Free Deadlock by James Scott Bell Page B

don’t fall into it yourself. The American religion is finishing first.”
    Tad, he thought, soaked up every word.
    But then that preacher got hold of his son, and Tad got “saved.” How Levering despised that word. As much as he despised the preacher, a man named Doty.
    When Tad announced that he was a Christian, Levering almost went nuts. There had been huge arguments. Levering called Tad names he had never used before, even for political opponents. Tad took off.
    That was eight years ago. Levering did manage to locate his son once through a private investigator. But Tad’s only response was to send his father a Bible with a note pleading for him to “turn to Christ.”
    Levering sauntered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, trying to put the past out of his mind. He heard his cell phone bleeping on the bed and went to answer it.
    “Who’s your Huckleberry?” Anne Deveraux asked.
    “Why do you keep saying that?” Levering asked.
    “Heard it in a movie once. Now tell me who your Huckleberry is.”
    “You, Anne.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re the best.”
    “And do you know why?”
    “Is this a personal call? Because I’ve got a ton — ”
    “I’ll tell you why. Because I see things before they happen. I anticipate trouble.”
    “Yes, you do, Anne.” It was true. She was the best in the business at not only getting out of a crisis, but steering clear of those that did not yet exist.
    “Well,” Anne asked, “when can I see you?”
    Levering went through his mental checklist. “I have several short meetings today.”
    “Work me in.”
    “When?”
    “Now.”
    “Why?”
    “Let’s just say I see something coming.”
    “What’s it about?”
    “Madame Justice Millicent Mannings Hollander.”
     
    Levering met Anne near Independence Avenue. The day was overcast but hot, making him sweat almost immediately. He felt like he was in detox.
    She was waiting for him on a bench that offered a view of the Supreme Court building. She was eating a Power Bar and sipping a Starbucks.
    “Breakfast?” Levering said, sitting next to her.
    “And lunch and dinner,” she said. “This will take me to eleven o’clock tonight.”
    The senator shook his head. “Aren’t you afraid of burnout, Anne?”
    “No. Spontaneous combustion. If I’m not moving forward, I’m afraid I’ll explode.”
    “What about your personal life?”
    She looked at him. At least he assumed she was looking at him through her dark glasses. “Why the sudden interest in my personal life?”
    Levering shrugged. “I was just thinking. You haven’t got a family. Maybe you should think about it.”
    “Don’t go family values on me, Senator. I could not handle that paradigm shift.”
    “Hey, you’re free to live your life.”
    “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But it’s your life we should be talking about.”
    “Go.”
    Anne finished her Power Bar, tossing the wrapper into a trash can. Then she took a sip of coffee to wash it down. “Hollander,” she said. “Caution.”
    “Why?”
    “How much is Francis behind her for chief?”
    “All the way. I made sure of that.”
    “Tell him not to say anything yet.”
    Levering used one of Anne’s favorite lines. “Detail me,” he said.
    “The last thing you need is an unstable chief of the Supreme Court.”
    “You talking because of the accident?”
    “Of course.”
    “But Millie Hollander has always been steady as a rock.”
    “Accidents do things to people.”
    “Yeah, but she’s been given a clean bill of health.”
    “Physically, yes.”
    Levering said, “Just tell me what you’re driving at.”
    “They allowed her to go home yesterday. You may have seen the news.”
    “I did.”
    “Well, it may interest you to know that Madame Justice did not go straight to her home.”
    Levering was duly impressed. “Are you telling me you tailed a justice of the highest court in the land?”
    Anne fetched a cigarette from her purse. “Just doing my job.