Keeping careful watch to make sure no one spotted him, Loving began searching for the way to the basement. He moved sideways down the main corridor, keeping his face to the wall as if he were intensely scrutinizing something, while searching for a stairway that led downward. He spotted a heavy reinforced door with a black nameplate that looked as if it might fit the bill. Just before he reached it, however, two women emerged from opposite ends of the adjoining hallway.
Loving rapidly turned away from them.
“Well, hello, girlfriend!” one of the women said.
“Back at ya, sweetheart!”
Loving stood in front of a glass window—the display case for an immense library, as it turned out—and he could see the two women reflected in the glass. They were hugging. Both appeared thirtyish. One was blond and petite, while the other was a larger, but still very attractive, brunette. The brunette was wearing a tight-fitting dress and had a pink boa wrapped around her neck—not exactly standard church garb.
“You understand what’s going down today?” the brunette said in hushed tones.
“Sure do. I think Michael has really been sweating,” the blond replied.
“I know I would be. Who would’ve ever imagined—”
“I know, I know. It’s unbelievable.”
Loving strained to pick up their words. Were they talking about the murder of the mystery woman at the Roush press conference?
“I’m still not sure about…you know,” the brunette said.
“Oh, I do, I do. But at some point…maybe change is good.”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s time to take…a new position.”
“Just so Michael stays calm. Just so everyone stays calm. That’s the main thing.”
“Agreed. Got to keep our heads together.”
“Absolutely, honey. I better get downstairs.”
“Understood. But I’m going to see you tonight, right?”
“Count on it, Trudy.”
Loving’s neck stiffened. It was her!
Should he confront her now, or wait until she was alone? Loving wasn’t sure which approach would be best, and while he was deliberating, the two women slipped down the stairs.
He waited a respectful few seconds so it wouldn’t be obvious he was trailing them. Maybe his caution wasn’t necessary—the women didn’t exactly look like contract killers—but at this point, Loving didn’t feel it was possible to be too careful. The door squeaked as if it hadn’t been oiled since the Rock of Ages was formed, and the steps weren’t much better. Loving did his best to enter stealth mode, but the environment made it challenging. By the time he reached the foot of the stairs and turned left, the women had disappeared.
No matter. There were only four doors off the passageway. Two of them were dark, not that that necessarily ruled out the possibility of a clandestine meeting. He crept close to the first and cupped his ear to the window.
Nothing. Silly to think there would be anything. He started toward the next door, relaxing a bit—and then he remembered what Leon had told him. Danger may lurk in the most unexpected places.
He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and moved on. Still nothing.
The third door was slightly ajar. Though the room was dark, Loving was able to ascertain that there was no one inside. And that left the last door on the left…
As he crept closer, he could hear talking. No, as he continued to approach, he realized it was only one voice, one voice speaking in a steady tone, almost a monotone. No, several voices, but all speaking in unison—that was it. He couldn’t make out the words, but something about the voices gave him the creeps.
He moved in even closer, then crouched beneath the window in the door so he couldn’t be seen. There was movement inside, and some music playing softly in the background. Someone’s boom box? Maybe playing to drown out the voices? Something to prevent electronic eavesdropping?
Slowly, gently, he tried the doorknob. Locked.
Still crouched, he examined the lock. Just a simple push-button number in a flimsy wooden frame. He knew he could break it. But not without being noticed.
He heard more movement inside, followed by the sound of a door opening. Was there another entrance? Was it possible Trudy was escaping through a rear exit?
There was no more time to waste. He took off his T-shirt, wrapped it around his hand, then thrust it through the glass. The window shattered, sending glass flying. Moving as quickly as possible, he turned the knob to release the lock, then rushed through the door.
Inside, he found three rows of people sitting on the floor. Little people. Children. Five and younger. All of them sitting with their thumbs and forefingers touching, palms turned upward, in the lotus position, staring at the man who just broke into the room.
“Ommm…”
20
“What the hell was that?” Senator Hammond asked, pounding on his own conference table. “They walked all over us!”
Ben stared at the floor. “I wasn’t expecting them to go attack dog so soon.”
“You should’ve been!”
“I thought they would at least let him get through his opening statement!”
“You were dead wrong. Anyone with any political sense—”
“Which would exclude me, something I’ve been trying to tell you since you started roping me into this! This was your idea, not mine, remember?”
Roush came between them. “Boys, calm down. You’re misdirecting your anger.”
Christina concurred. “He’s right, you know. You should be ticked off at Keyes and Matera, who couldn’t wait ten minutes before they started with the dirty tricks and sabotage.”
Hammond passed a hand across his wrinkled brow. “They’ve made it clear with their opening salvo that there will be no pretense of fairness in this confirmation struggle. It’s going to be partisan politics right down the line.”
“Then we’re already dead in the water,” said Roush. “There are more of them, I mean, more of me, I mean—” Roush took a deep breath. “More Republicans than Democrats. If they all follow the leader, I lose.”
“But will they?” Sexton, the D.C. lawyer asked. “Some of the Republicans on the East Coast are in a bit of a bind with this one. Roush was selected by their President, after all. If they reject someone who is still technically the President’s nominee, it might look as if they’re voting against him just because he’s gay. The backlash in New England, or perhaps California, could be considerable. Safer to just pass the party’s nominee.”
“Not if President Blake doesn’t want them to.”
Sexton shrugged. “The President is a nice man. But he can’t get them reelected.”
“Unfortunately, the poll data indicates that most of the American voting public is not on our side,” Beauregard said, passing around the latest figures from a late-night phone poll. “A plurality of Americans oppose Roush’s confirmation.”
“Why?”
“Variety of reasons. Mostly because he’s gay, but there are also Democrats who think he’s too conservative, Republicans who think he’s too liberal, or will emerge as a closet liberal now that he’s emerged from another closet. A few people are actually knowledgeable about real issues, and have concerns about his position on the death penalty, abortion, and other topics in perpetual political limbo. There’s a wide spectrum of concerns. Problem is, when you add all those things together, you get a lot of people who don’t want to see Thaddeus on the Supreme Court.”