"You." I stared back.
She laughed. "Alright, what are these rules you want me to conform to?"
"Ignore me." I liked that answer.
"I doubt that's as simple as it sounds. Witton says you're a master Kazak, which is?"
"An honorary title for any Kazak who has killed three or more Assassins."
"Alright, we'll see if we can tolerate each other."
I went into the other room, grabbed a small desk chair, returned to her office, placed it in the corner, and sat. She looked up with a frown and stared for several minutes, shook her head, and returned to whatever she was reading. I took that to mean she had realized what "ignore me" meant.
The morning proved as boring as I expected. People came in and out of her office, sneaking looks at me when they came in and giving me strange looks on the way out. Eventually, they began to ignore me.
Just after noon she left the office with me following.
"Do you eat, Lynn?"
"Standing up. I'd ask you to sit against a wall." I thought I'd try nice first.
"Why, do you think one of the other judges is going to kill me?"
"Ma'am, my job is to protect you, even if I have to risk my life to do that. My first responsibility, therefore, is to protect you, not me. If I'm not aware of my surroundings, I am protecting me, because the killer is free to kill without interference from me. In that case, you are at more risk than I am. If, however, I stay aware, the killer will have to take me on first. There are Assassins with the ability to make themselves look exactly like a person you know; there are others who are virtually invisible, those who can tell a lie anyone will believe, and those you will love on first sight. Given that, I can't assume I can determine who is friendly and who isn't unless I evaluate each person. I must assume whoever wants you dead is serious and could contract an Assassin. As your rules in court are not arbitrary, neither are mine."
"I don't believe the threat is serious; however, I'm beginning to understand you can't make that assumption. I knew you weren't going to be pushed around. I just didn't realize why." She stopped at a table with one man and asked him to join her at a table in the back, against a wall.
"My bodyguard insists I sit near a wall." She shrugged. "Lynn, what do you want to eat? I assume you're not going to sit."
"A sandwich of any kind and a glass of milk, please."
She ordered and they sat and talked about several old decisions. I stood, eating the roast beef sandwich she had ordered, while I scanned the room. I got more strange looks. The other two justices I saw seemed to prefer sitting alone.
The afternoon started much like the morning-boring. About four o'clock, one of the other justices entered her office. She had apparently been expecting him. They both looked at me.
"Lynn, conversations between justices are confidential."
"Ma'am, I'm a Kazak. I don't care about your politics, your upcoming decisions, if you're having an affair, or cheating on your taxes. I care only about your safety. I know you think you're safe in your chamber, and you probably are. It's the
probably ar
e that concerns me."
"Lynn, if one word of what I say in private gets out... "
"I'll shoot myself, so Witton doesn't have to."
They were careful in choosing their words for the first five minutes, until they finally forgot I was in the room. They were shocked for a moment when her visitor rose and they realized I was still there.
Ramsey worked until six and then drove home with me in the back seat. I think it was a large Audi, but I don't pay a lot of attention to cars. She stopped at a small Italian restaurant on the way home. She dutifully sat in the corner. About half way through her meal, she stopped and looked at me with my half-eaten sandwich.
"Lynn, you are very conspicuous, standing behind me. Can't you sit?"
"If I'm conspicuous, that means he or she will shoot at me first."
"You're incorrigible." She finished her meal and wine, then had dessert and coffee. I did accept the coffee she offered. Back at her high-rent condo, I walked through every room evaluating each for potential security problems. The front entrance had a reception desk for twelve hours a day and keycard entry for the remaining twelve. A security guard was on duty twenty-four seven; however, in addition to the front entrance, there were several potential points of entry: two emergency fire exits and a roof-top maintenance access for elevators and heating units. So, it was adequate to keep out salesmen and very small-time thieves.
"Ma'am, we'll need heavier curtains on the windows. For now blankets or the like will do."
"Why? Are my drapes that ugly?" she said with a twitch of her lips.
"No, ma'am. However, from the outside, anyone can see your shadow when you walk around the room. There are many places near this building that a sniper could use. A shadow would be enough to target you."
"Lynn, how long did it take you to become a Kazak?" Ramsey sat on her couch with her coffee and waved me to a chair. "You can sit can't you?"
"Nine years. I have the equivalent of a Liberal Arts degree, speak two languages, am expert in all modern weapons, can function on four hours' sleep indefinitely, and survived the five challenges, competing against the one hundred men that started the course with me."
"Lynn the Fox," she whispered to herself. "You succeed by out-thinking them because they had the advantage of strength and aggressiveness. This is also the reason for your rules. It gives you a balanced playing field against a potential killer, who inherently has the advantage. Yes, I understand."
I understood why she was a Supreme Court justice. Like me, she had survived in a male-dominated world using her intellect.
"Aren't you due for relief pretty soon?"
"Witton believes if he sends relief, you'll get used to fewer restrictions and won't want me back." I grinned. "Or, he believes I don't have a life, so I don't need a break."
"You're going to be with me night and day for however long it takes?"
"Yes, ma'am. By necessity, I'm a very light sleeper. I'll sleep in your living room, so that I can cover your bedroom door and the door to the hallway."
"Come here, Lynn. I want you to take a look at the emails and letters I've been receiving." She led me into another room, which had a small library, two lounge chairs, a small coffee table, and a desk with a computer monitor. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers, turned on her computer, and opened her email program. I sat and began reading. An hour later, I handed her two letters.
"Why these two? They are the least abusive of the bunch."
"Yes. They are meant to be, so that they stand out from the others. This person, or the group he represents, is going to do whatever it takes to intimidate you and the others who might side with you. Killing you would accomplish both. It would eliminate your vote and give them leverage to threaten another justice, who would then be easier to persuade into changing his vote."
"My God. Is this what some think is God's way? I hope you're wrong, Lynn."
***
The next two weeks went by without incident. I had to give Ramsey credit. She was probably the easiest person I had worked with, accepting my rules with little dissension. Most of her opposition revolved around her concern over her perceived notion of my level of stress. She allowed me to stay during her talks with friends, staff, and other justices, complied with my restrictions on where to sit, and allowed me to inspect whatever I asked-the perfect client. It was late afternoon, and we sat in her office drinking coffee.
"Before you came, the justices granted
certiorari
to the three petitions our letter-writing friend is concerned about. The legal briefs will be filed today. Ironically, I haven't decided yet, and won't until I have read the briefs and hear oral arguments. Because of the justices' past positions, people who follow Supreme Court decisions tend to project our votes on issues. In these three cases, it's assumed I'll vote against them. Our friend seems to think so, and he may be right based on the positions I've taken in the past."
It sounded like the game was coming to its conclusion. The individual, if willing to carry out his threat, would want to act soon, if for no other reason than to intimidate the other four justices likely to vote against the cases. I would soon find out if I was right. She rose and stretched, closed whatever she was reading, and headed toward the door with me following. Just as she reached the door, I tackled her from behind, rolling with her toward a desk while trying to identify a target. Nothing. I wondered if I had made a mistake, but the room was too quiet. There were always people here until well after Ramsey left. They worked hard because this experience would be invaluable toward their future careers.
"What-" she started to say until I put my hand over her mouth. I listened, waiting for some sound that would give me a clue as to how many and where... Nothing. I rolled back into the aisle, searching for a target. I found two men standing some twenty yards away. We began firing simultaneously. I heard several slight pops and wood and debris sprayed around me. One had moved quicker than the other. He got away. The man who stood shooting didn't. I shot him three times in the chest. Each hit drove him stumbling backward, firing wildly out of control.
I decided not to chase the other man, since that would leave Ramsey alone. She was on her knees and beginning to rise when I held up my hand for her to stop and put a finger to my lips to tell her to be silent. I took my earplugs from my pocket and inserted them just as a security guard came running into the room with his gun drawn. I heard nothing, but saw Ramsey begin to rise, waving her arms, her mouth moving. As his gun hand began to move, I fired three times. He was driven backwards into and across a desk. Ramsey appeared to be screaming something. I slapped her across the face and pushed her down. I ejected my clip and slammed another one in, removed my earplugs, and waited. A few minutes later, two more guards came running in, guns drawn.
"I'm a Kazak." I pushed up my sleeve to show my tattoo. "If those guns rise toward me you're dead men. Justice Ramsey is safe," I shouted. Fortunately, this was probably the first shooting they had ever been part of and were slow to react; otherwise, they would have died for no good reason. "Call the police and report a shooting. Justice Ramsey and I will stay here until they arrive."
That seemed to relieve the tension. They lowered their weapons and called their supervisor.
"Ma'am, sorry for the slap. Why don't you wait in your office, until the police arrive." I saw blood leaking from behind one of the desks and suspected several of the office staff were dead. I decided they must have used silencers, which I couldn't hear in Ramsey's office because it was almost completely sound proofed.
"No, you're not," Ramsey said as she rose. A trickle of blood from her nose dripped onto her lip.
She had tears in her eyes as she turned and walked into her office and closed the door. I waited, gun drawn. About ten minutes later, a horde of police arrived and huddled at the door. A lieutenant walked forward, unarmed.
"You're the Kazak Lynn?" he asked. I nodded. "I hope that Justice Ramsey is safe."
"Yes," I said as he approached. When he was a few feet away, I stepped in and punched him in the solar plexus. The air exploded out of him. After a few seconds of struggling for air, he managed to talk. "Why?"
I noticed several of the police had drawn their guns, but the lieutenant was in the way for a good shot at me.
"Illusion Assassins lose their control for a second when in pain. Sorry, but I had one Illusion Assassin already tonight. Let me check on the justice. Give her a few minutes. It's been a very traumatic experience. Having friends killed is making it worse. I'll bring her out as soon as possible."
He nodded. I opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind me. I stood quietly waiting. Ramsey sat in her chair with her head in her hands, crying. I felt sorry for her. I think she could have handled the shooting if innocent people hadn't been killed-people she knew personally. After several minutes, she took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears away.
"Why
...
why did you slap me and kill the guard? He had come to help protect me," she said, her face knotted in anger. I noticed she left out the
us
part. "You killed him without reason. I hate you."
"There is a police lieutenant waiting to see you when you're ready."
"I'll want you gone as soon as the police inquiry is over. Witton can send someone else." She got up and walked out the door, almost cringing as she walked past me. I guess she'd already forgotten the part about me saving her life. I shrugged to myself.
Witton would have to replace me, which didn't matter to me one way or the other. I was satisfied with my performance and Clare would be delighted to hear I managed to finish an assignment without injury.
The questions were as brief as the lieutenant could make them. He knew he was questioning a Supreme Court justice. When he finished, he had her driven home with a police escort. At her apartment, she tried to close the door in my face.
"Ma'am, call Witton and make arrangements for my replacement. Until then, you're my responsibility."
She ignored me and went directly to the phone. A minute later, she almost shouted into the phone.
"I want this maniac removed. Send me someone sane." Silence. "She shot a police security guard who had come to help protect me." She went on to explain what had happened from her perspective, which varied considerably from reality. She turned and gave me the phone.
"What happened, Lynn?" Witton asked.
"I guess I got another complaint to add to my board. Send someone else before she has a heart attack. She's filled with rage over innocent people she knew being killed."
"Did you kill an innocent guard?"
"Either an Assassin or someone stupid."
An hour later, a man knocked at the door. "Master Lynn, it's Peter the Lion."
I didn't know Peter, but Witton had said he was sending someone within the hour, he knew my honorary title, and who would want to be a Lion? I snickered and let him in. He did look strong. We talked for a few minutes about the events of that evening, and I left. I wondered if I could get some time off to visit Clare. I went home and straight to bed. Witton could wait until the morning.