Page 172 of Hush
He breathed in, slowly. “His name is Mike. Inspector Mike Lucciano, Deputy U.S. Marshal. And… Yes. We’re seeing each other.”
Fink’s shoulders slumped, sagging deep into his chest as he curled forward. “I’m getting too old for this world. I was born in the nineteen-twenties. I thought I had seen it all.” He shook his head and glanced at Tom. “Are you… happy?”
Tom nodded, again. “He’s—he’s the man I came out for. He’s the man I love.”
When he smiled, Fink’s face scrunched up and his eyes almost disappeared, hidden in the folds of his wizened face. “That’s good. I’ve learned, in all my years, that the most important thing is to be happy. And, to not break the law.” His smile faded. “This job made me happy for many years. But… it’s time to move along.”
“Sir?” Tom frowned.
“I’m going in there to tell President McDonough that I’m retiring. Which means there will be a new judge coming to our bench soon. Well, notourbench anymore.Yourbench. You won’t be the baby judge for very much longer.”
He didn’t know what to say. Chief Judge Fink had been the lion of the DC federal bench for decades. He’d been a fixture in DC, a bastion of justice. He’d been a part of every major landmark trial impacting the federal government, the world. He’d shaped history in more ways than Tom knew.
But the country was a different place than it had been when Clarence Fink donned his robes. There was more freedom, more hope. More anger, too. And hurt, and danger. More of everything that made up the world, all of the good and the bad and everything in between.
They all just had to find space in that maelstrom called life and hang on tight.
“Good luck, Judge Fink.”
Fink smiled at him. “You too, Judge Brewer.”
Finally, it was time for Tom to meet with President McDonough.
He was escorted into the Oval Office by the president’s chief of staff, a fussy man who constantly checked his phone and muttered under his breath. He waited with Tom, breathing curses and fast-typing with his thumbs.
McDonough breezed in from his private study, smiling as he came toward Tom. “Judge Brewer. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“The honor is mine, Mr. President.” He shook awkwardly with the opposite hand, his good arm still bound up in his cast and sling.
“I’m glad you could come. I know you’re recovering. Thank you for taking the time to drop by.”
Drop by. As if being invited to the White House by the President of the United States was a backyard picnic invitation he could blow off. “Happy to, sir.”
McDonough thanked his chief of staff and invited Tom to sit on his lemon-colored couches. The Oval Office was bright and cheerful, the obvious touch of his wife brightening the office. Sunflowers sat in a vase in the center of the coffee table between the two couches.
“Judge Brewer, I wanted to personally thank you for your tenacity, your diligence, and your bravery in this entire situation. Without you, we would never have uncovered the Russians’ plot.”
“I was just doing my job, Mr. President.”
“You did ahellof a job, Judge Brewer. One hell of a job.” He nodded to Tom’s arm. “And you got injured in the line of duty, as it were. That’s not a usual risk for federal judges.”
He smiled, weakly.
“I also wanted to fill you in on the rest. As we’ve learned from interrogating Pasha Baryshnikov, Lucas Barnes was coopted by Russian FSB agents about sixteen years ago. Baryshnikov was a mid-level FSB agent working in ‘New Russia’, and he set up Barnes, working at the New York field office at the time, in a honeypot trap. Barnes fell for a beautiful woman, someone he thought was a Swedish dancer working her way into the New York City Ballet. She was actually Lena Orlov, and she died a ‘hero of the Russian Federation’… in Barnes’s apartment, in a staged scene set to look like Barnes had lost control and had beaten her, then raped her and killed her. Baryshnikov was there, and he offered Barnes a choice: either he worked for them, or Baryshnikov turned over evidence implicating Barnes in her death.”
“He chose door number two?”
“He did. Along the way, blackmail turned into a partnership when Barnes realized he was making a tidy profit. We’re still uncovering all his financial hidey-holes. Bank accounts in Switzerland. Homes bought in cash with dummy corporations in Europe and the Caribbean. A boat he kept in New Zealand.”
“How much damage has he done to national security?”
“Sixteen years’ worth of espionage, and working his way up to being the number one Russian counter-operations FBI agent? He did quite a lot. We’re still working that out.” McDonough sighed. “He and Baryshnikov—and Vasiliev—almost got away with this. They almost got away with pushing the planet into war.”
“The world still thinks we’re heading for war, Mr. President. Have you seen the news?”
“I’m about to address the nation. The White House gave the networks a heads-up when you arrived. I’d like to ask you to join me as I speak, Judge Brewer.”
“Me?”
