While Justice Sleeps

by Stacey Abrams

  Agent Lee scowled. “I don’t like using civilians as bait, Ms. Keene.” Still, the idea had merit. More importantly, it would give him time to secure his own warrant for surveillance. “You sure? You keep those bugs in place, and you’re asking for trouble.”

  Avery flashed him a dry smile. “I’d say I’m already there, Agent Lee.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  The SUV pulled to the curb in front of the Lowry Kihneman building, and Agent Leighton rode the elevator up with Avery and Jared. Ling and Noah met them upstairs with their detail, and together they moved into the conference room where Avery had first learned the details of Justice Wynn’s plans. A long credenza loaded with soft drinks, coffee carafes, and water was arrayed against the far wall. As soon as Leighton left the room, closing the door behind herself, Avery looked at the group and put her hands flat on the polished table. “Okay, let’s talk.”

  * * *

  —

  An hour later, Agent Lee knocked on the conference room door. When he entered, everyone stiffened, except Avery. He sat heavily, studying each of the occupants. The matching looks of feigned innocence made him edgy. “What’s the matter?”

  Avery asked, “Agent Lee, what’s the background on Major Vance?”

  “Like everything else at DHS, I think that’s classified.” Gossip about a fellow officer didn’t sit well with him, but the girl deserved some information about the men hounding her. Besides, nothing he’d tell her couldn’t be secured from a Freedom of Information Act request. Or his personnel file, which he’d reviewed that morning after Vance’s call. “Major Vance is the official liaison from Homeland Security to the president.”

  “Which means what, exactly?”

  “I don’t draw the org charts, Ms. Keene. What I know is that Major Vance was formerly Secret Service, and before that, he was in the military. After President Stokes’s election as vice president, he shifted from the Secret Service to S&T, with a direct assignment to coordinate with the president on certain Homeland Security matters.”

  “Is he a scientist by training?”

  “Has a BS in biochemistry and a master’s in biologics,” Agent Lee offered. He’d pulled the man’s service record and had been impressed despite himself. “Major Vance went through the Naval Academy, received a commission in the Marine Corps. Attained the rank of major before receiving an honorable discharge. Came stateside and joined the Secret Service.”

  “Where was he stationed in the Marines?”

  “Classified,” he answered, then clicked his teeth shut. The sensation of interrogation was jarring to a man used to the other side of the conversation. He stroked his chin where beard growth had started. “Why the twenty questions? I know you two didn’t exactly click, but I’d be offended if you grilled him this way about me.”

  “I appreciate your help, Agent Lee. Are you going to babysit us all day?”

  “No. Leighton’s got this one.” He shoved away from the table and stood. “Let her know when you’re ready to move.”

  After Agent Lee exited the room, he and Leighton moved away to talk, and Jared spoke quickly: “I accessed some files at the Pentagon. Major Vance was assigned to FORECON and CBIRF during his service.”

  “CBIRF?” Avery asked.

  “Chemical Biological Incident Response Force.” He rose and paced to the opposite end of the room, his voice pitched low. “CBIRF is a strategic unit of the Marines designed to manage the consequence of chemical and biological threats to national security.”

  “Where was he stationed?”

  “Like Agent Lee said, it’s classified, but most of CBIRF’s postings in the last twenty years have focused on the Greater Middle East, where various despots have threatened to use chemical weapons.”

  Avery considered the implications. Major Vance, a high-ranking Marine from an elite unit dedicated to chemical and biological weapons research—tasked by President Stokes to serve as his liaison from the virtually unknown Science and Technology Directorate at the impenetrable DHS. Assigned to a region roiled by ethnic tensions. Hygeia. The Middle East. Chromosomal research. Biological weapons.

  Look to the river.

  She turned to Noah. “What’s going on with the case?”

  “I think we’re ready for the custody hearing on Monday, but I can ask Judge McAdoo to postpone again.”

  “Would she? I don’t know much about the bench at the probate court.”

  “I’ve appeared before her several times. She’s pretty fair-minded, but not a pushover. The higher your profile goes, the easier it is for Celeste to argue fitness.” He lifted his shoulders in a speculative shrug. “Postponement may buy us a few days to rebut the Gazette’s story. Maybe offer the Post an exclusive with you as counterprogramming.”

  “And she’ll still have Rita to hold over my head. The drug abuse and rehabs. They could insinuate that I may be like her.”

  “Guardianship is a judgment call, in the strictest sense. If Judge McAdoo doubts your ability to make good choices for Justice Wynn, she’s well within her rights to strip you of guardianship. If we had more proof of his intent—”

  “We do.” Bending, Avery snatched up her bag and rummaged inside. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you what we found in Georgia. I think this is the codicil.”

  “You found it?!”

  “Yes.” She placed the pages on the table and pushed them across to him. “Like you said, it was instructions in case of a catastrophic event. He left an advance health directive. This should help, right? Proves he wanted me in charge and not Celeste, unless I refused to follow his directions.”

  Noah reached for the papers. He read them over once, then again. After a third pass, he lifted his head to the expectant eyes watching him. “It’s an excellent start, except that he tells you he wants to die by the end of term. What the devil does he expect me to do with that?”

  “I don’t know,” Avery muttered. Noticing a frown from Ling, who was reading something on her tablet, Avery asked, “Is it Rita?”

  “No,” Ling soothed, “but it’s not good. Scott Curlee cites an unnamed source reporting that you’ve been suspended from the Supreme Court pending an investigation into drug use.” She shifted to include Noah in her field of vision. “The story speculates that Justice Wynn’s coma isn’t because of Boursin’s. They’re saying he OD’d.”

  Noah scoffed, “How did they get that? They’re just making things up now.”

  “They know a tox screen was run on his blood.” Ling slid the tablet to Avery. “It’s probably a leak from the lab. Unfortunately, his doctors cannot rebut the story without violating doctor-patient privilege.”

  “Should I put out a statement?” Avery asked, exhaustion deadening her voice. “There’s no guardian-ward privilege. Besides, we should have the results back by tomorrow.”

  “I should check with the senior partners and our PR guy,” Noah said. “How about you contact the press secretary at the Court? See what he advises.”

  Avery checked the time on her phone and whispered, “Guys, I have to make it to the Memorial by nine. It’s already eight thirty.”

  “I really don’t like the thought of you going alone,” Jared warned. “We can reconnect and reschedule.”

  “No.” Bending over her purse, she slipped her wallet out and into her pocket. “She’s already skittish. We reschedule, and I might not get another shot. If this isn’t Betty Papaleo, then we’re looking for a needle in a really big pile of needles. Ling, can I borrow your phone?”

  “Hold on,” Jared reminded her. “There’s an agent on the door, one near the elevator, and one downstairs. I could distract one, but not all three.”

  “What about the stairwell?” offered Ling. “We’re twelve stories up, but you’re young and it’s all downhill from here.”

  “Ha-ha. Noah, I assume the doors are key-coded but not the
stairwell doors for fire safety,” Avery clarified.

  “Correct, but you’ll need a key card to get out at the bottom floor. Lock deactivates in an emergency, but otherwise, you still need permission.”

  “Can you get me one?”

  “Of course,” Noah said, rising and heading for the door. “One key card and expensive press advice coming up.”

  “Ling, I need to know as much as you can find on the haplogroup research—even the weird rumors. If companies researched this, there had to be experiments or at least discussions. Backtrack all the scientists, and cross-reference their research and their employers.”

  “Sure thing, Columbo.”

  Fighting a smile, she instructed Jared, “The FOIA request from Justice Wynn. Can you find a quicker way to locate what he was asking for? A routine request from any one of us will take too long.”

  “I’m still not sold on you going out there alone.”

  “If Betty or Wilma is really a threat, I’ll be in the open. But unless someone has a better plan, I’m going. Now.”

  Agent Leighton frowned as Avery entered the corridor. “Ms. Keene, I just spoke to Mr. Fox about leaving. I’d prefer you all stay together,” she insisted.

  “I’m just going down the hall to his office,” Avery replied, pointing to the door that stood ajar a few yards away. “I have a question for Noah, and I’d like some privacy.”

  After considering the request, Agent Leighton inclined her head. The attorney’s office was also in her line of vision. “Quickly, please.”

  “Deal.” Before the woman could change her mind, Avery firmly shut the conference room door. She headed down the hall and entered his office, where he’d settled behind the desk. “Noah, key card, please.”

  “Sure.” He reached for his pocket to retrieve the disk of plastic.

  “One more question about the stairwell. Is it monitored?”

  “Not that they’ve told us lowly associates.”

  “Can you help distract Agent Leighton?” she asked. “I’ll be back by ten thirty at the latest.”

  “On it. The key card will let you out into the lobby. The coffee shop on the ground floor has a doorway to the alley, where folks like to smoke. You can duck through there and avoid the agents.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked into the hallway and up to Agent Leighton. Noah motioned through the soundproof glass to Jared, who came out to join them. “I’m going to put Avery in a guest office to do some research and talk to the hospital.”

  “Where is the office?”

  “Just down the hall.” Noah pointed to the far end of the corridor. “Office space is in short supply, and the hearing is Monday.”

  “Wait and I’ll summon another guard.” Agent Leighton lifted her wrist to her mouth.

  Noah began to protest, but Avery gave a short shake of her head. “Thanks, Agent Leighton. I appreciate you pulling another agent in from the field.”

  “No, I’m redeploying one of the three assigned to this detail.”

  Jared asked, “So the lobby will be unprotected?”

  “Not at all. I’ll move the agent at the elevator down to Ms. Keene’s position.”

  “But from my experience, the elevator is a blind spot, isn’t it?” Jared countered dramatically. “If there’s a danger zone, it’s the elevator.”

  Slightly annoyed, Agent Leighton exhaled and decided to retake control of her post. “I have a clear sight line to the office down the hall. Mr. Fox will escort Ms. Keene there and return to his office. No one will be reassigned.”

  Avery and Noah headed to the empty office, and Agent Leighton stared down the hall at Avery’s position. Noah angled himself to block a clear view. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Timing her movement, Avery waited until Noah had nearly closed the office door, then darted out and around the corner, into the firm’s library. Per Noah’s instructions, she located the exit door on the other side of the space, and she hurried into the stairwell.

  She hoofed down the first five flights with ease, but by the tenth, she was grateful for her choice of jeans and sneakers. The door opened near the coffee shop, as Noah had described. Avery eased into the crowd of morning customers and moved toward the alley with her head down. A block away from the building, she hailed a cab. “The Lincoln Memorial, please.”

  The driver plowed through traffic, and Avery dialed Gary Stewart’s office. “Gary, it’s Avery.”

  “New phone?” His morning coffee unusually alcohol-free, Gary gulped down the hot brew. “Smart move. I see you’ve been a busy girl.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “So does the Chief. We talked after your mother’s visit. Figured this would be the next salvo.”

  “What should I do?” Avery slumped in the backseat. “They know I was suspended.”

  “Which is why Matt Brewer has been terminated.” The note of satisfaction was difficult to hide. “Apparently, he got a nice advance from a rag to do a tell-all interview. Parts leaked out to PoliticsNOW.”

  “What? How did you find out it was him?”

  “I’ve been in this game a long time,” he reminded her balefully. “Brewer’s out, but you should be worried about Scott Curlee.”

  “I am. The custody hearing is Monday, Gary. I was thinking of putting out my own statement. Maybe doing an interview to set the record straight.”

  Gary had mulled over the same idea. Already, his desk was littered with interview requests. “Best bet is damage control, Avery. Your lawyer ask for another postponement?”

  “He’ll try, but I’m not sure if it will work,” she said. “Judge McAdoo is probably being pressured by Celeste’s attorneys to move quickly.”

  “I might have an ex-boyfriend over there who owes me a favor,” he hedged. “Let me make a call.”

  “Thank you…”

  “Let me call, Avery—don’t thank me yet.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Avery stepped out of the cab a block from the Lincoln Memorial. Quickly, she made her way through the summer morning crowd and down to the exhibit. Entering the space, she scanned the milling visitors for a red scarf and a blue column. Avery located the columns first. A check of her watch said 8:59. Right on time. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the square of red cloth. Draping the kerchief around her throat, she pretended to read the panels inside the glass cases. And waited.

  Ten minutes later, Avery remained alone.

  At 9:30, she was antsy. By 9:45, impatience had transmuted into worry. Realizing she’d already pushed her luck with the FBI, Avery turned to leave. She bumped into a man strolling around the other side of the pillars and nearly lost her balance. His hands closed on her arms to steady her.

  “Very sorry,” she muttered in apology, and she rushed away, wondering what had happened to Betty Papaleo, a.k.a. Wilma.

  * * *

  —

  Ling and Jared looked up as Avery came inside. Aware of Agent Leighton’s attention, Ling asked, “Finish what you were working on?”

  “Couldn’t find what I was looking for.” She took a seat and dialed Agent Lee.

  He answered on the first ring. “Ms. Yin?”

  “No, it’s Avery.”

  “Good. I was about to come and visit you.”

  “Good news?”

  “Nope.” From the blocked-off corridor, Agent Lee signaled to his team to fall back from the apartment. “We did an external sweep so as not to alert your videographer, but Mr. Wynn was correct. Your place is wired like a Christmas tree.”

  “When did they get inside?”

  “No way to tell.”

  “Any way to track who ‘they’ are?” Avery asked.

  “Perhaps.” His team had canvassed the building, hunting for a transmitter. Nothing inside the
building or nearby carried the bandwidth of the surveillance devices in her apartment. According to his tech team, the devices were top-grade and, if he wasn’t mistaken, in common use by the more secretive levels of the federal government. The expensive hypertech of the professional spy, not the sort of equipment they gave to the FBI—but probably handed out like candy to Homeland Security. “It may take a few days.”

  “Agent Lee, can you find somebody for me?”

  “I promise we’re still looking for your mother, Avery. You know it’s not easy to locate someone who’s hiding from the law.”

  “Yes, I know you’re looking, but I’d also like to find someone else. Dr. Betty Papaleo, in the Science and Technology Directorate at Homeland.”

  There was a pause on the line. “Why do you need to find her?”

  With a look across the table at Jared, she explained, “I have reason to believe she agreed to meet me this morning.”

  “Meet you at the law firm?”

  “No. The Lincoln Memorial.”

  “You left the firm?”

  Not wanting to burn Agent Leighton, she prevaricated: “Against your orders? I wouldn’t risk it. But I don’t want to lose a potential contact.”

  “Contact about what?”

  “She’s a possible thread, Agent Lee. I’m trying to gather information. She agreed to meet me before the latest scandal broke. Just to answer some questions.”

  “Questions you don’t want to ask Major Vance? Or questions about him?”

  “The former. Will you help me?”

  Agent Lee savored the request, one of the few Avery had put in the form of a question. “If you’d told me your plans, I could have brought her in to see you. Calling her didn’t work?”

  “No, I haven’t been able to reach her. It’s critical that I speak with her today.”

  “I’ll need to know about what.” Agent Lee could hear the note of urgency and, if he wasn’t mistaken, fear. “Why are you meeting with one of Major Vance’s employees?”