“Yes, ma’am.”
“And did you in fact engage in any of these…threesomes?”
Gottlieb’s head lowered. “Yes, ma’am. I did. We did.”
“And, well, I won’t ask you for the details, obviously. But did these…sodomistic encounters with other men—”
Ben clenched his teeth. Thanks for not going into the details.
“—appear to be something that Judge Roush enjoyed?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very much. I think he was actively pursuing some…journey of self-discovery. Which is what led him to move forward to an even greater number of partners. Orgies.”
“Unacceptable,” Roush muttered under his breath. “How much did they have to give this assassin to get him to talk?”
Senator Matera continued. “And when you say orgies, you mean—”
“Many men. Sometimes as many as twenty. All having sex in the same room.”
“And where would these encounters occur?”
“There were certain bars. Private clubs. Bathhouses. They didn’t advertise it, but word got around.”
“And these men would all be…?”
“Gay, obviously. Mostly exhibitionists. Some in costumes, some in drag. Some using…utensils for intercourse.”
“This is inexcusable!” Ben bellowed. He rose to his feet, feeling just as enraged as he sounded. Sexton might criticize him later for being ineffectual, but he wouldn’t criticize him for not being sufficiently angry.
“Are you calling for a point of order?” Keyes asked.
“I’m asking for a moment of decency! You can keep all your parliamentary niceties. This is just wrong and you know it! This is tawdry wallowing in the sex life of a private individual for no purpose other than to indict him for his sexual preference.”
“Mr. Kincaid, your hyperbole does not impress us. Take your seat.”
“No, sir. I will not. This line of inquiry will end now. Or I will withdraw from the room and take the nominee with me.”
“Sir, that would constitute contempt of Congress. I could have you both jailed.”
“At the end of a protracted quasi-criminal trial, yes. But that could take months.” Ben looked at Keyes levelly. “And that would really screw up your timetable, wouldn’t it?”
For the first time since he had met the man, Ben thought he had finally caused him to stop and think for a moment. Maybe it was the polls that showed Americans were suspicious of the Republican insistence on pressing ahead with the confirmation process. Or maybe it was just possible that even Keyes realized they had crossed the line with this witness.
After an eternity—which Ben realized when he watched it later on CNN was actually about ten seconds—Keyes spoke. “As it happens, Mr. Kincaid, I tend to agree that this questioning has gone long enough. I think we all have the general idea. While I do think this is of relevance to the character issue, we have been given sufficient detail on the…sexual issues to reach our own conclusions. Do you have anything else you wish to ask this witness, Senator Matera?”
“Only this. Mr. Gottlieb—how did your relationship with Judge Roush come to an end?”
“I broke it off, eventually. I didn’t like all the constant sexual aberrations. I wanted a loving, committed partner, but I always got the feeling that I was just his young stud. Not someone he loved. More like someone he might pick up on a street corner for a night of fun and revelry.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s—”
“I would like to be heard!”
To Ben’s shock—and horror—he saw that Roush had risen to his feet.
“Judge Roush,” Chairman Keyes said, “you do not have the floor.”
“I don’t care.” His rage was palpable. His shoulders shook as he spoke. “I will not have these things said about me without responding.”
“All in good time.”
“No, sir. I will be heard!”
“I’m sure you will, but only when you are recognized by the chair.”
“Now.”
Keyes adjusted his granny glasses. “I must say, you share your counsel’s difficulty with procedure. Which I for one think would be a problematic quality for a judge.”
Ben tugged on Roush’s sleeve, but was ignored. “You cannot trash a man’s reputation without giving him a chance to defend himself!”
“I assure you I will allow you to speak, sir, at the appropriate time, but as you can see, it is five o’clock, our traditional closing time.”
“I tell you—I will—”
Keyes slapped his gavel on the bench. “This session is adjourned.”
Roush tried again to speak, but he was drowned out by the sounds of reporters flocking to his side. Many rushed to Gottlieb as well, no doubt seeking more of the details that Ben had squelched. Roush stood there, twisting in the wind, looking impotent and useless.
“Should I try to talk to these reporters?” Roush asked Ben.
“Under no circumstances.”
“But—”
“No buts. No exceptions. No talking.”
“I have to deny—”
“They’ve heard your denial. We need to get all our heads together and prepare a response. And it has to be good. Smart and carefully calculated. Speaking prematurely can only limit our future options.”
Ben could tell it pained him, but Roush obediently offered the gathering press a “No comment at this time” and turned away. Christina and Ben gathered their materials and retreated to the back door.
Ben knew they would all be waiting for him in the conference-room headquarters: Carraway, Sexton, Beauregard, and worst of all, Senator Hammond. They would be furious, both at Keyes and Matera. And at Ben.
Before this latest revelation, Roush’s nomination had seemed a long shot at best.
Now, it seemed utterly impossible.
34
“What in the name of—Trudy!”
Loving tried to push away, but since she—he—was straddling him, and Loving’s feet were still cuffed to the bed, there wasn’t far for him to go.
Trudy appeared distraught. “What’s the matter?”
Loving wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, as if desperately trying to remove all traces of the earlier saliva swap. “What’s the matter? You’re—you’re a guy!”
“Well, duh. I thought you knew.”
“Knew? If I knew, do you think I’d be—be—”
“Yes?”
“Aarghh!” Loving twisted back and forth, trying unsuccessfully to get out from under Trudy. “Get off of me!”
“Are you sure?” Trudy traced a line down the side of his face. “You didn’t seem to mind being near me a minute ago.”
Loving slapped the hand away. “A minute ago you were a girl!”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Well, I thought—I mean, I assumed—aarrghh!” He thrust forward again, this time hard enough to knock Trudy off him. “Have you even—have you had that…that surgery?”
“No, dear. I’m still intact.”
“That’s…disgustin’.”
“You didn’t think so a—”
Loving raised a finger. “Don’t start that again.”
“All right. All right.” Trudy picked the wig up off the floor and plopped it lopsidedly back on his head. “How ’bout I put this back on and you just pretend you still think I’m a girl?”
“I haven’t got that much imagination!”
“Oh, come on now. Do you really expect me to believe you had no idea what you were doing?”
“What’s that s’posed to mean?”
“I mean, I’m good,” Trudy said, batting both eyelashes, “but I’m not that good. Anyone who took a really close look—”