Gone, but not forgotten

Chapter Two.

As Austin Forbes, the President of the United States, walked toward United States Senator Raymond Francis Colby he passed through the rays of sunlight streaming through the high French windows of the Oval Office, creating the impression that God was spotlighting a chosen son.

Had he noticed, the diminutive Chief Executive would have appreciated the vote of confidence from above. The results of his earthly polls were not nearly as complimentary.

"Good to see you, Ray," Forbes said. "You know Kelly Bendelow, don't you?"

"Kelly and I have met," Colby said, remembering the in-depth interview the President's troubleshooter had conducted just two weeks before.

Senator Colby sat in the chair the President indicated and glanced out the east windows toward the rose garden. The President sat in an old armchair that had graced his Missouri law office and followed him up the ladder of power to the Oval Office. He looked pensive.

"How's Ellen?" Forbes asked.

"She's fine."

"And are you fine? You're in good health?"

"Excellent health, Mr. President. I had a thorough physical last month,"

Colby answered, knowing that the FBI would have furnished Forbes with his doctor's report.

"No personal problems. Everything's going well at home? Your finances are sound?"

"Ellen and I are celebrating our thirty-second anniversary next month."

Forbes stared hard at Colby. The good old boy vanished and the hard-nosed politician who had carried forty-eight states in the last election took his place.

"I can't afford another fiasco like this Hutchings thing," Forbes said.

"I'm telling you this in confidence, Ray. She lied to me. Hutchings sat where you're sitting and lied. Then that reporter for the Post found out and…"

Forbes let the thought trail off. Everyone in the room was painfully aware of the blow that had been dealt to Forbes's prestige when the Senate voted against confirming the nomination of Mabel Hutchings.

"Is there anything in your past that can cause us problems, Ray?

Anything at all? When you were c.e.o. of Marlin Steel did you ever pay a corporate bribe? Did you use marijuana at Princeton or Harvard law? Did you knock up some girl in high school?"

Colby knew the questions were not ridiculous. The aspirations of presidential hopefuls and Supreme Court nominees had run aground on just such rocky shoals.

"There will be no surprises, Mr. President."

The silence in the Oval Office grew. Then Forbes spoke.

"You know why you're here, Ray. If I nominate you to be Chief justice of the United States, will you accept?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

Forbes grinned. The tension in the room evaporated.

"We make the announcement tomorrow. You'll make a great Chief justice."

"I'm indebted to you," Colby said, not trusting himself to say more. He had known the President would make the offer when he was summoned to the White House, but that did not keep him from feeling as light as a free-floating cloud.

Raymond Colby sat up as quietly as possible and shuffled his feet along the carpet until he found his slippers. Ellen Colby stirred on the other side of their king-size bed. The senator watched the moonlight play on her peaceful features. He shook his head in amazement. Only his wife could sleep the sleep of angels after what had happened today.

There was a liquor cabinet in the den of Colby's Georgetown town house.

Colby fixed himself some bourbon. On the upper landing the antique grandfather clock ticked away the seconds, each movement of the ancient hands perfectly audible in the stillness.

Colby rested his glass on the fireplace mantel and picked up a framed and fading black and white photograph that had been taken the day his father argued a case before the United States Supreme Court. Howard Colby, a distinguished partner in Wall Street's most prestigious law firm, died at his desk two months after the photograph was taken.

Raymond Colby may have been first at Harvard Law, c.e.o. of Marlin Steel, the governor of New York and a United States senator, but he always saw himself in relationship to his father as he had been that day on the steps of the Court, a ten-year-old boy under the protection of a wise and gruff giant whom Raymond remembered as the smartest man he had ever known.

There were fifty-three broad steps leading from the street to the entrance to the Court. Raymond had counted as he climbed them, hand in hand with his father. When they passed between the columns supporting the west portico, his father had stopped to point out each justice Under Law" engraved in the bone-white marble of the Great Hall.

"That's what they do here, Raymond. justice. This is the court of last resort. The final place for all lawsuits in this great country."

Massive oak doors guarded the Court's chambers, but the courtroom was intimate. Behind a raised mahogany bench were nine high-backed chairs of various styles.

When the justices filed to their seats, his father stood.

When Howard Colby addressed the Court, Raymond was surprised to hear respect in the voice of a man who commanded the respect of others. These men in black, these wise men who towered over Howard Colby and commanded his respect, left a lasting impression. On the train ride back to New York, Raymond swore silently to sit some day upon the bench of the nation's highest court.

The announcement would be made at tomorrow's press conference.

The waiting had begun Friday when a White House source told him that the President had narrowed his choice to the senator and Alfred Gustafson of the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals. This afternoon, during their meeting in the Oval Office, the President told Colby it was his membership in the Senate that made the difference. After the disastrous defeat of Mabel Hutchings, his first nominee, the President wanted a sure thing.

The Senate was not going to reject one of its own, especially someone with Colby's credentials. All he need do now was pass through the nominating process unscathed.

Colby put down the photograph and picked up his drink. It was not only the excitement of the nomination that kept him from sleep. Colby was an honest man.

When he told the President that there was no scandal in his past, he was telling the truth. But there was something in his past. Few people knew about it. Those who did could be trusted to keep silent. Still, it concerned him that he had not been entirely candid with the man who was fulfilling his greatest dream.

Colby sipped his drink and stared at the lights of the capital. The bourbon was doing its job. His tense muscles were relaxing. He felt a bit sleepy. There was no way to change history. Even if he knew what the future would bring, he was certain he would have made no other choice.

Worrying now would not change the past and the chances of his secret surfacing were very small. Within the hour the senator was sound asleep.