The Last Justice (36 page)

"This is a fabrication, a computer hoax!" Judge Ivan Petrov, the nominee for chief justice of the United States, shouted above the din of gasps and exclamations. It was a video of Petrov and his law clerk, Dakota Cameron.

Another click, and the video continued. It showed Dakota putting her fingers on Petrov's lip to quiet him. Someone had entered the judge's chambers. She then slipped out the back door of the room as Petrov hurriedly buckled his belt and grabbed for his shirt.

The next frame on the screen froze, then zoomed in, enlarging the image. It was unmistakable: the letters "CB"burned into his lower neck, in the little valley between the trapezius and the collar bone.

"This is ridiculous,"Petrov said, his voice shaking. "With the right software, I can put my face on Angelina Jolie's body. Mr. Chairman, this is a transparent stunt to disrupt this hearing." The chairman banged his gavel in a vain effort to stem the rising furor.

Pacini now approached the committee, doing his best to look calm and composed. "Mr. Chairman," he said, "we have not had a chance to analyze this video. But I came here independently, to request a delay based on information uncovered by my team. We believe that the man whom Mr. McKenna confronted this morning is the Black Wednesday assassin. His name was Travis Bigler. His neck was branded in the same manner as the man in this video, with the letters `C-B.' I requested the delay because we have learned of a close connection between Mr. Bigler and Judge Petrov."

In that moment, Pacini recalled Parker Sinclair's purchase of spyware. Sinclair must have stumbled onto Petrov's connection to Black Wednesday while spying on his ex-girlfriend, perhaps triggering a chain of events that got him killed.

"You can't be suggesting that Judge Petrov..." a Republican senator said.

"I think Judge Petrov can put this to rest right now," Pacini said, "by showing us his neck."

Petrov stood. He looked confused, and his head had a slight tremble, reminding Pacini of a Parkinson's patient. Then Petrov went limp and sank to the floor.

The chairman gave up trying to control the proceedings as the room erupted in shouting. Photographers muscled in to get shots of Petrov passed out, as spectators pushed their way out of the room. U. S. marshals and Capitol police officers yelled and struggled to maintain a protective ring around the other nominees. A crowd formed around Petrov.

Pacini pushed his way through and saw Petrov regaining consciousness. Reaching down, he pulled on the judge's shirt collar. The neck mark was not there.

But he looked closer. Something was unusual about the skin on the right side of Petrov's neck ... The color was somehow off, and it seemed almost flaky in texture.

Pacini grabbed a water carafe from the next table and dumped it on Petrov, as if to revive him. Petrov started swatting him away as Pacini rubbed the wet collar of Petrov's shirt against the discolored spot on his neck. Petrov's shirt started to stain as thick beige makeup foundation rubbed off his neck. Pacini rubbed harder, with Petrov continuing to struggle. The outline of two letters began to appear.

As two officers helped Petrov to his feet, Pacini said, "Arrest him."

The room erupted in a chaos of shouting and more camera flashes.

Hart Senate Building, Capitol Hill

acini detained Petrov in the security office of the Hart Senate Building until he had time to speak with the FBI director and the director of national intelligence. All agreed that Petrov should be escorted out of the building in custody, in front of the media circus outside-a "perp walk," reserved for the most notorious suspects. Each federal agency would choose one member to walk alongside Pacini and Petrov to a government van. A short walk, but just enough time for the media to capture the spectacle and ensure that every news outlet had a photo showing that the Supreme Court Commission and federal law enforcement had finally made an arrest in the Black Wednesday investigation.

Assad and Milstein, awaiting Pacini's instructions in the anteroom behind the hearing room, stood when Pacini walked in.

"That was unbelievable," Assad said.

"That it was," Pacini sighed, flopping down onto a chair.

"So, what's next?"

"We're going to walk him out in cuffs once all the necessary agents have arrived-you wouldn't want this to be anything less than a major political event, would you?"

"I hope we're right about him," Assad said. "Or we all lose our heads."

"No fear of that. They've already searched Judge Petrov's home. They found a BlackBerry hidden in his things-it belonged to Parker Sinclair."

"How does that confirm anything?"

"It's got Petrov's prints all over it. He must have sent e-mails to the Washington Post reporter pretending to be Sinclair, leaking the McKenna bribery story, and also e-mails to Sinclair's parents saying McKenna was 'C-B.'We think Parker Sinclair must have been suspicious about his girlfriend and Petrov having an affair, and hid a camera in the judge's chambers-maybe even confronted them both about it. When the commission went public about the mark on the assassin's neck a few days ago, Sinclair must have recalled the mark on Petrov's neck from the video. If he'd confronted either Petrov or Dakota about the video, that could have raised Petrov's concerns that Sinclair knew about the mark on his neck."

"So Petrov has his old foster brother kill Parker Sinclair and plant blood evidence at McKenna's hotel?"

"That's what we think."

"But why frame McKenna?"

"We're not sure yet. It's likely Petrov was monitoring Parker's email at work. He may have feared Parker would go to McKenna, since he knew he was on the commission. Maybe Petrov was monitoring office e-mail and found out about Parker sending the package to McKenna."

"What about the bribery allegation against McKenna?" Milstein asked.

"Parker may have had suspicions and told Petrov. Petrov then used it to discredit McKenna. That would explain why they killed Griffin Nash, to give added weight to any suspicions Parker had."

"Is McKenna going to be arrested?"

"No. Not today, anyway. I've got orders to let him leave the building and to make it crystal clear that he's not in custody. Just as wellguy's been through enough. We've already released Kate Porter."

"Has anyone spoken with Dakota Cameron about the video?" Assad asked. "Wouldn't she have seen the mark on Petrov's neck?"

"We just learned she was killed in a hit-and-run."

"Aw, shit," Assad groaned. "Do we think Petrov or Bigler-"

"Yeah, we think so. Cameron probably knew too much or was simply a political liability if word got out about the affair."

"It's unbelievable," Assad said. "All this so he could be nominated to the Supreme Court?"

Pacini shrugged. "Welcome to Washington."

A man poked his head in the door and said, "Ready, sir."

On the second floor of the Hart Building, a doctor finished examining McKenna and said he needed to go to the hospital to get the wound irrigated and stitched, but that he was going to be fine. An agent told McKenna he would need to be available for questioning, but he was free to move about as he wished.

McKenna looked at the agent skeptically. "So I can just limp out that door?"

"Those are my orders," the agent said, sounding as surprised as McKenna.

That was good enough for McKenna. He decided to leave now before they changed their minds. Then he saw her, coming toward him. She looked tired, but beautiful as ever.

Kate embraced him, careful not to squeeze him anywhere he was hurt.

"I thought you might want some company," she said.

"You didn't have to come."

"I know." She gave him a fleeting smile.

"You're sure?"

"I am."

For the first time in recent memory, he felt a genuine smile on his face.

Hart Senate Building, Capitol Hill

acini, Assad, Milstein, and an entourage of federal agents led Petrov out the main entrance of the Hart Building. Pacini had asked the two detectives to join him in escorting Petrov so they would appear in the pictures that would soon cover the front page of every newspaper in the country. And indeed, the photographers and camera crews were already jostling and jockeying for the best vantage point to capture the historic event.

Ivan Petrov, led out in cuffs and feeling acutely all the unflattering attention, could not quite believe what was happening to him. Not an hour ago, he had been the presumptive chief justice of the United States, and now he was getting perp-walked to jail. Hair tousled and shirt still damp from the earlier dousing, he squinted under all the camera flashes.

Amid all the gawking figures that lined his route, he saw one in particular, moving toward him through the crowd. He knew that walk, that sense of petite elegance. It was Liddy Kincaid. He had seen her in the spectator gallery for the tribute to her husband. Now she looked as if she was going to spit in his face.

The next moments seemed slow and unconnected to reality.

"Gun!" he heard someone yell.

Then he heard screams and was shoved into a group of reporters who surrounded him. Someone dived in front of Petrov and Milstein as Liddy Kincaid fired and kept firing.

Milstein picked herself off the ground and watched as agents twice the woman's size swarmed Liddy Kincaid, taking her to the ground. Milstein pushed through the crowd, looking for Assad.