give them the names.”
“Sure you can. You’re a US Senator. You can do anything you want. Tell them if they try to nominate anyone to fill either spot you’ll use your office to stand in the way. You’ll give them the names as soon as your staff is finished checking the candidates out. Tell ’em it could take a while.”
“Senatorial privilege,” said Grimes.
“You got it.”
“You can’t just leave these positions open. The one on the Ninth Circuit already has a short list of qualified candidates approved by the ABA, the American Bar Association.”
“They have their criteria, I have mine,” said the Eagle.
“I’ve already committed,” said Grimes.
“Tell them you’ve changed your mind. Woman’s prerogative.”
“The White House will think I’m crazy.”
“Tell them you’re going through a change of life. I don’t care what you tell them, just do it.” He slammed the phone down in her ear.
What the Eagle wanted was to keep the positions vacant so he could use them when the time came. Under the ritual of senatorial privilege, the senior home state senator could effectively blackball a nomination to the federal courts in his or her own state. Or, as in the case of the Ninth Circuit, block any candidate coming from that state and then wheel and deal with other members of the Senate to get what he or she wanted. It was an unholy practice. But even members who didn’t like it had to go along, part of being in the club.
Because the judicial nominations required Senate confirmation before they became final lifetime appointments, a hearing would never be set unless the candidate had the blessing of the state’s senior senator. It was a corrupt custom dating back eons and had been used more than once to shake candidates or their supporters down for money, or to exact favors from other politicians and the White House.
The Eagle knew that if Grimes used her muscle, she could keep both positions vacant indefinitely. It was nice owning your own US senator. The Eagle possessed a stable of them, like racehorses, and with a single phone call he could work any one of them into an instant lather.
TWELVE
T he Tarnished Eagle wished he was in the bar, the private club with the lawyer and the girl. At least he could have had a drink. He could have used one, but there was no time for that now.
“Do we know what they talked about?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say he was trying for a date. We lost at least half, maybe sixty percent to background noise.” The transcript was going to have major holes, train loads of blank white space labeled “Unintelligible.” The gain on the mic from the lawyer’s cell phone simply couldn’t handle the constant blast of the bass from the music.
“Why couldn’t they have met in a library?” said the Eagle.
“He’s out of the building.” The voice at the other end suddenly came alive.
“Where is he headed?”
“Hold on. Looks like the other man has joined him out in front of the building. They are both headed back toward the car. They’ve crossed the street. Yes, they’re back in the car.”
“Do we have sufficient assets to track them?”
“Got it covered.”
“Are they moving?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep an eye on them. Where is the girl?”
“One second. Looks like they’re on the move, backing up.”
“Where’s the girl?”
The Eagle could hear voices conferring at the other end of the line.
“We think she’s still inside.”
“What do you mean, YOU THINK?”
More panicked voices at the other end. “No. No. She’s inside.” This seemed to be the consensus.
“Are you sure?”
“That is confirmed. Feet on the ground inside. She is still there.”
The Eagle settled down. Maybe she had already told them what it was they wanted to know. At least she hadn’t left the building with them. He thought for a moment and considered the options. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. “What do we have on the man’s
“Sure you can. You’re a US Senator. You can do anything you want. Tell them if they try to nominate anyone to fill either spot you’ll use your office to stand in the way. You’ll give them the names as soon as your staff is finished checking the candidates out. Tell ’em it could take a while.”
“Senatorial privilege,” said Grimes.
“You got it.”
“You can’t just leave these positions open. The one on the Ninth Circuit already has a short list of qualified candidates approved by the ABA, the American Bar Association.”
“They have their criteria, I have mine,” said the Eagle.
“I’ve already committed,” said Grimes.
“Tell them you’ve changed your mind. Woman’s prerogative.”
“The White House will think I’m crazy.”
“Tell them you’re going through a change of life. I don’t care what you tell them, just do it.” He slammed the phone down in her ear.
What the Eagle wanted was to keep the positions vacant so he could use them when the time came. Under the ritual of senatorial privilege, the senior home state senator could effectively blackball a nomination to the federal courts in his or her own state. Or, as in the case of the Ninth Circuit, block any candidate coming from that state and then wheel and deal with other members of the Senate to get what he or she wanted. It was an unholy practice. But even members who didn’t like it had to go along, part of being in the club.
Because the judicial nominations required Senate confirmation before they became final lifetime appointments, a hearing would never be set unless the candidate had the blessing of the state’s senior senator. It was a corrupt custom dating back eons and had been used more than once to shake candidates or their supporters down for money, or to exact favors from other politicians and the White House.
The Eagle knew that if Grimes used her muscle, she could keep both positions vacant indefinitely. It was nice owning your own US senator. The Eagle possessed a stable of them, like racehorses, and with a single phone call he could work any one of them into an instant lather.
TWELVE
T he Tarnished Eagle wished he was in the bar, the private club with the lawyer and the girl. At least he could have had a drink. He could have used one, but there was no time for that now.
“Do we know what they talked about?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say he was trying for a date. We lost at least half, maybe sixty percent to background noise.” The transcript was going to have major holes, train loads of blank white space labeled “Unintelligible.” The gain on the mic from the lawyer’s cell phone simply couldn’t handle the constant blast of the bass from the music.
“Why couldn’t they have met in a library?” said the Eagle.
“He’s out of the building.” The voice at the other end suddenly came alive.
“Where is he headed?”
“Hold on. Looks like the other man has joined him out in front of the building. They are both headed back toward the car. They’ve crossed the street. Yes, they’re back in the car.”
“Do we have sufficient assets to track them?”
“Got it covered.”
“Are they moving?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep an eye on them. Where is the girl?”
“One second. Looks like they’re on the move, backing up.”
“Where’s the girl?”
The Eagle could hear voices conferring at the other end of the line.
“We think she’s still inside.”
“What do you mean, YOU THINK?”
More panicked voices at the other end. “No. No. She’s inside.” This seemed to be the consensus.
“Are you sure?”
“That is confirmed. Feet on the ground inside. She is still there.”
The Eagle settled down. Maybe she had already told them what it was they wanted to know. At least she hadn’t left the building with them. He thought for a moment and considered the options. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. “What do we have on the man’s
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