“Yes, I do,” Markey said.
“Okay then.”
4
At conference it was clear that the tension had gotten to everyone. Even Ray Byrne, who normally brought a light Irish wit to the discussions, had more lines on his face than Millie could ever remember seeing.
And as the justices made their traditional handshakes around the table, eyes were averted. Especially Justice Riley’s. He did not look at Millie. His handshake was weak.
Everyone sat, making little motions with the pens and legal pads in front of them. Justice Atkins doodled, and the normally placid Arlene Praeger Weiss tapped a drumbeat with her pen. Riley and Byrne simply looked at a spot in the center of the conference table, as if waiting for an answer to magically appear.
“All right,” Millie said finally. “We all know what’s going on. We all know it’s affecting us. We also know that the country’s business has to continue, and we are a big part of that business. We must not allow anything to distract us.”
Riley cleared his throat but did not look up.
“I was named to this position,” Millie said, “to lead the Court. That is what I intend to do. We have cases before us right now that need our attention. I suggest we get down to work. Does anyone have anything they’d like to add?”
There was a short pause as the justices exchanged looks. Then Byrne spoke. “Well said, Chief. We’re with you.”
A couple of voices chimed assent. Millie thought she heard from Parsons and Velarde, and was thankful she had achieved that level of bipartisanship. Her heart ached, however, as Riley remained impassive.
She pushed the feeling downward and said, “Let’s start with United States v. Ferguson.”
When the conference broke at noon Millie asked Tom Riley to stay behind. The expressions of the other justices reflected that everyone sensed the tension between Millie and Riley.
“We can’t go on like this,” Millie said when they were alone.
Riley folded his arms and shrugged. “This is the way it is, apparently.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” She suddenly felt the eyes of John Marshall upon her. The great justice peered at them from his portrait, as if his own heart were breaking. “Tom, if you will stand with me and make a statement, along with the others, we can beat this thing back. A Court united, if not in ideology, at least in purpose. We cannot let politics infect us. If it can happen to me, it can happen to any judge, any time. Tom, will you do it?”
She had not wanted desperation to enter her voice, but it was there. And when Tom Riley did not immediately answer, the desperation lodged itself in her, choking off breath.
Finally, Riley said, “Why don’t you just resign?”
Resign? Had he really said that? Of course he had. “No.”
“Can’t you see the horrible damage you’ve done?”
His words could not have hurt more if they had been knives cutting her skin. Then anger began to well inside her. “I was not the one who leaked the lies to the press.”
“It was inevitable,” Riley countered. “And the damage might have been greater.”
“Greater?”
“How many cases might you decide if…”
She looked at him coolly. “If I’m not impeached?”
Riley did not back down. “The Court is what’s important.”
“No,” she said. “The Court is important only if it reflects the views of Thomas J. Riley. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Justice Riley stood up and started for the door. “I have given thirty years of my life to this institution. The things I have built up…”
“The things you have built up? This is an institution, Tom. It is greater than any one person.”
He glared back at her. “You said it. That’s why you should step down.”
Riley’s face was like winter stillness. His mouth twitched, as if readying to speak of its own accord. But he was silent. It was a silence of finality, like death. He walked out of the conference room.
Millie sat several minutes without moving. She felt as if her body was incapable of emotion, lest it be consumed. And then the grief came, the stark loss, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying.
She felt like the walking dead as she returned to her chambers. How could this possibly go on, day after day?
Oh God - she realized she was praying – show me what to do.
A knock on the door. Rosalind stepped in. “May I see you a moment?”
“Of course,” Millie said, relieved to have the company. For the last week Rosalind had been a quiet support, doing the work of two clerks. It was, Millie knew, Rosalind’s way of saying she would stick it out.
“I have something on my mind I have to talk about,” Rosalind said. “It’s driving me crazy.”
Rosalind looked at her hands, rubbing the palms together. “I…” She stopped suddenly, turning her head back toward the door as if she might leave.
“Please,” Millie said. She went to Rosalind and gently guided her to one of the two leather chairs that faced her desk. It was obvious that whatever Rosalind was trying to say troubled her greatly. “It’s all right,” Millie said. “Whatever it is.”
Rosalind took a deep breath. “I did something and I feel bad about it. I went out with Russell, Riley’s clerk.”
That wasn’t a big deal. Clerks sometimes went out on dates, even crossing ideological lines. Still, the fact that it was Riley’s clerk made her wonder what was coming next.
“He wanted to buy me a drink to start, and I said okay. Only I got up and went to the bathroom, and I told the waiter instead of a Seven and Seven, bring me just 7-Up with a dash of Coke in it. And keep them coming.”
“But why?”
Rosalind looked at her boss, eyes smoldering. “Because I can’t stand what they’re doing to you.”
“Who is they?”
“Everybody. The whole machine. And I had to find out what Russell knew.”
“About what?” Millie’s whole body was starting to tense up.
“That day Riley walked out of conference, and you went to see him in his chambers?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Russell was on the other side of the door, listening to the whole thing.”
“He was eavesdropping?”
“He called it spying. Riley’s other clerk wasn’t even in at the time. So he did that thing with the glass on the wall. And he listened.”
Millie recalled that conversation with absolute clarity. She had told Riley she was a Christian. He had said he would have to fight her.
“He admitted this to you?” Millie asked.
“We kept getting drinks. I’d finish ahead of him, he’d be amazed, we’d order another round. It finally got to the point where he actually bragged about it. He wrote a memo about your conversation with Riley. He told me he knew a guy that knew Biff Burrow, you know, of the Burrow Bulletin?”
“I know it,” Millie said, “only too well. So Russell leaked the story?”
“Well…”
“There’s more?”
Rosalind looked distressed, as if this were the most painful part. “Just before Russell left with it, he printed a hard copy. He had it on his desk. He went to the bathroom. And when he got back he said Riley was standing there, reading it.”
Millie felt an emptiness starting to swell inside her. It was getting upsettingly familiar.
“And Russell thought he was going to get in trouble,” Rosalind said. “But then Riley threw it back on the desk and walked away.”
Now the emptiness engulfed her.
“I’m so sorry,” Rosalind said, and then her eyes filled with tears. “I wish I hadn’t done that. I feel dirty. And I feel dirty telling you. But I couldn’t keep it to myself.”
Millie came to Rosalind and put her arm around her. “No, don’t. You wanted to help me. That means more to me than anything.”
Rosalind wiped at her eyes. “What’s going to happen to us?”