51 – Boston
The Microsoft Outlook calendar reminder message beeped at Ben Shapiro. “Lunch with JK” it said. Judy Katz. Shit, he thought, I’m late. Shapiro leaped up from his desk, grabbed his suit jacket and jogged out the door. He arrived at the Sultan’s Palace just at 12:30.
Shapiro scanned the people standing in line outside the door without recognizing anybody. As he moved forward to look inside the restaurant he felt a tap on his right shoulder. He turned to see who it was and felt a charge race through his body. Standing in front of him was a stunning young woman with long, full black hair swept back from her face and falling beyond her shoulders. Her dark eyes were clear and intelligent. Her coal black suit was certainly businesslike, but it did little to hide her trim waist, curvaceous hips or, as Shapiro noticed when he tried not to even glance at her chest, a rather well endowed ... he stopped himself. This woman is young enough to be, well, your younger sister, he thought, but she is a looker.
Like Sally was before she found those last thirty pounds, he thought, mentally slapping himself in the cheek.
“Ben Shapiro?” she asked.
“That I am,” Shapiro answered. “I take it you are Judy. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve followed your exploits in the Globe. I’ve gotta tell you, I enjoy it when a young attorney kicks butt, especially, and I’m not being chauvinistic here, but maybe a bit paternalistic for an old man like me, I enjoy it when a young woman attorney can kick butt in court in front of a jury.
“There’s nothing like that thrill when you know the jury is buying your act, right?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “Are you this candid this quickly with everyone you meet?” she asked.
“No, sorry, look, I apologize, one of those mornings so far I guess. No, what I meant to say is that good trial lawyers are rare and from all I’ve heard and read about you, you are a good trial lawyer.” He was surprised to feel the rush of a blush come to his face. “That was an awkward effort at a compliment, I suppose.”
She smiled. “Compliment accepted then. I agree.” She leaned close to him. He smelled a fresh, outdoor smell from her hair, her skin perhaps. Not flowery, more like an absence of odors than any particular smell at all. She put her lips close to his right ear, glancing at the backs of the people in line directly in front of them. He heard her whisper.
“I know what you mean. Hearing that word, guilty, from the jury foreman is as close as I’ve come to having an orgasm with my clothes on,” she said.
“Never quite gone that far myself,” Shapiro said quickly, standing straight up, pulling his head away from her.
After five minutes they came to the head of the line and placed their orders, which they carried to a table on the second level.
Deja vu all over again, Katz thought, eyeing the table across the room where she’d sat so recently with Bob Shaw. This time, though, this guy is incredibly interesting, especially for an older man. And from all I’ve heard about him, he’s put in his time in the trenches in court and earned his reputation the hard way, by taking on big fights and winning. She glanced down at his left hand, confirming that the gold band was a wedding ring. That was disappointing but not totally disqualifying.
“So, wonderful as it is for us to meet, I assume there was a specific reason for this get together,” Shapiro said as they finished their lunches.
“Yes, there certainly is,” Katz said, now sounding businesslike and much less flirtatious. “I want to know whether you would be willing to bring a religious discrimination law suit against the United States Attorney.”
Shapiro sat back in his chair, hand on his chin, looking closely at Katz to see whether she was joking. She was obviously deadly serious.
“I’m not afraid to sue anybody. I’ve certainly taken on bigger fish than Arnie Anderson,” he said calmly. “I assume you are the plaintiff.”
She nodded.
“And I assume you are Jewish.”
She nodded again.
“So you want to sue Arnie Anderson because he did something to you at work because you are Jewish? Is that what you are saying?”
“That is precisely what I’m saying,” Katz said. “Let me tell you what happened.” She described the entire course of recent events to him, leaving out only her lunch with Bob Shaw, honoring her promise to keep that confidential. She owed him that much. Besides, it was a promise. That was the end of the matter for her.
She finished her recitation with a question, the question clients always ended their recitations with. “So,” she said, “do I have a case?”
Shapiro respected her for not asking the other question clients always asked, “What’s it worth?” He paused to draw a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes, technically you do. You were treated differently in the terms and conditions of your employment because of your religion. That violates Title VII, the federal employment discrimination statute. You’re a federal employee so you have to jump through a few more procedural hoops than if you were a private employee, but you do have a valid, legitimate, even winnable claim.
“But Judy, it isn’t a case I’d be interested in bringing right now. There is so much more going on that concerns me, concerns me as a lawyer but mostly concerns me as a Jew. You’re looking at probably five years of litigation, you have to go through the Justice Department Human Rights office first, then through the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission process, all before you, as a federal employee, get to first file suit in court. I think five years would be quick.
“In five years Arnie will be gone, either in the State House where he wants to be or in some big firm, where he’s more likely to be. You won’t be doing what you are doing now. That law suit would kill your career. And all for what? What damages could you expect? Not much. You aren’t out of pocket a nickel. I assume you didn’t have any nervous breakdown and wind up committed to McLean Hospital. That’s what it takes to get big bucks for emotional distress. You could win and get $25,000, and I’d get an award of attorneys fees and make ten times what you get from the case, and neither of us would see a penny of that for five years.
“I wouldn’t do it if I were you, and I won’t do it myself.”
She sighed deeply. “How did I know you were going to say that,” she asked.
“Because you’re a trial lawyer yourself,” he said. “A real trial lawyer.”
“So, I’ll quit then,” she said suddenly, waiting for him to tell her how wrong a move that would be.
“I would if I were you,” he answered, surprising her. “I’d quit any government job these days. This is not a government a Jew should be affiliated with. I’m fighting against this government. That’s what you should be doing, too.”
Shapiro paused, rubbing his chin and looking at Katz carefully. Then he smiled at her.
“So Judy, how are you fixed for money?”
“I’m comfortable,” Katz said. “I sure haven’t spent much over the years, and my parents left me, well, something. They had life insurance. It paid into a trust fund, not a real huge trust fund, but enough to live on, the way I live.
“Why do you ask that?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Shapiro replied. “One more question first.
“Do you have a security clearance?”
That question surprised her even more than the one about her finances. She quickly looked around the room, not sure what she was looking for. For the second time in her recent visits to this restaurant, the thought entered her mind that she was being set up for something.
“You’ll have to explain what significance that has to anything before I answer that one,” she said, a tinge of coldness coming into her expression.
“OK, fair enough,” Shapiro said, smiling at her, encouraged by her caution. This woman is the kind of lawyer I like, he thought, surprised that he found her legal talent sexually provocative.
“I know an organization looking for a good trial lawyer just like you. I don’t know how much it pays or even if it pays at all. The ADL, Anti-Defamation League. I’m working with them, along with what seems to be half the Jewish lawyers in town, on habe petitions for the people being held on the Cape. I can tell you, its already out of control. There could be 3,000 separate law suits the way its shaping up. We need somebody to coordinate it all.
“I’m in charge of the committee that is supposed to be running the whole show. About two minutes ago I appointed myself head of the hiring subcommittee. In that position, I’m offering you the job of head coordinator of the habeas corpus litigation team. What do you say?”
“Whoa, let me catch my breath here,” she replied. Shapiro saw her eyes look up and to the right, a sign of a person deep in thought. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she said. “There are going to be petitions for writs of habeas corpus filed for all the people, Jews, held at that Army base, or whatever it is, on the Cape. The argument is that they are being illegally detained. On the other side the government would be defended by ...” A smile crossed her face. “Would be defended by the United States Attorney for the district in which they are detained, which would be Massachusetts. Arnie Anderson.
“Is that right, Mr. Shapiro”
“Ben.”
“Yes, of course, Ben, that sounds an awful lot like what I wanted to talk with you about in the first place. I’ll do it. And I’ll enjoy doing it.”
Shapiro thrust his hand across the table. She placed her hand in his and squeezed, firmly. He was slow to let go. She was even slower. The tips of their fingers dragged against one another as they withdrew their hands.
This is going to be interesting, Shapiro thought.
“I’ll resign this afternoon,” Katz said. “I don’t feel like I’ve got to give Arnie more notice than that. After all, he’s already told me in the best way he can that he doesn’t want me working for him. So what happens next?”
“Come to my office at 8:00 tomorrow morning. You’ll work from there. I’ll find a space for you,” Shapiro said. “We’ll try to get something done tomorrow. I leave for Washington pretty soon after that. I can’t miss the march.”
“You’re going to that big march in Washington,” she asked, then smiled. “Of course you would go. You’re one of those Sixties guys, aren’t you, civil rights and marches and all that.”
She looked him in the eye and spread a mile-wide smile at him.
“I just love Sixties guys.”
Shapiro confessed, “You’ve got my number. Never could pass up a good demonstration. I’ve been working on my chants for this one, something better than Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh, Viet Cong Are Gonna Win. I used to love that one.
Katz looked confused. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t get the reference. What does Ho Ho Ho mean? It sounds Christmassy.”
This woman is so young, Shapiro thought. Nonetheless, he asked her, “Are you planning on going?”
Katz, another smile breaking across her face as the tension of recent days ebbed from her body, answered happily. “My grandmother asked me to go with her. Her entire canasta club is going, actually I suspect her entire congregation is going. I teased her. My Nana marching on Washington.” Judy was silent for a moment.
“Nana told me to go. You have to fight the Nazis, she told me. Even should they kill you, you fight them, she said. I was shocked. My Nana telling me to fight. I didn’t know how to respond. I told her I couldn’t go, blamed my job.”
Shapiro smiled at the thought of the woman’s fighting grandmother. Her next words chilled the smile from his face.
“She was in the Warsaw Ghetto,” Katz said, surprised at the pride in her voice. “She escaped. Her husband, my grandfather, died, died fighting.” Shapiro did not know what to say. Judy continued.
“I hadn’t even thought about going. Didn’t seem like a good career move for an Assistant United States Attorney, but that isn’t my career any more. I suppose the head defense committee coordinator really should be there. Sure, why not? Sure, I’ll go. I’ll make reservations this afternoon.”
Shapiro shook his head from side to side. “I’m pleased that you’re going, but there are no reservations to be made. Every flight is booked. The trains are booked. I even heard the Greyhound buses are booked. Most people are going on charter buses. Do you belong to a synagogue? I’m sure it has a bus or two going.”
She shook her head no. “I’m not much of a joiner,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “How are you getting there?”
“I waited too long, too. That’s how I know there are no reservations. I’m driving, although I don’t know what I’ll do with the car when I get there, or where I’ll be staying. I expect all those details will work out somehow. The important thing is being there.”
“Could you fit a passenger,” Katz asked, looking him closely in the eyes.
Shapiro met her eyes, eyes he felt himself being pulled toward. “Sure,” he said softly. “Big car, lots of room.”
“And if we can’t find a place to stay we can always camp out in the car,” Katz said, maintaining her gaze into his eyes. “Your car has a back seat doesn’t it?”
“Sure does,” Shapiro answered. “A big soft one.”
“Great,” she answered enthusiastically. A puzzled expression crossed her face. “One thing though. What was that about a security clearance?”
Shapiro smiled at her.
“Just the Justice Department jerking us around,” he said. “You know how that’s done, I’m sure.”
She nodded. “I wrote the memo on jerking around defense counsel.”
“They’ve told us no lawyer goes to Edwards unless he’s got a top secret security clearance,” Shapiro said. “And the screening process takes six months. I’ll pay a bonus on top of the pro bono salary you won’t be getting if you’ve got a security clearance.”
She nodded her head. “No problem on that,” she answered. “I had to work with the full alphabet soup, DEA, CIA, NSA, hunting down bad guys. I could tell you just how secret my clearance is . . .”
She laughed as she realized what a dramatic turn her life had taken in the past hour.
“But if I told you that secret, I’d have to shoot you.”
She held a pretend handgun in her right hand and pointed it between Shapiro’s eyes, then holstered it in a mock holster at her waist.
“I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Ben.”
She glanced at his left hand, taking in the gold band once again. “Lets just say,” she said slowly. “The United States government certifies that I can keep a secret.”