It dawned on the young woman, several hours into listening to Shapiro carry on about cases he’d won and cases he’d lost, that while Shapiro liked to hear himself talk about himself, this was also a man who’d enjoyed his career and who did more than just make money with his work. She thought about the momentary heartthrobs during her aborted lunch with Bob Shaw of the antitrust division and realized that Shaw’s career highs would coincide with the days on which he made the most money. Shapiro casually mentioned, in the middle of what seemed to be half his stories, that this “wasn’t a money case” or that another was done “as a favor” or that a client “won me over against my better financial judgment.”
Before she became too enthralled with Shapiro’s altruism, Katz reminded herself that they were comfortably driving in his year-old Mercedes. Doing well and doing good, she thought. Not a bad combination.
Shapiro began running out of stories, or out of energy, as they crossed the Delaware River into Pennsylvania. After a few minutes of silence he asked Katz if she wanted to try the radio. She turned it on and began scanning for stations, pausing on a station halfway through Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.”
“Cool,” she said. “I love oldies.”
Shapiro grinned but said nothing.
The song finished with its multiple-chord piano flourish. The announcer came on with “And now for WBEB Fox Action News with Brenda Waters.”
“Hundreds of persons are believed dead in two massive, well-coordinated bombings at shopping malls outside of Boston,” the newscaster said. “Police report two suicide bombers who appeared to be Orthodox Jews wrapped in what appeared to be Israeli flags blew themselves up in the crowded food courts of the Burlington Mall and North Shore Mall in Burlington and Peabody, Massachusetts.”
“This won’t be good,” Shapiro said. “Damn. The North Shore Mall. I go there. I buy my suits there. I need to call Sally. I need to make sure she and Adam are okay. Do you mind?” Shapiro asked.
“No, go right ahead. I understand.”
Shapiro voice-commanded his car phone to call his wife. Her cell went immediately to voicemail.
“She probably blocked,” he told Katz. “She’s probably at her parents by now. If something was wrong, I would have heard.”
“I’m sure they’re okay,” Katz said reassuringly.
The radio stayed on for the remainder of the drive as Katz hunted from news station to news station. She briefly searched through AM stations, pausing on a Maryland talk radio show in which caller after caller complained that “President Afraid” did nothing after the coastguardsmen were killed, and again after the FBI agents were murdered, sending a message that Jews could get away with anything. After a few minutes of similar calls, Katz returned to FM music stations.
It was getting dark as they approached Washington’s suburbs.
“Open the glove compartment, would you?” Shapiro said to Katz. “I printed out an email. It’s in there.”
She removed a sheet of paper.
“It’s from Aaron Hocksberg, a client of mine,” he said. “It has his cell phone number. He said to call when I got to DC. He’s heading the Massachusetts delegation to the march. Would you dial his number, please?”
The sound of Hocksberg’s telephone ringing came through the car’s speakers, followed by a voice.
“Aaron Hocksberg speaking.”
“Aaron, Ben Shapiro. I’m outside DC. Did you hear about the bombings?”
“Hear about it? It’s the only thing people are talking about. We don’t know if the president is going to pull the plug on the march. We’ve been on the phone all afternoon with every congressman we know, all of us here. You wouldn’t believe that people who came at us two months ago with their hands out and palms up for campaign checks won’t even get on the phone with us today. Ben, where are you staying?”
“Staying?” Shapiro answered. “I never got around to booking anyplace and I expect there isn’t a room to be found in the city. Worse comes to worst, I guess I’ll camp out in my back seat.” He glanced at Katz and saw her smiling.
“No problem, Ben,” Hocksberg said. “Stay with us. We’ve got a big suite at the Renaissance, using it as our base of operations. We’re crowded here, but we can squeeze you in. They can roll in a cot. Not a lot of privacy, though. Anyway, it would be good to have you close by, just in case.”
“Uh, thanks, Aaron,” Shapiro said a bit sheepishly. “Aaron, you ought to know, I’m not quite by myself here.”
Katz grinned, enjoying this.
“Fantastic,” Hocksberg said. “You talked Sally into coming. Good for her. Can’t wait to see her again. It’s been a while. Rose is here with me, of course. I expect Sally is used to being the only shiksa in the room.”
“Aaron, I’m not exactly with Sally at the moment,” Shapiro said, thinking how accurate that statement was in so many ways. “I came down with somebody else. I don’t think you know her.”
Hocksberg was silent for a moment. “Whatever, Ben, whatever,” he said. “I’ll let Rose know Sally couldn’t make it.”
“Thanks, Aaron,” Shapiro said, not sure why he added “but she’s Jewish, at least.”
They found the hotel. Katz glanced at the back seat as they were taking their bags from the car.
“I was sort of looking forward to that,” she said. “It doesn’t sound as if we’re going to get much time to ourselves, does it?”
Shapiro looked at the rear seat, surprised at how relieved he was that he’d found such a well-chaperoned place for the two of them to stay. He hadn’t yet been unfaithful to his wife, not counting fantasies. As tempting and apparently available as Judy Katz was, Shapiro didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved by their housing situation. He decided to let events work themselves out over the next few days.
CHAPTER 47
President Quaid called senators Wayne Giddings, the Republican majority leader, and Grant Farrell, the Democratic minority leader, to meet with him at the White House. The president felt isolated, not the least by the almost complete refusal of the First Lady to speak with him on other than ceremonial occasions.
“I’ll be up front with both of you,” he said. “I am at my wit’s end about what to do about this situation. The consequences of making the wrong decision are too scary to think about. I’m ready for firm actions, but I’m not willing to walk out on this limb by myself.”
“Mr. President, we backed you before, about taking a firm hand with the Jews on those ships in Boston,” Sen. Giddings said. “None of my people bothered you about the way you handled that situation—well, except for Jane Struthers from New York. She has a constituency at home to answer to. You do what you have to do with this situation now, sir; just run it by us first so there are no surprises. I’ll tell you up front if I can’t back you on something.”
“Same goes for me, of course, Mr. President,” Sen. Farrell said. “After all, sir, you might not be the dog I would’ve picked to head the pack in the first place, but you’re still our top dog.”
“That’s what I expected to hear,” Quaid said. “My people prepared this for me to give to you. It’s a resolution Congress will pass.” He handed each man a one-page document.
Sen. Giddings quickly scanned the page he’d been given. “This language looks familiar,” he said. “Where was this cribbed from?”
“Good catch, Wayne,” the president said. “It’s almost word for word what Congress passed after September 11. This language was broad enough for Bush to do whatever he wanted, from invading Afghanistan and Iraq to listening in on every telephone call any American had with anybody outside the country. One of my legal eagles called it a congressional get-out-of-jail-free card for the White House.”