The Court (33 page)

“So?”

The dean did not resume walking. He stood there, his hands clasped behind him. “You are a partner in one of the nation's finest law firms, I realize that. And, based on that, I have a rough idea of your income, which I hazard goes beyond being merely substantial. I suspect that you may have aimed for that partnership in the same way I aimed to become head of a great law school.”

Green made no reply.

“At our age, despite success, men sometimes look for a change in career. Isn't that so? I have seen that in so many of our contemporaries.”

“Yes, the middle-age syndrome.”

Pentecost beamed. “Yes. Now I rather suspect you were sent down here for more than the mere purpose of asking one simple question. The state national committeeman here is a dear personal friend of mine. The question and answer could have just as easily been handled through him. Therefore, I surmise, there's an additional purpose.”

Green began walking, forcing the dean to resume.

“Jerry, I know you've talked to the university's president about me. I know also you've talked to some of the faculty. I understand you even spoke to our resident weasel, Malcolm Whittle. Judging by all that effort on your part, I think the White House is looking for some sort of personal appraisal by you. Am I correct?”

Green walked on a bit before answering. “They want an appraisal. I imagine this is being duplicated by others who are looking at other candidates for the job. A great deal rides on who is selected for the Court. The President has to be sure that the person has the ability to fight his or her way through the Judiciary Committee. And he needs to know the stand on the electoral question, of course. But in addition, he has to have some general appreciation of the character of the candidate.”

“And that's your job?”

“I'm just part of it. I suppose they'll take my report and add it to the other information they have about you and make a judgment from there.”

The dean pursed his lips and blew through them, then smiled. “I suspect you are a most competent lawyer, but you really are a rather poor liar.”

“Liar?”

Pentecost nodded. “A strong word, I admit. But you weren't plucked out of Harley Dingell and made Special Counsel to the President just so your observation could be made part of a collection of other material. That doesn't stand to reason, and you know it.”

“I rather resent.…”

“Why don't we drop all this pretense, Green. My fortunes probably stand or fall on what you say. Don't deny it, there's no tape recorder here.”

Green again hesitated before replying. “My personal assessment will carry great weight, or so I'm told.”

“Or so you're told? Modesty is such a becoming virtue, isn't it? Well, you asked me about trading cases, didn't you? You know as well as I that to question me about how I might dispose of a case is highly improper. But I answered it, did I not?”

“You did.”

“Then who is the greater sinner, Mr. Green? Who is less worthy of confidence? The man who answers the improper question, or the man who asks it?”

Green laughed despite himself.

“So here we are, you and I, a couple of very dishonorable fellows, trading away a significant portion of the country's constitution for the promise of a job. Isn't that what it amounts to?”

“That's one way of looking at it.”

“Ah, of course, never give the opponent a point, right? I tell you, sir, that's the only way to look at it. You can, in all good conscience, report that since I answered the question in expectation of appointment, I do not possess the necessary integrity to perform the job. If you did that, do you know what would happen?”

“I think I do,” Green said, trying to keep the sudden irritation out of his voice.

“No, you don't, not if you're becoming angry about it. The gentlemen who sent you, the President included, are politicians, not civics teachers. They'd laugh at your naivete.”

“I think you're wrong.”

Pentecost sighed. “You know, you look like me. We are the same age. I suspect we even think alike. That's why I'm speaking to you quite openly, something I usually tend to avoid. But you're an intelligent man, and I know this is a high stakes game, at least it is for me. I want that damn job very much. Sure, I'd like to be in a position where I could tell you to go take a jump, to protest the impertinence and impropriety of your questions. But if I did that, your people wouldn't take me for a man of integrity, they'd take me for an imbecile. Look at it from my point of view. If there was a good and valid reason for me to go the other way on the Electoral College case, if it was truly against my conscience, I would tell you so, believe me. But what's really at stake in that case? It's a mere political question. No one will be denied due process, no fundamental rights will be destroyed. So as worldly gentlemen, in good conscience, you can ask it and I can answer it. Had that occurred to you?”

Green looked at Pentecost. The blandness had gone. There was real animation in his face now, a hard-eyed salesman moving in to close a deal.

“When I came to this law school, the most powerful man in the legislature, then and now, was State Senator Jacob Rock.” Pentecost turned and gestured toward the law school building, jutting above all its neighbors. “You know how I got what I wanted? A knowledge of human nature, that's how. Jacob Rock is a wealthy man, a millionaire several times over. Self-made in every way. He had only an eighth-grade education. Now I suspected he just might be touchy about that. I gently raised it with him and he was painfully defensive. To make a long story short, I arranged for him to take certain tests in general subjects and political science here at the university. I had to twist a few arms but Senator Rock is now a graduate of this university. All quite aboveboard and legal. He's well read and he easily passed all the exams. And getting him that degree is the thing that got me the funds for an A-1 the law school. He was grateful, and you've seen the result.”

“What are you getting at?”

“A bribe.”

“Pardon me?”

“Oh, I could substitute a host of nicer words, but it would remain a bribe, nevertheless.”

Green stopped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“A knowledge of human nature, just as with Senator Rock. The way I figure it, Jerry”—it was the first time he had used the name with ease—“you took that White House stint because you aren't completely satisfied with your lot in life. It's a guess, but I think maybe you aren't so happy with good old Harley Dingell, or perhaps they aren't happy with you. It happens. In any event, if you put in a good word for me, I'll see you get that professorship in administrative law. You'll take a hell of a cut in income, but we do pay better than all other American law schools, so you won't live in poverty by any means. You'll be away from the strife of Washington and back home. A nice happy lifetime job, no stress, no cares. As a bribe it really isn't much, but it's the only thing I can think to offer you.”

“You certainly throw words around loosely.”

“Or truthfully,” Pentecost snapped. “Don't you think I could just as easily put my arm around your shoulders and tell you of the great need this school has for a man of your background and experience. I could do that, hell, I do that all the time. But you're an intelligent man, you'd know that no matter how sugar-coated, it would still be a bribe. So what's wrong with the truth?”

“Would you write your decisions in such a candid manner?”

The dean laughed. “No. Never. The truth is a very dangerous weapon and should be used most sparingly. I would follow the lead of my predecessors on the Supreme Court and take several pages to say in very long words what could easily be condensed into a sentence. I won't embarrass the President or you, don't worry.”

“Well, I suppose that's it then,” Green said, stopping and turning. “I've made my improper inquiry, you've made your improper response, and thrown in a bribe to boot. I would guess we have gone as far as we can about the nation's business. Shall we go back?”

The dean slapped him on the back. “When you walked into my office today I thought to myself that you were a man I could really talk to. What's your decision?”

Green looked at the rising prow of the law school in the distance. “I'll have to give it some thought. That doesn't mean my report will be unfavorable. But it doesn't mean it will be favorable either.”

The dean looked puzzled. “Is there something additional I can do for you?”

Green was about to answer no, then the germ of an idea popped into his mind.

“Maybe there is. Do you know much about the other cases coming before the Court?”

“Always be prepared, as the Boy Scouts say.”

“What would be your position on the Marchall case?”

Pentecost frowned. “The antitrust case? Is the President interested in that?”

“I suppose you might say he was pro business.” Green paused. “I'm informed Harley Dingell will offer the oral argument on behalf of Marchall.”

The dean smiled broadly. “Well now, I'm pro business myself. I rather think the Marchall company can count on my vote.”

Green nodded. “Out of curiosity, how would you go on the rational suicide issue?”

“Is the President interested in that?”

“Not that I know of,” Green replied.

“Well, I have no strong feelings one way or the other. What does the media call the nun involved, Sister Death? Well, we put animals out of their misery, I suppose we can extend the same courtesy to our fellow man on occasion. I would probably vote to acquit the nun.”

“And the affirmative action case, the one about the police department?”

“Again, just curiosity?” Pentecost asked.

“Yes.”

The dean walked along silently for a moment. “Again, I have no firm position. If I voted to continue the quota system what harm could it do? It would just make our black cities a bit blacker, right? It's going to happen anyway. A vote in favor would look good to the liberals. Yes, I'd probably vote to maintain that hiring system.” He looked at Green. “Unless, of course, it would make a difference to the administration.”

“What about the freedom of the press issue. They have a case coming up about press negligence.…”

“Ah, I know all about that one.” Pentecost beamed. “Does the President have a position?”

“No.”

Pentecost chuckled. “Well, if I vote for the nun and against the police, the liberals would love me, of course. On that basis I'd have to vote to stick it to the media, so to speak, just to demonstrate that I was even-handed. That's a decision that would please the conservatives. Actually, the press has too much power as it is.”

Green walked along without comment.

“Do those answers upset you?” Pentecost still had the confident half smile on his face.

“No.”

“Then I presume your report will be favorable.”

Green continued to walk, almost feeling the raw ambition radiating from the man next to him. “If I told you I honestly haven't made up my mind, would you believe me?”

“Probably not. What else do you need?”

Green thought of Regina, of his own life. “I need some time to think,” he answered honestly.

*   *   *

The dean returned to the law school and Green trudged on toward the center of the campus. Classes were changing and Green again had to weather the trampling herd of bundled students, all rushing, bumping, and converging like rapids in a turbulent river. He floated along with the sea of parkas and polas fleece jackets, without thought, just walking aimlessly.

He found himself in front of the School of Nursing. He stopped, half climbing up a mound of snow to escape the passing students.

He wondered if she was inside. It seemed he could almost project Regina's soft features on the side of that building. He dwelled mentally on her large, loving eyes. It had been a very long time since he had a real relationship with anyone. He was no longer open or trusting. Everything in his life was at dagger point, emotions, thoughts, reactions—a constant barter and trade position. He longed to stand unarmed before someone, to feel secure against emotional or intellectual attack. Regina offered that. It wasn't romance that he hungered for, it was the peace of emotional safety. He would have that here.

He surveyed the passing throng of students. Teaching law wouldn't be unpleasant. There would be challenge. There was always that from the emerging abilities of the competitive minds found in any law school. But the challenges would be easily handled. They weren't to be feared, they were to be enjoyed.

Green had always liked the campus as a boy, it still held a fascination for him. It was indeed home. Here he experienced a feeling of safe harbor.

The mass of students also thinned out as they found their destinations. He began to walk again, this time coming to the building that housed his brother's office. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming need to see his brother and talk to him.

The eight-year difference in their ages had been more like an entire generation when they were young. They weren't close. However, sometimes, especially when life seemed most perilous, he had sought out his older brother's counsel. It had been given with a certain disdain, but given nevertheless—short, practical, and usually correct.

Green stepped up the walk into the Anthropology Building and climbed the stairs of his brother's office. He tapped gently on the door.

A woman, who looked like a permanent employee, stopped. “Can I help you?”

“I'm looking for Professor Green.”

“Oh, he's at home today. A bit under the weather, I understand.”

“Thank you.”

There was a pay phone in the building's lobby. He found Hank's number and called. It was answered immediately by Adele.