The Last Justice by Anthony Franze Page A

have always agreed with the other justices on the Kincaid Court, but they all had gotten along well. Collegiality, she believed, was essential on a court Oliver Wendell Holmes had once described as "nine scorpions in a bottle." She thus feared what the court would become with six new overbearing, grandstanding personalities. But it was not her decision. Despite repeated requests from the press, she had refused to comment on the three-three deal and had made sure the law clerks were reminded of the court's notorious ninety-second rule: any clerk seen speaking with a journalist for more than ninety seconds would be summarily fired.
    Nevertheless, Carmichael looked forward to the confirmation of new justices. She longed for a return to her routine and the country needed to move forward. She fretted a little over whether she had prepared the court adequately for the transition. They still had cases pending from the last term, cases for which votes had not yet been taken-decisions not finalized. More problematic, the assassinations had not slowed the growing mountain of petitions for certiorari filed. Even if Carmichael and the two other surviving justices had wanted to vote whether to accept new cases for review, they couldn't even do that much, since granting review required a vote of four. Thus, when the new justices joined the court, the backlog would be daunting indeed. The surviving justices had the authority to remit cases back to the appellate courts, but Carmichael simply would not be accused of dumping cases for expediency.
    With that in mind, Carmichael had requested the thirty-six law clerks, who ordinarily would be leaving for lucrative and prestigious jobs, to stay on for an extra year. She had them and the incoming class working slavishly on detailed memos for each case-much more detailed than the usual "pool memos" used before Black Wednesday. Even the clerks who hadn't lived up to expectations were asked to stay on another year. The only exception, unfortunately, had been one of her clerks, Douglas Pratt. During the investigation of the assassinations, the law clerks were "of interest" and, hence, thoroughly scrutinized.
    Although Pratt was cleared of any involvement in the killings, the investigation uncovered his mounting debts and gambling problem, and he was deemed undesirable. Pratt was allowed to resign on good terms. Word had it that Harrington & Caine, a prestigious D.C. firm, had given him a two-hundred thousand dollar signing bonus to join its elite appellate team.
    Carmichael reached the oak doors that separated the Great Hall from the court chamber. She still hadn't gathered the courage to set foot in the courtroom since that awful day. Bracing herself, she pushed against the heavy door but then turned away.
    Ten minutes later, at her cluttered desk in her chambers, she stared blankly across the room, unable to concentrate, when a timid knock on the door jarred her. Jim Peckham, interim chief of the court's police force, stuck his head in. He had just returned from the Supreme Court Commission meeting in New York.
    "Hello, Jim," she said. "Please come in."
    Just a few months ago, Carmichael had never even met Peckham. He had shot up in the ranks when, in true Washington fashion, all his bosses resigned amid widespread criticism over the security lapses that not only had failed to prevent Black Wednesday but actually added the chief justice to the body count. The media had picked up a story that Peckham, a mid-ranking member of the force, had been raising security issues to his bosses for over a year. Carmichael knew that Peckham needed her support if he wanted his interim position to become permanent. She assumed it was for this reason that Peckham had barely hesitated when she asked him to give her periodic reports on the commission's investigation-an obvious breach of confidentiality.
    "The meeting in New York lasted only a few hours, and I'd like to report that they have solid leads," Peckham said.