jg.thepelicanbrief-第12部分

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　　Coal　was　on　the　phone；　punching　numbers　and　nodding　at　his　boss。　He　would　select　the　nominees；　then　convince　the　President。　
　　
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　　K。　O。　LEWIS　sat　with　the　Director　in　the　back　of　the　quiet　limousine　as　it　left　the　White　House　and　crawled　through　rush…hour　traffic。　Voyles　had　nothing　to　say。　So　far；　in　the　early　hours　of　the　tragedy；　the　press　had　been　brutal。　The　buzzards　were　circling。　No　less　than　three　congressional　submittees　had　already　announced　hearings　and　investigations　into　the　deaths。　And　the　bodies　were　still　warm。　The　politicians　were　giddy　and　wrestling　for　the　spotlight。　One　outrageous　statement　fueled　another。　Senator　Larkin　from　Ohio　hated　Voyles；　and　Voyles　hated　Senator　Larkin　from　Ohio；　and　the　senator　had　called　a　press　conference　three　hours　earlier　and　announced　his　submittee　would　immediately　begin　investigating　the　FBI's　protection　of　the　two　dead　justices。　But　Larkin　had　a　girlfriend；　a　rather　young　one；　and　the　FBI　had　some　photographs；　and　Voyles　was　confident　the　investigation　could　be　delayed。
　　
　　〃How's　the　President？〃　Lewis　finally　asked。
　　
　　〃Which　one？〃
　　
　　〃Not　Coal。　The　other　one。〃
　　
　　〃Swell。　Just　swell。　He's　awfully　tore　up　about　Rosenberg；　though。〃
　　
　　〃I　bet。〃　
　　
　　They　rode　in　silence　in　the　direction　of　the　Hoover　Building。　It　would　be　a　long　night。
　　
　　〃We've　got　a　new　suspect；〃　Lewis　finally　said。
　　
　　〃Do　tell。〃
　　
　　〃A　man　named　Nelson　Muncie。〃　
　　
　　Voyles　slowly　shook　his　head。　〃Never　heard　of　him。〃
　　
　　〃Neither　have　I。　It's　a　long　story。〃
　　
　　〃Gimme　the　short　version。〃
　　
　　〃Muncie　is　a　very　wealthy　industrialist　from　Florida。　Sixteen　years　ago　his　niece　was　raped　and　murdered　by　an　Afro…American　named　Buck　Tyrone。　The　little　girl　was　twelve。　Very；　very　brutal　rape　and　murder。　I'll　spare　you　the　details。　Muncie　has　no　children；　and　idolized　his　niece。　Tyrone　was　tried　in　Orlando；　and　given　the　death　penalty。　He　was　guarded　heavily　because　there　were　a　bunch　of　threats。　Some　Jewish　lawyers　in　a　big　New　York　firm　filed　all　sorts　of　appeals；　and　in　1984　the　case　arrives　at　the　Supreme　Court。　You　guessed　it：　Rosenberg　falls　in　love　with　Tyrone　and　concocts　this　ridiculous　Fifth　Amendment　self…incrimination　argument　to　exclude　a　confession　the　punk　gave　a　week　after　he　was　arrested。　An　eight…page　confession　that　he；　Tyrone；　wrote　himself。　No　confession；　no　case。　Rosenberg　writes　a　convoluted　five…to…four　opinion　overturning　the　conviction。　An　extremely　controversial　decision。　Tyrone　goes　free。　Then；　two　years　later　he　disappears　and　has　not　been　seen　since。　Rumor　has　it　Muncie　paid　to　have　Tyrone　castrated；　mutilated；　and　fed　to　the　sharks。　Just　a　rumor；　say　the　Florida　authorities。　Then　in　1989；　Tyrone's　main　lawyer　on　the　case；　man　named　Kaplan；　is　gunned　down　by　an　apparent　mugger　outside　his　apartment　in　Manhattan。　What　a　coincidence。〃
　　
　　〃Who　tipped　you？〃
　　
　　〃Florida　called　two　hours　ago。　They're　convinced　Muncie　paid　a　bunch　of　money　to　eliminate　both　Tyrone　and　his　lawyer。　They　just　can't　prove　it。　They've　got　a　reluctant；　unidentified　informant　who　says　he　knows　Muncie　and　feeds　them　a　little　info。　He　says　Muncie　has　been　talking　for　years　about　eliminating　Rosenberg。　They　think　he　went　a　little　over　the　edge　when　his　niece　was　murdered。〃
　　
　　〃How　much　money　has　he　got？〃
　　
　　〃Enough。　Millions。　No　one　is　sure。　He's　very　secretive。　Florida　is　convinced　he's　capable。〃
　　
　　〃Let's　check　it　out。　Sounds　interesting。〃
　　
　　〃I'll　get　on　it　tonight。　Are　you　sure　you　want　three　hundred　agents　on　this　case？〃　
　　
　　Voyles　lit　a　cigar　and　cracked　his　window。　〃Yeah；　maybe　four　hundred。　We　need　to　crack　this　baby　before　the　press　eats　us　alive。〃
　　
　　〃It　won't　be　easy。　Except　for　the　slugs　and　the　rope；　these　guys　left　nothing。〃　
　　
　　Voyles　blew　smoke　out　the　window。　〃I　know。　It's　almost　too　clean。〃　
　　
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　　HE　CHIEF　slouched　behind　his　desk　with　a　loosened　tie　and　a　haggard　look。　Around　the　room；　three　of　his　brethren　and　a　half…dozen　clerks　sat　and　talked　in　subdued　tones。　The　shock　and　fatigue　were　evident。　Jason　Kline；　Rosenberg's　senior　clerk；　looked　especially　hard…hit。　He　sat　on　a　small　sofa　and　stared　blankly　at　the　floor　while　Justice　Archibald　Manning；　now　the　senior　Justice；　talked　of　protocol　and　funerals。　Jensen's　mother　wanted　a　small；　private　Episcopal　service　Friday　in　Providence。　Rosenberg's　son；　a　lawyer；　had　delivered　to　Runyan　a　list　of　instructions　the　Justice　had　prepared　after　his　second　stroke　in　which　he　wanted　to　be　cremated　after　a　non…military　ceremony　and　his　ashes　dropped　over　the　Sioux　Indian　Reservation　in　South　Dakota。　Though　Rosenberg　was　Jewish；　he　had　abandoned　the　religion　and　claimed　to　be　agnostic。　He　wanted　to　be　buried　with　the　Indians。　Runyan　thought　that　was　appropriate；　but　did　not　say　so。　In　the　outer　office；　six　FBI　agents　sipped　coffee　and　whispered　nervously。　There　had　been　more　threats　during　the　day；　several　ing　within　hours　of　the　President's　early　morning　address。　It　was　dark　now；　almost　time　to　escort　the　remaining　justices　home。　Each　had　four　agents　as　bodyguards。　
　　
　　Justice　Andrew　McDowell；　at　sixty…one　now　the　youngest　member　of　the　Court；　stood　in　the　window；　smoking　his　pipe　and　watching　traffic。　If　Jensen　had　a　friend　on　the　Court；　it　was　McDowell。　Fletcher　Coal　had　informed　Runyan　that　the　President　would　not　only　attend　Jensen's　service　but　wanted　to　deliver　a　eulogy。　No　one　in　the　inner　office　wanted　the　President　to　say　a　word。　The　Chief　had　asked　McDowell　to　prepare　a　few　words。　A　shy　man　who　avoided　speeches；　McDowell　twirled　his　bow　tie　and　tried　to　picture　his　friend　in　the　balcony　with　a　rope　around　his　neck。　It　was　too　awful　to　think　about。　A　Justice　of　the　Supreme　Court；　one　of　his　distinguished　brethren；　one　of　the　nine；　hiding　in　such　a　place　watching　those　movies　and　being　exposed　in　such　a　ghastly　manner。　What　a　tragic　embarrassment。　He　thought　of　himself　standing　before　the　crowd　in　the　church　and　looking　at　Jensen's　mother　and　family；　and　knowing　that　every　thought　would　be　on　the　Montrose　Theatre。　They　would　ask　each　other　in　whispered　voices；　〃Did　you　know　he　was　gay？〃　McDowell；　for　one；　did　not　know；　nor　did　he　suspect。　Nor　did　he　want　to　say　anything　at　the　funeral。　
　　
　　Justice　Ben　Thurow；　age　sixty…eight；　was　not　as　concerned　about　burying　the　dead　as　he　was　about　catching　the　killers。　He　had　been　a　federal　prosecutor　in　Minnesota；　and　his　theory　grouped　the　suspects　into　two　classes：　those　acting　out　of　hatred　and　revenge；　and　those　seeking　to　affect　future　decisions。　He　had　instructed　his　clerks　to　begin　the　research。　
　　
　　Thurow　was　pacing　around　the　room。　〃We　have　twenty…seven　clerks　and　seven　justices；〃　he　said　to　the　group　but　to　no　one　in　particular。　〃It's　obvious　we　won't　get　much　work　done　for　the　next　couple　of　weeks；　and　all　close　decisions　must　wait　until　we　have　a　full　bench。　That　could　take　months。　I　suggest　we　put　our　clerks　to　work　trying　to　solve　the　killings。〃
　　
　　
　　〃We're　not　police；〃　Manning　said　patiently。
　　
　　〃Can　we　at　least　wait　until　after　the　burials　before　we　start　playing　Dick　Tracy？〃　McDowell　said　without　turning　from　the　window。　
　　
　　Thurow　ignored　them；　as　usual。　〃I'll　direct　the　research。　Loan　me　your　clerks　for　two　weeks；　and　I　think　we　can　put　together　a　short　list　of　solid　suspects。〃
　　
　　〃The　FBI　is　very　capable；　Ben；〃　the　Chief　said。　〃They　haven't　asked　for　our　help。〃
　　
　　〃I'd　rather　not　discuss　the　FBI；〃　Thurow　said。　〃We　can　mope　around　here　in　official　mourning　for　two　weeks；　or　we　can　go　to　work　and　find　these　bastards。〃
　　
　　〃What　makes　you　so　sure　you　can　solve　this？〃　Manning　asked。
　　
　　〃I'm　not　sure　I　can；　but　I　think　it's　worth　a　try。　Our　brethren　were　murdered　for　a　reason；　and　that　reason　is　directly　related　to　a　case　or　an　issue　already　decided　or　now　pending　before　this　Court。　If　it's　retribution；　then　our　task　is　almost　impossible。　Hell；　everybody　hates　us　for　one　reason　or　another。　But　if　it's　not　revenge　or　hatred；　then　perhaps　someone　wanted　a　different　Court　for　a　future　decision。　That's　what