Part 6 (1/2)
Aaron gives a small laugh at the gallows humor. ”Good to know.”
Rosenthal's expression returns to its previous grimness. ”But you do have a serious problem here, Aaron.”
”I know. Believe me, I know.”
12.
When she gets back from court, Rachel London calls her minions into the conference room nearest to her office. On the door, she's taped a paper sign: GARKOV WAR ROOM.
At least 50 percent of Cromwell Altman's interior conference rooms are designated as war rooms of one type or another. War room sounds much fiercer than storage s.p.a.ce, but the latter description is actually more accurate.
Roy Sabato sent over his entire Garkov file-six banker's boxes and a thumb drive. A team of first-year lawyers is reviewing the thumb drive, tasked with printing out whatever they think Sabato didn't recognize as actually important. As first-years are inclined to do, they are being over-inclusive, and so now eight banker's boxes sit in the corner of the conference room.
As the junior partner on the case, Rachel serves as field general. She commands the rank-and-file (i.e., the a.s.sociates) so that they can execute the battle plan drawn up by command (Aaron).
”Listen up,” Rachel says to the six lawyers sitting around the table. They range in seniority from Harrison Geller, who is fresh out of law school, to Clare Ferguson, who's up for partner this year. ”Aaron wants a comprehensive brief telling Judge Nichols why she was wrong to revoke Garkov's bail, and he wants to file it tomorrow morning.”
They all know this means they're going to be here all night. Still, no one shows the slightest sign of displeasure. Pulling all-nighters is part of the job. Go big or go home.
”Here's how we're going to do it,” Rachel continues. ”I want Chris, Harrison, and Amanda to begin the research right away. Figure it out among yourselves how to divide it up . . . but no matter how you do it, there shouldn't be a single decision concerning bail revocation in the last . . . let's say fifteen years, that you haven't reviewed. Rick, I want you to take the longer view. Your job is the historical a.n.a.lysis of the reasons to permit criminal defendants to be out on bail, and the factors that go into making that determination. Maybe we can do a statistical a.n.a.lysis of how many people accused of financial fraud ever jump bail-and let's remember, financial fraud is all Garkov's been charged with thus far. Clare, once you start to get a feel for what's out there, begin drafting. We're going to file a brief, a compendium of cases, and maybe an affidavit from Aaron himself, because he's seen what Garkov's home confinement looks like. You know what, on second thought, I'm sure the conditions for the home confinement are in either Mendelsohn's or the magistrate judge's order. Somebody fish that out, and if the terms are clear, we won't need an affidavit.” She takes a deep breath, surveying her troops. ”Okay. Any questions?”
Just smiles thrown back at her. As if there's nothing they'd rather do than work all night in the hope of returning an alleged terrorist to a life of luxury.
”I'd like to see the first draft by . . .” She looks at her watch. ”It's noon now. How about by six, seven at the latest? Then we can order in dinner and spend the rest of the evening polis.h.i.+ng. I'll be in my office if anybody needs me.”
AARON ALMOST NEVER WALKS around the hallways of the firm. Like a Mafia don, people come to see him. And so as he makes his way to Rachel's office, he encounters the kind of stares usually reserved for celebrities.
Rachel is furiously typing when Aaron knocks on her open door. The sound must startle her, because she jumps.
”I didn't mean to scare you,” he says.
”No, it's fine. Come in.”
”So, how was your day?” he says, taking a seat.
”You know, same old same old. Our big terrorist client had his bail revoked, so now he's in federal prison, undoubtedly planning the murder of his defense team. But otherwise, all's good.”
Aaron laughs, which causes Rachel to break her deadpan expression and crack a smile.
”We're working on the motion to reconsider,” she says. ”We'll go in ex parte, by order to show cause, and ask Judge Nichols to put it down for the next day.”
Filing ex parte, by order to show cause is legalese that means defense counsel will appear before the judge alone, without even notifying the prosecution, and request that the prosecution show cause as soon as possible why the order revoking bail should not be reconsidered.
”You know we have no chance, right?” Rachel says. ”No way she reconsiders.”
”I know,” Aaron replies. ”But the appellate court never reverses decisions that are within the trial judge's discretion, so our only hope is that Judge Nichols concludes that she acted in haste.”
”Good luck with that,” Rachel says with a smile.
”Actually, in the first instance, you're the one who's going to need the luck. I'm going to see Garkov at the MCC tomorrow morning, just in case he is, as you suggested, thinking about murdering his defense team. So, you're going to need to make the order-to-show-cause application to Judge Nichols.”
”Sounds like we're both on suicide missions.”
13.
Just how much Faith wants out of her marriage is reinforced the moment she enters the apartment and sees her husband sitting in the living room. She actually feels as if the s.p.a.ce has gotten smaller, the air harder to breathe.
Faith hasn't even removed her coat before Stuart says, ”Do we get bodyguards now?”
”Don't start with me,” she says. ”It was a tough day.”
”I'll bet,” he says mockingly. ”Not every day you get on a terrorist's. .h.i.t list.”
”Stuart, are you really worried for my safety? Or yours? Because they offered to put a security detail in front of the building, but I know how much you hate that.”
”Just answer me this, Faith: is that what T-Rex told you to do last night? So long as you put the screws to Garkov, you'll be on the Supreme Court?”
”This your way of not starting with me, Stuart?”
”It's a fair question. I mean, you're doing everything you can, seemingly ethical or not, to get on the Supreme Court . . . even though you know what that's going to do to us.”
”You're unbelievable. Jesus.”
”I'm unbelievable? Me? Why is that? Because we decided to live in New York City? Because I have a life here? An architectural practice that I can't just up and move down to DC, which, by the way, has the worst architecture in the country.”
”Yes, you!” Faith yells back. ”This is unreal! I know you're not the most supportive of men, but is it too much to ask that you not do everything you can to make me feel like s.h.i.+t? Stuart, I could be on the Supreme Court of the United States. Do you understand what that means? The historical impact that I can have on this country? And yet boo hoo hoo, you're complaining that you'll have to live in Was.h.i.+ngton?” She gives a long, exasperated sigh. ”You know what, Stuart? Don't come. Stay here if you want. It's not like we have kids to worry about-”
”That again? You knew I didn't want to have children when you married me.”
Faith has lost the moral high ground, because Stuart is right. She knew he didn't want children, and yet she married him anyway. Besides, this fight isn't about that. It's about the fact that he's being a first-rate p.r.i.c.k. She should just file for divorce and be done with it. It's not like being divorced would hurt her nomination, whereas she wouldn't put it past Stuart to sabotage her with a carefully planted off-the-cuff remark about her views on abortion. But for some reason she can't bring herself to end her marriage, and so the United States Supreme Court is now her exit strategy. She would move to Was.h.i.+ngton and Stuart would remain in New York, either because he claimed he couldn't leave his practice or because she asked him to stay behind. The lawyers could work out the rest with them three hundred miles apart.
”I'm tired, Stuart,” she says, meaning more than that she's sleepy. She's weary of fighting the same battle over and over again. ”I'm going to bed.”
It's clear from her tone that her husband is most definitely not invited.
CYNTHIA IS READING BY the fireplace, although it's not lit-that being Aaron's job in the division of marital ch.o.r.es-when Aaron arrives home that evening.
”Are the girls here?” he asks.