Read Allegiance for Free Online Page B

be silenced. And underneath the chatter and ostentatiously hurried walk runs another thread, one I cannot quite grasp. I see it here at the Court and outside, too. Frankfurter’s strange allusions, the way a man looks at me on the street. Something is happening that I do not understand.

CHAPTER 6
    THE NEXT DAY at noon I am working on certs when I hear a shuffle of steps and the familiar notes of “London Bridge.” I look up as the door opens and Black enters, felt hat on his head, battered suitcase filled with petitions of his own. He deposits the hat and suitcase without a word, gathers up his mail, and proceeds to his private room. Ten minutes later his head pokes through the door. “Seems a shame to waste the sun,” he says. “Come on, Cash, what do you say?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou say ‘what’?” He walks to my desk and leans toward me. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
    I sit bolt upright. “No, Justice. I just—I don’t—”
    Black interrupts. “Call me Judge. That’s what the Constitution says.”
    â€œYes, Judge. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œTennis, son.” Black sits down on the corner of the desk; I edge back. “They weren’t lying about that backhand, were they?”
    â€œI suppose it depends on what they said.”
    â€œThat’s a good answer. Now you’re getting funny.”
    â€œBut Judge, I have twenty certs to do today.”
    â€œAnd that one’s bad. Why do you swoop after you soar? A man needs exercise. You’ll do more work, and you’ll do it better.”
    Are these the predicted results of exercise, or an unrelated command? I cannot tell, but I grab my hat and follow him out the door.
    We proceed to the Court’s basement garage. “I’ll drive this time,” Black tells me. “You can once you know the way.” He pulls out into traffic. “People seem to feel uncomfortable with me behind the wheel. I guess they think a Justice shouldn’t be driving himself. I don’t mind, of course, but if it makes you feel better . . .” His voice trails off as he changes lanes rapidly. I grip the seat, thinking that his companions’ discomfort has a different source.
    Black drives as though only speed and not direction is essential to travel and tends when talking to lose track of his surroundings. It is a relief when he makes a rapid turn into a driveway half hidden by overgrown privet. Gravel crunches under the wheels. “Stay away from that tree,” he warns, gesturing toward a buckeye at the edge of the drive.
    â€œThe nuts fall?”
    He shakes his head. “Birds. They’ll get you every time. Deadly stuff. Eats through the paint in minutes.”
    I nod. Bird droppings are playing a larger-than-expected role in my Supreme Court clerkship.
    Black pulls his briefcase from the backseat and shuts the door loudly. He spreads his arms to encompass the house standing before us. “What do you think of the old place?”
    I am unsure what to say. Small is my first thought, a red brick Federalist with two dormer windows emerging from the tiled roof. It would be fair-sized for a Philadelphia row house, but standing alone in Alexandria it is a good deal less impressive. By Haverford standards it is a cottage. Black smiles. “You can’t see what I’ve done to it.” He leads me around the side, gesturing. “Used to be a slave shanty here. Knocked it down myself.” Another wave directs my attention to a sprawling garden. “And that was the house next door. I bought that, knocked it down too, and now we’re in business.”
    â€œI’m amazed you have the time, Judge,” I say.
    â€œThere’s time for everything worth doing,” he answers. “Problem is there’s too many things not worth doing competing for that time. You know anything about a