The Court (31 page)

“Regina, I can understand how you feel about your children. God, I'm not asking you to leave them. Look, they'd love…”

She held up a hand. “I've heard all about you slick big-city lawyers.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I know you have tricks to beat down a poor female's determination.”

He felt sudden irritation. “Look, this isn't some goddamn play.”

She looked at him. “No, it certainly isn't, Jerry.” Her voice was soft, but firm. “It's real life, and that's what destroys some of the very best dreams. As I see it, my very first love, it's really quite simple. If you want me, I'm yours. But this is my home, and you'll have to come here. I don't mean this to sound melodramatic, Jerry, but it really boils down to whether you want to continue your Washington life, or start a new one here, with me.”

“It isn't that simple, Regina. Look, the divorce will take months. You could bring the kids down for a vacation. I'll show you around. There are fantastic private schools there, I'll take you around to those. You don't have to decide now.”

She stood up. There was still a hint of a smile around her lips, but her eyes looked sad. “You're right, I don't,” she said, stepping over to his side of the table and gently kissing his forehead. “But you do, Jerry. You're the one who has to make the decision.”

She was gone before he could even reply. His first instinct was to rush after her and continue the discussion, to persuade her. It was so damned important, it was his entire future!

He started to go after her but then he stopped. The slow realization began to sink in. She meant it. This was no female posturing, no game. He knew Regina and she just wasn't capable of that, it wasn't part of her nature. She was always honest, always straightforward. So there would be no compromise. She was an intelligent woman and he knew she had carefully thought the matter out. He too had been thinking, but not clearly.

He stood up and slowly put on his coat. This was not the time to consider his own personal problems, or his future. He must now think about his approach to Dean Pentecost. Green realized the importance of his mission. It would not only affect the nation's law, but its destiny for many years to come. He knew it demanded his total concentration. A good lawyer was always capable of pushing his personal problems into the attic of his mind when the occasion demanded.

He was surprised as he trudged along with the moving stream of students that he couldn't just command the thoughts of Regina to be banished from his consciousness.

However, as he sighted the prowlike law school in the distance he began to shift into thoughts about the man who ran that ship.

Answers, he desperately needed answers. If he couldn't get any for his own problems, perhaps he could extract some from the dean, perhaps then his own thinking would clear to the point where he could solve his own riddle.

The impression that the law school was like a cathedral became stronger as he drew closer.

He wanted to think about Pentecost, but his brain felt numb, and he could muster no intelligent thought except a determination to carry out the task he had been assigned.

CHAPTER TEN

Green was escorted into Dean Pentecost's office. The man behind the desk stood up and Jerry Green suddenly and vividly recalled his own image as he had seen it in the Smithsonian's metal plate. Dean Roy Pentecost could easily pass as his brother, perhaps even his twin. They were both just under six feet tall and slightly stocky. The dean's features matched his own; Pentecost presented a bland, pleasant face contrasted with sharp, intelligent eyes. Even their hair matched. Both men were gray at the temple and favored businesslike haircuts. They were the same age, a fact Green knew from the reports he had seen on the dean. They looked like they had picked out their suits together. Each wore a muted gray pinstripe with a conservative dark tie. The startling physical resemblance was obviously noted by the dean as he came around the desk and extended his hand.

“This is a pleasure, Mr. Green.” The dean's handshake was firm but slightly moist, despite his apparent calm. He knew why Green was there.

“I've been looking forward to this, Dean Pentecost.”

Green realized that his own smile must be just like the dean's, a pleasant expression, warm but not too open. They were playing each other's game.

“Please call me Roy. When I'm addressed as dean I always feel like an Anglican clergyman.” The statement was smooth and practiced. Green presumed that it was the dean's standard opening line, designed to show that he was just one of the boys, a true democrat, small “d.”

“It's a pleasure to be back in the informality of the midwest. Please call me Jerry.”

The dean's trim eyebrows raised slightly. “You're originally from the midwest?” He said it as if it were some rather unpleasant secret, and best kept that way.

“You come from Connecticut,” Green said, his words more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. Please have a seat, Mr.… Jerry. Can I get you some coffee or tea perhaps?”

“I just finished having coffee. But don't let that stop you.”

“I'm afloat. This job requires that you wander from one damn meeting to another. They all serve coffee, and, if you have no taste for it then your career's at an end.” He allowed himself a quick smile, then his face relaxed again. “You said you come from the midwest, where?”

“Here.” Green made himself comfortable in a large chair in front of the dean's desk. “As a matter of fact, right here. Michigan State. My father was a professor in the anthropology department. This is where I was raised.”

“Then this is a homecoming for you.” The smile only flickered now. “Do you have family here?”

“A brother. He's also an anthropology professor.”

Pentecost nodded. “I've probably met him. You meet so many, but know so few. As I'm sure you know, academic life can be one round of teas, meetings, and similar get-togethers, all rather impersonal.”

“Yes, I remember.” Green glanced around the large office. It was done in a simple federalist style, good quality without show. The large desk was actually more of a long table. There were no personal items around the office; no framed diplomas or awards, no trophies, no personal photographs. The only decoration was a muted landscape done in oils. It was much like Jerry Green's office back at Harley Dingell. Like the dean, he preferred no distractions, no trophies. It was really a bit of reverse ostentation. A visitor would know that a man like the dean, or Green, would have a number of diplomas, admission certificates, and other memorabilia. To hang none at all was to proclaim that there were so many that modesty forbade display. Also, it gave the workplace an austere, no-nonsense appearance. Green did note that the dean's office was neater than his own, however.

“I suppose you find the campus changed?” The dean managed a pleasant half smile.

Green knew that his own expression matched exactly. “Well, with the addition of few new buildings there has been change, but I find somehow they seem to blend in with the older campus I know. I suppose it's a bit like new neighbors on the block, it's changed in a way, but it still remains the old block. More of a feeling than a fact, I suppose.”

“And the law school?” The dean's expression never changed. He had an excellent face for poker.

Green leaned back in his chair. “You certainly have done wonders in such a short time.”

The dean shrugged. “I'm not so foolish as to start believing my own publicity, Mr. Green, er, Jerry. I've had a good many lucky breaks. First, the university trustees gave me an open checkbook.” He laughed. “If our football coach used my recruiting methods, our team would either be the national champion, or barred from football, depending on whether or not he was caught. There wasn't much art to it, I merely identified the men who were known as the leading authorities in the basic legal fields and—how does it go?—made them an offer they couldn't refuse.”

“Still, bringing those people in was quite an accomplishment.”

“There was a domino effect. When Bradford of Yale heard that Slocum of Harvard was coming, he signed aboard. My real challenge was getting the first big name, after that it was easy.”

“I think you're downgrading what you've done.”

The dean shook his head. “Not really. I'm quite proud of what I've been able to accomplish. But I'm a realist. I have carefully dissected the elements that won for me. For instance, publicity. Most educators don't fully realize what worlds can be accomplished with the skillful use of the media I believe I have a definite knack in that department. Perhaps I should have been a Hollywood public relations man. In any event, we were able to make the move of a professor from one school to another front page news. Again, a sort of domino effect took place. The first story paved the way. After the first story the media seemed to accept that such things must be news. They aren't, of course, but we made them into front page items. It was quite an exhilarating time for me.”

“I can imagine. A bit tense too, I'll wager.”

For the first time Green saw a true glimmer of the real man behind the placid mask. There was a flash of annoyance in the dean's eyes, quickly hidden. “I suppose it should have been tense, but it wasn't. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing. I felt no sense of anxiety, if that's what you mean. For me, it was quite a grand adventure.”

The man was proud of his accomplishments, and justly so, but he resented any suggestion that he might experience the fears and feelings of normal men. That was pride for pride's sake, and it presented an interesting facet to the man's character. Green made a mental note.

“I called Martin Naham's office. I believe you did tell one of my young ladies that the university president could vouch for you?”

“That's right,” Green said. “I presume he told you that I had been checked out with the White House.”

“Yes. Although I was a bit mystified by your Harley Dingell card.”

“Why is that?”

The dean leaned forward, the same confident half smile fixed upon his features. “You were a partner there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's what I mean. Usually the road leads the other way. Special counsel to the president and then out to a fancy law firm, not the other way around. Not usually anyway.”

Green wondered if the dean was really intimating that Green couldn't last with a prestigious law firm and had retreated back to government work, or whether it was merely a probe to provoke and test reaction.

“I'm on a leave of absence from the firm,” Green responded. “I have some special duties to perform for the White House. When that's done I will return to Harley Dingell.” He suddenly realized that his words sounded just as full of pride as had those of the dean.

“Fascinating.” Pentecost's eyes were fixed on his own. The score was even, each man having made the other exhibit unseemly pride.

Green was irritated but took special pains not to show it. “I wonder if we could go for a short walk around the campus? The weather isn't too bad. A bit chilly, but not much wind. Good walking weather.”

“A walk?” The bland expression altered just a bit.

“Or a drive, if you like. I can get my car.”

The dean smiled. “May I ask why this preoccupation with the great outdoors?”

Green paused a moment before replying. It would be interesting to observe the man's reaction to the words. “I understand you've had the building wired so that classes and conversations can be monitored.”

A flash of anger passed over the dean's face, but only momentarily. He recovered and gave an almost playful shrug. “I can understand your concern,” he said. “But let me assure you that it's only the classrooms that have the video monitoring equipment. And also be assured that it was installed for no sinister purpose.”

“I didn't think that at all.”

The dean's smile widened, but his eyes were without humor. “Then why the need for a walk?”

“I think better in the outdoors,” Green replied evenly, also smiling, and equally broadly.

The dean nodded. “I do monitor the classrooms, particularly the new instructors. Just as one minor flaw can render a great jewel almost valueless, an incapable or indifferent teacher can leave a dangerous void in an otherwise complete legal education. My purpose is to insure that the students here are receiving superior instruction. We hire the best-qualified people, but sometimes references don't tell the full story. If I didn't keep close check, this school could develop soft spots that would show up later, far too late for anything to be done to correct the problem. Thus, the monitoring.”

“Still, you must admit that it is an unusual practice for a law school.”

The dean never changed expression. “Perhaps, but this is an unusual law school, Mr. Green, ah, Jerry. In a matter of only a very few years we have become the equal of such regal institutions as Harvard, Stanford, and the other handful of prestigious national law schools. I have used unusual methods to bring that result about. But monitoring is certainly nothing new in education. In fact, this system is a duplicate of one used in a large Catholic high school in Chicago. The Mother Superior there had the control panel set up right in her office.” He laughed. “I saw it. It looked like the cockpit of a commercial airliner, all gauges and dials. Now the good sister was not sinister certainly, nor paranoid. She just wanted to see that the children, whose parents were paying a very high dollar in tuition, were getting full value for their educational money. And that is also my purpose.” He seemed to almost stare at Green. “My only purpose.”

Pentecost had been stung by the issue of monitoring, but he had handled himself well, even though Green knew the man was angry. The dean would do well before the inquisitors on the Judiciary Committee.