The Tenth Justice

by Brad Meltzer

  “What I can’t understand is why he wants a truce,” Ober said. “It’s obvious you have no chance of catching him. In a way, you’re nothing more than an annoyance.” Looking at Ben, he added, “No offense.”

  “I think he wants information,” Nathan said.

  “I agree,” Ben said. “There’s no reason on earth why Rick needs a truce with me.”

  “Do you think he wants you to tell him another decision?” Lisa asked.

  Ben continued to flip through the magazines. “That’s the only thing I can imagine.”

  “Then I think we should assume that’s what he’s going to ask you when you go to the restaurant on Saturday.”

  “You’re going to meet with him?” Lisa asked.

  “Of course I’m going to meet with him,” Ben said. “You think I’m going to let him get away from me? He’s mine come Saturday.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m not sure. That’s where I was hoping you’d help. I was thinking about videotaping him at the restaurant, or something like that.”

  “I got it!” Ober yelled. “What if one of us dresses up like a waiter and somehow gets his wineglass, which will be covered in his fingerprints.”

  “And then what?” Lisa asked. “We’ll run it through our computers in the Batcave?”

  “We can send it through Nathan at the State Department.”

  “I say we take surveillance pictures of him as he enters the restaurant,” Nathan said. “We’ll have a positive I.D. on this guy in no time.”

  “I know the perfect spot for you to wait,” Ben said as his voice raced with excitement. “There’s an outdoor café right across the street from the restaurant.”

  “We can go buy a night lens for the camera,” Ober said, rising from the couch.

  “And we can wear cool disguises with trench coats and hats and fake mustaches,” Lisa said sarcastically. “You all have to relax. That won’t do you any good.”

  “Oh, it won’t?” Ben asked. “And I assume you’ll tell us why.”

  “So what if you have a few pictures of him? You’re still in the same position you’re in right now. Even if you have Rick’s real name, you can’t turn him in—unless we want Ben to go to jail too.”

  As silence swept through the room, Nathan said, “The woman speaks the truth.”

  “We have to somehow get him to proposition you about a new case,” Lisa suggested. “If he does that, then we can get him for bribing a public official.”

  “Ben’s not a public official,” Ober said.

  “He’s a federal employee,” Lisa said. “By bribing him, Rick will be attempting to interfere with the United States government. That’s a federal offense, and it’ll get him put away for at least a couple of years.”

  “Hold on a second,” Nathan said. “What’s to prevent Rick from striking a plea bargain with the authorities? For all we know, he can point to the CMI case and offer up Ben on a silver platter, saying that the Supreme Court clerk is the mastermind behind the whole scheme. Then Rick walks free, and Ben gets indicted—all because of our great plan.”

  “Rick would never do that,” Lisa said. “The CMI decision is probably the best thing that ever happened to him. He probably made at least a couple million dollars on that deal. If he turns in Ben, or even attracts any attention toward CMI, the SEC will be all over Charles Maxwell’s ass, even more than they are now. I’m sure Rick understands that it’s better for him to do a few years for bribery on this second decision than to lose all his money and risk the wrath of Maxwell. He’s not playing with small fish. CMI will eat him alive.”

  “I’m impressed,” Nathan admitted.

  “And you didn’t think she was smart,” Ben said, crossing his arms as he looked at Ober.

  “Wait a minute,” Lisa said to Ober. “You didn’t think I was smart?”

  “I didn’t—” Ober began.

  “You?” Lisa persisted, rising from her chair. “When we were playing Scrabble last week, you tried to use the word ‘duh,’ and you think I’m stupid?”

  “‘Duh’ is a word,” Ober said.

  “It’s not a word!” Lisa said. “It’s a slang expression used by primates in the late twentieth century. It’s nonsense. Noise. Stupidity. But it’s not a word.”

  “It’s a word,” Ober repeated.

  “You can fight later,” Ben interrupted. “Right now I want to think about the plan. It sounds like our best bet is to nail him on the bribery charge. It’s not the greatest revenge, but it’s the best we can do. Now how are we going to catch him?”

  “What if you wear a wire?” Nathan said. “I might be able to get one from some of my buddies who work in security.”

  “Can you definitely get one?” Ben asked.

  “If not, you’ll wear a tape recorder,” Lisa said. “Either way, he’s on tape.”

  “I still think we should get some pictures of him,” Ober said.

  “You just want to wear a disguise,” Lisa said.

  “I definitely want to wear a disguise,” Ober admitted. “But I also think it’d be smart to get some physical proof of what Rick looks like.”

  “That’s actually not a bad call,” Ben admitted. “Eventually, the authorities are going to have to bring him in. We might as well let them know what he looks like.” When he saw Lisa scrunch up her nose, Ben asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Huh?” she asked. “No, it’s nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Ben said. “I know that look. What are you worried about?”

  “Well, I can’t help but think—shouldn’t we go directly to the authorities with this? I mean, we’re getting way out of our league. We might be better off asking for help.”

  “No way,” Ben said. “If I do that, it means I might as well kiss my job good-bye. Besides, even if I went to the police, Rick would see us coming a mile away.”

  “What makes you think that?” Lisa asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Ben asked. “For the past month he’s watched our every move. Besides, it’s not like we’re doing anything so sophisticated. We’re just trying to get his voice on tape. It’s not like we’re trying to invade his hidden sanctuary located on a private island.”

  Lisa turned to Ober. “Don’t worry. Rick doesn’t really have a private island. It’s just a figure of speech.”

  “No duh,” Ober shot back.

  “I’m serious, though,” Ben said. “If things get hairy, we can call in help. But until then, I’d like to try this by ourselves.”

  Chapter 6

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, BEN AND LISA WORKED nonstop on four different decisions. After three months together, the two clerks had developed an efficient method for writing opinions. The better of the two at crafting original arguments, Ben always composed the first draft of the decision. With an aggressive writing style and uncompromising persistence, his opinions always barreled forward from introduction to conclusion. Lisa was the impeccable analyst. Ben said she had X-ray vision since she was able to see the holes in the most well-reasoned arguments. So after Ben presented his completed first draft, Lisa’s editing skills went to work. A stickler for detail and the superior logician, she usually wrote twenty-page responses to Ben’s forty-page decisions. When they’d finished their rewrite, the opinion went to Hollis.

  At six o’clock, Ben shut off his computer and grabbed his jacket from the closet.

  “Where are you going?” Lisa asked, looking up from the desk.

  “I have a dinner date I can’t break. Eric’s aunt and uncle have been inviting us over since I got back from Europe.”

  “But I still haven’t seen your first draft of the Russell decision.”

  “It’s almost done. You’ll have a finished draft by tomorrow at lunch.”

  “I better.”

  “You will. I promise.” As Ben walked to the door, his phone rang. Assuming it was Eric calling with another excuse about why he’d be late, Ben ran back to his desk and pi
cked up the receiver. “This is Ben,” he said.

  “Hey, Ben,” Rick said. “How’s everything going?”

  “What the hell do you want?” Ben asked, recognizing the voice.

  “Nothing,” Rick said. “I just wanted to know what you’re up to. I understand you have a big dinner date tonight.”

  “Are we still on for Saturday? Because—”

  Rick hung up.

  Ben slammed down the receiver.

  “What’s wrong? Who was that?”

  “It was Rick,” Ben said, rushing to the door.

  “What’d he—” Before Lisa finished her question, Ben was gone.

  Ben ran down the Court’s forty-four steps and impatiently waited for his ride to arrive. At five after six, Eric and Ober pulled up in Eric’s car. Ben was silent as he got into the pale gray Honda.

  “I thought of the best name for a Mexican restaurant today,” Ober excitedly announced, turning around in his seat. “I’m going to call it Tequila Mockingbird.”

  Ben didn’t say a word.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Eric said. “I was—”

  “Where’s Nathan?” Ben interrupted.

  “We’re picking him up at home. I figured you three would want to change before dinner. Aunt Katie doesn’t require a shirt and tie.” Looking in the rearview mirror, Eric noticed the scowl on Ben’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Ben said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Are you—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben repeated.

  Glancing at Ober, Eric shrugged his shoulders and headed home.

  “You’re late,” Nathan proclaimed the moment the door opened. Walking inside, Ben headed straight to the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Nathan asked.

  “He wouldn’t say,” Eric said. “I think something happened at work.” Sitting on the love seat, Eric asked, “Were you waiting long?”

  “I want you to know it still amazes me that you are consistently five minutes late to everything,” Nathan said, looking at his watch. “I mean, I can set my watch to your lateness.”

  Unaccustomed to a close shave, Eric rubbed his face. “I’m not late,” he said. “You’re messed up because you set your watch ten minutes ahead.”

  “Don’t even start with that,” Nathan said. “On my watch you’re fifteen minutes late, but you’re still five minutes late in real time.”

  “I’ll never understand that,” Ober said. “If you know your watch is always ten minutes ahead, then what good does it do you?”

  “Au contraire, my simpleminded friend. I don’t pay attention to the—”

  “Who opened my mail?” Ben interrupted. He stood in the doorway, holding up the pile of envelopes.

  “It was like that in the mailbox,” Nathan said.

  “Was anyone else’s mail opened?” Ben asked.

  “Just yours,” Nathan said. “You think it was Rick?”

  Ben loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. “I don’t know what else to think. He called me today right when I was leaving work. And he knew about our dinner tonight.”

  “Were any of the letters important?”

  “None of them. They’re all either bills or junk mail.”

  “I don’t mean to be inconsiderate, but if we’re late for dinner, Aunt Katie will never let us hear the end of it,” Eric said.

  “I’m not going to dinner,” Ben said.

  “Why?” Eric asked. “Just because someone opened your mail?”

  “No, because I’m terrified Rick was checking up on me.” Ben put his mail on the kitchen counter and poured himself a glass of water. “Maybe he was planning on breaking in here when we were gone.”

  “If he wanted to break in, he would’ve done it when he opened your mail,” Eric said. “Don’t let him wreck your life like this. He’s just trying to make you crazy.”

  “Then I’ll have to be crazy,” Ben said. “Go without me and tell Katie I’m sorry. I wouldn’t be any fun tonight, anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” Eric asked.

  “Go,” Ben said. “I’ll be fine here.”

  Realizing that Ben wasn’t about to change his mind, the three friends walked to the door. “We’ll see you later.”

  The moment the door closed, Ben picked up his mail again. Shuffling through the envelopes, he found the only one without a return address. He pulled the letter from the envelope and reread the five words written in thick black Magic Marker: TRUST YOUR FRIENDS? SINCERELY, RICK. As he stared at the short message, Ben wondered whether the letter was a taunting warning or a simple question. Feeling both guilty and regretful for not telling his roommates about the letter, Ben crumpled it in a tight fist. How the hell did I let him do this to me? he wondered. Now he’s got me suspecting my closest friends.

  Ben threw the rest of the mail back on the counter, stepped into the dining room, and leaned on the large glass table. Don’t even think it’s one of them. There’s no way it’s one of them, he reassured himself. If I don’t trust them, who can I trust? Staring at his reflection in the smudged glass, he replayed all the important events in his mind. He thought about every piece of information Rick had. He recalled every other person who was also privy to the information. He then came up with a logical way for Rick to find out about each piece. If the house is bugged, he thought, he could’ve heard us talking about Aunt Katie’s dinner. And I told Nathan about the flowers. He could’ve overheard that as well. With a well-hidden microphone, Rick could’ve overheard everything. Staring down at the glass table, Ben nodded to himself. That’s the most logical explanation. That’s how he—

  At the base of the glass table, Ben spotted a small dark object. On his knees in a matter of seconds, Ben closely examined the object. It was nothing. A clump of dirt from someone’s shoes. Undeterred, Ben tilted the table and searched under each leg for Rick’s microphone. Then he looked at each chair. He turned over the couches, lifted the cushions, squeezed the pillows, flipped the coffee table, ran his hands along the back of every picture frame, examined the television, turned over the VCR, inspected every videotape, pulled apart the closet, checked the pockets of every coat, opened every umbrella, peeked into baseball gloves, peered into tennis-ball cans, looked behind the toilet, cleared out the refrigerator, picked through all the cabinets, lifted every appliance, emptied every drawer, scrutinized every lamp, and took apart every phone. By the time he was finished, the first floor of the house was a shambles. And still nothing.

  Hold it together, Ben told himself, his shirt soaked with sweat. Don’t lose it. After rearranging the kitchen, the bathroom, the dining room, and the living room, Ben collapsed on the large sofa. He lay facedown; his right arm sagged to the floor and his fingers picked at the carpet. Catching his breath, Ben reached his conclusion. No matter what, you have to trust your friends. That’s the only way to stay sane. Trust your friends.

  When Ben’s roommates arrived back at the house, Nathan headed for the bathroom, Ober headed for the kitchen, and Eric slumped in front of the television. Hearing the front door slam, Ben left his room and headed downstairs. He found Ober digging into a pint of ice cream. “How can you possibly be hungry?” Ben asked. “Didn’t you just eat a full meal?”

  “I’m a growing boy,” Ober said.

  Nathan returned to the living room. “How are you feeling?” he asked Ben. “Still worried about Rick?”

  “Of course I’m still worried. But I’ve calmed down. I just needed the time alone.” He joined Eric on the large couch. “How was dinner?”

  “You missed it,” Ober said, still picking at the pint of ice cream. “Eric’s aunt is hotter than ever!”

  “Can we stop talking about her?” Eric pleaded.

  “Listen, we can understand why you feel the need to be protective, but you have to face facts,” Nathan said. “Your aunt is steamy.”

  “I don’t understand,” Eric said. “She’s not even that pretty.”

 
“You’ll never understand,” Nathan said. “It’s her aura. It speaks to us.”

  “Does she still have that picture of herself in a bikini on the refrigerator?” Ben asked.

  Ober smiled. “Not anymore.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the photo and threw it to Ben. “I figured you needed a little pick-me-up.”

  “You stole the picture from her refrigerator?” Eric asked, looking over Ben’s shoulder.

  “We borrowed it,” Ober said. “We’ll give it back. I just wanted to show Ben what he missed.”

  “Hello, perverts,” Eric said. “This is my aunt we’re talking about.”

  “What would happen if you had sex with her?” Ober asked. “Would your kids be mutants or something?”

  “What’s the word again for kids who are born from inbreeding?” Nathan asked.

  “I think they’re called ‘Obers,’” Eric said.

  “Now that’s funny,” Ober said. “That’s a real laugh riot.”

  Comforted by the camaraderie, Ben was even more convinced that the letter was just Rick’s way of playing mind games. He passed the photo to Nathan and put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I meant to tell you, I have a good bit of gossip for you. But you have to keep it secret until I say it’s okay.”

  “Let’er rip,” Eric said, watching Nathan fawn over the picture of his aunt.

  “Let’s just say that if you had to have a journalistic hunch in the next few days, I’d start asking around about an old Supreme Court justice.”

  “Blake’s finally retiring?” Eric asked.

  “You didn’t hear a word from me,” Ben said. “All I’m saying is that if you want to impress your editors with your sense of intuition, that’s the path I’d start sniffing.”

  “Thanks.” Eric smiled.

  “Is what you told him illegal?” Ober asked, looking up from his now melting ice cream.

  “Of course it’s not illegal,” Ben said. “It’s just friendly advice.”

  “Because if it was illegal, I’d be forced to make a citizen’s arrest.” When Ben shook his head, Ober said, “I’m serious. I’d arrest the both of you.”