Vincent Dellamaria grew up in Queens New York, the son of Sicilian immigrants. When he was tapped to be a Justice of the United States Supreme Court in 2001, he tacitly consented to be guided by the Administration's neoconservatives on major cases. Years later, Dellamaria's former college roommate, Patrick O'Connor, a law school dean, found out about Dellamaria's corrupt deal from a former CIA agent. O'Connor organized a team to kidnap Dellamaria in order to break his corrupt connections. Through a combination of psychotherapy, conversation, and soul-searching, Dellamaria grudgingly came around. A year after the snatch, the kidnappers covertly returned Dellamaria to Washington and the Supreme Court, just in time for him to participate on five major cases: abortion, torture, gay marriage, Miranda warnings, and the Pledge of Allegiance.

The Extraordinary Rendition of Vincent Dellamaria

A Political FictionBy JACK WALKER

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Jack Walker
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-2972-1

Contents

PART ONE: ABDUCTION.....................................................1Chapter One: Not Yet Busted.............................................3Chapter Two: Roommate and Soul Mate.....................................9Chapter Three: Perfect Timing...........................................15Chapter Four: I Call Him Godfather......................................19Chapter Five: My 9/11...................................................25Chapter Six: The Stellar Class of 2001..................................31Chapter Seven: The Justice Is Not Dead..................................37Chapter Eight: Zero Leverage............................................41Chapter Nine: You Want My Source?.......................................45PART TWO: DISCOVERY.....................................................49Chapter Ten: The Skunk at the Garden Party..............................51Chapter Eleven: The Other Shoe..........................................57Chapter Twelve: This Is So Over.........................................63Chapter Thirteen: There Was a Deal......................................69Chapter Fourteen: Roger's Rage..........................................79Chapter Fifteen: But No Joy.............................................87Chapter Sixteen: Main Source of Entertainment...........................93PART THREE: SECLUSION...................................................97Chapter Seventeen: Wake Up Slowly.......................................99Chapter Eighteen: Figure It Out.........................................105Chapter Nineteen: The Hammer............................................109Chapter Twenty: Torture Tapes...........................................115Chapter Twenty-One: New Netherlands.....................................121Chapter Twenty-Two: Her Eyes Only.......................................125Chapter Twenty-Three: There Was No Contract.............................131Chapter Twenty-Four: Penny..............................................137Chapter Twenty-Five: Kissing the Dragon Lady............................145Chapter Twenty-Six: A Spectacular Night.................................153Chapter Twenty-Seven: New Year's Resolution.............................159Chapter Twenty-Eight: You Deserve a Little Hell.........................163Chapter Twenty-Nine: Nightingalesong311.................................169Chapter Thirty: Nothing on the Ground...................................177Chapter Thirty-One: Put It on My Tab....................................185Chapter Thirty-Two: Guardian Angel......................................191PART FOUR: RETURN.......................................................197Chapter Thirty-Three: We Are Very Glad to See You.......................199Chapter Thirty-Four: Above My Pay Grade.................................207Chapter Thirty-Five: Fox News...........................................213Chapter Thirty-Six: I Knew You Would Come...............................217Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Bronx Postmark..................................227Chapter Thirty-Eight: No Interest in Your Politics......................237Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Line We Draw Today Is Fine.....................247Chapter Forty: Moving Parts.............................................255Chapter Fifty-One: Vipers Eating Vipers.................................261Chapter Forty-Two: This Thing is Working................................267Chapter Forty-Three: A Stew, a Swamp....................................273Chapter Forty-Four: Get Used to Anger...................................283Chapter Forty-Five: You Have To Be Joking...............................291Chapter Forty-Six: How He Broke My Heart................................297Chapter Forty-Seven: Potato on Fork.....................................305Chapter Forty-Eight: Traitors!..........................................315

Chapter One

NOT YET BUSTED

July 2011— I-80 West, Nebraska

The siren shattered his dream. Patrick O'Connor jerked awake in the passenger seat and then slid back down.

"Christ, what's that? Cat? Are we ..."

"Busted? No, not yet, Shag. Settle down." Dr. Catherine Mehlman, who was driving the truck, used nicknames out of a habit formed when she was a rookie spy in the National Security Agency (NSA), listening to the world's phone calls. She called O'Connor Shag because of his mop of hair. Her husband of thirty years, Doug Nachtigal, a former CIA agent who was driving the SUV fifty yards ahead, was Dawg.

"Some jerk just blew by us doing one hundred plus, and I bet that trooper's going to dispense some justice. We're in the right-hand lane at the speed limit, following the laws," she said, smiling. "You're a little jumpy."

"Course I'm jumpy!" O'Connor rubbed his broad Irish face and looked out at the dark night. "Where the hell are we? What did that green sign say? I was in the middle of a bad dream."

"You're still in the middle of a bad dream, my friend. We're on the interstate, middle of Nebraska now. That sign said Grand Island." She glanced at the GPS. "Grand Island's up here." She tapped the nav screen with her bright red nail.

O'Connor glanced at the monitor. "Nebraska? What kind of grand island is in the middle of Nebraska?"

Cat laughed. "Who knew? How're you feeling, Shag? For a lawyer, you've been pretty quiet since we left Fritz's house."

"This is starting to catch up with me." He looked at the clock on the dashboard: 3:12. "So Fritz, I guess, is dead by now. Forty-one years old. Cremated. Like he wanted."

"Probably so," she said.

"I feel shitty."

"You're entitled. Two of your best friends, one dead, the other kidnapped, drugged up in the back of this ugly truck, on his way to God knows what." The truck she was driving was small, square, and white, the back cabin purpose-built, sitting on a Ford E-350 chassis. The purpose was kidnapping. The logo on the cabin doors lied: "James & Co. Construction Services."

O'Connor was silent.

"You need some cheerleading?" she asked.

"What?" He was still groggy. "Like what?"

"Well, like your young Fritz Grosz is in a better place. No more pain. Maybe his death serves a purpose. Maybe saves the United States Supreme Court."

"It still hurts," he said.

"It does. And your old friend Justice Dellamaria in the back."

"I don't know about `friend.' I don't know what he is to me."

"Whatever. Justice Vincent Dellamaria, friend or foe, is on his way to a new beginning, if he plays his cards right." Cat looked over at O'Connor. "Now don't go south on me, Shag. This kidnapping was your friggin' idea." "I know, I'm good. But I can still feel shitty."

"When's the last time you had sex?"

"With a woman?"

"With a woman," she said.

He smiled grimly and shook his head. He reached into his pocket. "All right to plug in the recording now? Doug loaded it into my phone at the pee stop."

"Sure," Cat said. "He wants us to listen to Fritz spilling the beans. I don't see the point. We shouldn't have a recording. Dawgie is still pissed at you for bringing Fritz into this. Me, I think it was genius. Anyway, got to do what General Dawgie says. Maybe it'll keep me awake."

"Am I putting you to sleep?" he asked.

"No. The adrenaline is running out." She shook her head once. "Stop feeling sorry for...