Free Limitations by Scott Turow Page B

they want to replace the shepherd with a Chihuahua. And with #1’s threats as evidence, Rusty may be able to convince the County Board to restore funds, since they often defer to his reputation.
    It’s sometimes hard to explain to younger people how Rusty Sabich came to be the public embodiment of probity, inasmuch as nearly twenty years ago, while he was the Chief Deputy Prosecutor, Rusty was indicted and tried for the murder of a female colleague. From the start, George had stood by him, and was not surprised when the case presented against Rusty turned out to be an outright embarrassment, a mishmash of bad lab work, missing evidence, and unreliable witnesses. The only lingering debate today is whether the then newly elected P.A., who saw Rusty as a potential rival, framed him or, as George believes, was simply far too eager to reach the wrong conclusions.
    Either way, as the acknowledged victim of a horrible injustice, Sabich had singular qualifications to be a judge. He was elected to this court in 1988, then propelled to Chief by the same courthouse scandal that first swept George onto the bench. Rusty is regarded as a sure thing for the state Supreme Court, whenever Ned Halsey surrenders what is colloquially referred to as “the white man’s seat,” in distinction to the two other spots on the Court reserved for Kindle County, which are filled in accordance with recent political understandings by a racial minority and a woman.
    But there remains an air of aloofness to Rusty, which at times borders on pretension. Once accused of murder, he is forever straightening his spine. His life is as neatly divided by the experience as if someone had painted a stripe through it. George understands but occasionally dislikes who Rusty has become in the aftermath, often depressed and sometimes officious, as he was just now about Marina, and almost always on guard. That said, he has been an extraordinary Chief Judge. He became an able manager running the P.A.’s office, and he has used his public stature to wrest control of this court from the party chieftains, transforming it into a respected judicial body.
    Together now they hunch to enter the half-height door to the High Court. They are well matched physically, both tallish, fit, and gray. Rusty has bulked up a little more with age, and George may be a bit faster now, but that does not make up for what Rusty learned by playing this game since he was a boy, an ingrained intuition about how every ball will carom. He wins consistently and by long agreement spots George points, two in the games to twenty-one, one if the match goes to the eleven-point tiebreaker. Still agitated about Marina, George plays with fury and wins the first game straight up, 21 to 17.
    “You’re not going to have anything left for game two,” Rusty says when they take a breather at the watercooler.
    “Trash-talk somebody else, you old fart. I think you’ve finally lost a step.”
    “Another one,” Sabich says.
    George rests his hands on his knees. Rusty is right that he pushed himself hard.
    “So here’s my next item, George. What’s the deal with your retention petition?”
    “I have two weeks.”
    “Formally,” Rusty answers. “But look, George. There are a hundred and fifty judges in the Superior Court who’d like to move up. You’ve been there. Everybody gets sick of the grind. Trials. Motions. Lawyers with all their cockamamie. I’ve gotten six calls this week. Not to mention Nathan.”
    “Koll?” Nathan’s seat is being eliminated for budgetary reasons, which is what led Jerry Ryan, the judge elected to the position, to resign in pique. Nathan will not be eligible simply to seek retention.
    “Just because his appointment lasts two more years doesn’t mean he can’t run for a full-term seat if a vacancy develops now. I bet he sends his clerks downstairs twice a day to see if you’ve filed. George, you can’t do that to us. We’re your friends.” Rusty is smiling. It was he