THIRTY-FIVE

He took us to the Supreme Court.

Lisa and I didn’t say much as we tried to keep up with Finnerty’s Marquis through the streets on the way to Capitol Hill, to keep up with the much faster car without being spotted. We spent the time listening instead for some sound from the microphone I’d planted in the ADIC’s car, but we heard nothing more than car sounds. Tires against the road, engine accelerating and backing off, the tiny squeal of disc brakes. At least the bug was working.

Before we got to the Supreme Court building, just off Capitol Plaza on First Street, I’d already called Gerard at the embassy. It was time to bring him and his people into play.

My microphone in Finnerty’s car was a necessary hedge against the chance that the ADIC would choose somewhere other than his own home to attack Brenda Thompson, but it wasn’t good enough anymore. It hung the entire operation on the premise that he’d use his bureau Marquis instead, and that was nowhere near a certainty. Or that he’d use any car at all for that matter.

Gerard and his laser technician—the same guy from yesterday at the embassy—had been standing by for just such an emergency. They were on the street moments after I called, had joined Lisa and me in the drain-cleaning van not five minutes after we’d stopped on Capitol Hill, far enough away from Finnerty’s car to keep him from spotting us in the darkness.

I could see his black Marquis perfectly, however, parked under the pallid streetlights along the circular driveway that ran through Capitol Plaza, the grass and tree-covered area outside the less-photographed back side of the Capitol. It was eight-fifty-three now, and the plaza was pretty much empty of pedestrians or vehicles. It had turned colder during the day, and it wasn’t raining for a change.

“Hope the weather holds,” the laser tech said as he went through the process of aiming his machine at Finnerty’s car, our only option now that we had no clue where the Thompson meeting would occur. “Conditions are absolutely perfect,” he continued, “as long as it doesn’t rain, and this thing goes down inside one of the two cars.”

I took a moment to call Brodsky.

“Still here,” he told me when I asked. “Wax’s van is parked out front. He hasn’t come out all day.”

I told him what we were doing, that I’d get back to him the moment we finished. He told me he’d call if Vincent Wax made a move.

At nine-o-seven, a second car pulled into the parking space behind Finnerty’s. A tan Volvo sedan, couple of years old, not the sleeker body style of the new ones. A moment later, Judge Brenda Thompson got out of the car and walked toward the black Marquis.

“Finnerty’s car,” I told the laser tech. “With what I put in his trunk, we won’t need you after all.”

But Finnerty fooled us.

“Goddamnit!” I growled, as the ADIC got out of his car and joined Brenda Thompson halfway between the two automobiles. They weren’t going to use either car. Now we had to scramble.

I turned to Gerard, but he and his tech guy were already reaching for other equipment, something to eavesdrop on a conversation in the open air. Most likely a parabolic mike, but even that wouldn’t be any good if Finnerty took her for a walk instead, which was exactly what I would do in his place. I had a sudden picture of them walking along, our van rolling next to them, then shook my head to chase it away.

I watched through my binoculars as the two of them stood outside his car and talked. A moment later he turned and pointed at the magnificent Supreme Court building across First Street. In the crisp clear air the building was lighted from top to bottom and shone like a lighthouse beacon. Through my binoculars I could see clearly the famous words on the pediment above the massive collection of marble columns out front. Equal justice under law. The promise to those who came to petition the Court. Reading them again tonight I shook my head. Not if Kevin Finnerty had his way.

My cell phone rang.

Brodsky’s voice was urgent, but remained flatly professional.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said. “Wax just came outside, got into the van, and drove it into the parking garage under his building. It’s got a security gate. I can’t get in there, I can’t see him anymore. I don’t know if there’s a back way out, and if I check he could disappear on me.”

He hung up but his words lingered.

Wax was out of pocket.

The man with orders to kill was out there on his own.

I watched as Finnerty clapped his arms around himself and stomped his feet, suffering from the cold. He pointed at the judge’s Volvo, and they walked to it together. Brenda Thompson opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat. Finnerty went around and got in the other side.

Now what?

Do they drive? Again what I’d do. Or do they stay?

As though reading my mind, Lisa started the van’s engine and we waited for the judge’s car to move out.

It didn’t.

I could hear through the supersensitive mike in Finnerty’s backseat the sound of the Volvo’s engine starting, but a moment later it died again.

I turned to the laser tech. He had his gadget trained on the Volvo’s driver’s-side window. He put his fingers to his lips, then reached to turn up the volume. Suddenly the voices in the Volvo were not only clear but immediately recognizable. I glanced at the tape machine next to the interferometer console and nodded to the tech as I saw that he’d already turned the recorder on.

“No, I won’t!” Judge Thompson was saying. “I won’t move this car one inch until you tell me what this is all about!”

“Suit yourself,” Finnerty said, his own voice dead calm. “We can talk about Brookston just as well right here as anywhere else.”

“Brookston? You want to talk about Brookston now? Hours from my confirmation? What the hell is wrong with you people?” She paused and her voice got angrier. “I gave your agents this information twenty-four hours ago. Why wait till now to bring this to me?”

“My agents?”

“Monk and Sands, the agents handling my investigation. They must have reported it to you by now.” Her voice turned icy. “I cannot imagine why you’re talking to me about it tonight … and here. Since when does the bureau conduct business like this in an automobile?”

“You’re fortunate we’re in this car. If I had my way, we’d be talking in a jail cell.”

“Are you crazy? Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Fortunately I do. What you are is a baby killer, Judge. A murderer. Not a goddamned thing more than that.”

A pause.

“This meeting is over,” Brenda Thompson said. I saw her car door swing open before she said, “I’m leaving. I want you out of this car when I get back.”

“Close the goddamned door!” Finnerty shouted. “This meeting isn’t Over until I say it is.”

The door swung closed again. I could hear the solid clunk as it engaged the latch.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” she said, breathing hard. “What I did became legal a few weeks later. I’ve already told your people about it,” she repeated. “You’ve already told the president. He hasn’t said a word to me.”

“Nobody told the president anything, Judge. Nobody will tell him now. Not now, not ever.”

“Than what’s the point?” She paused again. “You can’t be serious. This can’t be what I think it is.”

“It would be a mistake to believe that.”

“You don’t know me very well, do you, Finnerty? How could you imagine I’d allow you to blackmail me like this?” She paused again, just barely this time. “The president will have my letter of resignation in the morning.”

“He will not. I will destroy you if you tell him.”

“You’ve already destroyed me. You’ve made sure I’ll never be a Supreme Court justice.”

“When I’m finished you won’t be any kind of judge at all. You’ll have to move to the Third World to keep people from pointing and staring at you.”

“And the alternative is what? Waiting around for your next order?”

“You’re a quick study.”

“I’ll see you in hell first.”

“You can do that. Of course you can, but you’d be overreacting, Judge. You’ll never see me in person again, never even talk to me. When it’s necessary to enlist your help, you’ll know it without me having to tell you.”

She said nothing. The silence grew until Finnerty broke it again.

“In fact, we’re finished here tonight,” he said, “and you’ll feel differently in the morning. Trust me, Judge. In the morning you will understand.”