While Justice Sleeps

by Stacey Abrams

  Soon, the steel frame of the safe came into view. She glanced around herself, then typed in the numbers, reached for the handle, and lifted it to release the lock. Inside, a thick black binder leaned against the safe wall, propped up by a stack of cash. A silver velvet box peeked out from behind the currency, and a slimmer file had been slipped in between the binder and the wall.

  Avery reached for the folder first. As she pulled it free, she saw that a black lighter had been taped to the folder’s front. She opened the file, which contained a single sheet of paper with black script. The sheet was flimsy, almost transparent, and she recognized the consistency immediately. Nitrocellulose.

  “Very clever, Justice Wynn.” Nitrocellulose, a mixture of nitric acid and sulfuric acid, could be applied to ordinary paper for a simple vanishing trick. Any chemistry student worth her salt had tried the experiment.

  She read the note he’d written on what was also known as magician’s flash paper. Scratched across the top were the words BURN UPON REVIEW. Below, a series of letters, numbers, and symbols marched across the page. She stared, committing the garbled text to memory, then, out of an abundance of caution, captured the image with her phone.

  e4c5Gf3d6Ob5+Od7Oxd7+Vxd7c4Gc6Gc3Gf600g6d4cxd4Gxd4Og7Gde2Ve6!?Gd5Vxe4Gc7+Rd7Gxa8Vxc4Gb6+axb6Gc3Ha8a4Ge4Gxe4Vxe4Vb3f5Og5Vb4Vf7Oe5h3Hxa4Hxa4Vxa4Vxh7Oxb2Vxg6Ve4Vf7Od4Vb3f4Vf7Oe5h4b5h5Vc4Vf5+Ve6Vxe6+Rxe6g3fxg3fxg3b4Of4Od4+Rh1!b3g4Rd5g5e6h6Ge7Hd1e5Oe3Rc4Oxd4exd4Rg2b2Rf3Rc3h7Gg6Re4Rc2Hh1Rf5b1=VHxb1Rxb1Rxg6d2h8=Vd1=VVh7b5?!Rf6+Rb2Vh2+Ra1Vf4b4?Vxb4Vf3+Rg7d5Vd4+Rb1g6Ve4Vg1+Rb2Vf2+Rc1Rf6d4g71–0

  Justice Wynn had typed gibberish onto a piece of paper that he’d demanded be burned upon reading, as though he’d escaped from a John le Carré novel. She held the paper in one hand and pried the lighter free with the other.

  The paranoia of his instructions fit the absurdity of the last twenty-four hours. Then the image of Jamie Lewis’s body flashed, and she crumpled the page and flicked the lighter into a flame. She turned and set the paper on the edge of a nearby table and touched it with the fire. In an instant, the code flashed and disappeared.

  “First task, done.” Wondering what came next, Avery returned the folder and lighter to the safe, reached for the binder, and opened the plastic cover. Curious, she flipped to the table of contents. A series of company names marched down the page. Hygeia. GenWorks. Advar. Remar Pharmaceuticals. Genei Bioservices. She counted nine names in all. The documents inside had been tabbed and filed first by company name, with plastic tabs for each topic. Financial Statements. Products. Patents. And a last category: Source of Funding. She recognized several of the companies from her research for Justice Wynn, but not all. In the binder, certain files had only one or two pages; others had many more.

  Scanning the contents, she cataloged details from habit. Country of origin had been of note to Justice Wynn, and she noted that the companies were American, British, Chinese, and Indian in origin, which explained the disparity in information, she realized. Chinese companies were nearly impenetrable; and despite its open economy, India hadn’t become an open corporate book quite yet.

  As she skimmed the dense details, Avery wondered who’d collected the information. Justice Wynn rarely researched for himself. Unless he’d tasked Matt with this, which she doubted, he’d compiled all the information himself. Hundreds of pages, she realized in astonishment as she riffled through pages of dates and numbers.

  The sudden swish of air came too quickly for her to react. Before she could utter a sound, her head exploded in a kaleidoscope of colored pains. She felt her knees give way as she collapsed, vaguely aware of being caught by her attacker as she sank into unconsciousness.

  Faint words: “Sir, she’s down.”

  * * *

  —

  Minutes later, he entered through the back, out of the sight lines of other homes. Nevertheless, the rest of his team quickly made their way inside, all attired as moving company personnel. He barked out orders to men used to instant compliance: “Continue to monitor the perimeter. Dispatch Castillo to the mother. No mistakes.”

  “Yes, sir.” The stocky adjutant replaced his gun.

  The man, who had spent his career cleaning up after politicians, reluctantly stepped over Avery’s body and reached for the open safe. The public attention she’d drawn made permanent disposal more difficult. Instead of killing her, he’d decided to follow and observe.

  Inside the safe, he found a woman’s diamond ring and matching wedding band in a velvet box, along with a pair of sapphire earrings dripping stones from a platinum setting and a pearl choker gleaming with the luster of authenticity. He shoved the jewelry and the cash into a rucksack brought along for this purpose. An empty folder and lighter rested inside, but a cheap one that seemed to have no value.

  Tucking the binder into the satchel, he shifted and scooped up the purse lying beside Avery. A single page had been stuffed inside, and he took out his phone to snap a photo, recording the codes for the alarm, the safe, and the cryptic VGC.

  Checking his watch, he calculated that the girl would rouse soon. He reached inside the purse again and removed her phone. “Seven minutes, then I want us out of here,” he said to Phillips as he closed the safe, stuffing the crib sheet into the sack. “She’s going to wonder what happened. Make it look like a robbery, and I’ll meet you back at the site.”

  “We’ll take care of it.”

  He passed over her cell phone. “While she’s down, clone this. They want to know everything she does, where she goes, who she talks to.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He left the team, certain his directions would be followed. His car waited in an adjacent parking lot. As he drove away, he made his encrypted call.

  A voice answered promptly. “What do you have for me?”

  “A full binder and files on the matter. He had the right river.”

  “How much do they know?”

  “More than we thought. But he is not going to tell anyone, sir. By the end of the day, we’ll know what she knows. We should have the ability to bring this to a close shortly.”

  “You’d better. Time is running out.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Avery came to abruptly. She jackknifed up, her hand reaching for her throbbing skull. The room spun dizzily around her as she struggled to regain her bearings. Where am I?

  Panic surged, but she forced the twist of angst and terror aside. In panting breaths, she sucked in oxygen and willed her heartbeat to slow and her memory to return. Focus, she demanded. Remember where you are.

  Fragments of memory scattered, refusing proper arrangement. Meeting with the attorney. Watching the news. Opening the safe. Standing in the Chief’s office. Then a disturbance of the air and a loud, deafening crack. Her fingertips probed the knot swelling on the back of her skull.

  Someone had hit her. Hard. Avery drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. The thought that she should run flashed through her mind, but she remained still. At this point, she reasoned, if anyone wanted to do more harm, they’d have already done it. No, she decided, better to sit still and figure out what happened.

  Books surrounded her. Justice Wynn’s study. They’d had cocktails in this room twice, at the start of each term. On the floor, various biographies lay scattered across the carpet. She’d stacked them before she opened the safe.

  Swiftly, Avery scrambled to her feet, ignoring the rise of nausea that accompanied her motions. She crossed to the safe, the door now firmly shut. With trembling fingers, she typed in the code again. The chamber was empty. Avery’s stomach sank. The cash, the jeweler’s box, gone. Worse, the binder and the clues to her mission had vanished too.

  Justice Wynn had been robbed.

  Moving fast, she snatched up her purse and fumbled for the codes. The paper was missing. Burglars had tracked her into Justice Wynn’s home and stolen from him, from her. It was her fault, she thought
, sinking down to the carpet again, her hand still inside her purse.

  If she’d locked the door, rearmed the alarm, they wouldn’t have come in, wouldn’t have taken everything. Her battered head dipped low, eyes closed in remorse as much as pain. Day two of failure. Another day without knowing what he wanted and why she was there.

  If she had any sense, she’d take her one credit card and hop a flight to Antigua. Lie low until the session ended. Her fingers caressed her wallet longingly. She could be wearing a bikini on a beach in seven hours.

  Her wallet!

  Avery clenched her fingers around the nubby leather and jerked it free. Inside, her credit card, debit card, and painfully small collection of bills were exactly where she’d left them. What kind of thief stole a piece of paper filled with numbers but left the wallet?

  She looked at the room again, more carefully. The contents of the safe were gone, but the antique clock on Justice Wynn’s desk was untouched. Just like the expensive-looking oil painting on the far wall. The burglar had done a good job of staging the scene, but the missing paper didn’t fit. Not unless the burglar was the kind not looking to make money on the job.

  Avery clambered to her feet, grabbed her phone, and dialed.

  “Jared, I need to see you right away.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and rushed to the front door, where she reset the alarm and engaged the lock. Whoever had the codes might return before she reprogrammed the system, but she’d bet the contents of the house that they had what they came for.

  “Meet me at the Starbucks on Wisconsin and Thirty-Fourth.” Without waiting for an answer, she disconnected the phone as she jogged down the street, oblivious to the high-heeled shoes and the constricting skirt.

  Before someone had struck her, she had scanned several of the binder’s pages. Not for terribly long, but sufficient time to recall what she’d seen. Companies from around the world. Usernames on an email account: justicewon@ariesworld.com and tigrislost@gmail.com. And a jumbled code that she’d burned.

  As she raced along the busy street, she dialed a second number. “Noah, this is Avery Keene. Are you busy?”

  “Avery, is everything all right? What do you need?”

  “Can you meet me in Georgetown right away?” She gave him the location, checking over her shoulder for signs of pursuit. Her breath stuttered as she bodily pushed past the knots of tourists and neighbors crowding the streets. “If you can come as soon as possible, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Sure…yes. Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not.” She shouldered past a phalanx of walkers, avoiding a collision with a nanny and a stroller. “Noah, don’t tell anyone where you’re going, please.”

  “Should I call the police?”

  “Don’t talk to anyone. Just come.” Disconnecting the line, she entered the teeming coffee shop and scanned the area for a table. A corner nook with a settee and a chair had been abandoned by its previous occupants, who’d left behind a familiar brown pastry bag and a wad of discarded napkins. Her legs gave way, and she sank onto the sofa.

  Calling Jared and Noah posed risks, but she saw no alternative. Both men had information she desperately required. Trust cost more than self-reliance, but she’d been boxed into a corner. Justice Wynn had left her with no clear allies except for his son and his lawyer.

  She barely knew Jared Wynn, but he possessed computer skills she might be able to use. For his part, Noah understood Justice Wynn’s machinations as well as anyone. At the very least, he might be useful in keeping her out of federal prison before she figured out Justice Wynn’s strategy.

  Too nervous to sit, Avery made her way to the counter. “Iced white chocolate mocha Frappuccino. Grande.” The drilling at the base of her skull sharpened, and she amended, “Actually, make it a venti. With extra whip.”

  As a barista rang up her order, she wondered who else might have had access to the house. Perhaps they hadn’t followed her. Maybe they were already inside. Waiting.

  “Can I have your name, please?”

  “Celeste,” she whispered as the name popped into her head.

  “Ma’am?”

  Avery blinked. “What?”

  “I asked for your name, but I didn’t hear what you said.” He held up a cardboard cup and a marker. “Can you spell Selst for me?”

  “Selst? Oh—no. It’s Avery. Sorry about that.”

  The teenager stared at her oddly, then scribbled the name on the cardboard and passed her the receipt. “She’ll call when your order’s up. Have a good day.”

  Avery moved out of the way and rubbed at the lump on her head. “Too late,” she muttered.

  Chimes tinkled to admit a new patron. She glanced up, and her eyes widened in dismay. Special Agent Robert Lee stood in the entrance, looking around.

  She considered ducking into the women’s bathroom until he left. But she refused to run. Puffing out a breath, she crossed the store. She stopped in front of him and cocked her chin. “Agent Lee.”

  “Ms. Keene, are you alone?”

  “You probably already know the answer.”

  “I assume you came here to meet someone.” Shaded eyes scanned the Starbucks. “He stand you up?”

  “Who?”

  “Jared Wynn.”

  “Iced white mocha!” yelled the barista.

  “That’s my order. Excuse me.” Avery turned, only to have Lee take her arm. She looked down at his grip, then lifted her eyes to meet his. “Am I under arrest?”

  Lee shook his head, but his hold remained firm. “I must speak with you.”

  “If you want to ask me about more than the weather, I’d advise you to get a warrant.” With disdain, she peeled his fingers away. For a second, she considered whether he could be her assailant, but dismissed the idea. The FBI wouldn’t have needed to bash her over the head. They’d simply give themselves a warrant to go inside.

  As she turned away, she stopped. Agent Lee might know who did. “How long have you been following me?”

  He flicked his gaze over her shoulder. “I have no obligation to disclose that information, Ms. Keene. As you well know.”

  “That’s right, you don’t. However, if you expect me to be even the slightest bit cooperative, it wouldn’t hurt to answer.” She heard her order called a second time. “Take that table over there.”

  She walked slowly to the counter, found her drink, and took a deep draft. The first shot of caffeine hit her veins with the precision of an IV. She returned to Agent Lee, his stolid face unchanged. “I assume you tracked me from the Court to Lowry Kihneman and from there to the justice’s house.”

  “I’m not following you, Ms. Keene.” He extended his hand, indicating the seat she’d staked out. “We had an alert placed on the alarm system at Justice Wynn’s house. The security company called as soon as you logged in.”

  “But you didn’t have a unit there?”

  “No. Why?”

  That meant no one to identify her assailants. He had no idea about the burglary. She shifted to watch him. “What do you want?”

  “You left the house in a big hurry…almost a panic.” He waited for a reaction. “What’s going on?”

  Her headache flared painfully at the mention, but she said, “I came, I saw, I left.”

  He sighed. “Let’s try this another way. Tell me what you found inside the house.”

  “I was just looking around,” she countered.

  “Okay, if you don’t want to answer questions, then just listen.” He slowly glanced around, running his eyes over every face in the café. “Ms. Keene, I have every reason to believe you could be in danger.”

  Avery smirked, her mouth drawn. “Now I’m in danger? This morning, I was a tramp who’d accepted a bribe and possibly killed a woman. I think you need to get your theory straight.”

  “I still believe
you’ve been improperly influenced,” he retorted. “But that does not preclude the possibility that you could be in danger. If you had nothing to do with Mrs. Lewis’s death, that puts you on the wrong side of the equation. I’m afraid you might be the next target.”

  “Of whom?”

  “Of anyone who has a case before the U.S. Supreme Court,” he answered simply. “You hold an enormous amount of power, Ms. Keene. One person close to Justice Wynn is already dead. You have the ability to terminate his life and open a spot on the Court. People have died for less.”

  “I am not killing Justice Wynn,” she protested. “I didn’t hurt Jamie Lewis. All I want to do is figure out what he wanted.”

  “And the money? A coincidence?”

  “Yes,” Avery lied. Neither of them believed it.

  Realizing he’d made no headway, Agent Lee stood. “I don’t have a side in this. My job is to protect the justice system—including the Supreme Court.”

  “Based on whose direction?”

  “Attorney General Walters himself.” Returning his notebook to his pocket, he removed a business card. “Call me when you realize you need my help.”

  “Right now, it would help if you got me the LUDs for Justice Wynn’s house for the past six months.”

  “You’ve been watching cop shows, Avery?”

  “No, I clerked for a district court judge in Baltimore. We had a number of cases where the defendants challenged the legality of call detail records and local usage data. LUDs.”

  “Okay, then you know I need a court order.”

  “I’m asking as his guardian. There’s no issue of privacy or need for a warrant. If you want to be helpful.”