The Court by William J. Coughlin Read Free Book Online Page B

tourists would look most formidable in battle dress.
    Tour and charter buses were parked, one behind the other, for blocks. It was autumn and although the huge throngs of summer had dwindled, there was still no shortage of people. They were enjoying the gentle weather of late October. The trees of the Mall had decorated the ground with their splendid colored leaves, which swirled about in the soft breeze.
    He glanced up at the Capitol. Like a white fortress it rose above the Mall’s trees. He remembered the view from there, looking down the long green Mall with the Washington Monument at the other end pointing into the sky like a giant’s finger.
    They called the small rise of ground Capitol Hill. Although small, it was truly more powerful than a volcano. He sometimes missed being away from the power.
    The fresh air was crisp and invigorating and he was genuinely glad to be away from the pressures of the law office. He knew he was mentally tired and stale after the long case before the Federal Trade Commission. What should have been easy had turned into a titanic struggle that lasted many weeks. It was over but the end seemed anticlimactic. It would be months before a decision was announced. But that decision would be crucial, not only to the client and the firm, but to himself. He had been taken into the firm for his political connections, no bones had been made about that. He was a full partner but there was a buy-out clause in the partnership agreement. It had seemed a great deal of money at the time, but now it only amounted to a few month’s income. If the FTC case was lost, their largest client would be lost. And he had been on shaky ground with the other partners going in. There had been just too many loses lately and he knew they were looking for someone to punish. His connections weren’t quite as good as they used to be and he sensed a nonspecific coolness toward him.
    He impatiently searched the Mall, looking for Amos Deering. He saw a constantly moving sea of faces, but none of them belonged to Deering. He wondered if he would even recognize Amos Deering after all these years.
    He stepped back to escape becoming part of a chattering Japanese tourist group that had suddenly engulfed him. He found himself staring at his own reflection in a polished steel panel, part of a display being moved into the Space exhibit. The panel was set at a slight angle, making his reflection just a bit taller and thinner. He studied himself in the steel: Jerome Green, attorney-at-law, distinguished partner of the prestigious law firm of Harley, Dingell, Spear, and Frank, known to everyone as Harley Dingell.
    The Jerome Green he saw in the steel was trim, although a hint of thickness was becoming evident. He at least looked fit although he was able to manage only sporadic episodes of tennis and exercise. His hair, full but gray, seemed suited to his full, mature face. Anyone knowing clothes would instantly recognize that he was expensively dressed. Dark suit, black shoes polished to a high gloss, and a quiet tie; it was almost a uniform. Very good clothing, but conservative and without flair; it was the firm’s unofficial dress code.
    He glanced about. No one seemed to notice, so he once again looked at his reflection. He was Harley Dingell, no doubt about it. He at least fit in with the look of the firm, if not the people. He had no illusions about his situation. Most of the other partners had come from money, and most were WASPs with degrees from Yale. Harley Dingell was regarded as a “Yale” firm, although several of the partners had law degrees conferred by other Ivy League universities. He was the only one with a law degree from a midwestern school, the University of Michigan. He was also the only Jewish partner, although the firm did employ several young Jewish associates. He never thought of himself as Jewish, having long ago abandoned even lip service to the religion and customs, but he knew the