He loved it even more when people told him he should be president — not Dorn — mostly because he agreed with them. Even at his age, he hadn’t ruled out a run at the executive office when Dorn’s term was over.
Baxter had left the White House an hour ago in a heavily armored limousine to make the trip to this four-bedroom brick colonial. The home was in no way ostentatious, because it couldn’t be. Ostentatious could have elicited harsh criticism from tenacious bloggers who were always closely monitoring members of the high court.
But behind floor-to-ceiling drapes, the house was ornately furnished and decorated with the trappings of a man who earned a considerable living and held a highly respected position in society. The study, in particular, cast this impression because, Baxter assumed, this was where Espinosa spent most of his time. The furniture was made of fine leather and expensive wood; the beautiful rolltop desk had once been used by John D. Rockefeller; the silver-framed pictures were classic photographs of Espinosa with his family; and the art hanging on the walls and decorating the tables was exquisite in taste and price.
Espinosa had come from humble beginnings, Baxter knew. He was second-generation Puerto Rican — American with a dark complexion and a shock of thick, black hair tinted more and more by silver streaks as forty faded further and further into the rearview mirror. Espinosa had grown up poor in a tough, crime-ridden section of East New York, Brooklyn. But with help from affirmative action he’d made it to the Ivy League and hadn’t wasted the opportunity. After graduating summa cum laude from Harvard, he’d attended Yale Law School and then worked at a white-shoe firm in Midtown Manhattan before going on the bench.
Until six months ago Espinosa had been a judge on the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit. Then he’d made the big leap and was now an associate justice of the Supreme Court.
Espinosa was one of the youngest men ever appointed to the Supreme Court, and there were others who should have gotten the nod ahead of him. But President Dorn had disregarded protocol and turned Espinosa’s childhood dreams into reality when Congress had approved the nomination.
Now Espinosa had his sights squarely on becoming chief justice, Baxter knew. Well, if that was going to happen Espinosa would need David Dorn’s help again. And there would be a heavy price on top of the debt he already owed.
“How are you, Henry?” Baxter asked in a leading tone. “And how are things at One First Street?”
“Fine, Stewart,” Espinosa answered evenly. “The Supreme Court and I are both just fine.”
Baxter smiled thinly. Justice Espinosa had recognized the expectant tone. Well, that was good. He had to have known this day would come sooner or later. That was how Washington worked. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. And if you buck the system, you pay.
“President Dorn sends his regards, Henry.”
“Tell him I said ‘hello’ as well. He certainly seems to be riding a long, tall wave of popularity.”
“He has a seventy-eight percent approval rating,” Baxter said proudly. “It was over eighty back at the beginning of the year, but, as you know, high seventies is still almost unheard-of, especially for this long.”
“I assume,” Espinosa replied, “that it’s coming mostly from how well he handled the Holiday Mall Attacks.”
Last December, eleven death squads had attacked holiday shoppers with submachine gun fire inside eleven major malls around the country — simultaneously. The press had dubbed the horror the “Holiday Mall Attacks.”
“Stopping those attacks is certainly one reason President Dorn is so popular,” Baxter agreed. “But he’s done many other great things for this country. The public adores him.”
“Yes, Stewart, but we all know—”
“We all know,” Baxter interrupted loudly, “that President Dorn will go down in history as one of the greatest leaders this country has ever had.” He watched as Espinosa pursed his lips, obviously irritated at the intrusion. “I’ll make certain of that if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You are very dedicated.”
“I’m his chief of staff, Henry. Why wouldn’t I be dedicated?”
Espinosa shrugged. “I hear things.”
“Be specific.”
“How can I say this delicately, Stewart?” Espinosa hesitated. “Let’s just say you bear the brunt of the president’s frustrations when things don’t go as planned.”
“Meaning that I’m his whipping boy?” Baxter had heard that before, and he detested it. Espinosa was going to be sorry for saying this. “President Dorn and I have an excellent working relationship.”
“Has anyone figured out why Daniel Gadanz carried out the attacks?” Espinosa asked, turning the page.
“Why does anyone do something like that?”
“Well, if I’m remembering the reports correctly, the men in the death squads were Muslim extremists.”
“That’s right. They were mostly from Yemen, and they belonged to a small, splinter faction of nut jobs. But Gadanz organized and funded them. Without him, they couldn’t possibly have carried out what they did.”
“So that explains their motivation. They were carrying out their jihad. But it doesn’t explain why Daniel Gadanz organized them.”
“Very good, Henry.”
Espinosa shrugged as if it wasn’t good at all. As if it clearly didn’t take a Supreme Court justice to come up with the question.
“The FBI believes,” Baxter continued, “that Gadanz wanted the attacks to go on for a long time. That he intended for them to be diversionary, to distract law enforcement from normal operations. So he could ramp up his drug smuggling into the United States.”
“Of course,” Espinosa whispered. “Brilliant.”
The chief of staff’s expression went grim. Espinosa was right. It had been a brilliant plan. And thank God for Red Cell Seven and how fast they’d uncovered what was really going on and who was responsible, Baxter thought to himself, though he would never admit that to anyone.
“During the short time the attacks were going on,” Baxter continued, “there was a significant surge of heroin, cocaine, and marijuana smuggled into this country by Gadanz. Despite being understandably distracted from normal operations, state and local authorities intercepted a number of large shipments at several border and near-shore locations. But the street price of all three drugs still dropped slightly for a few months, indicating that there was a significant new supply available.”
“Meaning,” Espinosa spoke up, “that while local authorities intercepted a few shipments—”
“Most of the shipments from South America and Asia still made it in.”
This time Espinosa seemed intensely irritated at the interruption. But Baxter didn’t care. He’d always found Supreme Court justices to be the stodgiest lot in Washington, terribly impressed with themselves even as they took great pains to appear humble.
“As usual, Henry, you’ve got your finger on the pulse.”
“Don’t patronize me, Stewart. It’s embarrassing for both of us.”
Baxter stared at Espinosa hard. If the justice didn’t come around quickly, that arrogance would be wiped away hard and fast.
“How did the FBI link the Holiday Mall Attacks to Daniel Gadanz so quickly?” Espinosa wanted to know.
“That’s classified.” How Red Cell Seven had connected the Gadanz brothers to the horrible crime was highly classified, and it was a good thing, too. No one was supposed to know about RC7. Even more important to Dorn and Baxter, no one could know how good they were. “Let’s get to why I’m here tonight, Henry.”
Espinosa groaned. “I have to tell you, Stewart, I’m not comfortable with this. It wouldn’t look good if—”