Riggs had reached the breaking point.
“Your Honor, I move for a brief recess.”
Judge Williamson smiled an amazed smile over the top of his reading glasses.
“A recess in an appellate argument, Counselor?”
“Yes, Your Honor. The United States would appreciate a recess and opportunity to converse about this extraordinary circumstance in chambers.”
“Really? Well, I think,” Williamson continued, “that given the wholly unprecedented nature of the last few minutes, that would be a wise idea. I remind counsel for the petitioner that holding this hearing in the first place was an extraordinary concession to the justice of the matter. So, we will…”
Judge McNaughton whispered something to Williamson, who nodded.
“Oh, yes. We are going to take a short recess and meet in chambers, but first, Miss O’Brien, precisely what are you requesting?”
“That I be allowed to swear in Dr. Ben Cole of Uniwave Industries in Anchorage, Alaska, who is in the courtroom, and examine him on the issue of his presence aboard a government project aircraft on the night Captain Arlie Rosen lost his aircraft, permitting him to testify as to the high probability that Rosen’s aircraft was actually clipped by the aircraft Dr. Cole was in.”
There was a gavel banging away and a scowling Judge McNaughton was holding it as he turned to his colleagues, then back to the lawyers.
“Fifteen-minute recess to chambers.”
“All rise,” the clerk called as the judges got to their feet and filed out.
Gracie could feel her heart pounding as she glanced at Jim Riggs, expecting him to turn and charge her with angry protests.
But he had turned and gestured to someone behind her, and Gracie turned as well in time to see one of three men in business suits nod to Riggs and begin to make his way toward the government lawyers’ table.
April, too, was in motion, coming to Gracie’s side with a wide-eyed Ben Cole in tow.
“What’s happening?” April asked as Gracie ran her hand through her hair and shook her head.
“I think,” she said, shaking her head, “that I just screwed up big time. But I’m not sure.”
FORTY EIGHT
WEDNESDAY MORNING, DAY 10 THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON, D.C.
Mac MacAdams waited while the guard verified his name and identification, then opened the gate to the front drive of the White House. The meeting he had requested was a huge risk, but it had to be done. His call earlier in the day had been received with consternation that a potential leak had occurred, but the news that Ben Cole himself had arrived in Washington with an obvious intention to violate the secrecy agreement he’d signed meant they had to take action, and the authority for what had to be done could only come from one source.
Mac walked into the main foyer, unable to keep his eyes off the artifacts of living history that defined the American form of self-governance.
A Secret Service agent with the cold, expressionless eyes of a cobra nodded to him as he showed his pass and turned down a familiar corridor, checking his watch as he passed. The appointment was in exactly eight minutes, and he intended to arrive as the second hand hit the twelve.
An assistant clerk appeared at Gracie’s side from nowhere.
“Miss O’Brien, your presence is requested in the judges’ conference room. Please follow me. Dr. Cole? You, too.”
Gracie shot a “stay here” glance to April, who nodded and sat down at the petitioner’s table, watching Gracie and Ben following the clerk as if they were being escorted the last mile to a gas chamber.
Judge Williamson was waiting in what appeared to be a large boardroom. Jim Riggs was already there, pacing along one wall and looking agitated. The three men Gracie had seen in the back of the courtroom were standing near Riggs.
“Miss O’Brien?” Judge Williamson said.
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“We remain in recess, but we’re extending that recess to a matter of hours. These gentlemen will explain. We will resume when you return.”
“I’m sorry, Judge… return?”
But Judge Williamson had already turned and left through a side door as Jim Riggs began speaking.
“Miss O’Brien, we need you to come with us to a little meeting a few blocks away.”
Gracie leaned against the back of a chair and stared at Riggs, squinting as if trying to see through a ruse.
“Go where?”
“I can’t tell you until we get there. Dr. Cole comes, too.”
“What are you trying to pull, Mr. Riggs?”
Jim Riggs chuckled tiredly. “I assure you you’re not in any danger. We’re not going to shanghai you or molest you or rough you up or anything.”
“So, where are we going?”
“Miss O’Brien,” one of the men said. “I’m Special Agent Breck of the Secret Service. Your presence and Dr. Cole’s are requested across town in a matter of great urgency. Miss Rosen, too.”
“Gracie,” Riggs continued, “the court will stay in recess on this matter until we get back.”
Gracie noted the shift to her first name.
“Do we have a choice?” she asked after studying their eyes.
“Ma’am,” Agent Breck said, “we were sent here to bring you to a meeting. We were not instructed to accept no for an answer.”
“Gracie,” Riggs continued, his voice conciliatory, “Judge Williamson knows and approves of this. Please.”
Gracie knew she looked grim as she and Ben joined April in the backseat of a black government town car, with Agent Breck in the right front seat and another agent at the wheel. She knew enough about the physiology of Washington, D.C., to recognize the names of the streets, but her concentration was on April and Ben as they talked quietly. The car pulled up to a heavy gate, which was quickly pulled open, and they motored into an underground alcove and were ushered out of the car. An interminable series of corridors followed, the decor becoming gradually more plush before one final door was opened and Gracie found herself motioned to a seat in the Cabinet Room. Jamison Hendee, the President’s chief of staff, walked in, his face instantly recognizable. He introduced himself and sat across the table.
“Well, we have a problem, folks, but fortunately, we also have a potential solution. We brought you here, by the way, at the specific request of the President.”
“I don’t understand,” Gracie began, glancing at the equally stunned expressions on the faces of April and Ben Cole.
“I have before me three very determined people,” Hendee said. “But your determination has all but compromised a very important government project.”
Another man had quietly entered the room. An Air Force general, Gracie noted. He sat down on Hendee’s side of the table, several chairs to one side, and merely nodded at them.
“Miss O’Brien, first I want to congratulate you on wrestling the federal judiciary to the mat in only three days.”
“Excuse me?” Gracie said.
The chief of staff chuckled. “May I call you all by your first names?”
There was a murmur of agreement from Gracie and April, quickly followed by Ben.
“Good. Gracie, I never went to law school, but I know enough about the courts — and I’ve got a few real lawyers around here who’ve confirmed this to me in the last half hour — you just turned the tables on us in that courtroom.”
“Sir, I… really don’t understand.”
“You were supposed to lose, Gracie. Oh, there was no fix. Not even the White House can get away with monkeying with the courts, thank God. But Riggs and everyone else assured us that even though you’d found the one maverick judge in the federal court system who would agree to hear your appeal in an off-the-wall way, you’d never win. But you skunked them, and lawyer Riggs over there had to go to plan B.”