The Chosen (15 page)

∞

Kris did not have to try to get booked on the national shows. Within hours of the Press Secretary’s news conference she was being swamped with calls from all the major networks. While she was still in Cicchetti’s office, the various news agencies began calling him to find her.
Conservative Voices
hosted by Rod Mayfield wanted her on his show that same evening. Kris did not know how she would be able to make the trip to New York in time for the 8:00 P.M. broadcast, but Cicchetti assured the person on the other end of the phone that she would be there.

As soon as the call ended, he buzzed Anne. When she entered his office, he said, “Kris is doing
Conservative Voices
tonight. Book her on a flight to New York. Then take her
shopping, have her hair done, and buy her some makeup. From now on she’s got to look good.”

Kris was dumbfounded, “Mr. Cicchetti, I don’t have any money. My brother is paying for everything, and I can’t ask him to meet all of these expenses. Besides, he’s spent so much already that I don’t know how much he has left, but it probably isn’t much.”

“The Freedom League will cover all of your expenses.”

“Who?”

“Didn’t Lena St. Clair tell you what I do?”

“No. She didn’t tell me anything. When I asked for her help, she told me that she would try to find someone who could help me and that she would be back in touch. She sent me a text message with your name and phone number. That was it. When I called you, I had no idea what I was getting into. In fact, Keith and I were pretty nervous. We were afraid that you would call the Feds and have us arrested.”

Cicchetti smiled, “You’re gutsier than I thought. I founded The Freedom League in the eighties when freedom of religion was coming under attack by a lot of atheist groups who were demanding that the government assist them in ridding our nation of all references to God. All of our funding comes from private donations so that we can
cover the expenses of
cases like yours. So stop thinking about money and start thinking about what you’re going to say tonight.”

“Thank you.” Kris threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. Turning to Anne, she said, “Let’s go.”

∞

As Kris sat in the green room waiting to go on the show she looked at herself in the mirror directly across from her
chair. Anne certainly knew the drill. She had gotten Kris’ sizes and shopped for her while Kris was having her hair and makeup done.

By the time Andrea had finished with her, Anne had returned to the salon with a beautifully cut blue-gray suit that exactly matched the color of her eyes. Simple high-heeled pumps and a matching handbag completed the outfit. It was perfect. Her attire was simple, tasteful, and expensive. Kris turned her head from side to side to see her hair. For the first time in several years her hair had been professionally
styled and
colored to cover the gray. Andrea had matched
her
natural color perfectly and cut it into a style that said, “I am beautiful, but I am someone to be reckoned with.” The dark chocolate tresses fell almost to her shoulders and gleamed under the artificial light.

Kris had become unaccustomed to seeing herself in makeup, and she suddenly felt young and glamorous. Andrea’ assistant had applied the makeup expertly, and Kris’ skin glowed
,
and her perfectly made up eyes looked luminous. As she waited, Kris felt more confident than she had since she had begun
work
ing to get Michael and Jeff released. Quietly she prayed, “Oh, dear Jesus, thank you for what you have done for us and for what you are doing for us. This is a miracle that only You could provide. To be sitting here waiting to go on a national show to tell our story is a miracle. If you had done nothing else
,
that would have been enough. But you also gave me these clothes and the hair and makeup. I am so
in awe of Your kindness
. I am so filled with gratitude that You would do this for me and my family. You have opened a path for me. Help me to do exactly what I need to do tonight. I pray, Lord, that you will guide my words and that I will not speak even one word that I am not supposed to speak and that I will not fail to speak even one word that I am supposed to speak. Give me boldness and courage, I pray. And, Lord,
please bless Julian Cicchetti and Anne for everything they have done to make this possible. Give them back one-thousand times over what they have given to
me
.”

The door opened and a smiling young woman escorted Kris to the desk where Rod Mayfield was already seated. She introduced him to Kris and left. “As soon as we return from the break, we’ll start the interview,” Mayfield said smiling. “We’re going to do something different tonight—something we’ve neve
r done before. After I ask you a few
questions, we’re going to invite the viewers to call in with questions for you. Don’t worry if no one calls. When people are really interested in something, sometimes they don’t call, so if you don’t get any calls, don’t worry about it. I started out
in
talk radio, and I know all about
how
those telephone calls
work
.”

Mayfield spent a few minutes asking Kris about Jeff and Michael, and then he asked
her
what she thought about
The
Line Up
.

“I don’t know anything about it,” she answered. “I have been so focused on getting Michael Linton and Jeff Connors released that I didn’t even know it existed until today. I turned on my computer and saw some of the pictures scroll by, but that’s about it.”

“Do you think it’s genuine?” Mayfield pressed.

“I don’t know.”

“Surely you must have an opinion. The entire country is talking about it, and if you don’t have an opinion, you’re the only one who doesn’t.”

“I really wish I could comment on it, but, honestly, I have seen it only once for about a minute.”

“My producer is talking in my earpiece and telling me that our switchboard is jammed, so we
’d
better take some calls.”

To everyone’s surprise, the caller did not have a question for Kris. A woman’s voice said, “Thank you for taking my call, Rod. I’m calling because my brother was arrested six months ago for domestic terrorism, and we haven’t been able to find out where he is or what has happened to him. Two days ago I was on my computer and his picture scrolled across the screen. He was on
The
Line Up
! All of the information listed was correct.
The
Line Up
is not a fake!”

Call after call verified what the first caller had said. The callers had recognized their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children, friends and neighbors in
The
Line Up
. All of them had been arrested for domestic terrorism, and all had disappeared without a trace. Then, without warning, their pictures and personal information had appeared in
The
Line Up
. The American people were energized and demanding answers.

Chapter
2
1

P
resident Tom Quincy and Vice President Candice Peters were seated on couches facing each other in the Oval Office. The president had specifically chosen this location for his meeting with the Supreme Court Chief Justice because he knew that the Oval Office was intimidating to nearly everyone. Even he was never entirely comfortable here.
There was so much history, so much tradition connected to this office that it was impossible not to feel the pressures of running the government while sitting inside its walls.

Quincy noted that Candice had taken seriously his comment to her that this was, perhaps, the most important meeting of his
Administration
,
thus far. She had actually run a comb through her hair and buttoned her jacket prior to her arrival. Quincy did not want to make small talk with his Vice President; she was boorish at best, and he could hardly tolerate being in the same room with her. Just as he was about to break the silence by
commenting on the most recent Gallop poll,
however,
the door was opened by a member of the President’s Secret Service deta
il
,
and the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court
entered the room.“Franklin!” the President said, rising to his feet and extending his hand. Quincy smiled widely and shook the Chief Justice’s hand warmly.

The President had never liked the Chief Justice. Franklin Prescott Dillon was a quiet, distinguished
-l
ooking man of fifty-five who had been born into privilege, attended the best schools, married well, and
been named to the Court when he was still in his forties. He was generally considered to be a man of integrity and intelligence, but he was soft. While not overweight, his body was soft
from years of physical inactivity
. His hands were soft from a lifetime spent pondering legal matters from behi
nd a mahogany desk in a climate-
controlled environment. His voice was soft, as if he feared stirring up opposition to his opinions. Even his convictions were soft. He had proven that when
Quincy had coerced him to vote to uphold legislation broadly expanding the powers of the federal government, even though th
at
legislation was clearly unconstitutional. When the decision was handed down, Dillon had defended his actions to an
outraged
populace by stating that “it is not the duty of the Court to save the country from their bad choices in the voting booth.”
That was
one of
the last matter
s
that the Court had ruled
on; within months
, the
Administration
had announced that the Supreme Court
B
uilding was being closed because of a bomb threat and would not be reopened until the building had been made secure.
More than t
h
ree years later
the building was still empty
and the C
ourt was still not in session
.

“Can I get you some coffee
,
or a scotch and soda?” Quincy inquired.

“No, thank you,”
Dillon replied in his unobtrusive voice.

“Well then, I’ll come right to the point,” the President said. “We have a matter that we need to deal with as soon as possible. A lawyer by the name of Cicchetti has filed a brief asking the Supreme Court to rule on the constitutionally of the
portions of the NDAA
that deal with
the
arrests, detention
s
and executions of American citizens.
Th
e case has no merit, but a lot of citizen’s groups are squawking for the Court to rule on it
. The Tea Party, the Red White and Blue
h
air Party, and the
New
Patriots are all
over the internet blogging about it, and n
early every day some new group of right-wing nuts joins the
m
.
I think our best course of action is to get a ruling that will
settle this
once and for al
l
, and the sooner the better.

“Now, Franklin, I
called you here because I
need to know that I can count on you to do the right thing. Can I do that?”

“Yes, Mr. President. You can.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!” the President replied. “We are being overrun by gangs of old people who have nothing better to do than
harass their elected officials.
The Federal Municipal Planning Division retirement communities have gone a long way
toward
solving the problem
, but
we don’t yet have enough facilities to relocate all seniors. That’s why we need a Supreme Court ruling
now
. As soon as the Court rules that these provisions are constitutional, they’ll have to find something else to whine about.
”

“When will we get the case?” Dillon inquired.

“We’ll have it to you in a couple of days. I mean, it’s not like
you have anything else on your plate, so you should be able to make it your first priority. Right?
Oh, wait, I forgot, it’s your only priority!” The President laughed uproariously at his own wit.

Franklin Dillon felt his face grow hot with
humiliation
. In a moment of weakness he had allowed himself to be intimidated by this self-serving despot, and he had been paying the price ever since. As the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States he was, arguably, the most powerful man in the country. Presidents come and go,
but Supreme Court Justices serve for life.
Presidents twist arms to pass laws that are often
struck down
by the next administration, but Supreme Court decisions direct the course of the country for decades. They not only impact the lives of every
living
American citizen, they impact the lives of every American citizen yet to come. Franklin Prescott Dillon had been a fool to allow the President to subvert the power of the Court, and now he was being treated like the fool he had proven himself to be.

Vice President Peters spoke for the first time since the Chief Justice had entered the room. She had nothing to add, but she was the kind of woman who could not bear to remain silent—even when it was in her best interest
s
to do so. “You’re not getting back in
to
the Supreme Court
B
uilding,” she said, adding insult to injury, “so you’d better start thinking about where you’re going to do this.” Her expression was one of smug pleasure—not many women had the opportunity to tell the Chief Justice that he was banned from his own building.

Dillon
nodded to indicate that he understood and then stood and extended his hand to Quincy.
“
If there is nothing else, Mr. President, I’ll be going.”

Quincy leapt to his feet and pumped Dillon’s hand. “I’m glad to know that we can count on you,” the President reiterated.

“
Yes, Mr. President,
” Dillon responded as he turned and walked out the door.