The Tenth Justice Read online

  “Did he like it? Was he impressed?”

  “I don’t think he’s ever impressed. He’s one of those stone-cold, ex-military types. No matter what I told him, I couldn’t get a reaction.”

  “He obviously wants you to help him catch Rick, though. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have let you walk out of there.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. But all he said was he wanted to think about it.”

  “He’s definitely going to go for it,” Lisa said. “If he didn’t believe you, you would’ve left his office in handcuffs.”

  “Y’know what I was wondering?” Ben asked. “What if Rick was watching me today? What if he saw me go into the marshals’ building?”

  “I doubt it,” Lisa said. “That was the whole purpose in being proactive. Rick’s too busy setting things up to waste time watching you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “So did DeRosa say when he’d be in touch?”

  “He said he’d get back to me, and he told me not to go to anyone else with the story. He knew the media would freak if they got wind of it.”

  “So that’s it. For the time being, you’re set.”

  “For the time being,” Ben said.

  “Don’t worry about it. You did the smartest thing you could do—you finally put your head in front of your heart. This is the first step in the best direction.”

  Later in the week, Ben squeezed into a crowded subway car heading downtown. Ben always arrived at the Metro station at exactly six-forty-five in the morning and had started to recognize many of his equally early-rising co-commuters. Though they shared fifteen minutes of every day together, few, if any, of them actually spoke to each other. On most mornings, like this one, they spent their time lost in thoughts of the business day ahead. Ben, however, was thinking about the marshals. Why the hell haven’t they called? he wondered.

  After the train unloaded a handful of commuters at Farragut North, Ben found an empty seat and sat down. He stared at his briefcase in his lap. Maybe they’re not going for it, he worried. When the train reached Metro Center, dozens of commuters crisscrossed through the car. The woman standing directly in front of Ben reached into her pocket and handed him a letter-sized envelope. “Did you drop this?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Ben said, studying the blank white envelope.

  The woman stared insistently at him. “I saw you drop it.” Switching to a warm, congenial tone, she repeated, “Are you sure it’s not yours?”

  “Actually, it is,” Ben said, taking the envelope and putting it in his briefcase. “It must’ve slipped out of my coat. Thanks.” As the train once again started moving, Ben looked up. The woman was gone.

  As the Metro pulled into Union Station, Ben calmly stepped out of the train and headed for the escalator. Although he was dying to open the envelope, he knew that whatever was inside was something he shouldn’t read in public. He slowly weaved through the hundreds of commuters flooding Union Station until he spotted a sign for the men’s bathroom. He looked over his shoulder before going in. No one was behind him. He checked under each of the five stalls. No one there. Walking into the corner stall, he locked the door and ripped open the envelope. Trying not to skip to the end, he read:

  Finding Rick is our foremost concern. However, our agreement is wholly contingent on your promise to aid us in our search. Your protection is guaranteed only so long as you help us find everyone involved with Rick.

  We have included a list of potential suspects. You must not tell anyone on the list about our agreement. We believe this is necessary to ensure the arrest of all parties involved. If you ignore this restriction, our deal is off.

  When Rick asks you for a new decision, you must stall him until the Sunday before the decision comes down. Only then should you actually hand over the decision.

  If you decide to accept our agreement, you will be under our surveillance. As long as Rick acts as predicted, we see no reason for further concern.

  From this point on, communication will be limited to when we contact you. If something goes wrong, call the 800 number at the end of this letter. It will notify our field agents that you need their immediate assistance. This should be used only in the event of an emergency.

  Your complete assistance will ensure your future. I hope the next time we talk, it is under better circumstances.

  Ben turned the page to see the list of potential suspects. Suddenly, the door to the bathroom flew open. Through the space between the door hinge and the stall, Ben saw a figure rushing toward him. The man banged on Ben’s stall, screaming, “Get the hell out of there! I know who you are!”

  Panicking, Ben crumpled up the letter and stuffed it down the front of his pants.

  “Get the hell out!” the man shouted. “I know you’re trying to find me out!”

  Ben noticed a slight slur in the man’s voice. “Who are you?” Ben asked.

  “You know damn well who I am!”

  Ben stepped out of the stall with his briefcase. Before him was a shabbily dressed street person with a long, dirty beard.

  The man banged on the next stall. “I know you’re in there!”

  Ben approached the man. “Are you—”

  “Give me a dollar!” The man pushed his palm under Ben’s nose.

  Convinced that the man was neither a marshal nor a threat, Ben opened his briefcase and pulled out his regular turkey sandwich. “It’s not a dollar, but—”

  “Thank you,” the man said, grabbing the sandwich. “You’re a good man.”

  After rushing through Court security, Ben avoided the elevator and ran up the stairs to the second floor. When he arrived in his office, he threw his briefcase on the sofa, reached into his underwear, and pulled out the letter. He smoothed it flat and passed it to Lisa.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to touch that,” Lisa said from her desk.

  “Someone passed me this on the subway,” Ben explained, his voice racing with excitement. “The marshals went for it!”

  Quickly reading through DeRosa’s missive, Lisa flipped the page and scanned the list of potential suspects. Included were Lungen and Fisk, Nancy, fellow legal clerks, and a variety of other Supreme Court employees. The first three names on the list were Nathan, Ober, and Eric. “Do you think this is real?” Lisa asked, looking up at her co-clerk.

  “What do you mean, is it real? Of course it’s real.”

  “The only reason I’m asking is because it’s so cryptic. I mean, it’s not addressed to you, it’s not signed by anyone. It makes no reference to the fact that you already met. For all we know, it could be from Rick.”

  “It can’t be from Rick,” Ben insisted, snatching the letter back. “It’s from the marshals.”

  “Hey, if you’re satisfied, I’m satisfied,” Lisa said.

  “Well, I’m satisfied,” Ben said. “Completely satisfied.”

  “What do you think of their list?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Ben said, rereading the list of suspects. “But I don’t think my roommates are the ones we should be worried about.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Lisa said. “I mean, who else could’ve told Rick about our plan with the yearbooks?”

  “Who knows? It might’ve been the people in the mailroom. They received the packages. Anyone could’ve gone through them before we picked them up.”

  “Maybe,” Lisa said. “But you’re not telling your roommates about this, are you?”

  “No way,” Ben said. “You read the letter. Without my full cooperation, we don’t have a deal. In the end, my roommates will be pissed for being left out, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

  “Exactly,” Lisa said. “That’s—”

  Ben’s phone rang. “Hold on a second,” Ben said, picking up the receiver. “Justice Hollis’s chambers. Can I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m looking for an Alvy Singer.”

  “This is Alvy,” Ben said hesitantly, remembering the fake name
from his P.O. box.

  “Hey, Alvy. This is Scott over at Mailboxes and Things. I wanted to let you know that your payment is once again overdue on your second P.O. box, and we need a payment as soon as possible or we’ll have to turn it over to a collection agency.”

  Ben realized that Scott was talking about the box that Rick had opened. “I’m real sorry about that,” Ben said. “It just slipped my mind. When do I have to make the payment?”

  “All it says here is that they want it by the end of the month,” Scott explained. “And if I can give you a piece of advice, I’d make it as soon as possible. If the owner doesn’t get her payments, she’ll confiscate the mail that comes in for you. It’s not my policy, but that’s the way it works.”

  “You know that’s against the law,” Ben said matter-of-factly.

  “It doesn’t matter what it is—that’s her policy. In fact, she wanted me to tell you that you’re not getting your package until you pay your bill.”

  “What package?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—I thought you knew. We have a package here for you. That’s probably why she had me call.”

  “Can you see what the postmark says?” Ben asked nervously. “I want to know if it’s anything important.”

  “Sure. Hold on a second.”

  Ben turned to Lisa. “You won’t believe this one.”

  “Alvy, are you there?” Scott asked.

  “I’m here,” Ben said.

  “It’s postmarked a few days ago, but it probably came in yesterday.”

  “Thanks for the help,” Ben said. “I’ll be in to pay the balance by the afternoon.”

  “You got it. We’ll have your package waiting behind the counter.”

  Ben hung up the phone and headed straight for the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Lisa asked. “Where are you going?”

  “There’s a package waiting in my P.O. box.”

  “So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Of course it does,” Ben said. “Rick’s the only one who communicates that way.”

  “Big deal. The marshals have it covered.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ben said, his hand on the doorknob. “The package has a postmark from a few days ago. The marshals may not’ve put everything in motion until today.”

  “I’m sure they—”

  “I wouldn’t be sure of anything,” Ben shot back as he opened the door. “If Rick started before we did, we’re in serious trouble.”

  Twenty minutes later, Ben returned to the office holding a small manila envelope. Before he could say a word, he noticed the disturbed look on Lisa’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Dennis Fisk from the Marshals Office was just up here. He said he wanted to speak to you as soon as you got back.”

  “Did he say anything else?” Ben asked, throwing the envelope on his desk.

  “He asked me why Eric was in our office the day Grinnell was announced.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Ben said as he picked up his phone. “Could more things go wrong today?” Furiously dialing their number, he waited for the receptionist to answer. “Hi, this is Ben Addison. I want to speak to Carl Lungen.”

  Moments later, Lungen picked up. “Hi, Ben. Long time no speak. How was your New Year?”

  “Let me tell you something,” Ben said, enraged. “If you suspect me of something, I expect you to have the decency to tell it to my face. Don’t send Fisk up here to scare me. I passed your damn lie detector test and answered every one of your questions.”

  “First, why don’t you take a deep breath and calm down,” Lungen said.

  “I don’t want to calm down. I want to know what this is all about.”

  “Fisk wasn’t trying to scare you. He was just passing along a message.”

  “I have voice mail. I assume you’ve grasped the function of a phone.”

  “Listen, Ben, I think we’ve been more than fair with you since this whole thing started.”

  “What thing?” Ben interrupted. “You’re always talking about some thing, but you can never exactly say what this mysterious thing is.”

  “Let me put it to you this way,” Lungen said. “Three weeks ago, you swore to us that you and Eric weren’t speaking. A couple days after that, Eric was in the Court and in your office. Not only that, but he also used Nathan’s name to get in here. Now, do you want me to tell you what I think, or do you want to finally tell me the truth?”

  “You got me,” Ben said. “You figured it all out. Eric and I are friends again. Alert the local militia.”

  “This isn’t a joke.”

  “You’re damn right it’s not a joke,” Ben interrupted. “It’s my life you’re playing with. For the past two weeks you’ve obviously been racking your brains trying to come up with my crime. But let me tell you, it’s not against the law to make up with your roommate. So until you can actually prove something, I’d appreciate it if you just stayed the hell away from me.”

  “Tell me why Eric was in the Court that day.”

  “He’s the reporter who’s assigned to the Court! What do you think he was doing here?”

  “Why did he use Nathan’s name?”

  “To be honest, because I told him that if you guys found out we’d made up, you’d be all over our asses. What a surprise—I was right.”

  “That still doesn’t—”

  “Listen, I’m done with this conversation. No matter what I say, you’re still going to suspect me. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I have nothing to hide. If you don’t believe that, I’m sorry. But if you’re committed to interfering with my life, you’d better get proof or go away. Because I swear, if this doesn’t stop, I’ll slap your office with a workplace harassment suit faster than you can say, ‘Forced retirement and bye-bye pension.’ Now if you don’t mind, I have to go do some work. I hope I won’t hear from you soon.” Before Lungen could respond, Ben slammed down the phone. When he noticed Lisa staring at him, Ben asked, “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “I’m just admiring your ambassadorial abilities—always calm and level-headed; never once losing your temper.”

  “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

  “Take it easy,” Lisa said. “Forget about the marshals. They don’t have anything on you.”

  “Of course they don’t. If they did, I’d be out of here by now.” Ben grabbed the manila envelope from his desk and threw it to Lisa. “Now, back to the original crisis.”

  Dumping the envelope’s contents on her desk, Lisa saw a miniature cassette tape and a small stack of photocopies. She picked up the copies and looked at the first page, which resembled the first page of a bankbook. There was a single entry for $150,000, and the words “City of Bern” were in fine print at the bottom of the page.

  “As far as I can tell, it’s a Swiss bankbook,” Ben said.

  “Is this Rick’s account?”

  “In truth, it is,” Ben explained. “But take a look at the last page.”

  Lisa reached the final page in the stack, titled “Registration of Account,” and saw that the account holder’s name was Ben Addison.

  “I know,” Ben said, noticing Lisa’s distressed reaction. “He took out all the vital information like the bank’s name and the account number, but he made damn sure we saw my name in there.”

  “November seventeenth?” Lisa looked at the date of the first and only deposit. “What happened then?”

  “I wanted to check that,” Ben said, grabbing his desktop calendar. He flipped back toward November. “It’s what I thought. That’s the day the CMI decision came down.”

  “Any idea what’s on the cassette?” Lisa asked, putting down the papers.

  “None,” Ben said. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his Dictaphone. “But I bet it’s not James Taylor’s Greatest Hits.” Ben put the tape in the small recorder.

  “What’s happening with the CMI merger? Doesn’t that come down next week?”

  “Actuall
y, it probably won’t come down for another few weeks. Blake and Osterman asked for more time to write their opinions. You know how it is—merger cases always wind up confusing everyone. It takes forever to sort through all the regulatory nonsense.”

  “So who wins?”

  “It was actually pretty amazing. When the justices were voting in Conference, it was five to four against CMI. At the last minute—”

  “Shit,” Ben said, stopping the tape. “He taped the whole conversation.”

  “Was that when you first told him the decision?”

  “No, it was when we were exchanging recipes. Of course it was the time.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Damn!” Ben said, slamming his desk with his fist. “How could I be so stupid?”

  “Listen, there’s no way you could’ve known,” Lisa said. “You thought Rick was a friend.”

  “But if I never said anything—”

  “You probably wouldn’t be in this mess. You’re right—you wouldn’t. We’ve been through this before. The point is, for the first time you’re finally in a position to get out of it.”

  “I don’t even know if that’s true anymore. What if the marshals didn’t set everything up in time?”

  “I’m sure they did,” Lisa said. “I’m sure they started working on it the moment you left DeRosa’s office.”

  “I hope so,” Ben said, staring at the small tape player on his desk. He looked up at Lisa. “You have to admire the way Rick set it up, though. Before today, the only thing at risk was my job. All he could prove was that I broke the Court’s Ethics Code. But by combining the tape with the bankbook, Rick’s created a whole new reality: Now it looks like I was paid for the information. He’s created proof that I was paid. That’s more than an ethics violation. Accepting a bribe as a public official is a federal offense.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Lisa said, walking over to Ben’s desk. She opened his Dictaphone and pulled out the tape. “We’ll send this to DeRosa just to be safe.”