W: The Planner, The Chosen (41 page)

“There is one more item in their response that is really fascinating to me, and I wanted to share it with you before you leave,” Julian continued. “The final argument that the Solicitor General makes against giving trials to the detainees is that the cost of bringing the detainees to trial would be burdensomely expensive to the taxpayers since they would each incur court costs, and many would require a defense furnished for them in accordance with the U.S. Constitution. The number of trials that this would necessitate would also be ‘unduly burdensome on the court system, restricting the normal administration of justice.’  Therefore, in the interests of saving the taxpayers money and keeping the courts flowing, they ask that the detainees be denied the right to a trial.”

“Yeah, since when did anybody in this government care about saving the taxpayers money? If there’s one thing we ought to be spending money on, it’s trials for the people who have been scooped up without any due process,” Keith remarked. “But say, I thought they had less than one hundred people detained—or at the most just a few hundred people locked up out of the whole entire United States. That shouldn’t bankrupt the taxpayers or overburden the courts.  They ought to be able to get those trials out of the way in a couple of months.”

“Exactly,” answered Julian. “That’s my point.  The Administration’s main talking point is that
The Line
Up
is a lie. No more than a few hundred people, at most, have been detained.  But this argument is an implicit admission that the real numbers are much higher—much closer to the numbers that NDAA opponents have been using.  You’re right on point about this—if it were only a few hundred people, the cost argument does not stand.  But if we are talking about somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000—which are the numbers that many people believe are more accurate—those kinds of numbers are the equivalent of putting every resident of a small city on trial.  The court costs would be staggering, plus there would be the issue of finding legal representation for all of the detainees and of scheduling the trials. So this…” he tapped the Solicitor General’s response with his pen, “this is a very interesting turn of events. To pursue this argument, the government may finally have to stop dancing around this issue and provide us with an accurate number of men and women who are being detained.” Julian looked victorious.

Kris noted his exuberance, but she did not share it.  After all, did it really matter how many Americans had been detained if the Court did not rule that their confinement was unconstitutional? “That’s promising,” she tried to sound upbeat.  “What’s the next step?”

“Now that I have filed and the Solicitor General has responded, the Court will schedule the oral arguments.”

“So, you go in and present the information in your…brief, or whatever?” asked Keith.

“Not exactly. The Justices will have already reviewed the brief and the response.  The oral arguments give us an opportunity to answer any questions that the Court may have. They will also give us a good indication of how the Justices feel about our arguments. We can determine a lot about how our case looks from the questions they ask and how they respond to our answers.  I will let you know as soon as we have a date to appear before the Court. In the meantime, keep giving the interviews, and keep your heads down when you’re not in front of the media.  It should be only a few weeks before we are on the docket.”

Keith and Kris said goodbye to Julian and stepped out of his office into the chilly autumn afternoon air.  The trees were turning bright gold and orange as they drove back to Baltimore. Kris wondered how Michael and Jeff were dealing with the fall weather. Were they cold? Were they outdoors in tents? Were they being held underground where they could not even see daylight?

Julian was doing his best work on this case—of that Kris was completely certain. She appreciated his hard work and his diligence, but she wished sometimes that she could shake him and tell him that he needed to work faster.  Then she would remind herself that he had always told her that this could be a long process. At least they were moving through the channels to get a ruling that might release Michael and Jeff and reunite their family.  For now, all she could do was wait and pray.

Chapter 23

“
T
onight our special guest is Supreme Court Chief Justice Franklin Prescott Dillon,” host Brent Adams announced to his primetime television audience. Adams hosted the top-rated political talk television show in the U.S., and when the announcement was made that the Supreme Court would hear a case to rule on the constitutionality of the provisions of the NDAA that allowed the arrests, detentions, and executions of American citizens without a trial, Adams had moved quickly to secure the first interview with the Chief Justice.

Franklin Dillon was already seated in one of the guest chairs behind the curved desk that dominated the set of
The Brent Adams Show
. Dillon disliked being on camera; he was a man who always chose his words carefully, but seated at that desk with millions of Americans watching, he was afraid that he would say something that would make him sound foolish or, at least, unprepared. He had agreed to come on the show only because a controversy had erupted as to whether the Court could legally hear cases and hand down decisions when the Supreme Court Building was in lockdown. Because President Quincy had said that he wanted the case heard immediately, however, Dillon was determined to address the matter personally in a public forum.

“Mr. Chief Justice,” Adams began, “as you know, there is widespread disagreement over whether the Court has the authority to act outside the Court Chamber. Since the case being brought before you is the first one that the Court has heard in more than three years, the public is concerned that the Court’s decision might later be thrown out on a technicality.

“We had heard rumors that the Supreme Court Building will be reopened for this case, but this morning Press Secretary John Null said that the building has not been cleared for use and that this will not happen.

“I think everyone’s concerned that if the Court meets outside the Court Chamber the ruling may later be struck down on the basis that the Court had no authority to hand down a decision from an alternate location. It is being argued that since the Supreme Court Building is officially closed, the Court is not in session, and any decision will be meaningless. Please tell our audience what we do in a case like this.”

The Chief Justice sat perfectly straight in his chair with his hands folded on the desk in front of him. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, and when he began to speak, his voice sounded strained. “Let me begin by giving you some background on the meeting places of the Supreme Court since it was first established.

“The Court’s first meeting place was the Merchants Exchange Building in New York City. In 1790, however, the nation’s Capital was moved to Philadelphia. At that time the Court moved with it and set up Chambers in Independence Hall, but later the Court moved to City Hall. In 1800 the federal government established the permanent Capital in Washington, D.C. and, once again, the Supreme Court moved with it.”

As the Chief Justice warmed to his subject, he began to relax and his voice became less strained. After what had amounted to three years in exile, he was actually enjoying lecturing an audience of millions—educating them on the history of the Court. It felt good to be back in the public’s eye. It felt good to have the entire nation hanging on his every word. It felt good to be in control.

The Chief Justice continued, “Since no provision had been made for a place for the Court to meet, Congress allowed the Justices to meet in the new Capitol Building. The Court moved a half-dozen times while it was meeting in the Capitol Building—meeting in various rooms there for various periods of time. When the British burned the Capitol during the War of 1812, the Court met in a private residence. Then, in 1819 the Court returned to the restored Capitol Building, and until 1860 met in a room now referred to as the Old Supreme Court Chamber. In 1860 the Court moved for the final time in the Capitol to what is now known as the Old Senate Chamber.

“In fact, construction on the building that we know as the Supreme Court Building was not begun until 1932. It was completed in 1935, and has been the home of the Court since then, until the building was closed three and a half years ago. I think that the problem is that so many Americans have toured the Supreme Court Building, and those who haven’t have seen so many pictures of it, that they have come to think of the building as the Court.

“The building was designed to convey the importance and dignity of the Court as a coequal, independent branch of the United States Government. Furthermore, it is a symbol of the national ideal of justice in the highest sphere of activity. However, the Supreme Court Building is not the Supreme Court. The Supreme Court is nine Justices who meet together to rule on the constitutionality of various laws passed by the legislative branch. Since the Court’s inception, the Justices have met in numerous places under widely varied conditions, but those circumstances have not affected the validity of our rulings.

“Justices are appointed for life, so those appointments impact on the direction the country will take for many years to come. If the Justices succumb to the temptation to legislate from the bench and hand down decisions based on their personal ideas of what is best for the nation, the country suffers. When we do our job, however, and hand down decisions based solely on whether a particular law is constitutional, the country benefits. That is the primary purpose of the Court—to decide whether a particular law violates the Constitution. When the Justices follow those principles, it does not matter where we meet; we will have performed our duty to the people of the United States.

“Speaker of the House Ron Richards has agreed to allow the Court to meet once again in the Old Supreme Court Chamber in the Capitol Building to decide the case that has been brought against the NDAA. President Quincy has made a public statement that he recognizes the Court’s authority to rule in this matter and will not challenge its decision. Tonight I can assure the American people that the Court’s decision will be both legal and binding.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Brent Adams responded. “I am sure that we have all learned a lot about the Court this evening. But let me ask you this: Don’t you think that it might be best to leave the questions concerning the powers of the NDAA to the lawmakers? I mean, after all, if the people don’t like a law, they let their elected officials hear about it. It seems extreme for the Supreme Court to rule on something that can be decided in the houses of Congress.”

For the first time the Chief Justice smiled, and his eyes sparkled, “Why, Brent, don’t you want to know what we think?” he asked.

Chapter 24

L
ess than five minutes after Kris left the house to go meet with Julian one morning, Keith received a text message on the burner cell phone that David had given him.  He had not actually spoken to David since the meeting with Jessie and Kyle, but only David had this number so only David could have sent the text.

The text message ordered, “Check your email.”  Keith logged into the secure account that he had given David for sending the photos, but this email had no photos attached. Instead, Keith read the following message:

“You are being watched closely. Leave the television on upstairs. Do not go out into the street. Exit the house using the tunnel. When you reach the street, you will see a late model Nissan, license plate GAZ681, parked at a meter. When you reach the car, text STREET, and I will unlock the doors remotely and start the engine for you.  Drive to the harbor and meet me by the docks. Bring the mobile phone that you use to communicate with Jessie. Leave now. The situation is urgent.”

“What?” Keith reread the message.  Was this some kind of a joke? David didn’t seem like much of a prankster. Keith ran back upstairs and turned on the television. He routinely kept all of the windows covered so that passersby would be less aware of who lived there and what they might be doing. That was partly because Keith had always assumed that federal authorities were watching the house and partly because he knew that in a neighborhood as crime-infested as this one someone would surely be watching.

Hurrying downstairs he opened the tunnel and stepped into it. From inside the tunnel he could only move the temporary wall hiding the opening part of the way—usually the door was closed from inside the house rather than inside the tunnel. He hoped that whoever was watching would not come in and find it. Maybe they were just waiting for confirmation that he was gone to come in and search the house. Maybe the house had been a trap all along. Oddly enough, it never occurred to him that this meeting with David might also be a trap, and he made his way through the tunnel as quickly as he could. 

Keith’s level of physical fitness had varied widely in his life. At one point his weight had ballooned to 250 pounds, and he had not been able to even walk around the park without becoming winded.  Three years later he had trimmed down to 145 pounds and had run a half marathon. At this point in his life he was solidly between those two extremes—certainly not overweight and generally healthy but in no condition to run a marathon either. He hurried along at as much of a jog as was possible in the small tunnel with stale air and no light; his pace was just sufficient to allow him to trip a few times without falling down.

Finally, Keith saw the light from the street. The grate was open at the end of the tunnel, and he slipped out onto the street without being noticed and squinted in the sunlight looking for the car. Across the street from him several cars were parked by meters; he crossed and found the right one.  Immediately after sending his text message he heard the car doors unlock and the engine start.  Within seconds he was behind the wheel heading to the address David had given him. As he drove his uneasiness grew. Keith liked conspiracies, subterfuge, and cloak and dagger, but the events of the last few months had caused most of the excitement to evaporate leaving, instead, a cold growing fear that he too would become another nameless person in a government prison. When he had lived alone in his trailer near the Lincoln National Forest, he had fallen asleep many nights thinking that one day the Feds would come for him, and he would have a glorious standoff with the government in which he would die in a huge firefight. That had seemed glamorous at the time, especially since there were no federal agents and there was no danger of a firefight—just the night sounds of the forest as small animals fled capture by larger ones and insects sang themselves to sleep. Since his parents’ deaths, the danger had become real and personal—no longer just a fantasy. But witnessing Michael’s and Jeff’s arrests had made it more personal still—he had seen them handcuffed and shuttled off to some unnamed prison, and now he dreamed many nights that he and Kris were being arrested too.  In those dreams there was no firefight—no glory—just a terrible icy fear and a sense of betrayal as government agents took him away. He had never told Kris about those nightmares, but they had become so frequent that he dreaded going to sleep. Now as he neared the docks he wondered if this were the day that his nightmares were going to become reality. For the first time, he wondered if maybe this were a trap. After all, what did he really know about David? He had flippantly told Jessie and Kyle that he would vouch for David because he was a good judge of character, but how could he vouch for someone he hardly knew? How could he have revealed so much to a stranger on the basis of a gut feeling?

David was waiting for him at the docks. For an instant Keith had an impulse to keep driving, but he couldn’t.  David knew where they lived; he knew about the tunnel; he could enter the house without Kris ever even knowing he was there. No, Keith had to find out what this was all about.

Getting out of the car he tried to stay calm and appear relaxed, “What’s up?”

“Walk with me,” David responded. “You’re being watched and followed everywhere. The Feds are desperate to stop
The
Line Up,
and they’re positive that you and Kris are involved. You can’t meet with Jessie and Kyle again nor can you have any contact with them. Arresting Kris would be awkward right now because of the publicity she’s getting. Arresting you is awkward because you’re her brother and the light shining on her illuminates you a little too. That’s the only reason you’re still walking around. But Jessie and Kyle are a different story—if the Feds find them they won’t just arrest them—they’ll kill them both immediately.”

“If I don’t work with Jessie and Kyle, they can’t get the pictures and that stops
The
Line Up
anyway.  What am I supposed to do?”

David ignored his other comments. “Did you bring the phone?”

Keith nodded and reluctantly pulled it out of his pocket. 

“Text Jessie:  ‘No more emails. Situation serious.  Do not send Kyle back to the house. He has been spotted.’”

Keith looked up from the texting. “Spotted?  How?”

“The Feds have some informants on the street.  They flagged a skinny kid in a hoodie making two trips to the building.  They don’t know who he is yet, but if he goes back, they will. Text this to Kyle, ‘Pick up flash drive with photos at noon at the corner of Center Street and Michigan Avenue. Wait there; someone will find you.  Don’t be late. No hoodie.’”

As soon as the message had finished sending, David took the phone from Keith’s hand and threw it into the harbor. Keith watched in shock as it sank beneath the water.

When he looked back at David he saw that he was holding a flash drive.  “Insert this into your laptop. It will wipe out the hard drive. If your laptop is seized, the best Homeland Security techie won’t even be able to find evidence that it once contained a spell checker.  Use it as soon as you get back. The White House is about to announce that
The
Line Up
is the most heinous act of domestic terrorism to affect our country in years; the Feds can search your house without a warrant whenever they want to, and that includes searching and taking your laptop.”

“What makes you think they haven’t searched it already?” Keith asked.

“I would have heard about it. They’re not the only ones with informants.”

“Who are you?” Keith stared at David.

“Don’t ask. From now on, stay with Kris. Go where she goes; go to her meetings with Cicchetti; go to her interviews. Tell her you’re concerned about her safety now that the case is getting so much attention. Don’t leave her side, and don’t take any more risks. You’ve done what you needed to do.  Take care of yourself, Keith.”

David slapped him on the shoulder, got into the car, and drove away, leaving Keith standing on the docks. He stared down at the water for quite a while before starting his long walk back. Suspecting that the Feds were watching his every move was one thing—hearing it confirmed was another. To learn that David had been watching him too was equally disconcerting. He could no longer talk to Jessie or Kyle—that too was unsettling.  Yet, in spite of all that as he walked back to the house he felt a profound appreciation for the fact that he was free—no SUV had scooped him up to shuttle him off to a labor camp or some military prison. For one moment, he felt as if while everyone else was watching him, perhaps Someone else had been watching over him—keeping him safe. That thought made Keith uncomfortable—what would make him deserving of special help?  Certainly, he was not more deserving than Michael or Jeff or O’Brien.  So why was he free and not them? If there were some other force at work guiding and protecting him, why hadn’t it guided and protected them? The more he thought about it the more nervous and uncomfortable he became—after all, he might be able to evade the Feds forever, but if God were intervening on his behalf, there would be no escaping from Him. By the time he reached the house he had almost convinced himself that his own freedom had to be due to his own exceptional cleverness rather than divine intervention, but the more he repeated those words to himself the more he knew they were a lie.  A lot of clever people had been imprisoned—he knew because he had seen their pictures and read their stories.

∞

At noon Kyle stood on the corner of Center and Michigan trying to look inconspicuous.  He had no idea who he was meeting or why—just that Jessie had shared Keith’s message with him. As he was about to leave, a homeless man with a long beard and a shabby coat shuffled up to him and asked him for change. “All I got is a couple of pennies, man,” Kyle answered.

Without saying a word the vagrant held out his hand, and when Kyle gave him the change, he pressed a flash drive into Kyle’s palm. Kyle looked at him suspiciously—the man was filthy, but there was something familiar about his eyes—something he had seen before.  He wrapped his hand around the flash drive.

“God bless you, son,” said the vagrant. “See you tomorrow.” And he hobbled off down the street, while Kyle took the flash drive and headed back in the direction of the convenience store where he was going to purchase Red Bulls as his excuse for making the trip in the first place.