The Tenth Justice (31 page)

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure none of your friends were lying in wait for me,” Rick explained as he opened the door to the room. “I’m a very popular guy, you know.” Walking inside, he waited for his visitor to follow. When they were both in the room, Rick closed the door. “Stand right there.”

“Wha’?”

“It’s just a precaution,” Rick said as he pulled a thin, black metal detector from his briefcase. Waving the detector across his colleague’s body, he said, “I’m sure you understand.” When he was satisfied that there were no recording devices present, Rick headed to the living room of the suite, where he took a seat on one of the room’s two identical couches and motioned for his guest to be seated as well. Rick got right to the point. “I don’t mean to be short, but do you have the decision?”

“I have it. Do you have the money?”

“Most of it,” Rick said.

“What do you mean,
most of it
? How much is
most
?”

“So far, exactly one million is in the account. Naturally, you can call to verify.”

“And what about the other five hundred thousand?”

“I’ll deposit that after our next meeting—as long as you keep me informed about Ben.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Yes, it was,” Rick said matter-of-factly. “When I first approached you, I said that part of the deal was for you to keep Ben at bay. The best way for you to do that is to keep me informed of his whereabouts. Simply stated, when I tell him I don’t need his help, he’s going to be livid. And he’ll make every attempt to figure out how I got the decision without him.”

“So you want me to rat on him for another month?”

“Believe me, it’s no worse than what you’ve done so far.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the moral advice.”

“Do we have a deal?” Rick asked.

“Not yet. First, I want the money within the next two weeks. I’ll tell you what Ben’s up to, but this isn’t going to be an ongoing job. Once the decision is announced, you’re on your own.”

Rick crossed his legs and leaned back on the sofa. “That’s fair.”

“Second, I want you to know that I am not simply the least expensive option. If you went with Ben, you’d not only spend more money to get the decision—you’d also have to worry about his resourcefulness during every meeting. The only reason he continued to deal with you was so he could I.D. you. And it was only a matter of time before he succeeded.”

“Believe me, Ben was never close to succeeding.”

“I doubt that. I saw your mouth drop when I explained about his yearbook plan.”

“Believe what you want,” Rick said. “But you should know that the only reason I went with you is because Ben was becoming too unstable. When it came right down to it, I didn’t think he would hand over the decision.”

“You may be right,” Rick’s visitor said, pulling the
Grinnell
decision from a paper bag. “Fortunately for you…”

When the thirty-page document hit the glass coffee table, Rick leaned forward and picked up the pile. He flipped through it. “Unbelievable. The Court actually found that the regulation was a taking. I didn’t think Justice Veidt had it in him.” Reaching the last page, he added, “It’s too bad Grinnell doesn’t know he’s sitting on a gold mine. If he did, he wouldn’t be as excited about taking on new partners.”

“That’s great. Now, when would you like to get together next?”

As he put the document in his own briefcase, Rick said, “I’ll be in touch.” Rising from the sofa, he walked to the door and opened it. When they were both in the hallway, Rick said, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take the elevator on the other side of the building.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

As he headed down the hallway, Rick turned around. “By the way, congratulations. You’re now a millionaire.”

“WASHINGTON NATIONAL AIRPORT EXECUTIVE
Center. Can I help you?” the operator asked.

“Yes, I have a silly problem that I was hoping you could help me with,” Ben said in his most ingratiating tone. “I was supposed to attend a meeting this Saturday in one of the airport’s executive meeting rooms, but I lost my daily planner and now I have no idea where the meeting is.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but the airlines are responsible for scheduling space in the meeting rooms. Do you know which airline you were dealing with?”

“I have no idea,” Ben said. “It was all in my planner.”

“What about the company’s name? Maybe I can find that.”

“It’s a start-up company,” Ben explained, hoping to convince the operator that she was his only hope. “They haven’t incorporated yet, so it’s all under the CEO’s name—which I can’t remember for the life of me. And since I can’t remember his name, I can’t find him in the telephone directory. Believe me, I’ve tried everything.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“Please don’t hang up,” Ben pleaded. “You have to do something. If I don’t show up for this interview. I’m dead. Isn’t there a master list somewhere? Anything you have may save my life.”

“I’m sorry,” the operator said. “I’m not supposed to give out that information.”

“Please.” Ben tried to sound pleasant. “I’m not some kind of lunatic. I’ll give you my name and address and home phone number. I’ll give you my mother’s number. You can call her and ask her how nice I am. I just don’t want to lose this job over something stupid.”

“Well…”

“Please. If you help me, I’ll be forever in your debt. I’ll send you flowers. And chocolates. And individually wrapped kielbasa from Hickory Farms. Anything.”

“Here’s what I can do,” the operator finally said. “I can give you a list of the companies that are meeting in the suites that are run by the airport. There are only six of those, but you may find your company in there. If not, you’ll have to call all the airlines and beg each of them individually for the information.”

“You’re the greatest,” Ben exclaimed. “How can I thank you? Name your price. Diamonds? Pearls? Kielbasa?”

“How about you just leave me alone,” the operator answered.

“You got it.”

“These are the companies that have reservations,” she said. “Texaco has one room. And Brennan, Leit and Zareh has the other.”

“Isn’t that a law firm?” Ben asked as he put a star next to the firm’s name.

“I’m not sure,” the operator said.

“Are there any other companies?”

“That’s it,” she said. “The other four rooms are still open.”

“Oh, well,” Ben said. “I guess I’m off to beg. Thanks for all your help.”

“You’re welcome,” the operator said, sounding relieved.

Fourteen phone calls later, Ben had a list of thirty-four reservations for executive suites. Twenty-two of the reservations were made by major companies, eight were for individuals, three were for law firms, and one was for Congressman Cohen from Philadelphia. Ben pulled up the Lexis database on his computer, logged onto the Periodicals bulletin board, and entered the name “Stewart Moore,” one of the eight individuals who had reservations for Saturday. As the computer scanned through more than four thousand current periodicals, Ben knew the search was futile. Rick’s too smart to make a reservation in his own name, he thought, staring at the computer screen.

Eventually, the words “Twenty-six items found” appeared on the screen. Scanning the first item, Ben read a
Wall Street Journal
article about Stewart Moore, a Chicago bank president who recently restructured his company’s finance division. When he read that Mr. Moore was fifty-five years old, he knew he hadn’t found Rick. As he typed the second name into his computer, Lisa entered the office. “What’s going on?” Ben asked, looking up from his screen.

Lisa was silent.

“Hello! Earth to Lisa! What’s going on? How are you doing? Why aren’t you responding?”

Again, silence.

“Oh, c’mon, Lisa. Lighten up already. I said I was sorry about a dozen times.”

“Then I completely forgive you,” Lisa said coldly.

“Be serious.”

“Okay, the truth? I’m pretty pissed off that you don’t trust me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked. “I trust you.”

“Ben, look at it from my perspective: For the past three months, we’ve spent every waking minute talking about how we were going to catch Rick. Now I can’t get a single word out of you. What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”

“You can make of it whatever you want. But the truth is that there’s nothing to tell. I haven’t heard from Rick in weeks, and until I do, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re a liar,” Lisa said.

“What do you mean, I’m a liar?”

“I’m not a moron. I know when you’re lying, and I know what you’re thinking. But if you think I’m the one who’s leaking information to Rick, you’re crazy. I’d never do that to you.”

“I don’t think you’d—”

“Just do me one favor.” Lisa walked over and sat on the corner of Ben’s desk. “Look me straight in the eyes and tell me you trust me.”

“But you’re not going to believe—”

“If you tell me the truth, I’ll believe you.”

“Lisa, I swear I trust you,” Ben said, looking directly at his co-clerk. “If I had anything to tell you, I would.”

“One last question. What were you working on when I walked in?”

“What?”

“On your computer,” Lisa pointed. “What were you working on?”

“I was reading
The Wall Street Journal
on-line. Is that okay?”

“Then how come you’re reading a week-old paper?” Lisa asked.

Ben looked at the top of his computer screen and saw that the on-screen article listed the previous week’s date.

“It sucks to be caught in a lie, doesn’t it?” Lisa challenged. “I bet you wish you could take those words back.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ben said. “You didn’t care what I said to you. You sat on my desk just to see what I was reading.”

“I definitely did,” Lisa said, hopping off Ben’s desk. “And now I finally have my answer.”

“But—”

“Don’t bother. It’d be a waste of both your breath and my intelligence. And when you see Rick, tell him I hope he kicks your ass.”

An hour later, Ben and Lisa were silent, each of them reading a third version of Osterman’s
Grinnell
opinion. Ben’s phone rang, startling them both. “Hello?” Ben answered. “Justice Hollis’s chambers.”

“Hello, Ben. How’s your day been?”

Recognizing Rick’s voice, Ben tightened his fist around the receiver. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about our meeting on Saturday,” Rick said.

“Then I’m glad you called,” Ben said. “Because I don’t like the airport. I want to—”

“I really don’t care what you want,” Rick interrupted. “I just wanted to tell you that our meeting is canceled. I no longer need what you have to offer.”

“But I thought—”

“Like most of your theories, you thought wrong,” Rick said smugly. “So have fun searching through your little yearbooks, and good luck on your lie detector test. I don’t believe we’ll be speaking again—although I’m sure I’ll hear about all the results.”

“Wait, I—” Before Ben could even get the words out, Rick was gone.

“Who was that?” Lisa asked, noticing Ben’s panicked look.

Ben said nothing. He pushed himself away from his desk, stormed toward the door, grabbed his jacket from the closet, and left the office. He walked down the main steps of the Court, down First Street, and approached the nearest pay phone. Picking up the receiver, he inserted a few coins and dialed Nathan’s phone number.

“Andrew Lukens. Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, recognizing neither the voice nor the name. “I was trying to reach Nathan.”

“Nathan’s been promoted to another office. Can I help you instead?”

“This is his roommate, Ben. Do you know his new extension?”

“Hey, Ben,” Andrew’s voice warmed up. “I’ve heard a lot about you. How’s everything at the Supreme Court? Change any laws today?”

“No, nothing today,” Ben said. “We only change laws on Wednesdays. On Mondays we just try to speak to our roommates.”

“Yeah, Nathan said you had a sarcastic sense of humor,” Andrew said, showing no sign that he intended to transfer Ben’s call. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask Nathan—how’d that prank go with your other roommate?”

“Which one?”

“You know, the one you needed the microphones and cameras for. Nathan said you guys were trying to catch your roommate doing the deed.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ben said, quickly remembering how Nathan had swindled the high-tech equipment out of the State Department. “It went fantastic. I’ll have to remind Nathan to bring you some of the pictures. They were a bit blurry, but they’re pretty funny.”

“Well, if the pictures suck, tell him to bring in the audio. I’m sure the briefcase mikes picked up every moan and groan.”

Ben paused. Briefcase mikes? “How do those mikes work again, Andrew?”

“The same as the cordless ones. The only difference is that they’re built into a briefcase. They’re used when someone is concerned that the regular microphones might get exposed. Pound for pound, I’d say they’re about as close as we get to a James Bond movie. They’re still only at the prototype stage, but Nathan thought you’d get a real kick out of them.”

“Oh, they sure were awesome,” Ben said as a cold sweat covered his brow. “We got to hear everything we wanted to hear.”

“Well, let me transfer you to Nathan,” Andrew said.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ben said. “I’m running late, so I’ll just give him a call later.”

“Do you want me to tell him you called?”

“No, no,” Ben said. “I’m going to be busy all day. I’ll see him at home.”

Ben hung up the phone and leaned his head against the phone booth. Shutting his eyes, his mind searched for a reasonable explanation. When he couldn’t come up with one, his breathing quickened. With his eyes still shut, he slammed his head against the metal booth. “I don’t believe this!” he screamed. He picked up the receiver and searched his pockets for more loose change. As he was about to deposit the money, he paused. “Damn!” he screamed, slamming the receiver back in its cradle. Rubbing his forehead, he mentally replayed his conversations with Rick and Andrew. Struggling to make sense of both exchanges, he stood silent.