The Tenth Justice (12 page)

“And I suppose we are?” Ben asked. Lisa nodded. “Why do we have to do it? That’s a solid bankruptcy issue. It’s a good case.”

“It’s a good case, but it’s not a great case. Hollis said that when a justice steps down, he gets the pick of the litter when it comes to cases. All the other justices defer to him so he can make his last great pronouncements on the law.”

“So that means he’ll get all the best cases this session?”

“Pretty much,” Lisa said. “He can’t write all of them, but I’m sure he’ll get a good number.”

“That’s great,” Ben said sarcastically. “Did Hollis say when Blake’s office would send us the materials?”

“The Clerk’s Office will transfer them later today.”

Turning on his computer, Ben said, “And Hollis still hasn’t looked over our
Oshinsky
opinion.”

“Actually, he did,” Lisa said, passing Ben a stack of paper.

“And still not satisfied,” Ben said, unable to avoid the bright red marks covering the front page of the document. “What is this, draft six?”

“Seven if you count our original outline.”

“He’s never going to be happy with this decision,” Ben said. “I think we should just realize that and move on.”

“You have to stop complaining,” Lisa said. “It’s not that bad.”

“Are you kidding? We get here at seven every morning, we have four pending cases that we’re simultaneously working on, a fifth that a retiring justice just passed off on us, and now a sixth case arriving just as soon as Veidt caves in to the conservatives. At the same time, we have a dozen or so cert petitions to get through every week. How much busier can we be?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “I guess we could also be involved in a chase for a psychotic mastermind who’s trying to undermine the entire court system.”

At nine-thirty that evening, Ben and Lisa arrived at Lisa’s apartment, which was a short walk from the Tenleytown Metro. Ober and Nathan were waiting in front of the drab brick apartment building. “What took you so long?” Ober asked as they walked inside. “You said to meet at nine.”

“Sorry,” Ben said sharply. “We were only busting our asses rewriting history at the Supreme Court. Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have jobs that end at five.”

“Hey, who crapped in your Apple Jacks?” Nathan asked as they stepped into an elevator. “We’re the ones trying to help you.”

Getting out on the fourth floor, they walked down the hallway and eventually reached Lisa’s apartment. “I’m sorry,” Ben said to Ober as Lisa opened the door. “I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

“Here we are,” Lisa said. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.” Sparsely decorated, the living room consisted of a worn brown leather couch, a coffee table, and a desk, which was actually a piece of finished wood balanced on two small file cabinets. Both the coffee table and desk were submerged under papers. On the wall opposite the sofa was a huge picture of cats playing poker. Over the couch were two portraits done on black velvet, one of the
Mona Lisa
, the other a Smurf standing next to a flower.

“Nice art,” Ben said, intrigued to see how his co-clerk lived.

“I’m into neo-garbage,” Lisa said. “The trashier, the better. The Smurf is the prize of my collection. I won it at a carnival.”

“This is actually a pretty cool place,” Ober said.

“You sound surprised,” Lisa said. “Were you expecting pink and purple satin pillows thrown everywhere?”

“I’m not sure,” Ober said. “I think I was expecting maxi pads and other feminine hygiene products.”

“Expecting or hoping?” Nathan asked as he took a seat on the couch.

Lisa threw her attaché case full of Court documents on her desk and headed toward the kitchen. “Does anyone want something to eat or drink?”

“I’ll take a rack of lamb and a white wine spritzer,” Ober said.

“Where’s Eric?” Ben asked, sitting on the couch.

“He’s working late tonight,” Ober said. “He said he’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”

“Typical,” Ben said.

“Are you okay with this?” Nathan asked, watching Ben rifle through the magazines on the coffee table.

“Huh?” Ben asked. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to get started.”

Lisa pulled a chair from the kitchen, put it down in the living room, and faced the couch. “What I don’t understand is why Rick sent you the letter through
his
P.O. box. He could’ve just mailed it, or better yet, he could’ve put the letter in your box.”

“I was thinking about that,” Ben said. “I think Rick was just showing off. In that one action, he ripped apart my new plan and sent the message that my attempts at secrecy were a joke.”

“What I can’t understand is why he wants a truce,” Ober said. “It’s obvious you have no chance of catching him. In a way, you’re nothing more than an annoyance.” Looking at Ben, he added, “No offense.”

“I think he wants information,” Nathan said.

“I agree,” Ben said. “There’s no reason on earth why Rick needs a truce with me.”

“Do you think he wants you to tell him another decision?” Lisa asked.

Ben continued to flip through the magazines. “That’s the only thing I can imagine.”

“Then I think we should assume that’s what he’s going to ask you when you go to the restaurant on Saturday.”

“You’re going to meet with him?” Lisa asked.

“Of course I’m going to meet with him,” Ben said. “You think I’m going to let him get away from me? He’s mine come Saturday.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Lisa asked.

“I’m not sure. That’s where I was hoping you’d help. I was thinking about videotaping him at the restaurant, or something like that.”

“I got it!” Ober yelled. “What if one of us dresses up like a waiter and somehow gets his wineglass, which will be covered in his fingerprints.”

“And then what?” Lisa asked. “We’ll run it through our computers in the Batcave?”

“We can send it through Nathan at the State Department.”

“I say we take surveillance pictures of him as he enters the restaurant,” Nathan said. “We’ll have a positive I.D. on this guy in no time.”

“I know the perfect spot for you to wait,” Ben said as his voice raced with excitement. “There’s an outdoor café right across the street from the restaurant.”

“We can go buy a night lens for the camera,” Ober said, rising from the couch.

“And we can wear cool disguises with trench coats and hats and fake mustaches,” Lisa said sarcastically. “You all have to relax. That won’t do you any good.”

“Oh, it won’t?” Ben asked. “And I assume you’ll tell us why.”

“So what if you have a few pictures of him? You’re still in the same position you’re in right now. Even if you have Rick’s real name, you can’t turn him in—unless we want Ben to go to jail too.”

As silence swept through the room, Nathan said, “The woman speaks the truth.”

“We have to somehow get him to proposition you about a new case,” Lisa suggested. “If he does that, then we can get him for bribing a public official.”

“Ben’s not a public official,” Ober said.

“He’s a federal employee,” Lisa said. “By bribing him, Rick will be attempting to interfere with the United States government. That’s a federal offense, and it’ll get him put away for at least a couple of years.”

“Hold on a second,” Nathan said. “What’s to prevent Rick from striking a plea bargain with the authorities? For all we know, he can point to the
CMI
case and offer up Ben on a silver platter, saying that the Supreme Court clerk is the mastermind behind the whole scheme. Then Rick walks free, and Ben gets indicted—all because of our great plan.”

“Rick would never do that,” Lisa said. “The
CMI
decision is probably the best thing that ever happened to him. He probably made at least a couple million dollars on that deal. If he turns in Ben, or even attracts any attention toward CMI, the SEC will be all over Charles Maxwell’s ass, even more than they are now. I’m sure Rick understands that it’s better for him to do a few years for bribery on this second decision than to lose all his money and risk the wrath of Maxwell. He’s not playing with small fish. CMI will eat him alive.”

“I’m impressed,” Nathan admitted.

“And you didn’t think she was smart,” Ben said, crossing his arms as he looked at Ober.

“Wait a minute,” Lisa said to Ober. “You didn’t think I was smart?”

“I didn’t—” Ober began.

“You?”
Lisa persisted, rising from her chair. “When we were playing Scrabble last week, you tried to use the word ‘duh,’ and you think
I’m
stupid?”

“‘Duh’ is a word,” Ober said.

“It’s not a word!” Lisa said. “It’s a slang expression used by primates in the late twentieth century. It’s nonsense. Noise. Stupidity. But it’s not a word.”

“It’s a word,” Ober repeated.

“You can fight later,” Ben interrupted. “Right now I want to think about the plan. It sounds like our best bet is to nail him on the bribery charge. It’s not the greatest revenge, but it’s the best we can do. Now how are we going to catch him?”

“What if you wear a wire?” Nathan said. “I might be able to get one from some of my buddies who work in security.”

“Can you definitely get one?” Ben asked.

“If not, you’ll wear a tape recorder,” Lisa said. “Either way, he’s on tape.”

“I still think we should get some pictures of him,” Ober said.

“You just want to wear a disguise,” Lisa said.

“I definitely want to wear a disguise,” Ober admitted. “But I also think it’d be smart to get some physical proof of what Rick looks like.”

“That’s actually not a bad call,” Ben admitted. “Eventually, the authorities are going to have to bring him in. We might as well let them know what he looks like.” When he saw Lisa scrunch up her nose, Ben asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” she asked. “No, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t give me that,” Ben said. “I know that look. What are you worried about?”

“Well, I can’t help but think—shouldn’t we go directly to the authorities with this? I mean, we’re getting way out of our league. We might be better off asking for help.”

“No way,” Ben said. “If I do that, it means I might as well kiss my job good-bye. Besides, even if I went to the police, Rick would see us coming a mile away.”

“What makes you think that?” Lisa asked.

“Are you kidding?” Ben asked. “For the past month he’s watched our every move. Besides, it’s not like we’re doing anything so sophisticated. We’re just trying to get his voice on tape. It’s not like we’re trying to invade his hidden sanctuary located on a private island.”

Lisa turned to Ober. “Don’t worry. Rick doesn’t really have a private island. It’s just a figure of speech.”

“No duh,” Ober shot back.

“I’m serious, though,” Ben said. “If things get hairy, we can call in help. But until then, I’d like to try this by ourselves.”

THE FOLLOWING DAY, BEN AND LISA WORKED
nonstop on four different decisions. After three months together, the two clerks had developed an efficient method for writing opinions. The better of the two at crafting original arguments, Ben always composed the first draft of the decision. With an aggressive writing style and uncompromising persistence, his opinions always barreled forward from introduction to conclusion. Lisa was the impeccable analyst. Ben said she had X-ray vision since she was able to see the holes in the most well-reasoned arguments. So after Ben presented his completed first draft, Lisa’s editing skills went to work. A stickler for detail and the superior logician, she usually wrote twenty-page responses to Ben’s forty-page decisions. When they’d finished their rewrite, the opinion went to Hollis.

At six o’clock, Ben shut off his computer and grabbed his jacket from the closet.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, looking up from the desk.

“I have a dinner date I can’t break. Eric’s aunt and uncle have been inviting us over since I got back from Europe.”

“But I still haven’t seen your first draft of the
Russell
decision.”

“It’s almost done. You’ll have a finished draft by tomorrow at lunch.”

“I better.”

“You will. I promise.” As Ben walked to the door, his phone rang. Assuming it was Eric calling with another excuse about why he’d be late, Ben ran back to his desk and picked up the receiver. “This is Ben,” he said.

“Hey, Ben,” Rick said. “How’s everything going?”

“What the hell do you want?” Ben asked, recognizing the voice.

“Nothing,” Rick said. “I just wanted to know what you’re up to. I understand you have a big dinner date tonight.”

“Are we still on for Saturday? Because—”

Rick hung up.

Ben slammed down the receiver.

“What’s wrong? Who was that?”

“It was Rick,” Ben said, rushing to the door.

“What’d he—” Before Lisa finished her question, Ben was gone.

Ben ran down the Court’s forty-four steps and impatiently waited for his ride to arrive. At five after six, Eric and Ober pulled up in Eric’s car. Ben was silent as he got into the pale gray Honda.

“I thought of the best name for a Mexican restaurant today,” Ober excitedly announced, turning around in his seat. “I’m going to call it Tequila Mockingbird.”

Ben didn’t say a word.

“Sorry I’m late,” Eric said. “I was—”

“Where’s Nathan?” Ben interrupted.

“We’re picking him up at home. I figured you three would want to change before dinner. Aunt Katie doesn’t require a shirt and tie.” Looking in the rearview mirror, Eric noticed the scowl on Ben’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ben said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben repeated.

Glancing at Ober, Eric shrugged his shoulders and headed home.

“You’re late,” Nathan proclaimed the moment the door opened. Walking inside, Ben headed straight to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with him?” Nathan asked.

“He wouldn’t say,” Eric said. “I think something happened at work.” Sitting on the love seat, Eric asked, “Were you waiting long?”

“I want you to know it still amazes me that you are consistently five minutes late to everything,” Nathan said, looking at his watch. “I mean, I can set my watch to your lateness.”