Supreme Justice Read Free Page B

associate’s position at Rankin Lusk Carstairs and White, one of the capital’s most prestigious law firms. Her six-figure salary was the reason they could afford their apartment on Capitol Hill. Brad certainly couldn’t have made their rent on the salary he was being paid to clerk for United States Supreme Court justice Felicia Moss, a job Kineer had secured for Brad as a reward for helping expose the greatest scandal in American political history.
    The clerkship was another reason to smile. It might not pay much, and Brad’s workday might last ten to twelve hours, but a clerkship on the Supreme Court was every lawyer’s dream job, one that opened the door to any position in the legal universe. The fact that he was clerking for someone as brilliant and as nice as Justice Moss was a bonus.
    And there was one final reason to smile. Brad’s life had been blessedly uneventful since he’d arrived in Washington. Uneventful was very, very good if the exciting incidents that had made your previous year event-filled consisted of being attacked by gun-wielding assassins, digging up a jar filled with severed pinkies that had been buried by a serial killer, and, last but definitely not least, bringing down the president of the United States.
    “Guess what I did?” Brad said when he’d finished fixing his tie.
    “What?” Ginny asked as she put the final touches on her makeup.
    “I made a reservation at Bistro Bis for eight tonight.”
    “What’s the occasion?”
    “The six-month anniversary of no one trying to kill me and no reporter trying to interview me.”
    “Has it been that long?”
    “Yup. I guess I’ve finally become a nonentity again.”
    “Oh, Brad,” Ginny cooed. “You’ll never be a nonentity to me.”
    Brad laughed. “I guess I can handle one person who still thinks of me as a god.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far.”
    Brad kissed Ginny on the cheek. “Let’s get going. You might have nothing better to do in the morning than look in the mirror, but I’m a busy man.”
    Visitors to the United States Supreme Court cross a raised plaza paved in gray and white marble, climb fifty-three broad steps that lead to the fluted Corinthian columns supporting the west portico, and enter the high court through a pair of magnificent bronze doors decorated with eight panels depicting The Evolution of Justice . When Brad Miller and the other law clerks came to work, they crossed a different marble plaza at the rear of the building and entered through the employees’ entrance on Second Street. After punching in his code, Brad passed a small desk manned by a security guard. The guard didn’t ask for identification because the Court security guards had memorized every clerk’s face.
    From day one, Brad had the sense that everything about the Supreme Court was very serious. Everywhere he looked he saw thick marble, dark wood, and no sign of architectural frivolity. Even the air in the building felt heavy. And the law clerks . . . There were thirty-six of them, and most had been the kind of students who had to be talked in off a ledge if they got an A minus. Not that any of them had ever suffered a tragedy of that magnitude.
    Many of the clerks regarded Brad as they might an exotic exhibit in a carnival side show. He had not been Phi Beta Kappa, nor had he gone to a prestigious college or law school or clerked for a federal appellate court judge. On the other hand, none of the other clerks had brought down a president of the United States. Brad felt self-conscious around these legal geniuses even though he had been an editor of his school’s law review, and he was still nervous about giving a legal opinion to Justice Moss, afraid that he might have missed something that one of the Harvard grads would have spotted with ease. But Moss seemed pleased with his work, and he was gaining confidence. Last week, she’d even complimented him on a memo he’d written. The judge was stingy with praise, and her verbal pat on