by Brad Meltzer
“Ben, there’s no way to link that company to you. You didn’t create it; you have nothing to do with it. Besides, who else besides us is actually watching the Public Records database for current changes in Grinnell ownership?”
Ben’s phone rang. Frozen, he looked at Lisa. Again, the ring cut through the room.
“Are you going to answer it?” Lisa asked.
Again, the phone rang.
“It’s the Marshals Office,” Ben said. “They know.” He raced toward the closet and grabbed his coat.
“Where are you going?” Lisa asked.
“I have to get out of here,” Ben explained, picking up his briefcase and heading for the door. “Switch I.D.s with me.”
“What?”
“I said, switch I.D.s,” Ben demanded, throwing Lisa his Court I.D. “Hurry!”
Lisa ran back to her desk, pulled her I.D. from her desk drawer, and threw it to him. As soon as he caught it, he was gone.
“Call me when you get home,” Lisa yelled as the phone continued to ring.
Running full speed down the main staircase, Ben was in a deep sweat. When he reached the main floor, his pace slowed and he tried his best to maintain a casual walk. Avoiding the main exit, he stayed in the north wing of the Court and headed for the only unmanned door in the building. As he approached the exit, he thought he heard someone behind him. He turned around and saw no one, but he picked up his pace. His heart racing, Ben reached the I.D. machine that would grant him access to the locked exit. He pulled out Lisa’s card, held his breath, and swiped it through the machine. Nothing. With shaking hands, he ran it through again. Finally, a click of recognition. He pressed forward and pushed open the side door of the building. Once outside, he let out his breath and dropped his briefcase on the ground, relieved to feel the bitter wind on his face. Bent over, with his hands on his knees, Ben took a minute and struggled to compose himself. Running his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes and tried to think. He picked up a handful of snow from the ground, rubbed it across his forehead, and put the rest in his mouth. Walking a few blocks up Maryland Avenue, Ben stopped at a pay phone and dialed Lisa’s office number.
“Hello, Justice Hol—”
“Lisa, it’s me.”
“What the hell happened to you?”
“I’m sorry. I just had to get out of there. I felt sick to my stomach.”
“What the hell did you need my I.D. for?”
“I thought the marshals were going to put a lock on mine so I couldn’t leave the building. That’s how they got me last time.”
“So now I’m stuck here?”
“No,” Ben said, checking over his shoulder. “You can still use mine. If the marshals lock you in, it means they know about Grinnell. If not, I’ll know they’re clueless.”
“But that doesn’t answer my question. If they lock me in, how am I supposed to get out of here?”
“Just walk to the main exit and tell them you can’t find your I.D. They’ll look you up manually and you’ll get out. Meanwhile, have you figured out who Rick bought the property from?”
“I went through the list we printed out last week and there was only one name missing. Addison and Company replaced a company called the Micron Group.”
“And the Micron Group is?”
“I ran a Lexis search on them and it came up blank. All I could find was that they were a limited partnership chartered in Delaware about five years ago. The original incorporation papers were registered to a Murray Feinman, but when I looked up Feinman, the only story on him was his obituary. He died late last year at the age of eighty-four. Micron was probably created solely to make predeath investments, and I have no idea who runs it now.”
“And you couldn’t find anything else?”
“What the hell else do you want? I mean, all I have to work with is Lexis, which means I’m limited to periodicals and public records. I was impressed I found as much as I did.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just freaking out,” Ben explained as a small crowd of guided tourists walked past him. He waited until the last of the group was gone before he said another word. “Do you think we can find Rick by looking at Addison and Company?”
“I don’t know. I looked up the name, and it’s not incorporated anywhere. My bet is he’s either incorporated in another country or Addison and Company is a subsidiary of a company that we don’t know the name of. Obviously, Rick used the Addison part just to piss you off.”
“I think it was more than that. Shining a light on me means that no one will be looking for him.”
“That may be true. So what are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to wait here until you get off work. That way I’ll know if the marshals are after me.”
“You’re going to wait there for two hours?”
“Screw two hours. Just leave now. Hollis doesn’t care. The Grinnell decision is fine—send it to Nancy. Besides that, we have nothing else to do.”
“So I guess we don’t have about fifty cert petitions to go through?”
“C’mon, Lisa, it’s Friday. Just leave.”
“Fine, fine,” she said. “Tell me where you are.”
“I’m at the pay phone on the corner of Maryland and D.”
“You got it. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
When Lisa arrived on the corner, she was concerned when she couldn’t find Ben. Looking around, she saw a few dozen people fighting their way through the recently shoveled sidewalks, none of them resembling him. Spotting the pay phone on the corner, she approached it and was surprised to see a sheet of paper sandwiched between the receiver and its cradle. She picked up the phone and removed the paper, which contained a note written in Ben’s handwriting: “Hail the black and beige taxi across the street.”
Lisa crumpled up the paper and looked over her shoulder, wondering if she was being followed. Crossing the street, she saw the black and beige taxi. “Taxi!” she yelled. When the driver nodded back, she opened the back door and got inside. Before she could say a word, the car headed down Maryland Avenue. “Excuse me, but do you know where we’re going?” Lisa asked.
“So was there a problem?” Ben asked as he popped his head up from the front passenger seat.
Lisa jumped back in her seat. “Holy crap, you scared the hell out of me!” she yelled. “Why the hell were you hiding on the floor?”
“I didn’t know if someone was going to follow you or if you were going to come out alone.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry. Your I.D. worked with no problem. I think the marshals are lost.”
“Or maybe they knew I was already gone.”
“Ben, you have to calm down. No one but us knew to watch that database. The marshals don’t know dick. You said it yourself: They’re morons.”
“Whatever.” Ben’s eyes were focused on the back window behind Lisa.
Lisa turned around. “Stop it already. No one is following us.”
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Ben said, shaking his head. “My life is ruined.”
“Let’s not talk about it now,” Lisa said, motioning with her chin toward the taxi driver. “We can discuss it when we get home.”
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Ben’s house. “See, you’re home free,” Lisa said as Ben put his key in the door. “If the marshals really wanted you, they would’ve jumped us as soon as we got out of the taxi.”
When Ben opened the door, he was surprised to see Ober watching TV in the living room. “Hey, why are you home so early?” Ober asked. “Oh, now I see,” he added when he saw Lisa follow Ben inside. “What’s new with you, missy?”
“Nothing really,” Lisa said, taking off her coat. “You?”
“Not much,” Ober said.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Ben asked his roommate. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I am,” Ober said, shutting off the TV. “I’m just taking a long lunch.”
“It’s almost
three-thirty,” Ben said.
“It is?” Ober said, turning the television back on. “Then I have at least another half hour before I have to show my face.”
“Do you realize that our tax dollars are paying for you to sit around?” Lisa asked as she took a seat on the couch. “Go back to work.”
“Hey, my tax dollars are paying your salary, too,” Ober said. “Aren’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ben said, collapsing next to Ober on the couch.
“What happened?” Ober asked, still staring at the TV.
After explaining the entire story, Ben said, “And once the decision comes down on Monday, Grinnell and Associates is going to make millions and every finger is going to point to me.”
“And they should,” Ober said. “You are the president of Addison and Company.”
“This is not the time for jokes,” Ben said.
“Then can I ask you a favor?” Ober said. “If Monday is going to be your last day at the Court, can I come along to watch the decision being announced?”
“Do you really want to come?” Ben asked.
“Absolutely,” Ober said. “If you’re not going to be there anymore, I figure this’s the last time I’ll be able to get backstage.”
“There’s no stage,” Lisa said. “The justices sit behind a bench.”
“Then backbench,” Ober corrected himself. “So will you take me?”
“Sure,” Ben said, shrugging his shoulders. “Why not?” He turned toward Lisa and added, “By the way, I guess the Addison and Company purchase answers your question about whether Rick was going to take part in Grinnell.”
“I just don’t understand it,” Lisa said. “How could Nathan do that to you?”
“You have no proof it was him,” Ober interrupted, suddenly angry.
“Oh, yeah?” Lisa asked. “Then how come we never saw that briefcase mike?”
“Don’t ask me,” Ober said. “But if you want to talk about Nathan, do it elsewhere. I don’t want to hear that crap anymore.”
“That must make you Hear No Evil,” Lisa said. “Now if we only could’ve gotten Nathan and Eric to play Speak No Evil and Print No Evil.”
“Listen you bony little bitch, you can—”
“Both of you, stop it!” Ben interrupted. “I don’t have time to play mediator now. Save it for later.”
“How can you let her get away with that?” Ober asked. “These people are still your friends.”
“Me?” Lisa asked, pointing to herself. “What about you?”
“Listen, I don’t care if it’s Nathan,” Ben said. “I don’t care if it’s either of you. In fact, I don’t even care if it’s my own damn mother at this point. The bottom line is that come Monday, it’s all over.”
Ober pulled his jacket from the couch. “Ben, I’ll talk to you about it later, when she’s gone. I really have to get back to work.”
“Good riddance,” Lisa shouted as Ober slammed the door. “Listen, I really should get going, too. We’ll talk about this later?”
“Sure,” Ben said. “Just abandon me now. It’s okay.”
“C’mon, Ben, don’t give me guilt. You know that we have to get those cert petitions done. At least this way, one of us will be working on them.”
“No, you’re right,” Ben said. “It’ll be good for me to have some time alone. That way I don’t have to share my burden with anyone else.”
“Don’t say that,” Lisa said. “You know I care about—”
“I’m just joking,” Ben interrupted. “Go ahead. We’ll talk about it later.”
Avoiding the main lobby of the Washington Hilton, Rick slid his coded key into the computerized lock and walked into the side entrance that adjoined the parking lot. As he headed straight for the elevators, his pace was brisk and confident. Getting off on the tenth floor, he made a sharp right turn toward room 1014. Sliding his key into the lock, he turned the knob and stepped inside.
“Where the hell have you been? You’re a half hour late.”
“Where I’ve been is none of your business,” Rick said, a faint smile lighting his features.
“So you made a lot of money. Big deal.”
“It was definitely a big deal,” Rick said. He sat back on one of the canary-yellow couches and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. It was a plush suite: three rooms, oil paintings on the walls, deep cream carpet, and a full bar. “Did you know that President Reagan was shot at this hotel?”
“I didn’t know that. But I’m sure the information will someday come in handy.”
“It’s true,” Rick said. “Locals still call it the Hinkley Hilton.”
“That’s great. I’m thrilled.”
“What’re you so pissed about?” Rick asked.
“Listen, I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work. Is the money transferred or not?”
“The last five hundred thousand will be there at the end of business today,” Rick said. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small sheet of paper, and slapped it on the coffee table. “Here’s the account number. I hope you enjoy your winnings.”
“I definitely will.”
“And to think,” Rick said, “all of this happened because you don’t like your roommate.”
“You have it all wrong. Just because I took a decision from Ben’s briefcase doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just saw a golden opportunity that I couldn’t walk away from.”
“Sure, sure. And you’re a great friend otherwise. That’s the real reason you told me about the lie detector and the yearbooks and the—”
“I meant to ask you: How come Ben couldn’t find you in the yearbooks? I thought that was a foolproof plan on his part.”
“Then you’re as big a fool as he is,” Rick said. “The flaw with the yearbook plan is that it assumes I went to a top law school. Being the intellectual snobs you are, you can’t fathom the possibility that smart people exist at non–Ivy League schools as well.”
“You’re definitely right. You fooled me.” Slapping himself on the knee, he rose from the couch. “Oh, well, you win some and you lose some.”
“Well, I guess you won this time.”
“That’s for sure.”
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Rick said, extending his hand.
“You, too,” Eric said as he walked into the hallway. “Maybe I’ll see you on the beach.”
Chapter 15
AT NINE-THIRTY MONDAY MORNING, LISA AND Ben prepared to go down to the courtroom to watch the justices announce the decisions to the public. “I still think you should turn yourself in,” Lisa said, putting on her beige-and-black-striped suit jacket.
“No way.” Ben tightened his gold and navy tie. “Not at this point.”
“Why not? I’m sure they’d go easy on you.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s not a viable option as far as I’m concerned. Even if I don’t go to jail, they’ll have to fire me from the Court. And if they’re going to take me out of this place, you better believe I’m going out kicking and screaming. I refuse to serve myself up on a platter.”
“It’s your life. I just think you’re making a mistake.”
A light knock on the door interrupted the debate.
“Come on in,” Ben said.
The door opened and Nancy entered. “Ben, your visitor’s here.”
Ober moved around Nancy and walked into the room with his arms outstretched. “Bubby! So this is where the big boys play, huh?” Ober asked, his hands brushing over everything he passed: the books on Lisa’s desk, her computer monitor, Ben’s pencil sharpener, his telephone.
Ben pointed to the sofa and offered Ober a seat. “I guess you had some trouble getting in.”
“Not at all,” Ober said, taking off his coat and throwing it on the sofa. “It was easy. The security guard downstairs said that the courtroom was full today. And then I told him that I was here to see Ben Addison. Well, let me tell you, the man checked his clipbo
ard and, bingo, I was inside and at the front of the line. After I got through the metal detector, another guard led me up here.” Ober looked around the room. “This is a pretty good setup here. It feels like the White House—everything is old and serious.”
“It is the Supreme Court,” Lisa said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“Did someone say something?” Ober asked, looking at Ben. “I thought I heard a whiny bitch, but it must’ve been my imagination.”
“Ober, you promised,” Ben scolded.
“Fine, fine, I’ll be good,” Ober said, sitting on the sofa. “How are you today, Lisa?”
“I wish a pox on you.”
“Why, thanks for saying so. I just had it cut last week,” Ober said, touching his hair. “This is a great sofa,” he noted, bouncing up and down on its springy cushions. “And you guys have a lot of privacy. So have you ever, you know…late at night after the cleaning lady leaves…?”
“Can you please show some decorum?” Ben begged.
“Can I ask you a question?” Lisa said to Ober. “How can you be so damn festive when you know your friend is scared to death?”
“Don’t judge me,” Ober warned. “You help Ben your way and I’ll help him mine.”
“Both of you, stop it,” Ben said, heading for the door. “Let’s go downstairs.”
In the Great Hall, the slowly diminishing crowd filed through two metal detectors, while Ben, Lisa, and Ober walked straight into the main courtroom. “He’s with us,” Ben explained to a security guard who was staring at Ober.
“This is amazing,” Ober said when he finally entered the room packed full of spectators, reporters, and Court staff.
“If you want pomp, we’ve got pomp,” Ben said as they walked to a roped-off section of seats on the right side of the room.
“Is everyone in front of us a clerk?” Ober asked, noticing that they all seemed to be his age.
Ben nodded. “Only clerks and roommates of clerks can sit here.”
As the remaining spectators were ushered into the room, Ober said, “Well, Ben, I have to admit, the Court looks the same as when I worked here.”
