The Pelican Brief Read Free Page A

female in tight washed jeans and a cotton sweater slid elegantly through it and sort of glided along the wall to the third row, where she deftly maneuvered between the crowded seats until she came to hers and sat down. The guys on the fourth row watched in admiration. The guys on the fifth row strained for a peek. For two brutal years now, one of the few pleasures of law school had been to watch as she graced the halls and rooms with her long legs and baggy sweaters. There was a fabulous body in there somewhere, they could tell. But she was not one to flaunt it. She was just one of the gang, and adhered to the law school dress code of jeans and flannel shirts and old sweaters and oversized khakis. What they wouldn’t give for a black leather miniskirt.
    She flashed a quick smile at the guy seated next to her, and for a second Callahan and his
Nash
question were forgotten. Her dark red hair fell just to theshoulders. She was that perfect little cheerleader with the perfect teeth and perfect hair that every boy fell in love with at least twice in high school. And maybe at least once in law school.
    Callahan was ignoring this entry. Had she been a first-year student, and afraid of him, he might have ripped into her and screamed a few times. “You’re never late for court!” was the old standby law professors had beaten to death.
    But Callahan was not in a screaming mood, and Darby Shaw was not afraid of him, and for a split second he wondered if anyone knew he was sleeping with her. Probably not. She had insisted on absolute secrecy.
    “Has anyone read Rosenberg’s dissent in
Nash v. New Jersey
?” Suddenly, he had the spotlight again, and there was dead silence. A raised hand could mean constant grilling for the next thirty minutes. No volunteers. The smokers on the back row fired up their cigarettes. Most of the eighty scribbled aimlessly on legal pads. All heads were bowed. It would be too obvious and risky to flip through the casebook and find
Nash;
too late for that. Any movement might attract attention. Someone was about to be nailed.
    Nash
was not in the casebook. It was one of a dozen minor cases Callahan had hurriedly mentioned a week ago, and now he was anxious to see if anyone had read it. He was famous for this. His final exam covered twelve hundred cases, a thousand of which were not in the casebook. The exam was a nightmare, but he was really a sweetheart, a soft grader, and it was a rare dumbass who flunked the course.
    He did not appear to be a sweetheart at this moment.He looked around the room. Time for a victim. “How about it, Mr. Sallinger? Can you explain Rosenberg’s dissent?”
    Instantly from the fourth row, Sallinger said, “No sir.”
    “I see. Might that be because you haven’t read Rosenberg’s dissent?”
    “It might. Yes sir.”
    Callahan glared at him. The red eyes made the arrogant scowl all the more menacing. Only Sallinger saw it though, since everyone else was glued to their legal pads. “And why not?”
    “Because I try not to read dissents. Especially Rosenberg’s.”
    Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Sallinger had opted to fight back, but he had no ammo.
    “Something against Rosenberg, Mr. Sallinger?”
    Callahan revered Rosenberg. Worshiped him. Read books about the man and his opinions. Studied him. Even dined with him once.
    Sallinger fidgeted nervously. “Oh no, sir. I just don’t like dissents.”
    There was a bit of humor in Sallinger’s responses, but not a smile was cracked. Later, over a beer, he and his buddies would roar with laughter when it was told and retold about Sallinger and his distaste for dissents, especially Rosenberg’s. But not now.
    “I see. Do you read majority opinions?”
    Hesitation. Sallinger’s feeble attempt at sparring was about to cause humiliation. “Yes sir. Lots of them.”
    “Great. Explain, then, if you will, the majority opinion in
Nash v. New Jersey.
”
    Sallinger had never heard of
Nash
, but he would now remember it for the rest of