W: The Planner, The Chosen (43 page)

That concluded the oral arguments. The Chief Justice adjourned the Court and within minutes Kris and Keith were outside with Julian on the snow-covered Capitol lawn. “Did you see the look on Greely’s face?” Julian gloated. “Months of running around telling the American people that the number is in the low 100’s and today he had to finally admit it’s not true.  This is the first step—getting the truth out in front of the public.”

Kris stood with her hands pulled up inside her coat.  The high for the day was supposed to be twenty degrees, and she suspected that the high temperature had already come and gone, as it was colder now than it had been when they had entered the building. “How do you think it went?”

“I think it went well,” Julian answered. “We presented a strong case; the Justices asked good questions. There is a lot of interest, but I can guarantee you that what happened at the end was the most important thing that could have happened today. We have no way of demonstrating that the government is lying about the guilt of the detainees, but if we can demonstrate that they are lying about the number of detainees, we can cast doubt on the entire case. Getting Greely to admit that he is not being honest about the numbers is huge. That could be enough to win this for us.”

“I hope so; I really, really hope so. When will we know?” Kris was stamping her feet to stave off the numbness in her toes.

“Legally the Court has between now and the end of June to rule on the case. They could take every day of that, but they probably won’t since there are no cases ahead of us.  They’ll let us know when they’re ready to hand down their decision, and as soon as I hear, I’ll let you know.  I probably won’t have much advance warning, so try to stay by your phone as much as possible.  The minute we hear anything, I’ll have Anne call you.”

Chapter 26

P
resident Quincy had called his Chief of Staff into a private meeting. Quincy had known Harry Jeffords since they were in elementary school, and he was well aware that Jeffords was the one person he could trust. Quincy thought that it was ironic that one of the most corrupt men in Washington was also the one man whom he knew absolutely would not betray him. Quincy and Jeffords had enjoyed a peculiar relationship from the time that they were children. Quincy had always been the leader and Jeffords his loyal follower. It was not that Jeffords had genuinely admired Quincy at any juncture of their relationship; he clearly did not. Rather, their relationship was of a symbiotic nature. Quincy had wanted someone who would clean up his messes when he was in trouble, act as a sounding board for his ideas, and do anything he asked without stopping to consider the consequences.

Jeffords had always been that person. At various times he had served as scapegoat, confessor, and whipping boy for Quincy. It had never occurred to Jeffords to object; he knew that if he had not hitched his star to Quincy, he would have been practicing law in some hick town in the mid-west, and he had never regretted his decision.

As the two men sat sipping their beers the President began to lay out his plans. “Tomorrow the Supreme Court will hand down their decision,” he began, “I want you to be ready to act the moment that decision is read.”

“How do you think it will go?” Jeffords asked.

“I know how it’ll go,” Quincy responded. “They’ll rule in our favor. I have it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Dillon?” Jeffords was surprised that the Chief Justice would tell even the president how the Court was going to rule.

“Don’t look so shocked. He’s had almost four years to ponder what life is like for the ex-Chief Justice of the ex-Supreme Court. He wants to be back on the bench permanently.”

“So, you want the Supreme Court Building re-opened tomorrow? I think we’ll have to take a few days so that we can make the case that we’ve completed all the clean-up.”

“Not even close,” Quincy replied. “As soon as all nine Justices have arrived at the Capitol, dispatch a team of agents with arrest warrants to each of their homes. When they return, they are to be arrested as domestic terrorists under the law that they have just upheld.”

“Wow!” Jeffords exclaimed. “That’s an awful lot for one afternoon. Do you think you can get away with it?”

“Get away with it?” Quincy snapped. “I will just have been given permission. But that’s only the beginning. At the same time that the Justices are taken into custody, Vice President Peters is to be arrested. Bubba will make certain that she’s in her office with the two of them watching the proceedings on closed-circuit television.”

“Bubba’s in on it?” Jeffords asked doubtfully.

“Trust me, he can’t wait!”

Jeffords sat silently staring at the rim of his beer bottle. Traces of a smile played around his mouth. He had to hand it to Quincy; he was all guts.

The President interrupted Jeffords’ thoughts, “I have one more thing for you to do tomorrow. Put out a press release that after extensive efforts from our best bomb experts, it has been concluded that the explosives in the Supreme Court Building were wired into it in such a manner that it would be impossible to remove them safely. Therefore, the streets in the immediate vicinity will be closed to all traffic, and all government buildings within a mile radius of the Supreme Court Building will be closed for one week while a team of experts demolishes it with a controlled implosion. Make sure that it makes the evening news.”

“Tom, really?” Jeffords’ expression had turned to one of disbelief. “When you appoint the new Justices, where will they meet?”

“Wake up, Harry!  There aren’t going to be any new Justices; there isn’t going to be any new Supreme Court Building. This idea of three coequal branches of government is a bunch of bull! Tomorrow the Supreme Court is going away—forever. Next, I’ll deal with the Congress; I’ll wait a few weeks, of course, but they’re next. I’ll get rid of the Senate and the House of Representatives in the same week. Then there will be only one branch of government—me.

“But, to get back to current matters, you see to it that the nine Justices are dead within twenty-four hours of their arrests. Then I want that building flattened and every trace of it hauled away—absolutely nothing is to remain. The Supreme Court Building is a reminder of a form of government whose time has come and gone. I want people to forget all about that checks and balances propaganda. Before the year is out the Thomas L. Quincy memorial will stand on that spot to remind all Americans that I alone am their leader, and I share my power with no one!”

Chapter 27

O
n the first day of April, Kris and Keith finally received the call they had been waiting for from Julian’s office. “We have confirmation that the Court will hand down its ruling tomorrow. Julian needs to see you here in his office this afternoon.”

Two hours later, they sat tensely in Julian’s office waiting for him. As Kris looked around she recalled vividly the first time that she had entered this office nine months before. So much had happened—so much had changed since that initial meeting.  For the first time since going to work for FMPD, she really believed that the country might actually change—that people might actually be listening.  For the first time in years, Americans appeared to have a different perspective about the need to rein in federal power, about the need to restore constitutional government.
The Line Up
had stirred powerful emotions across the country and Kris’ national interviews had made the issue of indefinite detention the topic of conversation in nearly every household in the country.

At the end of the day, however, none of that mattered if tomorrow the Court upheld the law’s constitutionality. After so many months of praying and working, she now had to face the reality that while public opinion might be overwhelmingly in favor of overturning this law, the public was not making the decision. Rather, nine men and women appointed to the Court over the years by various presidents representing varying political views, parties, and administrations were going to decide this matter. Their decision was as final as their lifetime appointments to the Court.

Kris tried not to appear nervous as she sat facing Julian.  She glanced over at Keith—normally she could gauge his moods by his expressions but this day she could not get a sense of what he was feeling or thinking. He sat quietly with his arm draped over the back of his chair watching Julian and listening carefully to every word the attorney spoke as he explained the process.

“Normally, the Court just releases its ruling, but in this case, they are going to appear in the courtroom where the Chief Justice will read the majority opinion. After he has finished, the dissenting opinion will be read by its author. The ruling is being handed down at 10:00 A.M. tomorrow—they just sent word to us at noon today, and I had Anne call as soon as we found out. You need to be in the courtroom tomorrow when the ruling is being read—I will be there too, of course.”

“What is the significance of the Chief Justice reading the opinion, rather than just releasing it?” Keith inquired.

“None whatsoever, as far as I know, except that he wants to prolong his fifteen minutes of fame,” Julian responded. “The Justices used to be nine of the most powerful people in the United States, and now they’re just regulars in somebody’s golf game. I think they want to remind the world that they still matter by presenting their findings on television. At least no one can say that the Court is archaic.”

Kris cautiously asked the question that was foremost on her mind, “How do you think this is going to go?”

Julian sighed and answered carefully, “To be completely honest, I don’t know. I feel good about our arguments. We argued that the NDAA is a violation of the Fifth and Sixth amendments of the Constitution. It
is
a violation of the Constitution, so we have both the law and the facts on our side.  The problem, of course, is going to be that the Administration has claimed wartime powers and also that at least some of the Justices on the high court believe that the Constitution is an archaic, outdated piece of Americana that should not be the final test for our laws. That’s the challenge. We presented a good case—if they rule strictly on the merits of our case and the constitutionality of the law there is no question that we will win. However, just because we are right in no way guarantees that we will prevail.”

Kris had watched Julian while he talked, and although he answered carefully she sensed an overall pessimism in his tone, as if he were pretty sure that they had lost. She wondered if it were her imagination or if he did not anticipate a win. Perhaps he sensed this as he responded to it in his next statement.

“Look, Kris. We always knew that there was a risk—a huge risk.  But we presented a good argument to the Court.  It’s in their hands now.”

“I think we’re all in God’s hands now, Julian. I have never asked this before. What will happen to you if this goes badly tomorrow?”

“Oh, probably the same thing that will happen to you.  But the truth is, in the end, it would have happened anyway. If I’m arrested tomorrow at least it will be for doing something that matters. We can’t control the outcome, but we can say that when our country was in the most danger, we stood for freedom.  Ultimately, that’s the only thing that anyone can do themselves or can ask of another human being. No matter what happens tomorrow, I will never regret taking this case. No matter what happens, I am glad that I was able to share your story and your husband’s story with the American people.  And I want you to remember that no matter what happens, because of what we have done here, Americans now know the truth—whether or not they choose to allow that truth to change the country.”

“Thank you,” Kris stood to go, “for your honesty and for all of your hard work, Mr. Cicchetti.  Without you we would have never come this far, and no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know that I am extremely grateful to you.”

Neither she nor Keith spoke on their drive back to Baltimore. A breeze was blowing, and she could see dark clouds forming overhead that seemed to her to be an ominous portent of things to come.  When they reached the house, she said to Keith, “I can’t just sit around here.  I’ll go crazy. I’m going to go for a walk.”

“You can’t go for a walk in this neighborhood,” he remonstrated. “It’s way too dangerous.”

“I know; I could get killed,” she smiled at him a little as she went out the door. He watched her go and then flopped dejectedly onto the couch. Just as he did so his phone rang signaling a text message.

The incoming name and number were blocked but he guessed the sender when he read the text:  “GO TO THE BASEMENT NOW.”

“Why?” he asked himself as he made his way down.  Keith had not used the tunnel since the last time he had seen David.  There had been no need to since he was not allowed to have contact with Jessie and Kyle. Once, in the middle of the night, he had driven past the place where Jessie and Kyle had been living to see that the windows were boarded up and the doors were locked.  He had no idea where they were; he had not had contact with them for months.

David was waiting for him.

“Long time no see,” Keith greeted him.

“If they’re going to have any chance of survival, Jessie and Kyle have to get out of here tonight.”

“I don’t know where they are.  I haven’t seen either one of them since the last time you and I spoke.”

“I know where they are,” David responded.  “They’re about five miles from here. I have a vehicle parked up the street. Same as last time. Leave here through the tunnel. I’ll start the car for you, and you’ll drive it to the address that I’ll give you. They have to leave tonight to make it over the Canadian border before dawn.  Make sure that all traces of everything they’ve been doing are destroyed.  Wipe out the laptops and then throw them into the harbor—the water will finish destroying anything that’s left.  Tell Jessie he has to completely shut down his networks—he can’t leave any trace of anything, including TruthTrakker.”

David handed him an envelope, “Inside you will find their address along with new passports and IDs.  They can start a new life away from all of this.”

Keith opened the envelope.  It contained passports with current photos verifying that Jessie and Kyle were Canadian citizens.  There were Canadian drivers’ licenses and valid Canadian Social Insurance numbers. Jessie of the no last name would henceforth be known in Canada as “Buck Johnson,” and Kyle was about to be reborn as “Roy Dillow.” He surveyed each set of documents while keeping one eye on David. Who was this guy?

After he had reviewed the documents for Jessie and Kyle, Keith reached his hand back into the envelope to produce one more set of documents for someone named “Travis Carter.” He was startled to find his own picture staring back at him on the passport, and he looked at David for an explanation.

“There’s still time for you to get out. After you throw out the laptops, head north. The Feds won’t be expecting you to try to get out before the ruling.  You can use these documents to cross the Canadian border. After you cross, keep going. Even if you win tomorrow, don’t come back.”

“What about Kris?” Keith held the passport in one hand and patted it gently with the other.

“There’s nothing I can do for her. She has to show up tomorrow; she has to be in court to hear the ruling.  If she were to disappear now it would trigger an instant manhunt that would risk all of you being captured.  Kris has made her decision. If the Court rules in her favor, she’ll get her life back; if not she’s already as good as dead.  But you still have a choice. You can live through this.  You’re holding in your hand a literal ‘get of jail free card.’  Use it.”

With those words David stepped back into the tunnel, leaving Keith alone in the basement holding his own exit strategy as well as Jessie’s and Kyle’s.

He stood thinking for what felt like a long time.  Of course, he would help Jessie and Kyle. He had to—he had gotten them into this mess. But should he go himself?  He had secretly wished a thousand times that he had never gotten into this predicament in the first place. He had wished an equal number of times that he could wave his hand and make it all disappear. If only there were an easy way out.  Now there was—all he had to do was drive away and keep driving. After all, it wasn’t his fault that his parents had died; it wasn’t his fault that Kris had fallen in love with Mike. It wasn’t his fault that Mike and Jeff had gotten arrested or that Kris had decided to die trying to free them. None of it was his fault. David was right—he had done everything that he could.

And yet, he could not fight off the tremendous sense of loss and sadness. Kris was the last remaining person who was really a part of his life. They had spent the last three years together. When he left tomorrow, she would be all alone.  She would be arrested alone, and she would never know what had happened to him. Probably she would assume that he had been arrested too; she would probably never realize that he had escaped. It would be better that way—for her not to know that he had left without her.

He would also be alone—more alone than he had ever been. At least, when he had lived in the forest he had known that he had family, even if he chose not to see them or talk to them most of the time. This time it would be different. His niece and nephews were living in a foreign country; he would never see them again. He would never see Karyn again.  And even though he found Mike odd, he liked him—he’d always liked him. He’d always liked Jeff. Everyone was gone—everything was gone. Now the only two choices left to him were to run away and pretend that he had never known any of them or to stay here and die with them. There was no big glorious ending for his life after all—just a choice about how he would live the next twenty-four hours and how he would die. To believe anything different than this required a faith that he had not allowed himself for many years. Only God could help them now, but Keith had not allowed himself to think about God for a very long time. For the first time in years, he wanted to ask for His help, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. By asking he would be admitting that he was wrong—that he had been wrong all along. As the reality of his situation sank in, as he sat all alone in the house, his own fear and sadness and sense of inadequacy crashed over him, and he put his head in his hands and sobbed as he had not done since the day he had buried Cassie and his baby.