Fiske looked puzzled. I would have thought youd know everything about the other justices by talking to the clerks.

The clerks for one justice tend to stick together to a certain degree, although every Thursday afternoon theres a happy hour when we all get together. And periodically the clerks of one justice take another justice out to lunch just as a get-to-know-you sort of thing. Otherwise, each chamber is pretty self-contained she paused except for the famed clerk opinion network.

Mike mentioned something like that to me after he first came to the Court.

Sara smiled. Im sure he did. The clerks are the mouthpieces for their justices. We send up trial balloons all the time, feeling each other out on a justices position. For example, Michael used to ask me what Knight needed in a majority opinion to join Murphy.

But if Murphy is already writing the majority opinion, why does he need to court other votes?

You really are in the dark about how we work.

Just a simple country lawyer.

Okay, Mr. Simple Country Lawyer, the fact is if I had ten bucks for every time a majority opinion turned into a dissent because enough support wasnt garnered for it, Id be wealthy. The trick is you have to craft an opinion thatll get five votes. And of course the opposition doesnt just sit idly by. One or more dissenting opinions might be circulated simultaneously. The use of dissenting opinions, or even the threat of them, is a fine art.

Fiske looked at her curiously. I thought the dissenters were on the losing side. What kind of leverage could they have?

Lets say a justice doesnt like how a majority opinion is shaping up, so the justice either circulates a draft of a scathing dissent that may make the whole court look bad if its published or that even undercuts the majoritys opinion. Or better yet, and easier, the justice will let it be known that he intends to write such a dissent, unless the majority opinion is scaled back. They all do it. Ramsey, Knight, Murphy. They go at it tooth and nail.

Fiske shook his head. Like one long political campaign, always scrounging for votes. The legal version of porkbellies. Give me this and you got my vote.

And knowing when to pick your battles. Lets say one or more justices doesnt like how a case was decided five years ago. Now, the Court doesnt lightly overturn its own precedent, so you have to think strategically. Those justices might use a case in the present to start laying the building blocks for overturning the precedent they didnt like years from now. That also goes for case selection. The justices are always on the outlook for just the right case to use as a vehicle to change a precedent they dont like. Its like a chess game.

Lets hope one thing doesnt get lost in all the game playing.

Whats that?

Justice. Maybe thats what Rufus Harms wants. Why he filed his appeal. You think he can get justice here?

Sara looked down. I dont know. The fact is the individual parties involved in the cases at this level really arent all that important. The precedents established through their cases, thats what counts. It all depends on what hes asking for. How it will impact others.

Well, that really sucks. Fiske shook his head and gave her a penetrating look. A damn interesting place, this Supreme Court.

So youll come to the party?

Wouldnt miss it.

["C41"]CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Josh Harms assumed the police would now be covering the back roads, so he had taken the unusual tactic of driving on the interstate. It was dusk, though, and with the windows rolled up, they were okay; a police cruiser would have a tough time seeing inside. But despite all his precautions, he knew they were steering toward disaster. Funny, he thought, after all the hell his brother had been put through, that he would even think about wanting to do the right thing at the risk of dying, of losing the freedom that never should have been taken away from him in the first place. He felt like both cursing and praising Rufus in the same breath. Joshs outlook on life wasnt complicated: It was him against everybody else. He didnt go looking for trouble, but he had a hair trigger when confronted with anybody looking to piss on him. It was a wonder hed lived this long, he knew. Still, you had to admire a person like Rufus, who could fight through all that, through people who didnt want to see the world change one iota since they were riding on top of it. Maybe the truthwillset you free, Rufus, he thought. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw something in the trucks sideview mirror that made him ease his hand over and grip his gun.

Rufus, he called back through the open window connecting to the camper, we got a problem here.

Rufuss face appeared at the window. What is it?

Stay low! Stay low! Josh cautioned. He again eyed the police cruiser, which was a fixture in the trucks side mirror. Troopers passed us twice and then dropped back.

You speeding?

Five clicks under.

Something wrong with the truck, taillight out?

I aint that dumb. Trucks fine.

So what, then?

Look, Rufus, just because youve been in prison all these years doesnt mean the worlds changed any. Im a black man in a real nice-looking vehicle on the highway at night. Cops think I either stole it or Im running drugs. Shit, going to the store for milk can be a real adventure. He looked in the side mirror again. Looks like hes just about to hit his light.

What we gonna do? I cant hide back here.

Josh didnt take his eyes off the mirror even as he slipped his gun under the seat. Yep, any second now hes gonna hit that light, and we are done. Get down on the floor and pull that tarp on top of you, Rufus. Do it now. Josh pushed his baseball cap down low so that only the white hair of his temples showed. He stuck out his chin and pushed his bottom lip out, giving the impression that he had no teeth. He leaned over, flipped open the glove box and took out a tin of chew and put a big plug of it in his mouth, which made his cheek bulge. He let his strong frame collapse. Then he rolled down the window and stuck his arm out, motioning in long, slow waves for the police cruiser to pull over to the highway shoulder. Josh eased the truck off the road and stopped. The cruiser quickly pulled in behind the truck, its roof lights throwing off a startling, ominous blue into the darkness. Josh waited in the truck. You let the boys in blue come to you, no hurried movement. He winced as the cruisers searchlight beam reflected off the side mirror. A cop tactic to disorient you, he knew well. Josh heard the boots crunching on the bite of gravel. He could envision the trooper approaching, hand on his gun, eyes trained on the door. Three times in the past, cops had pulled him over and then Josh would hear the tinkling of glass as the baton just happened to collide with a taillight, with the result that he had been cited for an equipment infraction. It was done just to piss him off, see if hed do something that would warrant some jail time. It had never worked. Yes sir, no sir, mister policeman, sir,even as he wanted to beat the man unconscious. At least they had never planted drugs in his car and then tried to pin that on him. He had several buddies idling in prison right now after being hit with that shit.

Fight it, his ex-wife Louise had always said.

Fight what? he had retorted. Might as well be fighting God for all the good itll do me.

As the footsteps stopped, Josh looked out the window. The state trooper stared back at him. Josh noted that he was Hispanic.

Whats the matter, sir? the trooper asked. The chew bulging against his cheek with each syllable, Josh said, Wanta git me on Luzzana. He pointed down the road. Dis aight?

The puzzled trooper crossed his arms. Now where do you want to go again?

Luzzana. Bat Rouge.

Baton Rouge, Louisiana? The trooper laughed. Youre a long way from there.