William Bernhardt - Capitol Threat

The murmuring in the chamber rose to a full buzz. Ben raised his voice; he couldn’t afford to let the tumult consume his remaining time.

“I don’t imagine for a minute that Judge Haskins did the investigating. The documents were provided to him…” He glanced up at the gallery, where Richard Trevor sat behind Judge Haskins. “…by some other interested source, who in turn received them from an agent of the woman who obtained the abortion in question. But Judge Haskins leaked them when he saw his chance. It was all part of his campaign for the job, perhaps the most clever campaign imaginable—a campaign based upon appearing to refuse to campaign. It worked. He became the heir apparent. Even before the previous nominee had been rejected.”

“Point of order!” Senator Bening practically screamed. “I will not continue to listen to this defamation of Judge Haskins. The man is a national hero!”

“I think it mitigates against your status as a hero,” Ben said quietly, “when you’re the one who set the fire.”

This time, the chamber exploded. Both the Vice President and Senator Keyes were pounding their gavels, to no avail. Everyone talked at once, some fascinated, some outraged. Judge Haskins had a stricken expression on his face; he shook his head vigorously from side to side. His wife clutched his arm apprehensively. Judge Roush looked at both of them, his expression still blank, but his eyes scrutinizing them carefully.

“Point of order!” Senator Bening continued shouting. “I demand an apology. I demand an explanation!”

Chairman Keyes pounded his gavel a few more times. “I’m afraid Senator Kincaid’s time has expired.”

“I respectfully request a five-minute extension,” Ben replied.

“Absolutely not!” Senator Bening exclaimed. “I oppose!”

“Well,” Ben said, “he did demand an explanation. How can I do that if I can’t talk?”

Maybe it was Ben’s wishful thinking, but Chairman Keyes appeared to be suppressing a grin. “I’ll give you another three,” he said, “with an option for two more if you’re saying anything of interest.”

“Thanks,” Ben replied. “I will be.” He turned back toward the gallery. “I don’t have time to go into the details, but all the supporting documents will be made available to the press by my Chief of Staff—” He nodded toward Christina. “—as soon as we recess. My investigator has been working the past month to uncover much of this information. He was trying to learn the identity of the woman who was killed at the Roush press conference, an investigation that led him into the world of art theft because, as it turns out, the murdered woman was a longtime thief. A thief available to anyone who needed a dirty job done.”

Ben lifted an envelope from his desk and removed several documents encased in plastic. “But to make a long story short, since I’m already talking on borrowed time, the investigation of that woman’s past led to the discovery of another crime. An arson-for-hire job at the downtown Denver Hilton. She was paid ten thousand dollars, which might not seem like much to you, but was the score of a lifetime for her, especially since she owed money to an extremely dangerous trafficker in stolen art.”

He took a breath and continued. “My office manager is very clever with computers. Always has been. Even before I could afford one.” In the back of the room, he saw Jones beaming. “He was able to go online and find all of Judge Haskins’s bank accounts. Even the secret one in the Cayman Islands.” The buzz began to build again. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure that this squared with the federal privacy laws, but I figured we had a good reason. Because, as this printout shows, there’s a ten-thousand-dollar cash withdrawal just before the date of the fire. Of course, there could possibly be some other explanation…” He tilted his head to one side. “But I doubt it.”

Ben glanced up into the gallery. “No wonder you reacted so much more quickly and heroically than anyone else, Judge Haskins. You knew the explosions were coming. You knew exactly where they were and how dangerous they would be. Because you planned the whole thing.”

Up in the gallery, Haskins rose to his feet, his knees trembling. “It’s…it’s not true! It’s…”

Ben tossed a stack of paper down on his desk. “The documents speak for themselves. You probably arranged for the doors to be stuck, too, didn’t you? To create a crisis situation that only you would be prepared to resolve.”

Senators and spectators rose from their seats, whispering and shouting, waving their arms in the air. Ben clasped his hand over the microphone, causing a skull-shattering feedback. In the aftermath, the room fell quiet.

“Well, that worked nicely,” Ben said. “You might consider that as an alternative to the gavel, Mister Chairman.”

Keyes gave him a small salute.

“One last thing,” Ben added. “I can’t prove Judge Haskins killed that woman at Thaddeus Roush’s home during the press conference. But I can prove he was there. And I know he was willing to put hundreds of lives in danger as part of his quest to get himself a higher profile, and we know he was willing to deal with the devil to smear Tad Roush. Is it really so difficult to imagine that he would kill one woman to insure there was a vacancy he could fill? I’ve contacted Lieutenant Albertson of the Washington PD and suggested that they get a subpoena for the Haskins local residence. I think they might just find something that will eliminate all doubt about what really happened.”

The room was almost completely out of control, but Ben insisted on finishing. “Just one last thing,” he said, shouting above the fray. “Now that the dessert is out of the way, why don’t we confirm the meat and potatoes? Thaddeus Roush is a good man and you all know it, a good man who’s been subjected to a frame and a smear campaign and a lot of other trouble he never asked for. He is enormously qualified and he deserves to sit with the other Supremes. So for once, let’s do the right thing.”

Ben turned toward the front of the room. “Mister Chairman, this is a democracy. So I move that we put this thing to an immediate vote.”

Keyes was about to speak, when at the front of the room, he saw Senator Matera rise slowly to her feet.

The chamber became quiet once more and everyone strained to hear her voice. “I’d like to say one thing. This is the last time I will be present in the Senate chamber, and the last vote I’m going to cast. I’m going to vote for Thaddeus Roush to be confirmed in his appointment to the Supreme Court. I’d be obliged if the rest of you would do the same.”

All at once, Ben heard someone clapping, then another, and another, and then it grew until it became a groundswell of thunderous applause. The senator to Ben’s right rose, still clapping, then the other Democrats did the same, and before long, more than half the Senate was on its feet.

Ben raised his hand upward toward Judge Roush. Roush stood and returned the salute. Their eyes met. And that was enough.

59

Chairman Keyes let a few more people speak after Ben so everyone could have a clip for their local news, but less than an hour later, he called for the vote.

“The matter presently before the chamber is the nomination of Judge Thaddeus Roush to the Supreme Court of the United States. The question before us is this: Does the Senate advise and consent to this nomination by right of exercising its powers granted by Article 2 of the United States Constitution? I will direct the clerk to call the roll.”

“Senator Armstrong.”

“No.”

“Senator Bernard.”

“No.”

“Senator Byers.”