by Brad Meltzer
“That’s fine,” Ben said, pulling his black overcoat from the closet. “I have to run to the restaurant, but I’ll be back within an hour.”
“Planning for tomorrow?” Lisa asked.
“Absolutely,” he said. “At this point, I’m not leaving anything to chance.”
At three-thirty, Lisa returned to the office. “That’s it. We’re done with Russell,” she announced as she tossed the seventeen-page document on Ben’s desk.
“He liked it?”
“Did he like it? Let’s put it this way. At one point I had to wipe away the drool that was hanging off his lower lip.”
“Be serious.”
“I’m not joking,” she said. “Hollis loved it. He said it was well argued, and organized exactly the way he wanted. He especially liked the conclusion, where you called the dissent ‘an attempt to empty the endless ocean of logic with a thimble.’”
“He’s keeping that? I thought for sure he would cut it. He always cuts my metaphors-as-insults.”
“Well, he liked this one. Apparently he thinks Osterman is out of his mind in the dissent.”
“Damn,” Ben said, slapping the desk. “If I’d known he was going to be open to wordplay, I’d have come up with something even better. I was thinking of saying that the dissent is ‘trying to piss on the inferno of common sense.’”
“I don’t think that one would have flown,” Lisa suggested.
“Why not?” Ben asked. “You don’t think he’d agree with the parallel I’m drawing between common sense and fire?”
“I don’t think Hollis wants to go down in history as being the first justice to ever use the word ‘piss’ in one of his opinions. He’s crazy like that.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Ben said, flipping through the seventeen-page document. “So tell me what else Hollis said.”
“Nothing really. He’s happy we’re done with Russell because he says that Grinnell will almost definitely be decided tonight.”
“How does he know it’ll be assigned to him?”
“He already spoke to Moloch and Kovacs, and they don’t want to touch it. Whether he’s in the majority or the dissent, Hollis’ll be the most senior justice who wants to write the decision.”
“Any word yet on whether Veidt has hopped the fence?”
“They’ll know tomorrow. Hollis said Veidt is having dinner with Osterman and Blake tonight.”
“Ah, another Supreme Court case is going to be decided based on how hard one justice schmoozes another.”
“Welcome to Washington.”
“Gee, thanks,” Ben said. “You’re so politically astute. Now I know how this town works. And all along I foolishly thought it was democracy that ran our nation.”
“Listen, when I first got to law school, I always used to say that if the Supreme Court was really about true justice, then every issue, no matter who was on the Court, would come out with the same result. If Roe v. Wade granted abortion rights in 1973, then the decision shouldn’t be overturned just because some conservative justices came onto the Court. But over time, I’ve realized that that’s the beauty of the law. We decide each case individually. No fact pattern is exactly the same, and every justice takes all the different facts into account. If we wanted the same decision every time, we wouldn’t need judges—we’d get robots we could plug the facts into, who could reach the same cold, logical decision. But who the hell wants a robot deciding their life?”
“That depends—are they conservative or liberal robots?”
“That’s exactly my point. Stop seeing everything in black and white. No two people see anything exactly the same way. That’s what makes it great. We sacrifice ourselves to people’s particular mores, but we gain an individualized judicial system. I mean, would you really want to live in a world where there were no Ostermans or Veidts?”
“Actually, I probably would,” Ben said. “But I guess that would also mean that the entire madras golf pants market would crash.”
“Ben, be serious.”
“I know, I know,” he said, picking at the hardened remains of his croissant. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be annoyed when a case is decided on personal politics.”
“No, you should definitely be annoyed. But just realize that the personal side of the judicial process also provides a lot of benefits that ensure democracy as we know it.”
“That’s wonderful, General Washington. I’ll keep that in mind every time I tell the story of how Veidt sold his vote away.”
Chapter 8
LATER THAT EVENING, BEN AND LISA RETURNED to Lisa’s apartment, where they found Ober and Nathan waiting outside. “Where the hell were you guys?” Ober asked, running in place. “We’re freezing out here.”
“Why didn’t you wait in the lobby?” Lisa asked.
“Because the asshole doorman wouldn’t let us. He said if our host wasn’t here, we had to wait outside.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lisa stormed into the building and approached the smiling doorman. “Why the hell do you have my guests waiting outside?”
“Ma’am, their party was not here.”
“I’m their party,” she proclaimed. “And if I’m five minutes late, I don’t want my friends waiting out in the cold.”
“Ma’am, you may be their host, but we do have rules in this building, and no guests are admitted without their host’s approval. As doorman, it is my job to ensure that there is no loitering in our lobby.”
“Oh, it is?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” the doorman barked. “The tenants’ association has given me full authority to remove loiterers, vagrants, and other criminal characters from this vicinity.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lisa asked.
“Oh, no,” Ben said, peeking through his fingers. “This is about to get ugly.”
“Let me tell you a few things,” Lisa said, her finger pointed in the doorman’s face. “First, I don’t care who you are, but the moment you have my guests in this building, they become your guests. And if you think you’re authorized to let guests stand out in the cold, you’ve got your head up your ass. This may not be the frozen tundra, but it’s still cold out there. Second, general loitering laws are illegal, since they allow mall cops like you to randomly discriminate against whomever you like. So if you don’t have solid, real reasons to suspect my friends, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Finally, if you are calling my friends vagrants or criminals, I’ll haul you into court on defamation charges just to piss you off. I won’t win the case, but I’ll have a great time wasting your time and money as you argue your way out of it. Now, unless you have anything else to say, I’m going to go upstairs. Have I made myself clear?”
“Certainly,” the doorman said, flustered. Turning to Nathan and Ober, he added, “And I apologize for any misunderstanding.”
“I accept your apology,” Ober said as the friends walked into the elevator.
“Was that really necessary?” Ben asked.
“That was fantastic!” Ober yelled.
“He pisses me off,” Lisa said. “You give guys like him a tiny bit of authority, and they think they’re dictators.”
“Yeah, but I think you made him wet his pants,” Ben said.
“I was impressed with the clarity of your argument,” Nathan said, looking at Lisa with new respect.
“Thank you,” Lisa said, as the elevator door opened.
Walking into the apartment, Lisa flipped on the lights and put her briefcase on her desk. “What’s that smell?” Ben asked as he headed toward the living room.
Sniffing the air, Ober said, “It smells so…feminine.”
“It’s potpourri,” Lisa said. “I just put it out. Do you like it?”
“I’m enchanted,” Ober said.
“I guess you guys aren’t used to a home that doesn’t smell like feet.” As Lisa turned toward her bedroom, she added, “I’ll be right back.” Minutes later, she returned to the living room wearing sweatpants and her f
avorite Stanford T-shirt. “Ready to start?” she asked, sitting down next to Ben on the sofa.
“Here’s the story.” Ben opened his briefcase and pulled out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Rick and I are meeting tomorrow. The only reason I can think of for the meeting is that Rick still wants something, and the only thing he can want is information.”
“But you don’t know this for sure,” Lisa said.
“It’s the only logical reason. I mean, I don’t think he wants to talk politics.”
“Maybe he just wants to torture you over how big a sucker you were last time,” Ober said.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Ben said, shooting a scowl at Ober.
“But why would he want more information if he already made a million dollars from the CMI decision?” Nathan asked. He sat on the sofa and placed a small blue duffel bag on the floor.
“We have no idea how much he made on CMI. He may’ve made ten million or he may’ve made ten thousand. The problem is, we don’t know his background. If he isn’t wealthy already, then he probably didn’t have a great deal of money to invest in the CMI stock before it shot up. All of his winnings might’ve come from a fee Maxwell gave him.”
“But I’m sure that’s a tidy sum,” Nathan said.
“It probably is,” Ben said, “but I wouldn’t underestimate the power of greed. If Rick made a million his first time out, I’m sure he’d love to make ten million the next. Now, we don’t know that he’s going to ask me for more information, but if he does, I think our best option is to follow Lisa’s original plan and try to get it all on tape.”
“If he does proposition you, he’s sure to offer you some money for the information. Obviously, he’s not going to be able to trick you out of the information again.”
“You never know, though,” Ober said. “Ben can be pretty naive when he wants to be.”
Ignoring his roommate, Ben said, “And if he does offer me money, we’ll get the bribe on tape. Then we’ll at least be able to prove that he bribed a government official.”
“I don’t understand one thing,” Nathan said. “If you do get Rick on tape, how are you going to use it against him? By turning it over to the authorities, you’ll reveal your own involvement as well as his.”
“I know,” Ben said. “But at this point, I’m more concerned with the fact that he’ll always have my involvement to dangle over my head. If I get something on him, he can’t use that information against me. Although it’s not the optimal situation, we’ll at least be on a level playing field. Otherwise, I’ll never be safe.”
“Did you get the taping equipment?” Lisa asked Nathan.
Nathan pulled the small blue duffel bag onto his lap and unzipped it. “Here’s our wireless microphone. And just so you know, it’s equipment like this that makes the United States the enduring superpower of our time.”
“That’s great, Colonel,” Ben said. “Who’d you get it from?”
“This friend of mine who works down in security. I was hoping he could get us the state-of-the-art stuff, but this was the best he could do. Without authorization, the best equipment never leaves the security room.”
“Does he have those microphones that are built into your cuff links?” Ober asked.
“Those are fantastic,” Nathan agreed. “I was hoping for the poison darts that shoot out of your watch, but this was the best he could do.” Rising from his chair, he pulled the various wires from the bag. Looking over at Ben, he said, “Stand up and take off your shirt.”
“Woooooooo!” Lisa howled as Ben unbuttoned his dress shirt.
“Wait until you see his bod,” Ober said. “The man has no chest hair.”
“Hey, at least I don’t have the Isle of Capri on my chest,” Ben said as he stood topless in the living room. Looking at Lisa, he explained, “Ober is hairless except for a great island right in the middle of his chest.”
“Wrong,” Ober said.
“Take off your shirt,” Ben challenged.
“There’s no need for that,” Ober smiled. “But, trust me, it’s not shaped like the Isle of Capri.”
“Let me figure out how this works,” Nathan said, struggling to untangle the wires.
“I hate to admit it,” Lisa said, “but you have a sexy bod.” As Ben tried to fight back a blush, she continued, “I’m serious. I didn’t think you had one, but you have a great chest.” Looking at Ober, she said, “I think I’m actually turned on.”
“Well, I have that effect on people,” Ober said.
“Here we go,” Nathan said, looking over at Ben. “Why are you blushing?” he asked.
“Just show me how this thing works,” Ben said.
“Okay. You take this Velcro strap and you wrap it around your chest. The microphones are built into this,” Nathan explained, pointing to two tiny bumps in the wide strap. “This is your battery source,” he said, tapping a larger protrusion on the back of the strap. “It should last at least eight hours and I just put that battery in, so it’ll be fine.” He pulled a thick black box from the bag. “This is the receiver. It has a cassette deck in it, so we can tape the whole conversation.”
“Is it on?” Ben asked.
“It should be.” Nathan raised the antennae on the box and flipped a few knobs. “Go in the other room and say something.”
As Ben walked toward Lisa’s bedroom, the three friends waited in silence, staring at the black box. Suddenly they heard, “Here I am in Lisa’s bedroom. The satin sheets come as no surprise, but I am shocked to see a picture of myself right next to her bed.”
“DON’T TOUCH MY BED!” she yelled.
“And wait…what’s this? There are remnants of lipstick marks around my face. Oh, Lisa, you are so very, very sad.”
“GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”
“Wait, is this her underwear drawer? Yes, I think it is, boys!”
As Lisa jumped from the sofa, Ben turned the corner and entered the living room. Hitting rewind, Nathan waited a moment and hit play. “…bedroom. The satin sheets come as no surprise, but—”
“It works,” Nathan said.
Ben took off the microphone and put on his shirt. “So all I have to do is talk normally, and everything should come through?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe you should stuff it into your underwear just in case Rick decides to pat you down,” Ober suggested.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Nathan said. “If you do that, I think we’ll lose a lot of clarity.” Shutting off the receiver, he added, “The only other thing I should tell you is that since it’s cordless, it has only about a hundred-yard radius.”
“That should be fine,” Ben said, buttoning his shirt. “We’re meeting at Two Quail, a tiny restaurant on Massachusetts Avenue. I went there today during lunch just to scope it out. It’s a small place and it has only one window that faces the street. But there’s a Thai restaurant across the street that you guys can wait in.”
“I know the one you’re talking about,” Nathan said. “Bangkok Orchid.”
“That’s the one,” Ben said. “I figure you and Ober should get there at about seven. I’m supposed to meet Rick at eight. They’re right across the street from each other, so we should definitely be in range.”
“Is there anything that might interfere with the microphone?” Lisa asked. “Shortwave transmissions? Satellite dishes? Anything like that?”
“My friend said it should be fine,” Nathan said. “It’s not the best equipment, but it’s still reliable.”
“Y’know what we need?” Ober said, excited. “We should have a password. Just in case something goes wrong, it’ll be our signal that you need help.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Ben said, returning to his seat on the couch.
“How about if the password is ‘What’s your damage, Heather?’” Ober asked.
“No way,” Ben said. “It has to be something that I can easily work into the conversation, and it can’t look like I’m panicking.”
“How about ‘travesty of justice’?” Nathan asked.
“What about ‘electric cheese’?” Ober said.
“How the hell can I work that in?” Ben asked. “Please don’t kill me, and can I please have some electric cheese?”
“‘Crimes against humanity,’” Nathan said.
“‘Devil Dogs,’” Ober said.
“How about if I just scream, ‘Help me, unimaginative roommates! Help me!’” Ben said.
“Why don’t you use the word ‘bingo’?” Lisa asked. “It’s easy to work into a sentence, and it always works in the movies.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ober said. “Name one movie that used bingo as the password.”
“Lots of them.”
“Name one,” Ober challenged.
“I don’t care if it works in the movies,” Ben interrupted. “Bingo’s the password. If I say ‘bingo,’ you guys come running.”
“That should take care of the bribing part,” Lisa said. “The only other thing we have to worry about is getting his picture taken so we can I.D. him.”
“This should take care of that,” Nathan said, pulling out a telescopic lens from the duffel. “It’ll fit on my camera, and it should give us all the pictures we want of this asshole.”
“We need detailed pictures, though,” Lisa said.
“Trust me, this puppy’ll show us the blackheads on his nose. It even has a built-in infrared filter.” Nathan looked at Ben and added, “I just need to know who to photograph. I’ve never seen Rick before.”
“I took care of that today,” Ben said. “Two Quail has one table that sits in front of the main window. Rick and I will be seated at that table, so all you have to do is snap pictures of the guy I’m sitting with.”
“And what if you don’t get seated at that table?” Nathan asked.
“We’ll be there. During lunch, when I went to scope out the restaurant, I gave the maître d’ a hundred bucks to make sure that my party is seated at that table.”
“You blew another hundred bucks?” Ober asked.
“When I got there, there was already a reservation in my name,” Ben said. “It was pretty spooky.”
