The Pelican Brief by John Grisham Page B

I’ve been here many times before. In fact, I was here when you were running around in dirty diapers, Mr. Coal. Things have a way of leaking out.”
    “I think you’ve had leaks yourself,” Coal said.
    The President raised his hand. “It’s confidential, Denton. You have my word.” Coal retreated a step.
    Voyles watched the President. “Court opened Monday, as you know, and the maniacs have been in town for a few days. For the past two weeks, we’ve been monitoring various movements. We know of atleast eleven members of the Underground Army who’ve been in the D.C. area for a week. We questioned a couple today, and released them. We know the group has the capability, and the desire. It’s our strongest possibility, for now. Could change tomorrow.”
    Coal was not impressed. The Underground Army was on everyone’s list.
    “I’ve heard of them,” the President said stupidly.
    “Oh yes. They’re becoming quite popular. We believe they killed a trial judge in Texas. Can’t prove it, though. They’re very proficient with explosives. We suspect them in at least a hundred bombings of abortion clinics, ACLU offices, porno houses, gay clubs, all over the country. They’re just the people who would hate Rosenberg and Jensen.”
    “Other suspects?” Coal asked.
    “There’s an Aryan group called White Resistance that we’ve been watching for two years. It operates out of Idaho and Oregon. The leader gave a speech in West Virginia last week, and has been in the area for a few days. He was spotted Monday in the demonstration outside the Supreme Court. We’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”
    “But are these people professional assassins?” Coal asked.
    “They don’t advertise, you understand. I doubt if any group performed the actual killings. They just hired the assassins and provided the legwork.”
    “So who’re the assassins?” the President asked.
    “We may never know, frankly.”
    The President stood and stretched his legs. Another hard day at the office. He smiled down atVoyles across the desk. “You have a difficult task.” It was the grandfather’s voice, filled with warmth and understanding. “I don’t envy you. If possible, I would like a two-page typewritten double-spaced report by 5 P.M. each day, seven days a week, on the progress of the investigation. If something breaks, I expect you to call me immediately.”
    Voyles nodded but did not speak.
    “I’m having a press conference in the morning at nine. I would like for you to be here.”
    Voyles nodded but did not speak. Seconds passed and no one spoke. Voyles stood noisily and tied the strap around the trench coat. “Oh well, we’ll be going. You’ve got the Ethiopians and all.” He handed the ballistics and autopsy reports to Coal, knowing the President would never read them.
    “Thanks for coming, gentlemen,” the President said warmly. Coal closed the door behind them, and the President grabbed the putter. “I’m not eating with the Ethiopians,” he said, staring at the carpet and a yellow ball.
    “I know it. I’ve already sent your apologies. This is a great hour of crisis, Mr. President, and you are expected to be here in this office surrounded by your advisers, hard at work.”
    He putted, and the ball rolled perfectly into the cup. “I want to talk to Horton. These nominations must be perfect.”
    “He’s sent a short list of ten. Looks pretty good.”
    “I want young conservative white men opposed to abortion, pornography, queers, gun control, racial quotas, all that crap.” He missed a putt, and kicked off his loafers. “I want judges who hate dope andcriminals and are enthusiastic about the death penalty. Understand?”
    Coal was on the phone, punching numbers and nodding at his boss. He would select the nominees, then convince the President.
    ________
    K. O. Lewis sat with the Director in the back of the quiet limousine as it left the White House and crawled through rush-hour traffic. Voyles had nothing to