by Brad Meltzer
“So where does that leave me?”
“There aren’t many options. If I were you, I’d spend tomorrow trying to contact DeRosa. For all we know, the plan is still in effect, and his secretary simply mistyped the phone number.”
“And what if I still can’t contact him?”
“Then I’d think about ending it. Go to the press, go to Hollis, go to anyone that’ll listen, but get the story out there.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking for the past hour. If both DeRosa and Rick are against me, I’m dead.”
“Then there’s your answer,” Lisa said as she threw the pillow aside. “If you find DeRosa, great. But if he’s switched teams, you’ll go to the press and take them all down with you. Either way, you’ll be done with this by Sunday.”
“Great,” Ben said sarcastically. “Now all I have to do is figure out what I’m going to say to my friends.”
“Eric, it’s me,” Ben said, still sitting on the bed in his motel room.
“Where are you?” Eric asked. “Nathan said—”
“I’m at Lisa’s,” Ben lied. “I didn’t feel comfortable talking in the house.”
“Are you coming home tonight?”
“No. I’m sleeping here.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Eric said. “Tell me what’s happening. I heard Rick called again.”
“Forget about Rick. I want to get together with you guys so we can talk about what’s going on.”
“Tell me the place. I’ll be there.”
“I want everyone there,” Ben said. “You, Nathan, and Ober.”
“Fine. Where and when?”
“Tomorrow night at eight o’clock. And I want to meet at the place where we celebrated our first night in D.C.”
“At the—”
“Don’t say it,” Ben interrupted. “The phone’s not safe.”
“Oh, yeah. Ober told me.”
“Exactly,” Ben said. “Meanwhile, how is he holding up?”
“He’s a mess. I’ve never seen him like this before. Nathan and I spoke to him for almost two hours, and he’s still crying like crazy.”
“Has he told his parents yet?”
“He’s terrified to call them. You know how his mom is. She’ll be on his back the moment she hears what happened.”
“I know. I was thinking about that. To be honest, I think that’s what he’s most scared of.”
“I don’t think he’s scared of anything,” Eric said. “I’m not even sure he’s upset about his job. I think he’s more devastated by the fact that all of us aren’t getting along.”
“He was saying that when I was there.”
“It’s because he’s such a social animal,” Eric explained.
“He’s like a puppy—if everyone’s happy, he’s happy. But if everyone’s sad, he’s miserable.”
“Keep talking to him. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“I agree. It’s just that—”
“Ben, is that you?” Nathan asked angrily as he picked up the phone in the living room. “Where the hell have you been for the past three hours? Get your ass—”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ben shot back. “If you want to kick and scream, come meet me tomorrow. I told Eric where.” Ben hung up the phone.
Early Saturday morning, Ben sat up in bed, unable to sleep. In the second bed was Lisa, who was having no such trouble. He looked at his watch and saw that it was seven in the morning. After taking the longest shower of his life, he turned on the television with the sound off, hoping to be distracted by cartoons. Unimpressed, he shut off the TV and returned to his bed. For a full hour, Ben stared at the white stucco ceiling.
At nine o’clock, Ben took the phone into the bathroom. Sitting on the closed toilet, he called information and asked for the number of the Marshals Service. He dialed the number and asked for Director DeRosa.
After a moment, a woman answered the phone. “Director DeRosa’s office. Can I help you?”
“Is the director in today?” Ben asked in his most genial tone.
“I’m sorry, he’s not. Is it anything I can help you with?”
“You probably can,” Ben said, recognizing the voice of DeRosa’s receptionist. “My name’s Ben Addison. I’m the guy who hand-delivered that message from Justice Hollis a couple of weeks ago. I have another message I’m supposed to relay, and I was wondering if you knew how to contact Director DeRosa.” For effect, Ben paused for a second. “It’s an emergency.”
“Hold on a moment,” the receptionist said. “I can try to transfer you to his home number.”
Ben prayed that DeRosa would explain everything: that it was a clerical error, that everything was fine, and everyone was still in place.
“Mr. Addison?”
“I’m here,” Ben said.
“I’m sorry, but the director won’t take your call. I just spoke to him, and he said he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. He has no idea who you are.”
“He knows who I am,” Ben said. “You know who I am. I met you two weeks—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Addison. I spoke to him personally, and that’s what he said.”
“What are you talking about? What’s your name?” Ben asked.
“Have a good day, Mr. Addison,” the receptionist said as she hung up.
As Ben put down the phone, reality set in. That’s it, he thought. I’m done. Staring down at the stark linoleum floor, Ben wondered exactly what his next move should be. His thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door swung open. He looked up and saw Lisa, who had obviously been listening.
“What’d they say?” she asked.
“DeRosa’s gone,” Ben said, his voice shaking. “He’s denying he ever met me.”
“Then that’s it—it’s over,” Lisa said, leaning on the door frame. “Are you going to go to the press?”
“I don’t know about the press, but I have to tell someone.”
“You should tell Hollis.”
“Maybe,” Ben said as his mind worked through all the consequences. “I was thinking that I should also put my story in writing. That way, no matter what happens, it’ll all be documented.”
“I wouldn’t be so worried about the writing part,” Lisa said. “Before you face the world, you have to face your roommates.”
At seven-thirty that evening, Ben braved the late January chill and sat on one of the few concrete visitor benches surrounding the Jefferson Memorial. Unable to sit still, he repeatedly shifted his weight, searching for a comfortable position. As he stared blankly at the waterfront walkway leading to the Memorial, his eyes danced across the landscape—focusing on nothing in particular while looking at everything. Fifteen minutes later, he was checking his watch at thirty-second intervals, impatiently waiting for the arrival of his roommates. Slowly becoming convinced that they wouldn’t show, he looked up at Jefferson’s ebony silhouette and wondered why he’d let Lisa talk him into this.
“Why the hell did we have to come out here?” he suddenly heard from the western side of the monument. “It’s freezing.” As Eric and Nathan approached Ben, Eric stared at the giant bronze rendering of the country’s third president. “Let me say, meeting like this—late at night at one of the world’s most famous monuments—I feel like I’m in an overblown spy movie.”
“I’m so glad you’re amused,” Nathan said indignantly.
“Listen, I know you’re upset,” Ben said. “We’re all upset. It’s been a bad week. So let’s start over and—”
“No offense, but I’m not in the mood for touchy-feely right now,” Nathan said.
“Give him a chance, tight-ass,” Eric interrupted. “He called you down here to talk—the least you can do is listen.”
“I came here to find out one thing,” Nathan said, crossing his arms. “Are you going to turn yourself in?”
Ben ignored the question. “Where’s Ober?”
“He said he’d be late,” Eric explained. “He was on the phone with his mo
ther when we were leaving.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Ober said, struggling to fight back his tears.
“What kind of question is that?” Barbara Oberman asked. “I want you to get that job back.”
“Mom, I can’t get it back. They fired me. They didn’t like my work, and they fired me.”
“Don’t give me that. Go back and tell them you’ll change your ways. Tell them you’ll work for less money, and that you’ll double your hours. It doesn’t matter how you do it, but get that job back.”
“What’s so important about my old job?”
“What’s so important? Get this through your head, William: You need that job. It was the only place that ever promoted you. The only place that ever respected you. The only place that didn’t fire you within the first six months. You’ve spent over four years failing at everything else you’ve tried, and now you’ve turned this into a disaster as well.”
“I’ll find a new job,” Ober said. “Ben and Nathan said they’d help me look for one.”
“Forget Ben and Nathan. You’re always obsessed with Ben and Nathan. I don’t want to hear about them. For Ben and Nathan, finding a job is simple. Employers love them, their college professors loved them, the high school principal loved them, their kindergarten teachers loved them. For them, finding a job is simple. But you—you’re going to have a harder time.”
“But they said—”
“I don’t care what they said,” she interrupted. “They’re not you. What makes you think they’ll be so eager for a job search?”
“They’re my friends.”
“Big deal, they’re your friends. They don’t know what a job search entails. They’ve never lived in the real world. Looking for a job requires hours and hours of legwork. You remember how hard it was to find the position with Senator Stevens.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing. You said it yourself a few months ago: The three of them are always at work—they don’t have the time to find you a job.”
“Yeah, but Ben helped me find this job. Maybe he can—”
“He can’t do anything for you,” she said. “You have to learn to do things for yourself. They may be your friends, but they’re certainly not your equals. When it comes to finding a job, like everything else in this world, you have to suck it up and do it yourself. Now hang up this phone and think about what I’ve said. I don’t want to hear from you again until you have that job back.”
“I asked you a question,” Nathan said, his breath lingering in the cold air. “Are you going to turn yourself in or not?”
“I’ll get to that,” Ben said. He pointed to the empty spaces on his bench. “How about taking a seat first?”
“I’m fine standing,” Nathan said as Eric sat down.
“Fine. Stand,” Ben said as he glanced over his shoulder.
“What’re you so nervous about?” Nathan asked.
“What do you think?”
“Can you both shut up?” Eric asked. “Stop fighting and relax for a second.” Pointing at Ben, he added, “Talk.”
“Thank you,” Ben said, lowering his voice. “I didn’t want to say this on the phone, but tomorrow morning, I’m turning myself in. Since the decision affects all of us, I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
“I don’t need to discuss it,” Nathan said. “I made my decision the moment I heard about Ober.”
“Good for you,” Ben said. “Eric, any thoughts?”
“It’s your call. I just hope you can handle the consequences.”
“I don’t see what choice I have,” Ben said. “What happened to Ober ripped my heart out. I got him fired; I put the rest of you in jeopardy. I have to end it.”
“That’s real noble of you,” Nathan said. “But I’m warning you, you better end it tomorrow.”
“Or what?” Ben asked defensively. “You’ll do it for me?”
“You’re damn right I will,” Nathan shot back. “And I won’t feel a single bit of guilt doing it. In fact, you’re lucky my boss doesn’t work weekends, or I’d have turned you in today.”
“Why don’t you relax a second?” Eric said.
“Why don’t you shut up?” Nathan said. “No matter how hard you stick up for Ben, he still isn’t going to forgive you completely.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Ben asked.
“What’s wrong with me?” Nathan replied, forcing a laugh. “Let’s see: My friend got fired yesterday; it was all your fault; my job’s on the line; and I don’t trust you or Eric. Other than that, I’m peachy.”
“Listen, you can—”
“No, you listen for once!” Nathan yelled as the wind whistled through the monument. “You have to get over this golden-boy complex. For once in your perfect life, you screwed up. You blew it. You choked. You made a big mistake, and now you have to take responsibility for it. If you were the only one at risk, I’d say do whatever you want. But if you think I’m going to stand around, with my career on the line while you continue your futile hunt for Rick, you’re out of your head. Face facts, Ben—you’re outsmarted. You lost. Give up.”
“Shut the hell up!” Ben flew from the bench and grabbed Nathan by the front of his jacket.
Immediately, Eric pulled the two roommates apart. “Ben, relax a second. Calm down.”
As Eric attempted to keep Ben at bay, Ben yelled at Nathan, “If you’d shut your damn mouth for a second, you’d realize that I didn’t come here to plot against Rick. I came here to talk to my friends.”
Ober walked into the living room and placed a pile of books on the coffee table: four high school yearbooks and one overstuffed scrapbook. Picking up the ninth-grade yearbook first, Ober flipped to his roommates’ class portraits and smiled at the furry block that was Nathan’s hair. When he reached Ben’s picture, he laughed out loud. It had been at least four years since he’d last opened his yearbook and looked at the messy-haired, brace-faced, gawky nerd named Ben Addison. Turning to Eric’s picture, Ober remembered his desire to sleep over at Eric’s house, inspired primarily by the fact that Eric’s brother had the largest collection of pornographic playing cards in the neighborhood.
When he opened the tenth-grade yearbook, Ober again skipped to the class portraits. He remembered the year they got their driver’s licenses. Eric was not only the first to drive, he was also the first to crash—directly into Nathan’s mother’s car as she pulled out of her driveway. Thumbing through the eleventh-grade book, Ober remembered their first college party at Boston University. He laughed as he thought about Ben, who spent the whole night trying to convince the ladies he was “Ben Addison, Professor of Love.”
Opening his personal scrapbook, Ober was proud he had so thoroughly documented his friends’ achievements. He had the articles that appeared in The Boston Globe when Nathan was photographed with the secretary of state and when Ben received his Supreme Court clerkship. He had the first news story Eric wrote for the high school newspaper, as well as his first stories for Washington Life and the Washington Herald. He had the Herald’s first word jumble, as well as Eric’s article about a leak at the Supreme Court. He even had Ben and Lisa’s engagement announcement. Everyone’s famous, he thought, closing the book. They’re all superstars.
“Don’t act like you’re the victim here,” Nathan said, straightening the front of his jacket. “That’s the last thing you should—”
“I never said I was the victim,” Ben retorted, as Eric kept him away from Nathan. “I know I screwed up. I admit it—it’s my fault Ober lost his job. What else can I say?”
“There’s your problem,” Nathan said in a soft and slow voice. “You think you’re only responsible for Ober losing his job. But you have to realize that you’re responsible for much more than that. It’s your fault this whole thing started, Ben. And more important, it’s your fault it’s still going on.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Ben’s voice cracked. “It kills me that I—”
“Oh, so now you feel guilty?”
“I’ve felt guilty since the first day I met with Rick. What else do you want me to say? This thing’s been eating away at me for months.”
“It should be,” Nathan said. “And I hope—”
“We get the picture,” Eric interrupted. “Now can you let up a little?”
“No, I can’t,” Nathan said. “I want to make sure he knows how I feel about this.”
“I know how you feel—” Ben began.
“No, you don’t,” Nathan insisted, his voice growing louder. “If you did, we wouldn’t be fighting right now. Since the day we got those letters from Rick, you knew this might happen. At that moment, you should’ve had the decency to turn yourself in—if not for your own sake, then certainly for ours. The fact that you let it come to this tells me one thing…”
“That I’m an evil person with no redeeming qualities?” Ben asked.
“No,” Nathan said, regaining his composure. “That I want nothing more to do with you. Ever.” As Ben and Eric fell silent, Nathan continued, “This isn’t high school anymore. We can’t always be on your side. And don’t think this is about me being selfish. You let Ober take the beating for your mistake. That’s something I can never forgive you for. He’s your friend, and you owe him more than that.”
“I know,” Ben said despairingly. “And I’ll deal with him.”
“You better,” Nathan said. “This is bigger than some dumb slipup with CMI, or Grinnell, or—”
“Can you keep your voice down?” Ben interrupted.
“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked. “You’re still worried Rick is listening in on us? That he’s making tapes of our conversations?”
“Shut up,” Ben said.
Nathan ran to the edge of the monument. “HEY, RICK! ARE YOU LISTENING? I HOPE YOU CAN HEAR THIS….”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ben screamed.
“…BECAUSE THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE! IF YOU KNEW BEN WAS SCARED OF GOING TO THE AUTHORITIES, YOU SHOULD ALSO KNOW THAT I’M NOT!”
“Nathan, stop it!” Eric yelled. “We get the point.”
Nathan turned back toward Ben and pointed a finger at him. “I’m not joking about what I said before. I don’t care what you do. I’m going to my boss Monday morning.”
