Ramseys clerks have been pestering me about the comment you made the other day, Justice Knight, about the poor being entitled to certain preferences. Sara looked over at the woman, sitting so calmly behind her desk. A smile flickered across Knights face as she scanned some documents. Im sure they have.

They both knew that Ramseys clerks were like a well-trained commando unit. They had feelers out everywhere, looking for anything of interest to the chief justice and his agendas. Almost nothing escaped their notice. Every word, exclamation, meeting or casual corridor conversation was duly noted, analyzed and catalogued away for future use.

So you intended for that reaction to happen?

Sara, as much as I may not like it, there is a certain process at this place that one must struggle through. Some call it a game, I dont choose to do so. But I cant ignore its presence. Im not so much concerned with the chief. The positions Im thinking about taking on a number of cases Ramsey would never support. I know that and he knows that.

So you were floating a trial balloon to the other justices.

In part, yes. Oral argument is also an open, public forum.

So, to the public. Sara thought quickly. And the media?

Knight put down the papers and clasped her hands together as she stared at the younger woman. This Court is swayed more by public opinion than many would dare to confess. Some here would like to see the status quo always preserved. But the Court has to move forward.

And this ties into the cases youve been having me research about equalizing educational rights of the poor?

I have a compelling interest in that. Elizabeth Knight had grown up in East Texas, the middle of nowhere, but her father had had money. Thus, her education had been first-rate, and she had often wondered how her life would have been if her father had been poor like so many of the people she had grown up with. All justices carried psychological baggage to the Court and Elizabeth Knight was no exception. And thats all Im really going to say right now.

AndBlankley? Sara said, referring to the affirmative action case Ramsey had so thoroughly decimated.

We havent voted on it yet, of course, Sara, so I cant say one way or the other how it will turn out. The voting conferences took place in complete secrecy, without even a stenographer or secretary in residence. However, for those who followed the Court with any consistency, and for the clerks who lived in the place every day, it wasnt too difficult to predict how votes were lining up, although the justices had surprised people in the past. Justice Knights depressed look made it clear, however, which way the votes were aligned on theBlankleycase. And Sara could read the tea leaves as well as anyone. Michael Fiske was right. The only question was how sweeping the opinion would be.

Too bad I wont be around to see the results of my research come to fruition, Sara said.

You never know. You came back for a second term. Michael Fiske signed up with Tommy for a third. Id love to have you back again.

Funny you should mention him. Michael was also asking about your remarks at oral argument. He thought Murphy might welcome anything you were trying to put together concerning preferences for the poor.

Knight smiled. Michael would know. He and Tommy are as close as clerk and justice can be.

Michael knows more about the Court than just about anyone. Actually, sometimes he can be a little scary.

Knight eyed her keenly. I thought you and Michael were close.

We are. I mean, were good friends. Sara blushed as Knight continued to watch her.

We wont be getting any announcements from the two of you, will we? Knight smiled warmly.

What? No, no. Were just friends.

I see. Im sorry, Sara, its certainly none of my business.

Its okay. We do spend a fair amount of time together. Im sure some people assume that theres more there than just friendship. I mean, Michaels a very attractive man, obviously very smart. Great future.

Sara, dont take this the wrong way, but you sound like youre trying to convince yourself of something.

Sara looked down. I guess I do, dont I?

Take it from someone who has two grown daughters. Dont rush it. Let it take its natural course. You have plenty of time. End of motherly advice.

Sara smiled. Thanks.

Now, how is the bench memo coming onChance v. U.S.?

I know Stevens been working on it nonstop.

Steven Wright is not holding up well here.

Well, hes trying really hard.

You have to help him, Sara. Youre the senior clerk. I should have had that memo two weeks ago. Ramsey has his ammo bag filled and the precedents are completely on his side. I need to be at least equal to that if Im going to have a shot.

Ill make it a top priority.

Good.

Sara rose to leave. And I think youll handle the chief justice just fine.

The women exchanged smiles. Elizabeth Knight had become almost a second mother to Sara Evans, replacing the one she had lost as a young child. As Sara walked out the door, Knight sat back in her chair. Where she was now was the culmination of a lifetime of work and sacrifice, luck and skill. She was married to a well-respected United States senator, a man she loved and who loved her. She was one of only three women who had ever donned the robes of a Supreme Court justice. She felt humble and empowered at the same time. The president who had nominated her was still in office. He had seen her as a reliable middle-of-the-road jurist. She had not been that active politically, so he could not exactly expect her to toe his partys line, but he probably expected her to be judicially passive, letting the solution to the really important questions fall to the peoples elected representatives. She had no deep-set philosophies like Ramsey or Murphy. They decided cases not so much on the facts of each one, but on the broad positions each case represented. Murphy would never vote to uphold or reverse any case in favor of capital punishment. Ramsey would wither and die before he would side with a defendant in a criminal rights case. Knight could not choose her sides in that manner. She took each case, each party, as they came. She agonized over the facts. While she thought about the broader impact of the courts decisions, she also worried about the fairness to the actual parties. It often meant she was the swing vote on a lot of cases, and she didnt really mind that. She was no wallflower, and she had come here to make a difference. Only now was she seeing what a very great impact she could have. And the responsibility that came with such power was what humbled her. And frightened her. Made her stare at the ceiling wide awake as her husband slept soundly beside her. Still, she thought with a smile, there was no other place she would rather be; no other way she would rather be spending her life. ["C9"]CHAPTER NINE

John Fiske walked into the building located in the West End of Richmond. The place was officially called a rest home, but, plain and simple, it was a place for the elderly to come to die. Fiske tried to ignore the moans and cries as he strode down the corridor. He saw the feeble bodies, heads dipping low, limbs useless, encased in the wheelchairs, stacked like shopping carts against the wall, waiting for a dance partner who was never going to show up. It had taken all the resolve he and his father had in order to move Johns mother into this place. Michael Fiske had never faced up to the fact that their mothers mind was gone, eaten away by Alzheimers. The good times were easy to enjoy. The real worth of a person came from how he acted during the bad times. As far as John Fiske was concerned, his brother Mike had failed that test miserably. He checked in at the desk. How is she today? he asked the assistant administrator. As a frequent visitor here, he knew all the staff.