The Tenth Justice Page 17

  “Could you make out the license plate?” Ober asked.

  “I couldn’t see it, but the camera should’ve gotten it. Hopefully, we can enlarge the picture.” Nathan pulled the receiver from his duffel bag, put the earplug back in his ear, and turned on the receiver.

  “I don’t think it’s going to help,” Ober said.

  Surprised to hear Ober’s statement in both ears, Nathan looked up and saw Ober lifting Ben’s microphone from the pavement. “Damn!” Nathan said, pulling the plug from his ear.

  “Do you think he’ll be okay?” Ober asked.

  “He’ll be fine.” Nathan said without much conviction. “I’m sure he’s fine.” When he was positive that the car was out of sight, Nathan turned and yelled, “Lisa, did you get it?”

  “I got’em!” Lisa yelled, standing up as she pushed open the cover of the dark green dumpster next to the back exit. As Nathan and Ober approached, she handed them her own camera and hopped out of the dumpster. “I got everything! The limo driver, Rick, the license plate—you name it.”

  “I just wish we had the audio,” Nathan said, rewinding Lisa’s camera.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lisa said. “At least we’ll be able to get an I.D. now.”

  “Thank God you were hiding in the dumpster,” Ober added.

  “It was Ben’s idea,” Lisa said. “He knew Rick would spot you guys in a heartbeat.” Wiping bits of random filth from her jeans, she added, “I just wish I didn’t have to be the one sitting in that smelly rathole.”

  “Rick wouldn’t have made a move if he couldn’t account for me and Ober,” Nathan said as the three friends walked down the alleyway. “Now, are you sure you got clear shots of Rick?” he asked, holding both cameras.

  “Absolutely,” Lisa said. “The windows were tinted, but Ben made Rick roll them down before he got into the car.”

  “Speaking of which,” Nathan said, “are we sure he’s safe? Because if he’s not, I’d be happy calling the police.”

  “Don’t call the police just yet,” Lisa said as they reached the street. “As far as we know, Rick’s just after information.”

  “Long time no speak,” Ben said to Rick as they sat in the back of the limousine. “I guess you’ve been pretty busy lately.”

  “You could say that,” Rick said, smoothing his beige cashmere coat against his expensive brown tweed pants.

  “And I guess you’ve moved up in the world since then. I’m impressed. A whole limo just for me.”

  “Well, we thought you deserved the best.”

  “Y’know, I should also say thank you to your driver.” Ben tapped on the glass partition that separated him from their chauffeur. “He really gave me a great pat-down before I got in the car.”

  “It was my idea to frisk you,” Rick confessed. “To be honest, he said you didn’t have the resourcefulness to get a wireless mike.”

  “He said that about me?” Ben said, tapping the glass a bit harder. When the driver looked over his shoulder, Ben put up his middle finger. Turning back to Rick, he said, “I’m sorry. Where were we?”

  “You’re a bit more tense than I remember,” Rick said. He ran his hand over his perfectly combed blond hair.

  “Well, you know what working in the Supreme Court does to you,” Ben said. “Oh, I forgot, you didn’t work there. My mistake.”

  “Ben, I know you’re upset. And I understand—”

  “No. You don’t. That is, unless you were ever dicked over for some quick cash by someone you trusted.”

  “Don’t be so judgmental. You know nothing about my life,” Rick snapped. “I’m sorry I had to do that to you, but at that point I wasn’t sure whether I could trust you.”

  “So that’s why we’re riding around right now? Now you can trust me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I simply thought you deserved an explanation.”

  “So what’s your explanation? You went to Maxwell with the information you stole from me and made yourself a few million dollars. What else is there to say?”

  “Are you really that sure of my actions?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” Ben said. “Last time we met, you spent four ninety-nine at an all-you-can-eat pizza place. Now, we’re cruising around in a limo, and you’re decked out for a movie premiere. Add that to the fact that Maxwell made one of the riskiest wagers in telecommunications history, and I’d say we’ve got the full picture. Am I wrong?”

  “Why are you so obsessed with right and wrong?” Rick asked. “That’s your problem, y’know. You always want the black-and-white answer. But life is all grays, my friend—”

  “Rick, why did you want to meet with me?” Ben interrupted.

  “I’m just chatting with an old friend. I know you’ve been through some hardships lately, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “And what hardships are those?” Ben asked, wondering exactly what Rick knew.

  “First, your roommate uses you to advance his journalism career, then you get interrogated by the Marshals Office, and your plan to get me on tape falls apart. All in all, I’d say you’ve been having a pretty terrible week. Am I wrong?”

  “It’s been hectic, but manageable.”

  “Now that’s an optimistic way to look at it,” Rick said with a smirk. “Let me ask you something, Ben. Have your investigations into my background turned up anything yet? As I said in my letter, the phone bill trick was clever, but that attempt at my old apartment was embarrassing. I mean, from a man of your intellect, I expect real thinking.”

  “Well, besides the wireless microphone that’s built into my cuff links, I’d say I was doing terribly. But since I have that, I’d say I’m pretty happy.”

  “You should be so lucky,” Rick said with a forced laugh.

  Noticing Rick’s discomfort, Ben pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and handed it to him. “You may want to wipe your brow. You look terribly unprofessional.”

  “You really love it when you think the victory is yours, don’t you? But if you even had the slightest hint of a communicator on you, I’d know about it. I have way too much invested in my business to risk it all on a stupid mistake.” Noticing the slight sweat that now covered Ben’s forehead, Rick handed back the handkerchief. “Cuff-link microphones—who do you think you are? James Bond?”

  “Rick, if you’re so well informed, tell me why you need to risk being caught with me.”

  “As I said, I’m simply checking up on an old friend. Now tell me, how’s everything at the Court?”

  “It’s fine. I’ve written over thirty decisions since the session began. At least twelve of them could’ve made you over a million dollars.” Ben stared at Rick, unflinching. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Tell me what you want and name your price.”

  “Oh, you’d love to have it in a neat little package, wouldn’t you?” Rick said. “I know you’re in a tough position. When this year started, you were poised for stardom. But because of this disaster with Eric, you’ve put your entire career at risk. If the press links you to Eric, you’ll be eaten alive. No matter what the D.C. law firms have offered you, if you’re suspected of leaking information, there isn’t a firm in the country that’ll touch you. Which means these next few weeks will be risky ones for you.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I’m here to suggest a truce. You know what I need. I’m pretty sure that’s always been clear to you. In return, I’ll make sure you’re handsomely rewarded.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me—I’m not up on my criminal speak. How much is ‘handsomely’ these days?”

  “Three million dollars,” Rick said curtly. “I assume that’ll be enough to bury all your fears about your financial future.”

  “Have you been smoking some of the money you made? Why the hell would I take money from you? Right now, my life is fine. The press is a little suspicious, but otherwise, they’re calm. But if I take the money, I’m definitely screwed. If a clerk shows up with three mi
llion bucks, someone’s liable to get a bit suspicious.”

  “Ben, you’re screwed either way. You may have no problems with the press at the moment, but as I said, it’s only a matter of time before they link you with Eric. When that happens, I hope you’re prepared. Take the money—at least you’ll be ready for the disaster that will become your life.”

  “You’re right—if the press links us, I’m dead. But there’s no guarantee they’ll find out. If my bank account suddenly hits three mil, though, I’m guaranteed to raise a few eyebrows. At that point, I might as well admit guilt.”

  “Now you’re getting caught up in semantics. Do you really believe I’d be dumb enough to just show up with a bag of money at your doorstep? Your three million dollars will be put into an account that no one but ourselves will ever be able to find.”

  “Of course—the Swiss bank account. How stupid of me.”

  “Ben, this isn’t a game. This is real life here. If you want to risk your existence on the unlikely possibility of media incompetence, be my guest. But I know you’re more of a pragmatist than that. Unless you take the money, you risk losing everything. I hope you’ll choose a more secure future.”

  “And if I don’t help you, how do I know you won’t blackmail me?”

  Rick looked coldly across at his passenger. “You don’t. But blackmail doesn’t solve any of our problems. Revealing your link with these decisions means risking my own indictment as well. As you know, if the truth comes out, the world’s largest magnifying glass will be turned on all of us. While it’s easy to outsmart a single Supreme Court clerk, it’s not as easy to sidestep the SEC and the resources of an unrelenting media.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I’ll find someone to say yes,” Rick said. “Believe me, it won’t be hard.”

  “Is there a particular decision you have in mind?”

  “Grinnell v. New York is one. There are others.”

  “And when do you want the information?”

  “Get it to me at least three weeks before the decision is announced. The earlier the better.”

  Ben picked at a hole in the leather seat. “How does it feel to know you’re going to hell?”

  “Don’t get on a moral high horse with me,” Rick said. “It’s easy to be honest when you’re on top. Try starting the race from the back of the pack.”

  “Cry me a river.”

  “I’m serious. If I were you, I’d be less concerned with ethics and more concerned about securing your future. There isn’t much demand for out-of-work legal geniuses.”

  “Let me ask you one last question,” Ben said. “How’d you get all the information about me?”

  “That would be telling. You know the line—about magicians revealing their tricks.”

  “That’s a good one. You’re so original. So what else do we have to talk about?”

  “I believe that’s it.”

  “You should know one thing,” Ben said. “Ever since they lowered my security clearance, the marshals have been watching me pretty hard.”

  “I don’t think your recent drop in security status will affect anything,” Rick said. “In the future, if you need to reach me, you can contact me through our P.O. box.”

  “By the way, that P.O. box thing was a pretty good trick. I was impressed.”

  “Doesn’t take much,” Rick said sarcastically. Pushing the intercom button on the side of the door, he said to the driver, “As soon as you see a good place, I want to let our guest out.”

  “One last thing,” Rick said as the driver pulled to the side of the road. “Please take out your contact lenses.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Take out your contacts. I’d prefer that you didn’t memorize our license plate.”

  “These things cost a hundred bucks,” Ben said as he took out his left lens.

  “I don’t want to keep them,” Rick said. “I only want them out of your eyes.”

  When he saw that Ben was holding both lenses, Rick opened the door and let him out. “Thanks for dinner,” Ben said sarcastically. Rick slammed the door and the limo sped off. Squinting hard, Ben struggled in vain to read the plates. “Asshole.”

  “Where the hell is he?” Nathan asked.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Ober said, bent over and staring into the refrigerator. “He and Rick just went for a ride.”

  “How can you be so damn calm?” Nathan asked.

  “I’m not,” Ober said, selecting a soda. “But what do you want me to do? He’ll be home when he gets home.” As he opened the can, he added, “You don’t think Rick kidnapped him and threw him off a pier, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Nathan said, walking into the kitchen. “Rick isn’t some petty criminal. If he wanted to eliminate Ben as a witness, he would’ve put a bullet in his brain a few days after the decision came down. Rick’s after more information.” Nathan washed his hands in the sink. He then shut off the water and paused. “Ober, do you trust Lisa?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m serious,” Nathan said, drying his hands with a dish towel. “Do you trust Lisa?”

  “Of course I trust her,” Ober said, sitting at the dining room table. “She makes me crazy, but I definitely trust her. Why? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that someone had to tip off Rick. You don’t just get lucky and guess our entire plan. Even if he did spot the two of us, how did he know about the microphone? As far as I can figure, either Rick has all of us bugged, or he has an inside person telling him what we’re up to.”

  “That’s not true. Maybe he actually realizes that Ben is a worthy opponent. In that case, he could’ve just been trying to be cautious.”

  “Maybe,” Nathan said.

  “Anyway, why would you suspect Lisa?” Ober asked.

  “Because, besides Ben, only the three of us knew the plan. So if someone’s leaking, it’s either you, me, or Lisa.”

  “Well, it’s not me,” Ober said defensively.

  “I didn’t say it was you. I said it was Lisa.”

  “Do you think she’d really do that?”

  “How should I know?” Nathan asked. “But don’t you think it was weird that she wanted to go home rather than come here and wait with us?”

  “She wanted to take a shower. She smelled.”

  “She could’ve showered here. Besides, what do we really know about her?”

  “We know Ben’s been working with her for the past four months, and he doesn’t have a bad word to say about her.”

  “That’s just because he’s hot for her. Sex will always obscure good judgment. Always.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ober said, shaking his head. “I don’t really think Lisa could be involved.”

  Suddenly, the front door opened and Ben walked in.

  The questions started flying: “What happened?” “Where’d he take you?” “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Ben said, his hands cupped together. “I just need some contact solution.” Turning toward the bathroom, he explained, “Mastermind made me take out my contacts so I couldn’t make out his license plates.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter what you saw, because we got everything,” Nathan said as Ben reinserted his lenses. “We got some shots of the limo, and Lisa got everything else.”

  “Where is she?” Ben asked. As he blinked his contacts into place, saline-solution tears ran down his face.

  “She went home to shower,” Ober explained.

  “Did she see Rick when he opened the window?” Ben asked.

  “She said she did. She took a whole roll of film.”

  “Did you bring it in yet? Are they clear shots? We can probably enlarge them.”

  “Already taken care of,” Nathan said. “We took them to the place around the corner. They were closing, so the pictures won’t be ready until tomorrow. As soon as we pick them up, I’ll bring them into work. We’ll have an I.D. in no time.”


  “So what’d he say?” Ober asked. “What happened?”

  “You saw the whole story,” Ben said, still struggling with his contacts. “Just like we thought, he fucking knew everything. When I was sitting at the table, he slipped me a note saying that I should meet him outside since he didn’t want to be photographed by the two of you. I almost shit my pants.”

  “So he did know we were there,” Nathan said. “Did you save the note? Maybe we can analyze it for fingerprints or do a handwriting analysis.”

  “Forget about it,” Ben said. “The limo driver took it away from me right before he patted me down for the microphone.”

  “I told you—” Ober began.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Ben said angrily.

  “Take a seat,” Nathan said.

  “I can’t,” Ben said, leaning on the kitchen table. “I’m too wound up.” Running his hands through his hair, he added, “I can’t believe this. Now we have no audio. If we’d given him a power drill, I don’t think he could’ve screwed us harder.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “He wants the Grinnell decision, and he said he’d pay me three million dollars if I gave it to him.”

  “Three million?” Ober asked.

  “Did you tell him no?” Nathan asked.

  “Of course not,” Ben said. “I did exactly what we talked about. I told him I’d think about it.”

  “When did you talk about that?” Ober asked. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Last night,” Ben said. “You were down here talking to Eric.”

  “How come you didn’t invite me?”

  “I just said—you were with Eric,” Ben explained. “Sorry.”