“Never in our nation’s history has an assassin struck at a sitting justice inside the walls of the Supreme Court Building,” the anchorwoman said. “But that changed this evening when an assailant tried to shoot Associate Justice Felicia Moss in the Court’s garage. Only quick thinking by one of her law clerks prevented the tragedy. The identity of the clerk has not been revealed, but Brad Miller, who figured prominently in the recent scandal involving former president Christopher Farrington, is employed as a clerk by the justice.”

“Great,” Brad said. “Prepare to be besieged by hordes of reporters again. Shit! I so wanted to be done with being a news story.”

Ginny squeezed Brad’s hand. “I’m not any happier than you are, but we weathered the storm once, and we’ll do it again. Thank goodness, Justice Moss had the foresight to get you a person to guard the apartment. All I need is some reporter banging on our door in the middle of the night and-”

Ginny stopped talking suddenly. “I know her.”

“Who?”

Ginny was pointing at the TV. “That woman.”

On the screen, President Maureen Gaylord was introducing her nominee to fill the vacancy on the Court created by Justice Chalmers’s resignation. The woman standing next to the president was a little over five feet tall, very skinny with pinched features and mousy brown hair. Her thin lips were drawn into a tight line and her eyes stared straight ahead. Brad thought that she looked completely humorless.

“Audrey Stewart is a graduate of Yale and its law school,” President Gaylord was saying, “and has been a respected professor at Harvard and New York University law schools for several years. More important for these trying times, Miss Stewart spent several years in a high-ranking position at the Central Intelligence Agency. Her experience will give her a unique insight into many of the issues that will come before the Court.”

“How do you know Stewart?” Brad asked.

“I don’t really know her. Do you remember calling me a few nights ago and asking me to meet you for dinner and I couldn’t go because I had to work late?”

“Yes.”

“When I was leaving the office, Dennis Masterson came out of the elevator with Stewart. I thought it was an odd time to meet with a client, but Masterson must have been helping Stewart get the nomination. He was the head of the CIA, and I bet she served with him.”

“That makes sense. Masterson is a major player in this town.”

Audrey Stewart stepped to the podium and gave a saccharine thank-you speech.

“She looks a little scary,” Brad said. “I wonder how she’ll fit into the Court.”

“If she worked at the CIA, I’m guessing she’s going to beef up the conservatives.”

“You can’t always tell,” Brad said. “Hugo Black was a member of the Ku Klux Klan, and he ended up being a big supporter of civil liberties, and everyone thought Harry Blackmun would be very conservative and he authored Roe v. Wade.”

“If Dennis Masterson helped her get the nomination, Audrey Stewart is not a closet liberal. Trust me on that. I’ve learned enough about Masterson’s politics during my short time at the firm to know he’d only help a dyed-in-the-wool right-winger get on the Court.”

“Tomorrow, the bloggers and the newspapers will have plenty of articles analyzing her views.”

The phone rang and Ginny and Brad stared at it.

“Let the answering machine take it,” Brad said.

“Hi, this is Wendy Fellows from the Washington Post,” the caller began.

Brad walked over to the wall and disconnected the phone just as Ginny’s cell started to ring. They looked at each other and powered down their cell phones.

“Are you sorry you took up with me?” Brad asked Ginny.

“My life would certainly be more peaceful with almost anyone else as a fiancé. I just think of you as one of those trials God puts us through to test us.”

Brad smiled. Then he took Ginny in his arms and kissed her. “We’re not going to get any calls tonight, and there’s nothing on TV. What do you want to do?”

“Are you sure your ribs can take it?” Ginny asked, only half joking.

“Why don’t we see?”

Chapter Seventeen

Brad was so exhausted that he overslept, but the policeman who’d relieved Officer Gross drove him to work so he wasn’t too late. Normally, the security guard at the employees’ entrance nodded at Brad when he walked by, but this morning he said, “Good work, Mr. Miller.”

Brad blushed and mumbled something inane before rushing off. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to think he was a hero when he didn’t think of himself like that. He’d read interviews with men who had been awarded the Medal of Honor and citizens who’d rushed into burning buildings or leaped into turbulent rivers to save a life. Many of them were humble and embarrassed at being labeled a hero. Brad could see why. If he’d had time to think, he believed he would have run away from Justice Moss’s assailant as fast as he could. But, like many other real-life heroes, he had acted on instinct, and it bothered him that he would be given credit for saving the judge’s life when he was on automatic pilot when he did it.

“Thank you,” Carrie Harris told Brad when he walked by the door to the judge’s chambers on his way to his office.

“I really didn’t do much, Carrie.”

“Uh huh,” she answered, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Well, whatever you didn’t do kept the boss alive. So I’m still going to thank you. And speaking of Justice Moss, she wants to see you.”

“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just going to dump my stuff.”

As soon as Brad walked into his office, Harriet jumped to her feet.

“Are you OK?” she asked, examining his taped-up chin.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Did you really have a karate fight with the guy who attacked the boss?”

“Karate fight? I don’t know any karate. Where did you hear that?”

“All of the clerks are talking. I think they heard it from the security guards, but I can’t swear to that.”

“There was karate, but there wasn’t any fight. I was on the floor before I knew what hit me.”

“Then how did you fight him off?”

“I didn’t. Justice Moss knocked the gun out of the guy’s hand with her cane while I distracted him by letting him beat the hell out of me. Then she fired the gun to keep him from killing me. She’s the real hero.”

“I think you’re just being modest.”

“I’m just being honest. Look, Harriet, the judge is waiting for me. Please don’t tell anyone I’m the Bruce Lee of the Supreme Court, because that is absolutely false.”

“Hold my calls and shut the door,” Justice Moss told Carrie Harris when she ushered Brad into chambers.

“How are you feeling?” the judge asked Brad as soon as they were alone.

“Not too bad. A little sore, that’s all.”

“Roy Kineer called me last night,” Moss said when she was satisfied that he wasn’t just being brave. “He heard about the attack on the news. He asked after you. I told him you saved my life.”

“I hope you didn’t exaggerate what I did.”

Justice Moss threw her head back and laughed. “You charged a man with a gun armed only with a legal memo, young man. How do you exaggerate that?”

Brad smiled.

“ Roy wasn’t surprised by what you did. He had some very nice things to say about you, some of which I’d heard before when he recommended that I hire you. You should know that there aren’t many people who impress Roy.”

Brad blushed and looked at his lap. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. The former chief justice had acted as the independent counsel who investigated the charges against President Farrington, and they had met because Brad and Dana Cutler were the key witnesses in the case. Kineer was an icon in the legal community and one of Brad’s heroes. It was hard for him to believe that Justice Kineer thought about him at all, let alone was impressed by him.