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Florida realty. There wasn’t much money involved.”
    Arthur winced. “I got burned myself big time with a dot com during the go-go nineties. We should stick to law practice.” Arthur ran his hand through his hair. “Ever had any disputes with the IRS?”
    â€œThey disallowed $10,000 of the deduction I claimed on the Florida realty matter. No big deal. That’s it.”
    â€œWill you be able to take a huge pay cut and live on the salary of the chief justice?”
    â€œAbsolutely. I’ve saved a lot from what I’ve made at the firm. I want to serve my country.”
    â€œAnd you want the power that goes with the position.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œNow let’s return to the skeletons in your closet, the things you’d like not to read about in the newspaper, all the way back from putting chewing gum under your desk in fifth grade and feeling up Juliet, the girl with the big tits, in the seventh. Now’s the time to put it all on the table.”
    Martin thought once more about Jasper’s call and calmly replied, “I already told you there isn’t anything.”
    Arthur sighed deeply, finishing his coffee and refilling the cup.
    Wanting to shift the discussion away from himself, Martin asked, “Who else is on the short list?”
    â€œMary Corbett on the Second Circuit and Lance Butler from the Fifth Circuit.”
    Both formidable, Martin thought. Well respected federal appellate judges.
    â€œIt’ll be one of you,” Arthur continued, “unless all three go up in smoke. Anything to say about the other two?”
    â€œThey’re both good people.”
    â€œI agree.”
    â€œWhat’s your timetable?”
    â€œAll three of your names will be leaked to the Washington Post to run in tomorrow’s paper. The president expects to announce his choice within two weeks. The next step will be an FBI investigation followed by an interview with the president. Okay, we’re done. Keep your cell phone on whenever possible.”
    Walking along the corridor from Arthur’s office, Martin felt like leaping into the air for joy and shouting “yes!” How far he’d come, he thought. The son of a steelworker in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, laid off when the mill slowed down and forced to scrounge for work in construction. He had a mother with polio and a sister killed by a gang in high school. These were unhappy times. Then with the help of a guidance counselor, he won the scholarship to Yale established for a resident of Western Pennsylvania. Things soaring after that—Oxford on a Rhodes and Yale Law with scholarships, loans, and part-time jobs. And now maybe he’ll become chief justice of the United States.
    Get a grip, he warned himself. He was still nowhere near being nominated. Butler and Corbett were tough competitors. The Senator Jasper incident with Vanessa was a huge cloud on the horizon. And Martin couldn’t let that interfere with his chances.
    Though he hadn’t been offered the job, Martin realized he had to alert the other members of the law firm’s management committee before they read about him being on the short list in the press. He took out his cell phone and called his secretary. “Schedule an emergency meeting of the management committee this afternoon at six.”
    * * *
    Martin walked down the polished wooden floor with its oriental runners to the Fred Glass conference room. He liked management committee meetings to take place there as a way of remembering Fred’s instrumental role in starting the firm.
    With his own departure now possible, Martin recalled dedicating the conference room two years ago. It was a month after Fred’s death. Martin had asked Betty, Fred’s widow, and their two children and six grandchildren to bring pictures of Fred to hang on the walls along with legal memorabilia of his accomplishments. They brought photos of a gigantic financing he