Murder in the Supreme Court (Capital Crimes Series Book 3) by Margaret Truman Page A

bare, and a single set of bookshelves contained only leather-bound volumes of literary classics.
    “I really have to get back,” Sutherland said.
    “I know, Chester, but asking you out here had very little to do with what we discussed at lunch.”
    “I gathered that.”
    “I’m sure you did. Of all the people of your professional caliber in the program, you’re the one whose instincts I most trust.”
    “That’s flattering, Bill, but to be frank with you I’m damn glad to be out of it. Why did you ask me back? Is there a problem that involves me?” He knew what the answer was but didn’t want to acknowledge it.
    “Security, Chester, that’s the question. The continuationof the research depends on security. Naturally, we released what we could of the files under the Freedom of Information Act. Hell, we had no choice, and we sanitized them as best we could. I’ve received information from… well, let’s just say very high and reliable sources that there might be a weak link in the future chain… and that that link might be you.”
    “Because of my son—?”
    “Precisely. That’s another thing I’ve always admired about you, your ability to cut through the skin and get to the marrow.” He frowned and cleared his throat. “Chester, there’s a very legitimate concern about your files.”
    “Why?”
    “Because certain members of your immediate—”
    “Family?”
    “Yes, and others, might have had access to them and could potentially compromise our position.”
    “My son, sir, is dead.”
    “Was he the one who gained access to them?”
    “To what?”
    “Your MKULTRA files.”
    “There weren’t any.”
    “That’s not what I’ve been told.”
    “Who told you otherwise?”
    “A reliable source.”
    “
I’m
a reliable source.”
    “Of course you are, Chester. When I heard about your son I was shocked. I’d met him once and was very impressed with his intelligence. He was a son any father could be proud of, I would have been pleased to have called him my own…”
    Sutherland resisted the temptation to respond sharply. Instead he said, “Clarence’s death was a tragic loss to all of us close to him, and we’re trying to cope with the horrorof it as best we can. If there isn’t anything else, Bill, I’d just as soon get back to my family.”
    Stalk came around the desk and draped his arm around Sutherland’s shoulders. “Chester, I’m sorry if I’ve intruded on sensitive ground. There’s no need for that, national security or no national security. But I have an obligation to explore any possible area of weakness. You understand, I’m sure.”
    “Yes, of course. I enjoyed lunch, Bill, it was good seeing you again.”
    Stalk pushed a buzzer on his desk, then walked Sutherland to the door, his arm still over his shoulder. “You know, Chester,” he said, “I realize we’ve discussed this before, and I promise you this will be the last time. Are you certain you didn’t keep files of your own on MKULTRA?”
    Sutherland placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He looked into Stalk’s eyes and said flatly, quietly, “Yes, I’m certain. Enjoy the skeet shooting.”

CHAPTER 17
    Eight of the nine Supreme Court justices sat in the main conference room. Missing was Temple Conover. He had called to say he was ill but promised to come in later in the day.
    Jonathan Poulson had presented his argument in favor of the state of Illinois in the
Nidel
v.
Illinois
case. Much of what he said had been contained in a long memorandum from him earlier in the week. It was a typical Poulson memo, long and rambling, filled with redundancies and lacking in clarity of writing and thought. At least that was the way most of the clerks viewed his written work, and their justices tended to agree.
    What some of the justices found particularly upsetting about the memorandum was its stress on achieving a unanimousdecision within the Court so that a clear and strong message on abortion would be available to