt if they heard. Linda picked up.
“I just talked with our little girl on FaceTime.” Hirschfeld didn’t want to alarm Linda, but he also craved someone he could talk to. “She’s fine.”
“Thank God! Just a minute.” She shouted to the others in the room with her, “It’s Poppy. He just talked to Cassie on FaceTime. She’s fine.”
Back to Hirschfeld: “How did she look? Are they feeding her?”
“She sounded strong, looked great.” It just slipped out: “Well, maybe a little anxious.”
“Of course, she’s anxious. Who wouldn’t be anxious in her position?” To Jill and Mark: “She sounded strong, looked great. Maybe a little anxious. What would you expect?”
“By the way,” Hirschfeld added, there was some kind of . . . incident. Cassie stabbed one of the kidnappers.”
Brooks-Lotello Collection Page 27