The Last Justice (23 page)

"This guy works for your company?" Kate asked skeptically. Javier had arranged for them to meet with someone who had the skills and flexible ethics needed to hack into a government computer.

"An independent contractor. Special projects,"Javier said, slowing down to look at the addresses.

He pulled in front of a row house with several small children sitting on its crumbling brick stoop. The kids ran up to the car, curious. As everyone climbed out, Aiden held out his arms straight forward from his chest, like Frankenstein's monster and walked toward them, growling. The kids shrieked with delight. No adults were anywhere in sight.

Javier walked up the steps and banged on the row house door.

"I hope this is the right place," Aiden said, looking around.

An Asian man with a scruffy sweater and Clark Kent glasses came to the door.

"Scoob!"Javier said. "How the hell are ya?"

"Javie!" the man said, opening the screen door. "Come on in."

They were all hit with the strong aroma of marijuana and spoiling food. It was a tiny place, long and narrow, with no side windows. The kitchen was just off the entryway and had dishes piled high in the sink.

After introductions, Javier pulled Scoob aside, and McKenna saw him hand their host what appeared to be a roll of bills. Scoob led them to a small bedroom in the back, where two computers sat on a desk cluttered with empty soda cans filled with cigarette butts. A cat leaped off a messy shelf in the corner of the room and darted under a dilapidated couch, as the five entered the room.

After pushing the piles of papers from two chairs onto the floor, Scoob sat in front of a computer. "I can get more chairs if everybody wants to sit," he said.

"I can stand," Kate said quickly. McKenna also stood, while Aiden took a seat.

"So,whatcha need?" Scoob said, his hands resting on the keyboard.

"I need you to get into the computer system of a federal court," McKenna said. He directed Scoob to the Web site of the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit and pulled up a bio for Judge Ivan Petrov. "I need to get into the e-mail of a man who worked for this judge."

Scoob gave a yellow-toothed grin. Here was a man who loved a challenge. He immediately began typing, focusing intently on the fly-specked screen. After a few minutes of watching Scoob, they left him to it and went into the living room. McKenna turned on Scoob's small television, which was connected to several wires that ran out the window. McKenna and Kate were no longer the lead news storybumped by the president's press conference announcing his nominees to the U.S. Supreme Court.

The president and the six nominees strode down Cross Hall in the White House. The president stood behind a podium, with the nominees to his left and right, looking suitably serious and stately. The three chosen by the Democrats and the three by the Republicans were appropriately interspersed. McKenna recognized most of them. Of course, there was Judge Petrov, probably the most well-known and controversial nominee, looking characteristically smug. Next to him stood Professor Reuben Walworth, a gaunt liberal Harvard law professor who wore glasses and a bow tie. Next to Walworth stood Judge Cynthia Edward King, the conservative from the Fourth Circuit. On the other side of the president stood Victoria Prado, the first Cuban nominee in history, a judge on the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. Next to her was Hank Stanbery, a former Justice Department lawyer stalwart, regular on the conservative dinner party circuit, and former head of the Federalist Society. Finally, there was Brook W. Paterson, head of the NAACP.

"If only your hero Ivan the Terrible knew that at this moment we were hacking into his computer system," McKenna ribbed Kate. She had supported the administration's decision to add Judge Petrov to the three-three list, and McKenna had opposed; it had been a source of contention between them and McKenna briefly recalled the last argument the two had over it. It had occurred in her bed on a lazy Sunday morning two weeks ago, as they read the morning paper together. Kate later commented that she hadn't minded the fight at all: it was one of the rare times McKenna had stayed over and allowed their relationship to resemble that of a normal couple.

After the president's brief remarks, they watched as a reporter interviewed a law professor who was opposed to the three-three deal. "Picking the nominees this way is a throwback to the old days of party bosses working in smoke-filled back rooms," he said. "FDR attempted to pack the high court, and the public turned against him and he failed miserably. I don't see how a court chosen in this manner can be viewed as a legitimate body."

The screen flashed to another pundit, this one supporting the three-three deal. "The FDR court-packing argument misses the mark," she said. "FDR tried to increase the number of justices so he could add new ones who would support his New Deal legislation. President Winter, by contrast, has voluntarily agreed to allow the Democrats to select three of the nominees. He didn't need to do that. Although there's a Senate resolution against it, he arguably could have made temporary recess appointments, or he could have fought to remove the right to filibuster. And critics seem to forget that even though his packing plan failed, FDR ultimately filled eight vacancies on the court-two more than we are talking about today. The president didn't need to cut any deal, and the Democrats should be kissing his feet for including them in the process."

Another talking head commented on the six nominees: "This is a historic moment, and it will have a lasting legacy," he said. "All of these individuals are younger than their predecessors, not one over fifty years old-likely a calculated decision by their respective political parties since it ensures a longer tenure on the high court. All are also more ideologically extreme than their predecessors. While the nominees are a diverse group, these six illustrate that the days of a socalled `black seat,"women's seat,"regional seat,' or `Catholic seat' on the Supreme Court are over. Appointments today are based on ideology. The great divide in constitutional interpretation is between those who seek the original meaning of the constitution and those who seek its current meaning-these six are divided equally into those two camps. Is this a good thing? I guess we'll see, since all signs indicate that the public supports the deal and that the Senate will confirm these nominees."

"Yo!" Scoob shouted from the back room. Suddenly McKenna snapped back to reality and both he and Kate bolted back to the room. Scoob said, "I'm in the court's system-what are you looking for?"

"The e-mail system-can you get in?" McKenna asked. "I'd like to see e-mails for the last month from a man named Parker Sinclair. He was a law clerk for Judge Petrov."

Scoob typed some more but seemed to be having trouble. "There's nothing here."

"He worked there," McKenna challenged.

"`Worked'? He doesn't work there no more?"

"He's dead," Aiden interjected.

Kate gave him a sisterly glare, but Scoob didn't flinch at the mention of Parker Sinclair's death.

"You can't get any of his e-mails?"

"Depends. If he's off the system, I can still search other people's e-mail-might be able to pull up anything he sent people if they stored them. I also can pull up recent e-mails that mention his name. Looks like they all use the same e-mail configuration."

McKenna nodded. After some more maneuvering with the mouse, files appeared on the monitor.

"I got some hits," Scoob said.

"May I?" McKenna asked, gesturing at the keyboard. "It'll be faster if I go through them myself."

Taking the hint, Scoob left the room. Kate huddled close to McKenna, reading over his shoulder.

There were surprisingly few e-mails from the court's staff that mentioned Parker Sinclair. The first few related to the murder: a message from Judge Petrov directing his secretary to draft a condolence letter from him to Parker's parents, and another from Petrov to court personnel. A few similar messages were from the other law clerks to friends and family, expressing disbelief.

One e-mail, however, caught McKenna's eye. It was from a woman named Dakota Cameron to Petrov and had been sent this morning. The subject line read, "NOTABLE PARKER E-MAILS FOR THE POLICE."

Judge,

I've gone through all of Parker's archived e-mails for the last couple months and placed tabs on the ones that may be of interest to the detectives. I've also left copies of the tabbed documents in a sealed envelope in your inbox. The highlights in chron order:

E-mail from three days ago to his mother stating that Parker had to confront someone about something. It did not provide any further details.

E-mail from the mailroom to Parker from three days ago requesting that he confirm the address of a package he was having Mako Messengers deliver. The email is notable because the package recipient was listed as "McKenna."

BlackBerry e-mail from Parker to his parents the evening he was killed. It states "McKenna = CB."

Kate started to talk, but McKenna raised his hand for silence and scrolled to the next e-mail, a reply from Judge Petrov:

Thanks, Dakota. I'm en route to D.C. Please contact the detectives right away and offer to deliver the documents to them. Also, please let the tech people know agents may be calling about getting access to our computer system. I'm having a hard time accepting what these e-mails suggest. Let's pray that there turns out to be a valid explanation.

McKenna scrolled down for more e-mails, but there were none.

"What did he have delivered to you?" Kate asked, giving McKenna a steely gaze. "Why would he call you `C-B'?"

"You're not serious. If you want to check my neck, feel free," he replied, theatrically pulling down on his shirt collar.

"Then why, Jefferson? Why would he say that? And what would he be sending you?"

"It makes no sense,"McKenna said, thinking aloud. "Whywould he have someone deliver something to me? He could have personally given it to me when he saw me at Columbia." He rubbed his temples. "Obviously, there's something Parker wanted me to have. We've got to find that package."

After a long silence, Kate grudgingly said, "I'd imagine the agents already have it. Parker probably sent it to your home or the office. There wouldn't be anywhere else he would have sent it, would there?"

McKenna thought for a moment. "Anything delivered to the office would have been sent to the anthrax screening center. If the package was delivered a few days ago, it's probably just now making its way back to the office."

"So what are you suggesting-we just stroll into the office?"

"I'm suggesting we at least try and find out where the package was delivered."

Not wanting to turn on the cell phone Kate had given him and risk having their location tracked, McKenna asked Aiden for his cell phone. He called 411, got the number for Mako Messengers, and dialed.

"Mako-how may I help you?" a receptionist answered.

"Who would I speak to about tracking a package?" McKenna said. "I ordered a delivery a few days ago, and I was told that the package never arrived."

"What state?" the receptionist asked.

"Pardon?"

"What state? This is the main office-we have runners in every state."

"Washington, D.C."

He waited while his call was routed to Mako's D.C. dispatch.

"I'm calling to track a package."

"Your name?" the dispatcher said.

"Parker Sinclair."

"Hold, please."

It was five minutes before the dispatcher returned to the line.

"The messenger assigned to your package isn't answering. We're trying to reach him and will call you back."

"Can you tell me the address he was delivering it to, so I can see if you had it right? It hasn't arrived."

"The messenger has that information, sir," the dispatcher said firmly. "Give us your number and we'll call you back."

McKenna gave them Aiden's cell number and hung up.

"What now?" Kate asked as Scoob strolled back into the room.

McKenna held up the CD containing the pictures of Justices Carmichael and Kincaid having sex. "Is it possible for you to e-mail what's on this CD to someone without it being traced back here?"

"Who'd be trying to trace it?" Scoob asked.

McKenna and Kate looked at each other. "FBI, Homeland Security, BATF, and the Supreme Court Commission, for starters."

Scoob looked at them for a moment. When he realized they weren't kidding, he swallowed and said, "Javie's my man, but I can't-"

"How much?" McKenna cut in, assuming Scoob was just posturing for more money.

"It ain't that." Scoob thought for a moment. "How'bout the poor man's version?"

Before McKenna could ask what Scoob meant, Javier, who had been outside getting some fresh air, rejoined the group in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.

"Got a library card?" he asked.

The National Mall, Washington,

hink we're gonna find Mr. Pratt floating in the Potomac?" Pacini asked Assad as they walked across the gravel path bordering the National Mall. Milstein had left for the hospital in New York to tend to her father, who had taken a bad turn.