Deadlock

country: Who was Millicent Mannings Hollander with the night she got hit?

The Fox reporter in the field, standing outside Walter Reed Hospital, was saying, “All we know is that police have questioned Justice Hollander, and she has stated that she had been with a friend. That’s the word she used, friend. She was dropped off near the Lincoln Memorial, though she didn’t say why, but was going to try to catch a taxi to take her home. Here is where the story gets a little confusing. There is some speculation that the friend was…”

Levering gripped his glass of bourbon like a lifeline.

“… one of the other justices of the Court. Justice Hollander does not have the reputation of socializing much in Washington circles…”

Levering breathed a little easier. A friend. She was not going to say anything. Good for her. Now he would not have to use the little contingency plan Anne Deveraux and he had hatched. He could save it. Keep it in his back pocket, as it were, and with it control the next chief justice of the Supreme Court. Man, he was good. With Anne Deveraux, he was unstoppable.

His phone rang. The direct line.

“You been watching?” President Francis asked.

“It’s under control,” Levering said.

“I just want to know if this is going to become a problem for us.”

“Don’t worry. A few days and it’ll be on A-20 of the Post, and then gone.”

“What about Hollander?”

“What about her?”

“She still the one?”

“Oh, yes. This will garner her all sorts of sympathy. You’ll be a hero.”

“I still get this feeling.”

“Trust me.”

“I have to, I guess.”

And that was just the way Sam Levering had planned it all along.

3

From her wheelchair, Millie tried to smile gamely for the cameras. The press coverage was inevitable, and it was best to just get it out of the way now.

Flashes burst around her and voices threw questions like baseballs.

Dr. Cross, pushing the wheelchair, ran interference. “Allow Justice Hollander to make a statement please. Please! And then she will answer only a few questions. I will update you on her condition momentarily.”

The reporters waited, cameras whirring and microphones thrusting.

Millie was not an accomplished public speaker. When she made speeches she read them, preferring to prepare her statements in logical order beforehand. If she spoke off the cuff, she might say something that could be misconstrued. And the one thing she wanted to avoid as a Supreme Court justice was misunderstanding.

“Thank you,” she said, “for your concern. And I thank the American people for their well wishes.” She had received flowers and cards and stuffed animals, along with telegrams and even a bathrobe with capitol domes on it. So much for the separation of powers.

“I am continuing to recuperate under the care of Dr. Cross. Aside from a bad headache, I am doing quite well. I hope to take a little time to rest back home in California. I will be ready to resume my seat on the Court when the new term begins in October.”

She paused, and immediately a reporter shouted, “Can you tell us why you were walking at night alone?”

There were a few groans at the question, but mostly, Millie noted, keen interest from the newspeople.

“I had been with an acquaintance, and that is all. I appreciate that you will respect the privacy of all concerned here.”

“Are the police respecting that privacy?” another reporter asked.

“This is not a police matter. As I told them, I was in the process of getting a taxi to go home. I lost my balance and fell into the street.”

“What do you think of Edward Ellis Pavel’s retirement?”

While she had been recovering in the hospital, Pavel had announced his retirement.

“Chief Justice Pavel has served honorably for over twenty years. He will be missed.”

“Are you going to be the next chief justice?”

“I leave that to the people who make those decisions. Now if you’ll – ”

A smallish man, who looked – Millie couldn’t help the analogy – like a rodent, shot out of the gathering as if emerging from a hole. “Madame Justice, how has your brush with death changed your life?”

Millie only vaguely heard the voices of disdain this question provoked. She felt the man’s feral eyes boring into her, as if by will he could drag out her deep secrets. And she did have a secret, one she was not prepared to be examined on.

The truth was her life was different, but she had no idea how. There had not been time to assess it. But the disquiet she had felt ever since coming back to consciousness was not gone. She had always kept her emotions under strict control. But now – well, she might actually need to see a therapist. And that was something no one must ever find out about.

Thankfully, Dr. Cross stepped in front of the wheelchair. “That is all for today. Thank you very much.”

With a great sigh, Millie put on a smile and waved for the cameras once more. The reporters began shuffling to give way. But the little man stayed close, staring at her, until security finally nudged him out.

She got a very strange feeling in her stomach. “I need to go home,” she told Dr. Cross, “as soon as possible.”

“I’ll have a car brought around.”

“No,” she said. “I mean to California. Would it be all right if I flew out tomorrow or the next day?”

Dr. Cross folded his arms. “I want to check up on you. I can’t very well do that if you’re three thousand miles away.”

“I promise to be good.”

He smiled. “I have an associate out that way, in Bakersfield. Would you mind if I had him on call for you?”

“Not at all,” Millie said. “God forbid I should need a doctor. What could possibly happen?”

Dr. Cross patted her shoulder. “You just never know.”

4

Sam Levering woke up with a fuzzy feeling on his tongue. As he got older, the