The Tenth Justice Page 25

  At the store, he pulled an unsealed envelope from his back pocket, removed the typed letter inside, and reread it for the fourth time. “Dear Rick: Since we’re almost three weeks away from decision time, I thought it would be appropriate for us to get together. As we discussed in the limo, I have what you requested, and you have what I want. Please pick an appropriate time and place as soon as possible.”

  Stuffing the letter back into the envelope, Ben placed the envelope inside his empty P.O. box. He wondered if Rick would believe that he was interested in the money. After locking the box, Ben walked to the front of the store. Maybe we should stake out this place, he thought. Rick will have to come here to pick up the letter—unless he sends a messenger to get it. Deep in thought, Ben pushed open the door and accidentally bumped into an incoming customer.

  “I’m sorry,” the customer said. “My fault.”

  Ben recognized the voice with shock and looked up. It was Rick.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Rick said. “It makes you look like a little kid.” As Rick stepped into the store, Ben turned around and walked in behind him.

  “You followed me here, didn’t you?” Ben asked.

  Ignoring the question, Rick pulled out his own key and opened the P.O. box. He removed Ben’s letter, opened it, and read its contents. “I agree,” he eventually said. “Now where would you like to meet?”

  “I asked you a question. Did you follow me here?”

  “Why so upset?” Rick asked with a thin smirk.

  “Because you piss me off. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about Thanksgiving. I know that was you with my dad. If you ever go near my family—”

  “Can you please stop with the threats?” Rick asked, waving Ben off. “You’re worse than the guys in my office.” Looking past Rick’s shoulder, Ben couldn’t help noticing the other customers filling up the store. Following Ben’s glance, Rick turned around. “Makes you want to scream, doesn’t it? You finally have me in broad daylight and there’s not a single camera in sight. If you were really bright, you would’ve had one of your friends follow you here.”

  “Maybe I did,” Ben said.

  “Not even in your dreams,” Rick said, amused. “Face facts—until you’re able to I.D. me, you need me. Now, as far as where we’re meeting, I’d like to do it in the airport. At five o’clock next Saturday, go to Washington National. Pick up the white courtesy phone, and there’ll be a message waiting for you. Follow those instructions, and I’ll see you soon after that.”

  “I don’t want to meet in the airport,” Ben said, hoping to stall. “It’s too crowded. Let’s pick someplace else.”

  “It’s the airport, or it’s not happening,” Rick shot back. “And if I were in your position, I’d stop screwing around. After that lie detector test, you’re going to need a new job anyway.” Rick slid the letter into the inside pocket of his camel-colored coat, turned around, and headed to the door. “See you next week.”

  Following Rick outside, Ben frantically looked around the parking lot, hoping to at least get a look at Rick’s license plates. “Damn,” he whispered to himself when he saw Rick hail a passing taxi. Ben attempted to hail another cab, furiously waving his hands in the air. “TAXI!” he yelled. Watching Rick’s taxi fade down the block, Ben struggled to keep it in sight. When it eventually made a left-hand turn, he knew Rick was gone.

  Ben walked down his block, cursing himself for not anticipating Rick’s actions. Wondering what he should do at this point, he realized that he now had only a week to come up with a plan. As Ben turned onto the front path to his house, he tried to predict where in a busy airport Rick would most likely want to meet. Maybe someplace private, like one of those executive lounges. When he opened the front door, Ben saw no one in the living room or the kitchen. He took off his coat, put it in the closet, and headed upstairs. By the time he reached the second floor, Ben heard the sound of running water coming from the upstairs bathroom. Unconcerned with who else was home, he was deep in thought about how Rick knew about the lie detector test. Ben’s thoughts were interrupted when he opened the door to his room and saw Eric rummaging through his top desk drawer.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Jesus!” Eric said. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “How about answering my question? Why the hell were you going through my drawers?”

  “I was looking for a stapler,” Eric said. “I wanted to put up some flyers in the coffee shops up the street. I do have to find some new housing. Now, do you want to see my flyers, too?”

  Ben pulled open a desk drawer, pulled out a stapler, and handed it to Eric.

  Eric took the stapler and started for the door. “Thanks for all your help.”

  Rick glanced at his watch as he strolled through the lobby of the Washington Hilton. Stepping into the elevator, he readjusted his tie and rested his hands in the pockets of his brown tweed suit. When he reached the tenth floor, he was exactly fifteen minutes late. As he wandered through the corridors, he caught sight of his visitor, waiting outside room 1027.

  “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.”

  Chapter 13

  “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?”