Read The Nomination for Free Online Page B

turned back to his desk and pressed the connecting button. “What’s up, Arlene?” he said.
    â€œMr. Brody’s on line one,” came Arlene’s voice.
    â€œBrody? The—”
    â€œHe’s calling from the White House, Tom. I’m sitting here trying not to wet my pants.”
    Larrigan smiled at the image of Arlene Bennett, his plump white-haired secretary who’d become a grandmother for the second time back in January, wetting her pants. “Nothing to get worked up about,” he said. “It’s probably just the president again. You know how he keeps pestering me.”
    â€œYes, that man is a nuisance, isn’t he?” Arlene chuckled. “Want me to get rid of him?”
    â€œI’ll handle it, thanks.” Larrigan disconnected from Arlene, took a deep breath, picked up his telephone, and pressed the blinking button on the console. “This is Judge Larrigan,” he said.
    â€œIt’s Pat Brody, Judge. How are you?”
    â€œJust fine, Mr. Brody.” Larrigan paused. He wasn’t going to let Brody hear his eagerness. “How can I help you?”
    â€œYou can help me by saying hello to the president. Is this a convenient time?”
    â€œSure. Of course.” Damn, thought Larrigan. That definitely sounded eager.
    A moment later he heard: “Tom?” It was that familiar raspy voice.
    â€œHello, Mr. President.”
    â€œI just wanted to say hello, Tom, and to tell you that I’m hearing nothing but good things about you.”
    â€œThank you, sir. I’m deeply honored.”
    â€œI expect we’ll be talking again soon,” said the president. “Things are moving pretty fast down here. You’re still good with this?”
    â€œYes, I am. Of course.”
    â€œThat’s fine, Tom. Great. We’ll have to get out, play some golf one of these days. Okay, then. Pat Brody needs to speak to you again.”
    â€œThank you, sir,” said Larrigan. “I—”
    But the president was no longer on the line.
    Brody talked to the judge for nearly fifteen minutes, and by the time he finished, Larrigan realized that receiving a phone call from the president still left him a long way from donning the robes of a Supreme Court Associate Justice.
    As Brody put it, he’d leaped the first hurdle. The list of possible nominees had grown significantly shorter.
    First, the FBI would intensify its “background check.” If they found anything in Larrigan’s personal or professional history that might embarrass the president or raise eyebrows on the Senate Judiciary Committee, his name would be eliminated from consideration. Assuming he passed muster with the FBI and became the president’s nominee, Larrigan would be formally presented to the Washington press corps at a Rose Garden ceremony as soon as Justice Crenshaw made his official retirement announcement, whenever that happened to occur.
    Then would come the press, digging and prying and nosing around for a story, an angle, a hint of scandal. And the president’s opposition in the Senate would unleash their own hounds.
    Of course, said Brody quietly—and, Larrigan thought, with a hint of ironic skepticism—he would pass with flying colors, and next thing he knew, he’d be a Justice of the Supreme Court. For life.
    The best job in the world. Respect, power, security. Immortality.
    Brody concluded: “Sit tight and don’t talk about it. No interviews, on or off the record. If you’ve got a vacation lined up, take it. Preferably someplace where the media can’t find you. And for God’s sake, don’t do anything . . . controversial.”
    â€œI understand,” said Larrigan. “But it sounds like you’re not—”
    â€œThe president is not ready tell the world what he told you today, Judge. You understand.”
    In fact, Larrigan wasn’t sure what exactly the president had told him.