“You should be more willing to help,” Baxter cut in. “You owe President Dorn a great deal.”
“I’m aware.”
It was time to play the card, Baxter decided, and exact a measure of revenge for that “whipping boy” comment.
“It’s a shame when people have such lurid skeletons hanging in their bedroom closets,” Baxter spoke up in a faux-friendly tone. “Isn’t it, Henry? A man enjoys a little pleasure, and then he risks a lifetime of manipulation when it goes wrong. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
Espinosa stared back at Baxter for a few moments and then glanced adoringly — and fearfully — at the picture of his wife and three children sitting atop the Rockefeller desk in the far corner of the room. “Go on, Stewart,” he muttered hoarsely. “Get to why you’re here.”
“We are Red Cell Seven, Jack Jensen, and this ceremony marks your initiation into our unit. Tonight you will take the secrecy oath. By taking this oath you swear never to reveal any information related to Red Cell Seven to anyone outside the unit. To the extent you do, you may be punished, and that punishment could involve death. It is that simple, and it is that serious. Do you understand?”
Jack nodded to the man on the other side of the altar who was holding the Bible.
“Once you are a member of Red Cell Seven you are always a member of Red Cell Seven. It is a lifetime commitment. There is no going back. Essentially, you die as a human and rise again as one of us. Do you understand, Mr. Jensen?”
Jack nodded again.
“Are you prepared to take this oath and become a member?”
Jack stared up at the eyes behind the mask for a long time, trying to recognize them. But he couldn’t.
“No,” he finally answered in a low, firm voice as he rose from his knees. “No, I am not.”
As he hurried out of the stall the startled whispers behind him increased in volume, and he wasn’t certain he was going to make it out of the barn.
Until he was almost back to the compound, he wasn’t certain he’d survive.
CHAPTER 8
Stewart Baxter rose from the couch, moved to the wingback chair Espinosa was sitting in, and handed the justice a manila envelope.
As Baxter sat back down, Espinosa donned his reading glasses and removed the single sheet of faded paper from inside.
“In your hands you hold Executive Order 1973 One-E,” Baxter explained. “That Order established the most clandestine intelligence unit this nation has ever known. It’s called Red Cell Seven. It was established by Richard Nixon in 1973, basically to hunt for Russian spies. But it survived the collapse of the Soviet Union.”
“I’m familiar with Red Cell Seven,” Espinosa replied in a soft voice as he gazed down at the document. “You should know that. Other than the president and his chief of staff, the Supreme Court is the only body inside the federal government that is aware of the cell’s existence.”
“Of course I know. I was simply being courteous and reminding you.”
“Well, then—”
“What you don’t know is that the cell has gone rogue.”
Espinosa’s eyes flickered to Baxter’s. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t tell you any more than that.” Baxter gestured at the paper. “Just read.”
When Espinosa had finished, he glanced up again. “What do you want from me, Stewart?”
“I want your opinion of that document.”
Espinosa removed his reading glasses and slipped them back into his shirt pocket. “First, I have to know if this is actually Richard Nixon’s signature at the bottom of the page.”
“It is,” Baxter replied grimly. It was difficult to mask his disappointment. “I’ve had that signature studied and analyzed by experts, and it is definitely President Nixon’s. They didn’t see the document you are holding, of course, but they saw a copy of that signature and confirmed its authenticity.”
Espinosa stared steadily at Baxter for several moments. Then he lifted the document up until it was between him and the bright overhead light. Slowly, he brought the paper closer and closer to his eyes as he kept the bulb behind it, then held it steady for several moments. Finally, he lowered the paper back into his lap.
The justice’s fingers were shaking, Baxter noticed. “Well?”
“The document is authentic,” Espinosa confirmed. “And absolutely enforceable,” he added. “All genuine agents of Red Cell Seven are forever and completely immune from prosecution of any kind. The leaders of the cell are required to keep a list of initiated agents, not to exceed three hundred individuals at any one time, who can never be prosecuted. The protocol for their protection is all here,” Espinosa said, tapping the document lying in his lap. “I’m sure you’ve read through this.”
“And—”
“And it would be a crime of the highest treason for anyone to ever bring an action against any of those three hundred agents.” It was Espinosa’s turn to interrupt Baxter. “They can steal, kill, or attack anything or anyone, and nothing can be done to them. They cannot be prosecuted for anything from a speeding ticket to being a serial killer. Of course, the assumption is they won’t ever do anything like that for their own personal gain because of who they are and what they stand for. According to the Order, they are to protect and defend the United States ‘with every fiber of their being.’ ” Espinosa glanced down at the paper to make certain he got the words right. “They are to forfeit their lives for the greater glory of the nation and revel in the knowledge that the general population will never know of or appreciate their ultimate sacrifice.” The justice shook his head in awe. “They are free to operate”—he hesitated—“even if they have gone rogue. And who knows if they really have? It’s a relative term with those people. What may look rogue to you and me may be what, in their opinion, is best for the country. There’s nothing anyone can do about them, not without severe consequences, anyway.”
“Why were you looking so hard at the document?” Baxter asked. “Why did you hold it up to the light the way you did?”
“I wanted to see it better.”
“Don’t lie to me, Henry.”
“All I’ll say is that this document is airtight, legitimate, and enforceable.” Espinosa stood up, walked the document back to Baxter, and returned to his chair. “Now, tell me the real reason you asked me to look at it. And why you just threatened my marriage, my family, and my career.”
Baxter shook his head. “Not yet.”
He wanted Espinosa to swing for a while, especially if the justice wasn’t going to be completely forthright even with the obvious danger hanging over his head. The longer Espinosa had to think about the implications of the terrible secret going viral across the Internet, the more likely the justice would be to change his mind and give up any Supreme Court secrets that Baxter and Dorn were unaware of. It was like giving water time to turn a tiny crack in a dam into a torrent that destroyed the dam.
Espinosa pointed at the Order, which now lay in Baxter’s lap. “As far as I know, only two of those documents exist.”
“That’s right,” Baxter confirmed.
“Both documents are supposed to be in the hands of RC7 leadership.”
“That’s right,” Baxter repeated.
“How did you get that one?”
“I guess we’ll both keep secrets for now, Justice Espinosa.” Baxter could already see the stress of the secret getting out working its way into every fiber of Espinosa’s being. Time was clearly his and Dorn’s ally when it came to turning Espinosa into their puppet. “Now let’s talk about why I’m really here. Do you know what I have on you, Henry?”
Espinosa nodded despondently after a few moments. “I think so. Stewart, I can’t have that—”