Skyhook (49 page)

Gracie picked the rearmost door to the ballroom and had moved inside when a large male hand landed gently on her shoulder, pulling her back into the foyer.

“I need to inspect your briefcase and see your invitation, Miss,”

he said.

Gracie handed over the case and pretended to search her purse for the invitation. “You know, I’m late getting here from court, and I’ll bet my senior partner is already in there at Judge Williamson’s table.”

“I’ll need an invitation,” the plainclothes officer repeated.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that I think my senior partner has my invitation, because we passed it over the desk today in some confusion, and I think …”

“He ended up with it?”

“Yes.”

“I have a list. Give me your name.”

A blur of movement caught her attention just as she prepared to answer. Jim Riggs, the senior government lawyer she’d barked at that morning, was moving through the same portal unchallenged, with no invitation in sight.

She reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “There you are!”

Riggs stopped in his tracks as he recognized her. “Well! Miss O’Brien.”

Gracie gestured to the security guard. “Would you be so kind as to confirm to this gentleman that I am, indeed, supposed to be here?”

The lawyer glanced at the security man, then back at Gracie and smiled.

“Why, of course,” he said, turning to the officer. “Miss O’Brien does indeed belong here, and on top of that, she’s sitting with me, where I can keep tight control of her.”

The guard smiled and nodded as he handed over Gracie’s briefcase and stepped back to allow her to pass.

Riggs gestured for Gracie to precede him into the ballroom, and she did so, suddenly feeling very conspicuous as she realized how underdressed she was for such an elegant crowd. He motioned her to an empty chair at one of the tables and sat down beside her, whispering a few words to the woman on his left before leaning toward Gracie and extending his hand.

“By the way, I’m Jim Riggs, Miss O’Brien, the arrogant senior sexist lawyer. Please call me Jim.”

“Thank you, Jim. Call me Gracie. And thanks for helping me get in here.”

“You were pretty bold to think I would do it.”

“I took you for more of a chauvinist than a sexist.”

“And the difference is?”

“You like girls, but you want to control them.”

“I know what you’re doing here, you know,” he said.

Gracie looked at him, trying not to appear as startled as she felt.

“You do?”

He nodded. “I know you filed the appeal this afternoon. And I know you’re here to catch Judge Williamson’s sleeve.”

“My, you are observant,” Gracie said, her heart sinking. He was, after all, lead counsel for the opposition. “Are you worried I’ll succeed?” she said, faking a smile.

He shook his head. “No, but I’m not going to let you get very far. You may not realize how improper it is to approach an appeals court judge outside of his office.”

“And your point would be what?” Gracie asked. “That the Secret Service will arrest me if I try?”

“No, but if you must embarrass yourself, I’ll tag along to watch,” Riggs said, smiling. “Maybe I can convince him not to throw you in jail.”

Ten minutes later, when the speech was over and the applause had subsided, Judge Williamson left the platform and Gracie got to her feet and moved in his direction, her eyes darting back over her shoulder to track Riggs who was indeed shadowing her.

“Judge Williamson?” Gracie said when she reached the senior jurist’s side. “May I have a word with you, sir?”

The judge turned and looked at her carefully as he extended his hand.

“Certainly. And you are?”

She identified herself, aware that Riggs was standing beside her now. He could see a knowing smile on the lawyer’s face.

“Jim, how are you?” the judge said as he glanced at Riggs. “What brings you to Washington, Miss O’Brien?”

“An extremely urgent legal matter against the government, Judge, which is why I’m asking the court to review a decision of the district court today denying a series of temporary restraining orders.”

“Judge,” Jim Riggs broke in. “I’m opposing counsel for the government, and for the record, we firmly oppose acceleration to the status of an emergency review.”

The judge glanced at Riggs and nodded, returning his eyes to Gracie.

“So, you want me to hold a review right here, right now? I’m not about to do that.” Gracie could see a flash of irritation flicker across his face.

“No, Your Honor!” Gracie replied. “I’m petitioning you to grant us an expedited emergency review in the next two days.”

The judge studied both of them for a few seconds, then nodded. “I have people I need to talk to about other matters right now. But if you two can wait a few minutes, I’ll come back and entertain the motion.”

When the ballroom was nearly empty, Judge Williamson came to where Gracie and Jim Riggs were sitting and pulled out a chair.

His kindly demeanor, combined with the intellectual numbness she already felt, made a succinct explanation easy, and after Jim Riggs had given an equally short summation of the government’s position, they both fell silent.

Williamson nodded. “I’m going to make a significant exception to my own rule, Miss O’Brien, because of the alleged imminent harm.

But I won’t hear it alone. We have oral arguments scheduled in the morning on three cases, as usual, with two of the other judges and me. You two be ready by ten-thirty, and I’ll see that we give you at least five minutes of oral argument and a short rebuttal each.”

Grade returned to the Willard Hotel and stood in front of the elevator for a moment. She suddenly turned away and entered the bar to order two glasses of their best single malt scotch. She adjusted her briefcase and purse straps securely on her shoulder before lifting the drinks and carefully balancing them as she walked to the elevator, punching the button for her floor with her elbow.

“What’s this?” April asked when she opened the door to Gracie’s knock to find Gracie thrusting a glass at her as she walked in.

“An intermediate victory celebration before I get back to work.”

April’s eyes were red and Gracie felt a pang of guilt for ignoring what was obviously a growing panic.

“What’s happened?” April said as she accepted the scotch.

“You first.”

April shook her head. “I can’t find out anything. They … oh, God, Gracie! They may have been abducted. The sheriff has alerted the state patrol and they’re all looking for Dad’s car. I’m terrified. He wanted us to stop everything by yesterday, and we didn’t listen.” She was beginning to lose the battle with her tears, her voice breaking. “And … the plane’s been snatched by some powerful force, probably the Navy, and I’m thinking someone we can’t fight is behind this, someone who could kill them.”

Gracie put her glass down and hugged April. “Hang in there, kiddo. You’ve watched too many spy films. There’s a logical explanation for everything, and secret agents snatching parents because they filed suits isn’t one of them.”

“Then where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

April pulled away and thanked her, downing the remaining scotch with one gulp before looking back at Gracie. “What progress have you had?”

“Nothing yet, but we’ve got a hearing in the morning before the federal appeals court.”

“Good,” April replied as Gracie held up a hand in caution.

“It’s a start. A chance, April. It keeps us alive. That’s all.”

After a near-sleepless night of worrying about April and her parents, Gracie had managed a few hours of sleep. There had been no trace of Arlie and Rachel or their car, and the search was becoming urgent in the wake of the apparent breakin at their home.

At just before three a.m. April’s cell phone had rung with an electronically challenged version of Arlie Rosen’s voice on the other end.

“Dad! Where are you? Where’s Mom? Are you all right?”

“I’m on the satellite phone, April. I don’t have much battery.

Your mom and I are okay, but we escaped in the Cherokee.”

“Where are you?”

“I can’t tell you that, but you and Gracie are in grave danger!

Someone’s trying to kill us, and they’ll come after you. Have you dropped those suits?”

“We’re … working on it.”

“Oh my God, April! Listen to me. You have to make Gracie withdraw those lawsuits. We’re … up against something we can’t fight.

Tell her … wait a minute.”

“What, Dad?”

The voice changed to a whisper. “There’s someone sneaking around outside this place.” She could hear him whisper something about his gun to Rachel before the line went dead.

April rifled through her PDA trying to find the number of the satellite phone her father had purchased a year before, but it was no use, and the phone refused to ring.

Gracie had given up and gone to bed at four, leaving April on watch for another call. She awoke at seven feeling slightly numb but hopeful, the optimism largely slipping away as April confronted her with the decision that the suits should be withdrawn.

“Why?”

“I told you what he said. Someone’s trying to kill them unless we stand down. And we could be in danger, too.”

“Not in a federal courtroom. I refuse to believe that.”

“Gracie, I have to order you to have them dismissed.”

She shook her head, watching April’s eyes flare in shock.

“Gracie, no! You’ve got to listen to him.”

“If he calls, I’ll listen. You don’t have his power of attorney.

Rachel does, and her last instructions to me were to go ahead.

You agreed, too.”

“You’re not going to listen to me? I can’t believe this!”

“I’m listening, but I can’t stop this, and I wouldn’t if I could.”

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“No, I’m not! You’re panicking, April. Whoever has threatened the captain is bluffing.”

“The house was ransacked!”

“You said yourself the sheriff wasn’t sure, and … and …

your folks weren’t kidnapped. They ran.”

“Gracie, Dad said—”

“He didn’t say it to me! Okay? That’s the bottom line. We’re going to do every damn thing possible to get his license back, and I have no reason to believe that isn’t the right course of action. Now, get a grip!”

Ť***ť*

April stared at her for several long seconds before swallowing hard. “You think?” “Yeah, I do.” April nodded, her voice soft and subdued. “Okay.”

Gracie pushed through the ornate double doors of the appeals court, the building itself did not seem threatening, but everything within—from the polished marble hallways to the spartan decor—was a reminder of the might and importance of what went on there. And here I am, Gracie thought, attempting to bend the federal government to my will. It was as if she had decided to attack a giant stone citadel with nothing more than logic, a hastily written brief, and her own interpretations of the law.

Gracie entered the courtroom with a squadron of butterflies performing loops in her stomach. Three judges were seated at the bench, each in an oversized leather chair. The one on the right held the lanky frame of Judge Williamson, instantly recognizable from the night before. The other two held men with stern faces belonging to Chief Judge Joe Briar and Judge Alex McNaughton.

April squeezed her elbow and broke away to take a seat in the first row of the gallery. Gracie seated herself at the counsel’s table, trying not to pay too much attention to the government lawyers assembling on the opposite side, and trying to ignore the fact that there was one of her and five of them.

It’s okay, she told herself. You’re ready for this!

She would have only five minutes to argue the case and convince the men behind the bench, and yet, if she could stick to the words she had practiced, five minutes would be enough.

When the Rosen case was called, Gracie got to her feet and moved to the lectern. There was a small green light glowing inside, and when it turned yellow, she’d been cautioned, she would have one minute left. When it turned red, she would be out of time. “May it please the court,” she began, “I am Gracie O’Brien, coun sel for Captain Arlie Rosen, the plaintiff and petitioner in this matter. We are appealing the dismissal of the matters in my brief by the district court, and—”

“We’ve read your brief, Counsel,” Judge Briar interrupted, somewhat laconically. “And it appears that your trial court judge, Judge Walton, clearly felt she lacked the specific evidence to justify upgrading the restraining orders to injunctions. That type of finding of fact we leave to the lower court, yet you’re arguing here that her interpretation was wrong as a matter of law, because in a case for emergency injunctive relief, a court must seek to prevent imminent harm even before there is evidence that such a threat truly exists. If that were true, wouldn’t it mean that any allegation of potential harm, no matter how bizarre or unsupported, would require a court to issue an injunction?”

There was a small noise behind her, and Gracie thought she heard someone moving out of the seats and back up the aisle. She glanced around involuntarily and realized with a start it was April.

“Counselor?” Judge Briar said as he tried to recapture her attention. “Are you with us?”

Gracie turned back immediately. “Sorry, Your Honor. No, in fact, we are merely stating the essence of equity jurisdiction.”

“But this isn’t entirely equity, is it?” Judge McNaughton interjected. “I believe part of it is admiralty as well.”

Gracie quickly scribbled a note on where she’d been in her argument. Appellate judges almost never permitted the lawyers to talk without interruption, and it was terribly confusing.

“All three of the combined actions, Your Honor,” Gracie began, “were primarily equity actions, with only a reference to a particular principle of admiralty law. Now—”

“Wasn’t this crash in international waters, Miss O’Brien?”

“Yes, Your Honor, it was.” Gracie paused, but there was no followup question. She took a deep breath and continued. “Captain Rosen is asking the court to block a harmful act, and such a request rests primarily—”

“Which request?” Judge McNaughton asked. “We’ve got three actions here.”