The Tenth Justice Page 36

  “Playing it safe before the election?” Victor asked.

  “What do you think?” Marcia asked, returning to her seat. She scribbled some quick notes to herself and then looked up at Ober. “If you tender your resignation, we won’t file charges.”

  “What if I want to keep my job?” Ober asked, his face now pasty white.

  “That’s not an option,” she said. “At this point, you’re fired. If you’d like to tender your resignation first, I can save both of us a great deal of headache. Otherwise, we’ll have to formally release you, which means documenting the entire story for your personnel file.”

  “But—”

  “That’s the deal,” Marcia said as she resumed her writing.

  Ober realized he had no choice. “I’ll resign.”

  “Fine,” Marcia said, putting down her pen. “You have ten minutes to clean out your office. Leave your Senate I.D. with me.”

  As he walked back to his office, Ober’s mind was flooded with the repercussions of the past half hour. After two years in Washington, he had nothing to show for it—his first professional success was now gone. His short-lived promotion had given him the slightest taste of victory, but once again, he felt himself sliding back toward failure. He could never show his face in the office again. When he saw his colleagues on the street, he’d have to lie about why he quit. His parents and relatives would also have to hear the fabricated excuse for why he no longer worked in the Senate. And it better be a good excuse, he thought as he reached his desk, because my mother is going to kill me.

  As he collected his personal belongings, Ober’s hands were shaking. Removing his diploma from the wall, he was afraid he’d drop it. Although he had been instructed not to take any files from his office, Ober opened his desk drawer and pulled out the only folder that was definitely his. Flipping through the three hundred and twenty-seven photocopies of himself, he thought about the day he started working for Senator Stevens and how he’d sneaked into the copy room to make the first picture in the pile. He remembered the excitement of starting the photo album and how he wanted to keep it a secret from his roommates until it was finished. I guess it’s finished, he thought, staring at the pile of paper in his hands. It’s all finished. Now I can finally show Eric and Nathan and Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Simmering in the silence, Ober took the folder and hurled it against the wall, causing three hundred and twenty-seven pages to fly through the air. What’s wrong with me? he wondered, collapsing in his old chair. Then, amid the remains of the paper hurricane that covered his former office, Ober cried.

  This can’t be happening, Ben thought as he sprinted from the Metro station to his house. Maybe Eric heard the story wrong. Rounding the corner of his block, Ben stepped on a sheet of ice, which sent his body skidding and his right hip smashing into the frozen pavement. Ignoring the pain as he stumbled to his feet, he resumed his mad dash toward the house. He threw open the front door, ran inside, and saw Ober sitting on the sofa. Still dressed in his navy suit, with his tie loosened, Ober glared directly at the television, refusing to acknowledge Ben’s entrance.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” Ben said, dropping his coat on the floor. “How’re you doing? Are you okay?” Pausing, but getting no response, Ben tried again. “C’mon, Ober, talk to me. I’m here to help.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Ober said, his voice quiet and spiritless. “I helped you. My boss found out. I got fired.”

  Crossing over to the couch, Ben took a seat next to his friend. “Ober, you know I never meant—”

  “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” Ober said as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “I swear, I thought Rick was bluffing. I never thought he’d actually do it, and I thought—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you thought,” Ober interrupted, his voice still barely above a whisper. “I lost my job. That’s all that really matters.”

  Ben stared up at Eric’s painting, unable to face his roommate. Searching for the perfect reason, the perfect explanation, and the perfect apology, he was silent. In an argument, Ben was never at a loss for words. But when it came to apologies, he was awful. Finally, he came up with “I’m sorry.”

  Ober’s eyes welled with tears. He covered his face with his hands.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ben said, putting a hand on Ober’s shoulder. “I can’t apologize enough for this.”

  “My life is ruined….”

  “It’s not ruined,” Ben insisted, struggling to get Ober’s attention. “You’ll get a new job. A better job.”

  “No, I won’t,” Ober sobbed. “It took me five months to find that job. How am I going to get a new one?”

  “We’ll help you find a new one,” Ben said. “It really isn’t as bad as you think. Between the five of us, we can—”

  “That’s not even true,” Ober interrupted, wiping his eyes. “You know I’m not like you guys. I wasn’t a straight-A student. I’m not a genius. I’m a moron.”

  “Don’t start with that. You’re as bright as any one of us.”

  “No, I’m not,” Ober said, his voice still hushed. “You said it and it was true: I’m really not.”

  “You are.”

  “No, I’m not,” Ober said. “This’s the sixth job I’ve been fired from. It’ll take me months to find another job. And it’ll be worse than the last one. My life is just like our board-game company—one big bust.”

  “Ober, don’t be so rough on yourself,” Ben said, his hand still on Ober’s shoulder. “Life doesn’t revolve around SAT scores and grade-point averages. Once you start looking, a sharp personality will carry you just as far. And if you have anything, you have that.”

  “I don’t even have that,” Ober said, pulling away from Ben. “I’m not bright; I’m not resourceful; I don’t work well under pressure. Why do you think I can’t hold down a job? I’ve been failing at this one for months—they would’ve fired me soon anyway. This whole thing with Rick just sped up the process.”

  “That’s not true,” Ben said.

  “How do you know what’s true?” Ober asked, his eyes once again filling with tears. “You weren’t there. You’ve never seen me at work. Half the time, I don’t even know what I’m doing there.”

  “You were an administrative assistant,” Ben interrupted. “That was a good job.”

  “It was a below-average job,” Ober said, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “And the only reason I had it was because I investigated a death threat that I wrote. If it wasn’t for that, I’d still be answering phones.” Catching his breath, he looked into Ben’s eyes. “Why did this have to happen?”

  Surprised by Ober’s emotional collapse, Ben almost didn’t recognize the friend he’d known since grade school. But as Ober became more hysterical, Ben instinctively stepped forward. “This was all my fault,” Ben said, embracing him.

  “I just want it to be like it was when we first got here,” Ober said, his face buried in Ben’s shoulder. “Just the four of us. No fighting. No arguing.”

  “It will be,” Ben said. “I promise.”

  “It won’t,” Ober said. “It never will again. It’s over. We’re finished.”

  “No, we’re not,” Ben said. “We’re all still friends. We’ll get through it.”

  “No, we won’t!” Ober sobbed. “Nathan and you barely speak. Eric and Nathan never speak. I’m having the worst day of my life, and both of them are too damn busy with work to even come home to see me. That’s not a friendship. It’s a joke.”

  “We’re not finished,” Ben insisted. “Rick won’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter what Rick does anymore,” Ober wailed. “The damage is done. Nathan will never forgive you for getting me fired. And as long as Nathan is mad at you, Eric will be mad at him. You can’t change that.”

  Silent as he stared at Ober, Ben knew his friend was right. “What about you?” he finally asked. “Will you forgive me?”

  Ober wiped his eyes. “I
don’t know.”

  “But—”

  “Please don’t say anything,” Ober interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

  Before Ben could respond, the phone rang. Ben glanced at it, then looked back at Ober.

  “Pick it up,” Ober said. “You know you want to get it.”

  “It’s not that,” Ben said. “It’s just—”

  “Pick it up,” Ober insisted.

  Ben grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

  “So, you still interested in Wayne and Portnoy?” Alcott asked enthusiastically.

  “Adrian?” Ben asked, annoyed.

  “Of course,” Alcott answered. “You had said to give you a call so we could set up a lunch, so I figured—”

  “Adrian, why are you calling me at home?” Ben asked, rising from the couch. His movement sent the base of the phone crashing to the floor.

  “I apologize,” Alcott said. “The secretary at the Court said you were gone for the weekend, and I wanted to set up something for Monday.”

  “Let me tell you something,” Ben said, gripping the receiver. “Don’t call me at home. If I’m not at work, I don’t want to be bothered by you. In fact, even when I’m at work, I don’t want to be bothered. I know all about the firm, and an extra lunch isn’t going to get me to go there.”

  “I’m—” Alcott stuttered.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Ben interrupted. “If I want to go to lunch, you’ll hear from me. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m busy.” Without waiting for Alcott’s response, Ben slammed down the phone.

  “Who was that?” Ober asked.

  “No one,” Ben explained. “It was a—” The phone rang again. Ben picked it up. “Adrian, I’m sure you’re sorry, but I don’t want to hear it right now.”

  “This isn’t Adrian, and I’m certainly not sorry.”

  “Rick?” Ben asked, knowing the answer to his question.

  “Sounds like you’re having quite a night,” Rick said. “Ober gets fired; he’s on the verge of a breakdown; you scream at the one person still recruiting you. I have to be honest; if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t yell at someone who was offering me a job.”

  Ben turned to Ober. “Rick’s been listening all night. The whole place is bugged.” He turned back to the phone. “What do you want, Rick?”

  “You know what I want,” Rick said. “The only question is whether you’re going to deliver.”

  Ben sat down on the couch. “What do you think?”

  “I think Ober’s breaking your heart. So my guess is you’re thinking of turning yourself in,” Rick said. “I just want you to know that if you give me the decision, you can still walk away from all this.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Ben said. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “If the decision works out, you’ll never hear from me again. Case closed. You get to keep your job. Nathan gets to keep his. I get what I want. All parties are happy.” Without giving Ben a chance to respond, Rick continued, “If you’re interested, go to the Museum of American History at noon on Sunday. There’s a courtesy phone next to the information desk. Wait there, and I’ll leave a message where you can meet me. If you’re not there, your bankbook and Nathan’s letter will be hand-delivered to your respective superiors.”

  “I’ll see you there,” Ben said coldly. Without another word, he hung up.

  “What’d he say?” Ober asked.

  “I hate that bastard,” Ben said. “He’s so damn smug.”

  “Just tell me what he said.”

  “Not here,” Ben said, looking around the room. “Not another word in this place.” Ben got up from the couch. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “No way,” Ober said. “I’m done with this nonsense. You’re on your own.”

  “I’m only going to Lisa’s. It’s a safer place to talk.”

  “I don’t care where you’re going. I’ve had enough.”

  “Are you okay with everything?” Ben asked, picking up his coat from the living room floor.

  “Would you be?” Ober asked. “I just need to get some sleep.”

  Knowing there was nothing he could say, Ben buttoned his coat, picked up his briefcase, and walked to the door. As he was about to leave, the door flew open and Nathan stormed inside. “Where the hell are you going?” Nathan asked Ben.

  “Out,” Ben shot back, aggravated by Nathan’s accusatory tone.

  “Hold on a second,” Nathan said. He turned to Ober and asked, “Did you really get fired?” When Ober nodded, Nathan turned back to Ben. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Really?” Ben asked. “Watch this.” Within seconds, Ben was out the door.

  Running up the block, Ben headed directly for the nearest pay phone. Finding one a few blocks away, he pulled a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket, grabbed the receiver, and punched in DeRosa’s 800 number. “Answer the damn phone,” Ben said before the call had even registered.

  Impatiently waiting for someone to pick up, Ben was alarmed to hear a recorded voice say, “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.” Within seconds, he hung up and redialed the number, carefully checking to make sure he dialed correctly. Once again, he heard “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Ben said. With his eyes closed and his hands locked around the frame of the pay phone, he tried to think of a rational explanation for why the number had been disconnected. There was none. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slamming the phone with his fist. His heart pounding, he turned around and screamed, “ARE YOU GUYS OUT THERE? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Hoping for a response, but expecting none, Ben silently waited. Nothing. His eyes scanned the area, inspecting every tree, shrub, and hiding spot within his sight. Still nothing. He was on his own. Spotting the “on duty” roof lights of an approaching emerald-green taxi, Ben jumped in front of the car, which screeched to a halt to avoid hitting him.

  “What’s wrong with you? You crazy or something?” the cabbie shouted as Ben opened the door.

  “Do you know any cheap motels?” Ben asked, climbing inside.

  “I know a few,” the driver responded, unnerved.

  “Take me to one,” Ben demanded.

  Following Ben’s instructions, the driver headed toward Connecticut Avenue. “You okay?” the driver asked.

  Ben was staring out the back window, checking to see if anyone was following him. “I’m fine,” he said. “Perfectly fine.”

  Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to the Monument Inn, a plain-looking, one-story building with a neon VACANCY sign. Ben paid the cab driver, walked into the motel, and approached the front desk. “I need a room.”

  Packing her briefcase with three soon-to-be-released decisions, Lisa prepared for a long work weekend. Well accustomed to the fact that as long as she worked in the Court, every weekend was a work weekend, Lisa also added three floppy disks, Hollis’s written comments, and photocopies of a dozen already-released decisions that she thought were relevant. She locked her briefcase and scrambled the small combination lock near the handle. As she went to grab her coat, the phone rang.

  Fearing that it might be Hollis with a new assignment or another rewrite, Lisa didn’t immediately answer the phone. As always, however, she couldn’t help herself. She had to pick it up. “Hello. This is Lisa.”

  “Lisa, I need you to meet me as soon as possible,” Ben demanded.

  “What?” Lisa asked. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Monument Inn. It’s on Upton, near the Van Ness Metro. I’m in room sixteen.”

  “What happened with Ober? Is he okay?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Ben said. “Now please come over here. I don’t know what to do.”

  Forty minutes later, Ben heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Open the door,” Lisa said.

  He loo
ked through the eyehole and let her in.

  “What happened?” she asked, walking inside.

  Ben peered out of the room to make sure Lisa was alone, then slammed the door and locked it.

  Lisa scrunched up her face in disgust. “Nice place,” she said, noticing the peeling wallpaper. “Why didn’t we just meet in a sewer? It’s cleaner and safer.”

  “Rick has my house bugged,” Ben said, his face glued to the eyehole on the door. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if yours was, too. I figured we needed a neutral place to talk.”

  “Then tell me what happened,” Lisa said, sitting on one of the room’s twin beds.

  Turning around, Ben leaned on the door. “They’re not out there,” he said. “They’re gone. I think they switched sides. That’s the only way—”

  “Slow down—one thing at a time,” Lisa said. “Who’s not out there?”

  Ben walked over to the other bed and sat down across from Lisa. “The marshals. DeRosa. They’re not out there,” he explained. “After talking to Ober, I pushed the panic button and—”

  “You dialed the number in your house?” Lisa asked. “Are you crazy? Rick probably heard—”

  “I went to a pay phone,” Ben interrupted. “The number’s out of service. It’s been disconnected.”

  “Are you kidding me? But DeRosa said—”

  “I know what he said. But it’s clear he lied. I think he’s been working with Rick from the beginning. Think about it: DeRosa wouldn’t let Lungen and Fisk know what’s going on, even though they’re the marshals assigned to the Court. He didn’t want me to tell anyone else what I had done. He never took an affidavit from me. He even told me to turn a decision over to Rick. I think Rick approached DeRosa before we did.”

  “I don’t know,” Lisa said, grabbing one of the pillows on the bed. “Do you really think Rick has the resources to meet with the head of the Marshals Service?”

  “Are you kidding?” Ben asked. “I walked right in to see him. You don’t think Rick can do the same thing?”

  Lisa nodded. “But that doesn’t mean they’re necessarily working together.”