by Brad Meltzer
“Believe it,” Ober said. “For example, I know how to tell if a set of dice is balanced correctly.”
“Dice?”
“Yeah, dice. Like the dice you use in a board game.”
“Over the past few years, Ober has been the most—shall we say—entrepreneurial of the four of us,” Ben explained. “Right after college, he and his father invented a board game that they thought would sweep the nation. Hence, the dice knowledge.”
“You invented a board game?” Lisa asked.
“Actually, my dad came up with idea. It was called—”
“Speculation—The Game of Cunning and Guile,” Ben and Ober said simultaneously.
“That was it,” Ober said. “It was this super-intense strategy game. It had everything: pawns, bluffing, power moves, everything a good game should have.”
“And what happened?”
“Everyone hated it,” Ober said. “They said it was too boring. After a year and a half, we were out of business, and I went through an illustrious sampling of the lower-tier job market. In three years, I was everything from a house painter to a marketing aide to a public relations assistant.”
“If you’re such a failure, how’d you get the job in the Senate?”
“That was all Ben,” Ober said. “When he heard there was an opening in Senator Stevens’s office, he wrote me a cover letter, put together my résumé so it sounded super-political, and prepped me for the interview. A week later, I got the job. And the rest is congressional history.”
“So how do you tell if dice are fixed?” Lisa asked.
“I’m not telling you,” Ober said. “Start your own game company.”
Rolling her eyes, Lisa turned back to Ben. “So you went to law school, Eric went to grad school, and bizarro here played with his dice. What’d Nathan do before he joined the public sector?”
“He was a Fulbright scholar, so after college, he spent two years at Tokyo University studying international trade. After that, he worked for a Japanese high-tech company in their foreign markets department. Then he came back to the States and started working his way up the State Department ladder. My guess is he’ll—” Ben broke off as Nathan came in.
“Speak of the devil,” Lisa said. “It’s Nathan-san himself.”
“Well?” Ben asked anxiously as soon as Nathan walked in the door.
“Nothing,” Nathan said, throwing a thick file folder to Ben. “They found four hundred fifty-seven Richard Fagens. Only twelve matched the age and physical description, and only two had criminal records. Neither of them had any type of legal background, and both were still incarcerated. I called the research center, and they said that Rick was probably using an alias. Until we find his real name, we’ll never find him.”
“Shit,” Ben said, flipping through the useless documents.
“By the way,” Nathan said to Ober, “they ran a check on Senator Stevens’s signature, and it cleared as genuine. I thought you used the signature machine.”
“I did,” Ober said proudly. “I just bumped my butt against it while it was signing. It’s the best way to make the signature look real.”
“Good show,” Nathan said, impressed.
“I have my moments,” Ober said, looking back at his feet.
Watching Ben nervously look through the documents, Lisa turned to him. “Don’t get yourself crazy. That doesn’t mean we’re done.”
“We still haven’t heard from Eric,” Nathan added. “Hopefully, he’ll have some information on the building.”
At a quarter after ten, Eric returned home. Ben, Lisa, Nathan, and Ober were all watching television, trying to pass the time. “What took you so long?” Ben asked, pointing the remote and shutting off the TV.
“I’m only fifteen minutes late. I had to finish editing a story,” Eric explained. “Do we have anything to eat?”
“Did you find anything on the building?” Nathan asked as Eric headed toward the kitchen.
“Oh, yeah,” Eric said, turning back toward the living room. “I almost forgot. Seventeen eighty Rhode Island is not a good place. I asked some of the beat guys what the story was, and they said it’s pretty sleazy.”
“It smelled pretty sleazy,” Nathan said.
“It’s owned by a guy named Mickey Strauss,” Eric explained. “Mickey is slime. Two years ago, they found two guys shot dead in there. Last year, there was this huge drug ring operating out of the place, but Mickey said he never knew anything about it. The guys at the office said that if a Mack truck came barreling through his office and straight across his desk, Mickey would swear he never saw it. Rick’s smart as shit for picking that place—he obviously knows Mickey won’t rat on him.”
“We have to get in there,” Ben said, standing up. “Maybe the leases have Rick’s real name on them.”
“Why would they?” Lisa asked. “If this place is so high security, why would there even be leases?”
All four roommates stared at Lisa. “She’s got a point,” Nathan finally said.
“That doesn’t mean the leases don’t exist,” Ben said, walking to the door. “And that’s all we have to go on at this point.”
“Where are you going?” Eric asked as he turned toward the kitchen. “They’re not going to let you waltz right in.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Ben said, his hand on the doorknob. “All they have is some stupid doorman guarding the place.”
“And one security camera,” Nathan added.
Ben turned back toward the living room. “There was a camera?”
“It was one of those old ones,” Nathan explained. “Right above the office door. But that’s hardly an impossible obstacle.”
“What if we deliver a pizza to the building?” Ober asked. “That’ll get us in.”
“No, it won’t,” Ben said. “The office is probably empty, so there’s no one to receive the pizza.”
“But at least that’ll get us past the doorman and into the building,” Ober said. “Then all we have to do is pick the lock to the office.”
“It’ll never work,” Ben said. “Unless you’re an expert locksmith, we don’t have a chance of picking the lock on our own. We have to somehow get the doorman to let us into the office.”
“Excuse me,” Lisa interrupted. “I hate to burst your bubble, but have you guys realized that what you’re planning is illegal?”
“I told you you shouldn’t have invited her,” Ober said. “She’s ruining everything.”
Ignoring Ober, Lisa shot Ben a cold stare. “This isn’t make-believe. You break into that building, and you’re breaking the law. You of all people should realize that.”
“I don’t feel like I have a choice,” Ben said nervously.
“Then you’d better think about the consequences,” Lisa said. “If you get caught, you’re out of a job. You’ll be disbarred. Your career’ll be ruined. All over a stupid breaking and entering offense.”
“It won’t be breaking and entering,” Ben said defensively. “If we get the doorman to let us in, we have his permission.”
“But you’re lying to get in,” Lisa said.
“So then the most we’ll get is unlawful entry.”
“Well, that’s real bright,” Lisa said. “Why don’t you just—”
“What do you want me to do?” Ben asked, his voice wavering. “I have to get in there. If it gets out that I leaked information to an outsider, my career is ruined anyway. At least this way I have a chance of preventing that. If you don’t like it, I understand, but please don’t lecture me on it. This is hard enough as it is.” Turning to his roommates, he said, “Any other ideas?”
“What if we dress up as exterminators and say we have to spray the office for roaches?” Ober said.
“And where do we get all this exterminator equipment?” Nathan asked. “Or do we just show up dressed in jeans and carrying flashlights and hope they don’t notice?”
“What if we dress up like painters?” Ober asked. “It’ll be just lik
e The Sting. The doorman’ll let us in, and instead of painting, we’ll raid the files.”
“If you really want to do this, I have an idea,” Lisa interrupted. “Instead of taking the low road first, why don’t we try to get in semilegally? We can walk right up to the doorman and offer him a bribe. Then we’ll give him Rick’s apartment number and ask him to go check the leases for us. That way we’re not the ones breaking and entering.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Nathan admitted.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Ben asked, shrugging his shoulders. “The guard says no?”
“How about they recognize you and they kill you?” Eric said, returning from the kitchen with a roast-beef sandwich in hand.
“They’ll never recognize us,” Nathan said. “There’s no way the doorman that was there during the day is still there at night.”
“And what if he is?” Eric asked.
“We’ll pretend we have the wrong building,” Nathan said. Noticing Ben’s prolonged silence, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Ben said unconvincingly. Turning to Lisa, he added, “I can understand if you don’t want to come.”
“Don’t pull that macho shit on me,” Lisa said. “I’m coming.”
“What happened to all your worries about getting arrested?” Ben asked.
“We both know conspiracy law,” Lisa said. “Just by being here, I’m involved.”
“I can’t go,” Eric said, swallowing a bite of roast beef. “I have to go back to the paper to finish my story.”
“What do you mean, you’re not going?” Nathan asked. “Ben needs—”
“What am I supposed to do?” Eric asked. “I have a story.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said. “But if you don’t hear from us by two in the morning, call the police.”
At midnight, the friends looked for a parking spot around the corner from the building. “This city is the worst,” Nathan said. “Thousands of people. Thousands of cars. Twelve parking spots.”
Ben studied the drizzle that tapped the windshield. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Now you’re having second thoughts?” Lisa asked from the backseat. “What happened? Your brain suddenly started working again?”
“I’m not having second thoughts,” Ben said, turning around in his seat. “I’m just nervous. Is that okay?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ober said. “You’ll be fine.”
Convinced he would never find a spot, Nathan pulled into a small alley next to the building. “Do you have the money?” he asked, shutting the engine off.
“I have it,” Ben said, feeling his right jacket pocket for the first hundred and his left jacket pocket for an additional two hundred.
“I still think I should go,” Nathan said.
“Stop taking it personally,” Ben said. “I told you before: Lisa and I are going. They’re more likely to believe a man and a woman.”
“Says who?” Ober asked.
“Says me,” Ben said. “Now stop whining about it. It’s no big deal.” He grabbed an umbrella from below the front seat, opened the door, and got out of the car. Lisa followed.
Walking toward the building, Ben held the umbrella over Lisa. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lisa asked.
“Not really,” Ben said.
“Then why don’t we turn around and—”
“You know I can’t,” Ben pleaded. “I have to find Rick. Right now, this is the best way to do that. If you want to leave…”
“I’m here,” Lisa reassured him. “As long as we keep it legal, I’ll be here.”
When they reached the building, Ben was surprised find the front door locked. Lisa pressed her face against the glass to get a better view of the interior. “Buzz,” she instructed. “He’s in there.”
Moments later, a buzzer sounded, allowing Ben to pull open the door. Confidently and calmly, Ben and Lisa approached the night guard, who was sitting at his metal desk. “What’s wrong?” the guard asked. “Don’t you have a key?”
“We don’t actually live here,” Ben explained.
“Then who do you want to see?” the guard asked, picking up his phone.
“We don’t want to see anyone,” Ben said. “We have a favor to ask.”
The guard hung up the phone. “I’m listening.”
“My wife and I are looking for her brother, who used to live here. He has some money of ours, and as you can imagine, we’re trying to get it back.” Ben pulled out the five twenty-dollar bills from his right pocket and put them on the guard’s desk. “We were wondering if you could help us find his lease or his forwarding address. Either piece of information would be extremely helpful.”
Staring intensely at Ben and Lisa, the guard said, “There aren’t any leases.”
“How about a forwarding address?” Ben asked. “Can you check the Rolodex for us?”
“There are no files on anyone,” the guard said. “No Rolodex. Nothing.”
“Can you double-check to be safe?” Ben asked. “Maybe there’s something in the office.” He threw another hundred dollars on the desk. “His apartment was number three seventeen. All I need is his name or address. No one will ever know.”
“If he’s your brother, why do you need his name?” the guard asked suspiciously.
“Listen, do you really need to know the answer to that?” Lisa jumped in. “This is easy money. Do you want it or not?”
The guard continued to stare at the two clerks. Finally, he picked up the money. “Make it three hundred and I’ll do it.” Ben threw another hundred on the desk. Pocketing the money, the guard stood from his chair and opened the top drawer of his desk. He then pulled out a gun and pointed it at Ben and Lisa. “I’ll count to three.”
“What’d we do?” Ben asked, raising his hands in the air.
“I know who you are,” the guard said. “Now get the hell out of here.”
“Just relax,” Lisa said.
The guard pulled back the hammer on his gun. “Get out! Now!”
Turning around, the two clerks quickly walked to the door. When they got outside, they ran.
“Get us out of here,” Ben said when he and Lisa got back into the car.
“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked as he started the engine. “Did you get the lease?”
“Drive. Just drive,” Ben said nervously. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
At twelve-thirty, the roommates returned home. “What happened?” Eric asked from the sofa, remote control in hand.
“We didn’t get a thing,” Nathan said, collapsing on the big couch. “Ben’s a wanted man in that building.”
“And we lost three hundred dollars,” Ober added, taking off his sweatshirt and throwing it on the couch.
“Where’s Lisa?” Eric asked.
“We dropped her off at home,” Ben said. “There was nothing else to talk about.”
“From what the guard said, there were no leases and no records of the building’s tenants,” Nathan explained. “The way I see it, Rick is even more sophisticated than we thought.”
“So that’s it?” Eric asked. “You’re done with your search?”
“Not at all,” Ben said, walking up the stairs. “We’re just getting started.”
Chapter 5
“HI, MY NAME IS RICK FAGEN, AND I WAS wondering if you could help me out,” Ben said in his most diplomatic voice. “I recently disconnected my phone, but I still haven’t paid the bill, and I think it’s because you still don’t have my new address.”
“What was your old phone number, sir?” After typing in Rick’s old number, the phone company employee said, “Mr. Fagen, you are correct. We still don’t have a forwarding address for you. If you’ll give me your new address, we’ll be happy to send you a duplicate bill.”
“That’d be great,” Ben said. “My new address is Post Office Box 1227, Washington, D.C. 20037.”
“Mr. Fagen, you should receive this bill in the
next few weeks,” the employee said. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
“Actually, I have one last favor,” Ben said. “I just realized that when I moved, I misplaced all my old phone bills, which I need for tax purposes. Is it possible to get duplicates of those as well?”
“Certainly,” the employee said. “Let me just make a note of that here, and we’ll get those to you. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Nope. I think that’s it. Thanks for your help.” When he hung up the phone, Ben looked up at Lisa who was sitting across from him.
“Do you think the bills will really help?” she asked.
“Not really,” Ben said. “I don’t think Rick is dumb enough to call anyone important on a traceable phone. My guess is he was constantly mobile and worked most of his deals on a cell phone. The local number was probably just for me.”
“That was smart to get the P.O. box,” Lisa said, in an effort to cheer him up.
“Whatever,” Ben said. “If anyone’s watching that phone line, they already know I’m involved.”
“You don’t know that,” Lisa said. Looking at her watch, she added, “It’s almost ten. We should probably head over.”
“I don’t feel like it,” Ben said, suddenly irritated.
“Are you crazy?” she asked. “They’re handing down the CMI decision. Don’t you want to see the crowd’s reaction?”
Ben was silent.
“Well, you’re coming anyway,” she said, grabbing his hand. “We’re not supposed to miss decisions.”
Although the justices returned to work in early September, and the fall term officially began on the first Monday in October, it wasn’t until early November—when the first decisions were announced—that the energy of the Court reached critical mass. While oral arguments were heard throughout the week, decisions were handed down at precisely ten A.M. on every subsequent Monday. Open to the public, the decision sessions were always packed with tourists, press, and friends of the Court. On a typical decision day, the line began to form outside the Court at eight in the morning. For a more popular case, the lines started at six. When the Webster abortion case was handed down in 1989, local entrepreneurs found that both tourists and press would pay big money to have others wait in line for them. The result was an underground line-sitting business that covered all major media events on Capitol Hill. In anticipation of the CMI decision, the professional sitters had started lining up almost a day in advance.
