The Tenth Justice

by Brad Meltzer

  “Do you think DeRosa would ever believe it happened that way?” Ben asked. “That he’d see this and think I really took a bribe?”

  “Not anymore,” Lisa said, dropping the tape in an envelope. “By going in and being honest about it, you’ve preempted that conclusion. Mailing him this just seals the deal.” As Ben wrote a quick note to DeRosa, Lisa asked, “Do you think DeRosa is listening to us talk right now?”

  “No way,” Ben said. “He’d only bug us if he thought I was lying. And if he thought I was lying, there’s no way I’d still be working at the Court. They can’t risk another breach like that. This is the one place we can actually feel safe.”

  Lisa went to her desk, picked up the copies of the bankbook pages, and handed them to Ben. He inserted the copies in the envelope. “So what do we do now?” Lisa asked.

  “We sit here and hope Rick calls.”

  “Oh, he’ll definitely call,” Lisa said. “Mark my words. He’s going to make sure you got his package of incriminating evidence, and then he’s going to blackmail you. My guess is he’ll threaten to distribute the tape and the bankbook unless you give him a new decision.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I hope he does.”

  At six-thirty that evening, Ben returned to the office. “Anyone call for me?”

  “Not yet,” Lisa said. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” Ben said. “Antsy, but okay. By the way, in case you were wondering, I flipped through the U.S. Code and confirmed that accepting a bribe usually carries a sentence of five to fifteen years.”

  “Great,” Lisa said wryly. “Any other vital bits of—”

  Ben’s phone rang. When he didn’t grab it, she said, “What are you waiting for? Pick it up.”

  “Should I—”

  “Pick it up!”

  Hesitantly, Ben lifted the receiver. “Hello, this is Ben.”

  “Hey, Ben. It’s Adrian Alcott calling.” Before Alcott even identified himself, Ben had recognized the voice of Wayne & Portnoy’s most persistent recruiter.

  “It’s not Rick, is it?” Lisa asked.

  “I should be so lucky,” Ben whispered, covering up the mouthpiece of the phone.

  “So how is everything in the ol’ Court?” Alcott asked.

  “It’s fine. We’re super-busy.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Alcott said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay there. Last time we spoke, we got cut off abruptly.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Ben said. “We had to get something directly to Hollis, so I had to run.”

  “No apology necessary,” Alcott said. “I mean, who’s more important, me or a Supreme Court justice?” When Ben didn’t respond, Alcott added, “By the way, the reason I’m calling is that I wanted to tell you that we’re going to be there in three weeks. We’re arguing for the respondent in Mirsky.”

  “That’s great,” Ben said, struggling to act surprised even though Alcott had told him the news on three previous occasions.

  “It looks like it’s going to be a hard one, too,” Alcott said. “After Osterman’s majority in Cooper, no one’s had any luck with Sixth Amendment cases up there.”

  “No comment,” Ben said coldly. “You know I can’t talk to you about pending cases.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Alcott said. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No apology necessary,” Ben said. “It’s just one of the perks of working here.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll let us show you the perks of working here,” Alcott said, sounding proud of his transition. “It’s not the Supreme Court, but we do okay for ourselves. Speaking of which, the other reason I called was to set up another lunch meeting. We haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I’d love to. But can I get back to you in a week or two? I’ve got so much on my plate right now, I’m afraid I’d be a terrible guest.”

  “Definitely,” Alcott said. “You take care of whatever you need to. I’ll give you a call in the next few weeks.”

  “That’d be much better,” Ben said, doodling a picture of a gun pointed at the head of a man in a suit. “Hopefully, things’ll be calmer by then.”

  When Ben hung up the phone, Lisa asked, “Wayne and Portnoy?”

  “You got it.”

  “Let me guess—they’re hoping to stick their head farther up your butt, and they want to give you another ten grand to do it?”

  “They just want to take me to lunch,” Ben said as he added another gun to his doodle.

  “Hey, cheer up,” Lisa said. “You should be happy that prestigious firms are still interested in you. There are worse things in life.”

  “You mean like having a psychopath dangling your biggest fuckup in front of the whole world?”

  “Exactly. Having a personal psychopath is so much better,” Lisa said. “Meanwhile, are you going to tell your roommates about the cassette Rick sent?”

  “Probably not,” Ben explained. “If I do that, I have to act upset all night.”

  “And you’re not upset?”

  “I’m trying not to be,” Ben said as he added a third gun to the doodle of himself. “Hopefully, everything’s going according to plan.”

  Ben walked up the block toward his house and took in the silence that winter brought to the city. It was cold but clear; no snow and all stars. Taking deep breaths of crisp air, he paused on the front steps. It’s almost over, he thought. He eased his key into the lock and turned the knob.

  “Where the hell were you?” Nathan asked. “Lisa said you left the Court almost an hour ago.”

  “We’re in deep shit,” Ober added from the couch.

  “This is the final straw for me,” Nathan yelled, waving a piece of paper in front of Ben’s face. “I’m done.”

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked, dropping his briefcase on the floor.

  “Read this,” Nathan said. He handed Ben the piece of paper.

  “Dear Mr. Bachman,” Ben read to himself. “Since October of last year, Nathan Hollister has illegally used the following equipment for his own personal use:” Scanning down the list that included the telescopic camera lens, the wireless microphones, and even the Prynadolol for the lie detector test, Ben’s eyes darted to the letter’s closing paragraph. “Although I am unwilling to reveal my identity, you can rest assured that this information can be verified by checking the equipment records in the Office of Security. There is no reason for a member of the Policy Planning Staff to have access to such equipment. I hope you will investigate this matter. A copy of this letter has been sent to your supervisors, as well as the Secretary of State.”

  “Crap,” Ben said, looking up at his roommate. “Mr. Bachman is your boss?”

  “He’s the general counsel,” Nathan said. “Which means that if Rick sent this letter, it was entered into Bachman’s correspondence log the moment it was opened. And that means Rick can get proof the letter was received.”

  “So Bachman will have to start an investigation,” Ben said.

  “Exactly,” Nathan said. “If Bachman doesn’t investigate, he’s at risk since there’s clear proof that his office opened the letter. It’ll look like he ignored the whole thing. And after that disaster with his confirmation hearings, he’s terrified of looking like he sat on a scandal. Rick did his homework here,”

  “When’d you get that letter?” Ben asked.

  “It came in the mail today,” Nathan explained accusingly. “One for me, another for Ober, and a third for Eric.”

  “Damn,” Ben said, pushing the letter back in Nathan’s hands.

  “As soon as I got the letter I tried calling you,” Ober explained, holding his own letter. “When I heard you left, I called Nathan and Eric and told them to rush home.”

  “Did Rick send anything else with it?” Ben asked, terrified by the fact that his friends were not only deeply involved, but were in serious trouble.

  “Nothing,” Nathan said. “No instructions. No explanation. Just the
letter. It’s not clear whether he sent it to Bachman or not.”

  “What’d yours say?” Ben asked Ober.

  “I’m dead,” Ober said. He passed Ben the sheet of paper. “Mine’s addressed to my staff director. It tells her that the death threat written to Senator Stevens was written by me. And it says I did it to get myself a big promotion.”

  “Which you got,” Nathan said indignantly. Looking at Ben, he continued, “You better do something, because this just got out of hand.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Ben asked as the room started to spin. “I got my own letter today—in the form of a cassette tape and a bankbook.” Ben sat on the sofa and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. “But there’s no reason to believe that anyone else has gotten copies of any of it. What’d Eric’s letter say?”

  “Eric’s was addressed to The New York Times,” Nathan explained, “but I’m sure Rick plans to send it out to everyone in the national press.”

  “What’d it say?” Ben asked, putting his hands to his head.

  “Eric’s letter explains the whole story start to finish. It talks about how you leaked the information about CMI, and it names you as Eric’s source for his first story. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t really have any devastating effect on Eric—”

  “Except it shows that he was lying to his bosses about not knowing anything,” Ben interrupted. “Does Eric even know yet?”

  “He was out on assignment when I called,” Ober said. “He’ll wander in soon.”

  Letting Ben have a minute of silence to process the information, Nathan said, “So I guess this means you’re finally going to the authorities.”

  “What?” Ben asked, looking up at his roommate.

  “You are going to turn yourself in now, aren’t you?” Nathan asked.

  “No,” Ben said coldly. “I’m not.”

  “Ben, don’t get mad at me,” Nathan said. “What choice do you have?”

  “We can wait for Rick to make his next move. I’m sure he hasn’t sent the letters out yet. If he wanted to get us all fired, he could’ve done that months ago.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Nathan demanded. “This isn’t just your life you’re playing with anymore—this is mine, and Ober’s and Eric’s.”

  “But if I go to the authorities, Rick can still mail the letters,” Ben pointed out. “Which means you’re implicated no matter what I do.”

  “Not if you tell the police you’re the one at fault. If you cooperate with them, we have a better chance of getting off.”

  Before Ben could respond, the front door opened and Eric walked in. Looking around the room, he asked, “What’s wrong? Who died?”

  “We got some mail today,” Nathan said, as he and Ober handed Eric the letters.

  When he was finished reading all three, Eric asked, “What are we going to do?”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” Nathan said. “It’s up to Ben.”

  “He thinks I should turn myself in and take my punishment,” Ben explained.

  “No way,” Eric said. “You’ll be fired in a heartbeat.”

  “Forget about being fired,” Ben interrupted. “If the bankbook gets out, I’m going to jail.”

  “If that’s the case, then you should take your chances trying to catch Rick,” Eric said, finally taking off his overcoat.

  “Don’t give us that macho bullshit,” Nathan interrupted. “You have the least to lose.”

  “How do you figure that?” Eric asked.

  “If your letter gets out, you’ll probably get credit for breaking the story,” Nathan pointed out. “Which means it’s in your best interest to egg Ben on.”

  “You are unreal,” Eric said, shaking his head. “Do you really think I’m that much of a scumbag?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time your self-interest interfered with your judgment.”

  “You can go fuck yourself,” Eric shot back.

  Looking at Ober, Ben said, “You’ve been way too quiet. What’re you thinking?”

  “I guess I lean toward Nathan,” Ober said. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s crazy—” Eric began.

  “It’s ridiculous to argue,” Ben interrupted, hoping to end the conversation. “I can’t do anything until I hear from Rick.”

  “But—”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s my decision for now,” Ben said. “All I can say is trust me. I would never do anything to put you guys at risk.”

  “Do you have a plan in the works?” Nathan asked suspiciously. “Because if this is like Grinnell—”

  “There’s no plan,” Ben interrupted. “I don’t have a plan. But I want you to know that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you guys. I swear. I wouldn’t.”

  “Fine,” Nathan said. He grabbed his coat from the closet and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Ben asked.

  “Out,” Nathan said. “I’m hungry and I need to get some dinner.”

  When the door closed, Ober turned to Ben. “Ben, you’re forgetting what’s right. You better talk to him when he gets back.”

  “But if you talk to him, be careful what you say,” Eric pointed out.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ober asked.

  “It means that if I were Ben, I wouldn’t trust anybody.”

  “So you still suspect Nathan?”

  “Not at all,” Eric said. “I just think a better friend would’ve offered a bit more support.”

  “You can be a real jerk,” Ober said as he got up from the couch. “You of all people should never talk about what a better friend would do.” Before Eric could respond, Ober was halfway up the stairs.

  “Let him go,” Ben said, grabbing his coat from the closet.

  “Where are you going?” Eric asked.

  “I need to get some air,” Ben said, closing the door behind him.

  As he inched up the block, Ben kept looking over his shoulder. Scrutinizing every person he saw, he wondered where DeRosa’s agents were, and if they were even in place. When he reached the commercial section of his neighborhood, Ben ducked into Jumbo’s, the area’s best late-night eating spot. He sat down at the counter and ordered one of the daily specials. He then got up and walked to the pay phone at the back of the restaurant. Ben inserted the required change and dialed Lisa’s number. “C’mon, be home. Be home, be home, be home.”

  As the phone rang, Ben thought about everything he wanted to tell Lisa: how scared he was about Rick’s new letters; how apprehensive he was about lying to his friends; how nervous he was for their safety; how anxious he was to talk to someone he could trust. But when the answering machine picked up, Ben knew Lisa wasn’t home. He was alone.

  His eyes rapidly scanning the customers in the restaurant, Ben hung up the phone. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the phone number from DeRosa’s note. Maybe I should call, he thought, and picked up the receiver. No, nothing terrible has happened yet. The plan should still work. He hung up the phone. For all I know, Rick will do everything else as expected. Agitated, but ever-cautious, Ben stepped away from the phone and walked back to the counter. But if anything else goes wrong, I’m pounding that panic button.

  Chapter 17

  “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE,” BEN SAID. staring into the mirror in the office closet, he picked at a deep shaving cut on his chin. “Why hasn’t he called?”

  “It’s only been a week,” Lisa said.

  “The longest week of my life,” Ben said as the cut started bleeding. “You’d think by now he’d tell us what he wants.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to wear you down.”

  “He’s obviously trying to wear me down. The longer he waits, the crazier I get. Typical Rick mindgame.”

  “I’m not surprised Rick hasn’t called—I’m more surprised you haven’t heard from DeRosa.”

  “Don’t even start me on that. The guy promises to keep me informed, and then he doesn’t send a single message. For all I know, the marshals
aren’t even out there.”

  “Do you feel like you’re being watched?”

  “Not at all. Which means they’re either extremely good, or they lied to me.”

  “You better get moving,” Lisa said, looking at her watch. “You’re going to miss your first free lunch.”

  “They’re lucky it’s free.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Lisa said. “You’re about to go to lunch with the Chief Justice of the United States. Don’t pretend you’re not excited.”

  “No, you’re right,” Ben said. “I’m very excited. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend an hour having their intellect crushed?”

  “Don’t pay attention to what his clerks say. Their backbones are so weak, they barely stand erect.”

  “Well, I’ll have you know, I stand very erect,” Ben said proudly, sticking out his chest. “Super-erect.”

  “You’re a one-man erection,” Lisa said as Ben walked to the door. He paused when his phone rang and looked at Lisa. “Let it ring,” she said. “Go enjoy lunch.” When she saw him turn around and head for the phone, she added, “Relax. It’s not him.”

  “Hello. Justice Hollis’s chambers,” Ben said as he picked up the receiver.

  “Hi, Ben,” Rick said. “How’s everything in the big house?”

  Closing his eyes, Ben said, “Tell me what you want.”

  “What I want?” Rick asked. “Who says I want anything? I called to say hello.”

  “C’mon, Rick, I really don’t have the time for this. What’s the story this time?”

  “What’s the matter there?” Rick asked. “You don’t sound as confident as the last time I spoke to you.”

  “I’m fine,” Ben said through clenched teeth.

  “I assume you and your roommates got my package?”

  “Yes, we got the damn package. Now what do you want?”

  “Down to business,” Rick said. He cleared his throat. “I want the American Steel case, and I want it tonight.”

  “But that case comes down Monday,” Ben said, panicking.

  “I know when it comes down,” Rick said. “And I want it personally delivered by you, to me.”

  “I need to think about this,” Ben said.