“Now, the only other thing that all these wise folks agreed was that at this point, it probably makes sense to turn to the institution that was, in some ways, invented for just these situations…”
Pepper, watching on TV, closed her eyes.
The President sighed. “The Supreme Court. It wouldn’t be the first time that the highest Court got involved in deciding a presidential election. So it’s not as though we haven’t been there before.
“But I know, I know, somehow it doesn’t seem a satisfactory way to deal with it… asking nine people to decide, when more than a hundred forty million of you took the trouble to vote.
“So,” the President continued, “my inclination was to resign. To resign the office of President, and go home to… Ohio,” he said longingly, “and to turn it over to Vice President Schmidtz, who would, constitutionally, become President. That, at any rate, was my plan.
“But as it turns out, that would not necessarily solve the problem. Because when this proposal was made to Senator Mitchell, his representatives indicated that it was not a satisfactory solution. I imagine you will be hearing from him directly, but I think it is fair to summarize his position as follows: he feels that the presidency ought to be his. By default.
“And so the situation remains unresolved. Or at least not solved by my saying good-bye and going home.
“So that’s where we are as of now, my fellow Americans. I just wanted to let you know where we stand. And to tell you that I’m trying to do my best. I really am. But whatever happens, don’t give up on America. It’s still a great country. It’s just a little confused at the moment.
“Good night. Sorry to interrupt your TV shows. God bless.”
MOTHERFUCKER,” Dexter said. “Cocksucking motherfucking cocksucker…”
They had watched the President’s televised address in a suite purposefully and strategically situated in the Hay-Adams Hotel, directly across from the White House. It was Bussie’s idea. Send the signaclass="underline" We’re here, and we’re moving in on January 20. Deal with it.
Bussie and Blyster Forkmorgan and the other lieutenantry of Team Mitchell let the Senator continue with his frothing expostulations. It reminded some in the room of the possession scenes in the movie The Exorcist. At one point it was feared the Senator might put his foot through the television, no doubt an expensive one.
“… cocksucking…”
A few frozen moments after the President had indicated his willingness to resign, Bussie had murmured, “We’re fucked, Dex.” The language in the war room that night could hardly be called elevated.
Ignoring Dexter’s ongoing spasms, Blyster looked over at Bussie and said mildly, “Was it your impression that he was improvising? He didn’t seem to me to be reading from a text.”
“Whatever it was,” Bussie said, “we got problems.”
“Yes. But a case, still.” He looked at his watch. Right about now a courier would be arriving at the Clerk of the Court’s office at the Supreme Court to file the brief for Mitchell v. Vanderdamp.
“… motherfucking…”
“How long,” Blyster said, “does he go on like this?”
“Dex?” Bussie interjected. “Dex? Senator?”
“What?” Dexter said in midfoam.
“You want to get back to work? We need to respond. They’re waiting on the roof.” The television networks had permanent tents on the hotel roof, the White House serving as backdrop; especially apt here.
“Oh, I’ll respond. Cocksucker!” Dexter glowered at the now-muted TV. An anchorman was talking to a coanchor. Both had moist eyes.
“They’re crying! Look at them! You pussies! Don’t you see? It was an act! That whole fucking thing was an act!”
“Perhaps a sedative?” Blyster said to Bussie.
“I need him awake. It’s great energy. Just needs harnessing.”
“He’s putting out enough energy to light Cleveland,” Blyster said, rising and putting on his coat. “Well, I have to be in court tomorrow. Bussie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let him call the President of the United States a cocksucker on national television.”
Bussie nodded wearily.
CHAPTER 30
So,” Chief Justice Hardwether smiled wryly, “are we granting cert?”
The remark drew a rare collective laugh from the justices around the conference table.
“I’m not going to give a speech,” he went on. “But let me just say aloud what is probably on everyone’s mind. Back in the sixties-a period some of you actually remember-I was, of course, too young, or too intellectual, to pay attention…”
Another ripple of laughter. Pepper was struck by how relaxed Declan seemed; her own stomach was in knots. She’d lost eight pounds. Maybe there was a book in it: Supreme Weight Loss? Declan continued: “… the antiwar demonstrators used to chant, ‘The whole world’s watching’ as the police advanced with truncheons.”
This elicited a low groan from Justice Santamaria. “Truncheons?”
Declan went on: “All right, nightsticks. Batons. Clubs. Whatever, Silvio. What I am attempting to say is that I promise you all I will do my best. These last few months, I have not given you that, and I apologize to you. You deserved better. This institution deserved better. But as Chief, I have responsibilities, and one of them, it seems to me, is to remind us all that any further leaks, especially pertaining to Mitchell v. Vanderdamp, could have a terribly deleterious impact. Disastrous impact. This is the Supreme Court. So,” he smiled wanly, “let us act supremely.”
“Thank you, Coach Hardwether,” Crispus said.
“Anyone want to add anything?” the Chief Justice said.
“Yes,” Silvio said with a mischievous look. “I think we should start with a prayer. Why don’t you lead us, Mo?”
Justice Gotbaum smiled. “I tried prayer, Sil. Prayed for the Skins over Miami. [29] Looks like God is dead, after all.”
“Funny, I prayed for Miami,” Silvio said. “Won twenty bucks. I’d say God is great.”
“That sounds familiar. That’s right-it’s what they say as they’re flying planes into our buildings and stoning women to death. ‘God is great.’ Knew I’d heard it before. How does it go in the original? Allahu-”
“Won’t it be nice to have Bliss Forkmorgan back with us,” Paige Plympton interjected before Silvio’s and Mo’s badinage escalated, as it usually did, into full-blown jihad.
“He’s got his work cut out for him,” Justice Jacoby said a bit provocatively.
Justice Haro said, “So does Clenndennynn.”
“Okay then,” Declan said, in an cheery but emphatically peremptory tone, “I guess that’s it, unless anyone else has anything? Thank you, honorables.”
Walking out with Pepper, he whispered, “Quis…”
“Good luck,” Pepper said. “This is gonna be awful.”
“I’m not a believer, but I may ask Silvio to pray for me.”
“Say, Dec, about the leaks,” Pepper said.
“Um?”
“I was wondering-did you ever hear back from the FBI?”
Declan pursed his lips. “Not a peep. Our vaunted Federal Bureau of Investigation seems to have drawn a big fat blank. Disappointing, especially after all that abuse I got from everyone here for requesting an investigation in the first place. You’d think-how hard can it be to… Incompetence. Everywhere you turn, these days, incompetence.”
“I’m sure they did their best,” Pepper said, avoiding eye contact.
“Let’s hope they’re better at catching terrorists. Say, Pep?”
He had an embarrassed, boyish look. “Yes, Dec?”
“I…”
“Go on. Not going to bite ya.”
“I was thinking… until this is over, it might be better if…”
“If we don’t make violent love to each other?”
“There must have been thirty photographers and reporters outside my apartment this morning. Madness. Who’s to say they’re not tailing us.”