by Brad Meltzer
Spitting blood all over the carpet, Lisa struggled to stop the room from spinning.
“Lisa!” Ben called. “Over here!”
“She’s coming around,” Nathan said. “Give her a second.”
“What the hell happened?” Lisa asked. “My face feels like a balloon.”
“Are you okay?” Ben asked. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” she said, shutting her eyes tightly to stop the vertigo. “Let me catch my breath.” She remained quiet for a minute, then asked, “Does my eye look as bad as it feels?”
“It’s just a black eye,” Ben said.
“I know what it is,” Lisa snapped. “Tell me how it looks.”
“It looks pretty bad.”
“Did Rick do all the damage or did Claremont take some shots also?”
“It was Rick,” Ben said.
“He’s a dead man when I get out of these handcuffs.” Lisa looked over her shoulder and saw Nathan. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Nathan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Does my eye look as bad as his?” Lisa asked Ben, pointing her chin at Nathan.
“It will in a few hours,” Ben said.
“Great,” Lisa said.
“Hey, Rick,” Ben yelled across the room. “Can we at least get some ice over here?”
“No,” Rick said, pulling his laptop computer from his briefcase.
A few minutes before ten, Rick hooked up his cellular phone to his laptop and logged on to the Westlaw Supreme Court database. Looking over Rick’s shoulder, Claremont asked, “We can watch the decision from here?”
“No,” Rick said sarcastically, “we’re going to take a field trip to the Court so we can all see it in person.” His fingers pounded the keyboard. “The moment it’s announced, the Information Office releases the decision, and Westlaw puts it on-line.”
Across the room, Ben asked Lisa, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“For the tenth time, I’m fine,” Lisa said as the area surrounding her eye continued to swell and darken. “I get punched in the face all the time.”
“Nathan?” Ben asked. “How’s your eye?”
“It’s fine,” Nathan said. “Stop asking about it.”
“All of you, shut up,” Rick said, turning toward his three captives.
At exactly ten o’clock, the Court marshal banged his gavel, and every person in the room stood at attention.
“The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal announced. Immediately, the nine justices stepped out from behind the burgundy velvet curtain and moved to their respective chairs.
“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” the marshal announced. “All persons having business before the Honorable, the Supreme Court of the United States, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Court is now sitting. God save the United States and this Honorable Court!” Again, the gavel fell, and everyone took their seats.
“Today we will be ruling on three decisions,” Osterman said to the packed courtroom. “Alvarez v. City of Gibsonia, Katz and Company v. Nevada, and Richard Rubin v. American Steel. Justice Veidt will be reading our first two decisions, while Justice Dreiberg will read the third.”
“What’s taking so long?” Claremont asked, staring at Rick’s blank computer screen. “It’s almost a quarter after.”
“Relax,” Rick said. “They have three decisions to get through. It’ll be here.”
“Does it come out the moment it’s announced, or do they wait until they’re done with all three?” Claremont asked.
“I said it’ll be here,” Rick said. “Now shut up.”
“…is constitutional under the First Amendment. Therefore, in the case of Katz and Company v. Nevada, we find for the defendant and uphold the Supreme Court of Nevada.”
“Thank you, Justice Veidt,” Osterman said. “Justice Dreiberg will announce our final decision.”
“Why don’t you let us go?” Ben asked from across the room. “You have your decision.”
Rick stared intently at his laptop. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“What if he was lying?” Claremont asked. “We could’ve bet on the wrong outcome.”
“Pull it together,” Rick demanded. “He was telling the truth.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if he didn’t, he knows I’ll kill him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Dreiberg announced, leaning forward on both elbows as she spoke into the microphone. In a slow, monotone voice, she read: “In the case of Richard Rubin v. American Steel, we find that American Steel’s board of directors was not required to seek the approval of its minority shareholders before its merger proceeded. The shareholder’s claim is, therefore, insufficient to establish a private cause of action under the Securities Exchange Act. We find for the respondent and affirm the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.”
“Did we win?” Claremont asked.
Rick’s eyes skimmed through the decision as it scrolled up his computer screen. “Hold on. It’s coming.” He paused. “Looks like American Steel just won itself a huge lawsuit. Congratulations, Addison. You finally did something right.” After he shut his laptop and unhooked his phone, Rick walked over to the couch and placed both items in his briefcase.
“What do we do now?” Claremont asked, elated. “Where are we meeting Lungen? When do we leave?”
“One thing at a time,” Rick said. He pulled a key from his pocket and moved toward Ben. “Help me uncuff these three. Then we can get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Ben asked as Rick unlocked his handcuffs.
Rick didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Ben out of the chair and pushed him toward Claremont. “Lock them up again,” Rick said to Claremont.
“Stick your hands out straight,” Claremont said. When Ben obliged, he handcuffed him.
Lisa was unlocked and recuffed in turn. Holding their shoulders, Claremont continued to watch over the two clerks as Rick approached Nathan. “Don’t move until I say,” Claremont warned.
Glaring at Ben until she got his attention, Lisa motioned toward Claremont with her eyes while subtly pointing to her crotch. Ben leaned backward. “I’m not feeling so good,” he moaned. “I think I’m going to faint.” Claremont let go of Lisa to catch Ben as he fell. Lisa spun toward Claremont and slammed her knee into his groin. As Claremont and Ben fell to the floor, Lisa rushed to the door. Realizing what was happening, Rick turned away from Nathan, pulled his gun, and started shooting. Two bullets had ripped through the door by the time Lisa grabbed the doorknob.
“DON’T MOVE!” Rick screamed.
The door slightly ajar, Lisa stood there motionless, her hands still cuffed.
“I’ll do it—I’m not kidding. I’ll kill them all,” Rick threatened.
Lisa knew this was her last chance to escape. She darted into the hallway. Three more bullets plowed through the door.
Lisa headed straight for the emergency exit, but when she opened the stairwell door, she was surprised to see two other doors—one leading upstairs and one leading down. Opening the heavy metal door with her still-handcuffed hands, Lisa opted to run downstairs.
“Get her!” Rick screamed to Claremont, who was already staggering to the bullet-ridden door. Rick pointed his gun at Ben. “If you leave this room, I swear you’ll have two dead roommates to deal with.”
Ben looked over at Nathan, who was still handcuffed to his chair. “I’m not going anywhere,” Ben said. “I swear.” Seconds later, Rick was out the door.
Thrown off-balance by her handcuffs, Lisa had trouble navigating the first flight of stairs. Searching for a less awkward running position, she realized it was easier to move when she held her elbows close to her body. When she reached the twenty-third floor, she found another door blocking the stairway that led to the twenty-second floor. “Damn,” she said. Pulling open that door, she heard Rick and Claremont
following behind her.
Racing down the stairs, her hands clenched and her elbows tight against her, Lisa fought with a door on every floor. As she grew fatigued, each door was heavier to open, and each staircase took longer to descend. At every landing, she was tempted to run back into the hallway, but fear and skepticism kept her to the stairs. As she opened the door to the sixth floor, she wondered how quickly Rick and Claremont were gaining on her.
When Lisa reached the fifth floor, she was exhausted. The lack of sleep combined with her circular descent caused a return of her morning vertigo. Refusing to surrender, though, she gritted her teeth against lightheadedness and plowed forward. Only four more, she told herself. Once I’m in the lobby, I’ll scream like a banshee. By the time she reached the door that led to the fourth floor staircase, the dizziness had returned and her body was covered in a fearful, fatigued sweat. Off-balance, she lurched for the doorknob. It was locked. Looking up, she saw a stenciled sign painted on the door: TO REACH LOBBY LEVEL, PLEASE USE SOUTH STAIRWELL. No! Not now! she thought, wildly kicking the door. Grabbing the doorknob again and putting her foot against the wall, she desperately pulled on the door. She heard the pounding of Rick’s and Claremont’s footsteps closing in on her.
Turning toward the door that led to the hallway, Lisa yanked it open and left the stairwell. In the sudden calm of the carpeted hallway, she looked through the plate-glass window on her right and caught a glimpse of a crystal-blue indoor swimming pool below. She ran down the corridor, banging on every door with her cuffed hands. “Fire! Everybody out! Fire!” she screamed. Not a single door opened. When she reached the elevators, she repeatedly pounded the down button with her fists. The digital display above the elevator doors showed one at the nineteenth floor and the other at the twenty-sixth. Too long to wait, she thought as she continued running. Heading toward the far end of the hallway, she saw a small sign marked: SOUTH STAIRWELL—LOBBY LEVEL. Praying for an escape, she grabbed the doorknob. Once again, it was locked. “SON OF A BITCH!” she screamed.
From the north stairwell door, Lisa heard Claremont shouting back to Rick. Their voices were loud. Lisa knew they couldn’t be more than a few floors away.
As she raced back to the elevators, Lisa could barely catch her breath. Furiously, she punched both call buttons. “C’mon, you piece of crap! Get here!” One elevator was now on the seventeenth floor and the other was still at the twenty-sixth; they had barely moved. Convinced that Claremont and Rick would be there in seconds, she looked down the hall and remembered the swimming pool outside the window. She took a deep breath. It’s only four stories, she calculated. I can probably make it if I go through fast enough. Before she could talk herself out of it, Lisa tucked her elbows in tight and ran full speed, barreling down the hallway toward the huge window next to the stairwell. Shoulder first, shoulder first, shoulder first, she repeated to herself as she raced toward her target.
Lisa hurled her body against the glass just as Claremont emerged from the stairwell. He grabbed the chain of Lisa’s handcuffs, even as the glass started to shatter. Propelled forward by her momentum, Lisa cleared the threshold of the window, as thousands of tiny glass shards rained down on her. The weight of her fall had brought Claremont down flat on his stomach and dragged him to the edge of the window. But something had stopped his slide: Rick.
“Are you okay?” Rick asked, holding Claremont by the belt.
Looking over the edge, Claremont struggled to hold on to Lisa, who was dangling outside the window. “Y-yeah,” Claremont said.
“No! Don’t!” Lisa screamed as her hands grabbed Claremont’s wrist. Her face and arms were covered in hundreds of tiny, bleeding cuts. “Please don’t drop me!”
Without the momentum to reach the pool, Lisa would fall directly onto the tiled atrium, where a crowd had already started to gather. “Drop her,” Rick said.
“What?” Claremont asked.
“Please don’t!” Lisa screamed. “Don’t drop me!”
“Drop her, and let’s get out of here,” Rick said. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”
Still, Claremont held on to Lisa’s handcuffs, his arm tensing from the weight.
“I said drop her,” Rick demanded. “What’s wrong with you? We were going to kill them anyway.”
With all his strength, Claremont held tight.
Rick pulled his gun from his waist and pointed it at Claremont’s head. “You’re not Richard Claremont. Who the hell are you?” Lifting his arm, Claremont started to pull Lisa to safety. Rick pulled back the hammer on his gun and pressed the gun against Claremont’s head. “You have three seconds to tell me who you are. At the end of three, you’re both going out this window. One…two…”
“Ben!” Lisa screamed. Rick spun around to a blast of white foam. As Rick rubbed his burning eyes, Ben ran into the corridor wielding a fire extinguisher. With his wrists still handcuffed, Ben swung the fire extinguisher like a baseball bat and slammed Rick in the side of the head. Rick stumbled backward and fell to the floor. He fired his gun, and a jagged pain ripped through Ben’s left shoulder. He’d been shot. Staggering forward, Ben swung the fire extinguisher again, this time knocking the gun out of Rick’s hands.
Ben struggled to swing the fire extinguisher one more time, but the pain in his shoulder was impossible to ignore. Seeing the blood that rushed down his arm, he felt faint and dropped the extinguisher.
“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” Rick asked, stumbling to his feet. “The next one’s going in your head.”
Holding his shoulder, Ben looked down the hallway and saw Rick’s gun lying on the floor by the elevators. He looked back at Rick, who was almost standing.
“GET THE GUN!” Claremont screamed, pulling Lisa to safety.
Ignoring the gun, Ben raced toward Rick. Grasping his hands together, Ben swung wildly at Rick’s head. When his handcuffs struck Rick’s face, Rick staggered backward. As Ben moved in to hit him again, Rick slammed his fist into Ben’s gunshot wound. Ben screamed, clutching his shoulder. Rick looked down the hallway at the gun.
Fighting the urge to collapse, Ben saw Rick move toward the gun. Once again, he ran at Rick, plowing into him from behind and knocking him to the floor. Rick turned on his back and tried to fight his way free, but Ben stayed on top of him. Ben grabbed Rick by the throat and pinned him against the floor. “You greedy bastard!” Ben screamed as Rick thrashed wildly. “You killed Ober!”
“He killed himself,” Rick coughed.
“NO!” Ben screamed, banging Rick’s head against the floor. “YOU KILLED HIM!” Ben tightened his grip around Rick’s throat. “YOU WANT TO SEE HOW OBER FELT? YOU WANT TO FEEL HOW HE DIED?” Rick swung at Ben’s head, attempting to remove his attacker. Ben wouldn’t budge. Rick punched at Ben’s bloody shoulder. Ben didn’t move. The more Rick fought, the tighter Ben’s grip. Eventually, the coughing stopped and the struggling ceased—Rick was finally unconscious. But Ben didn’t let go of Rick’s throat. “You killed my friend!” Ben sobbed as rage slowly erupted into tears. “I’ll kill you for that!”
As tears rolled off Ben’s cheeks, Rick’s face turned beet red. Ben clenched even harder. With Rick’s life in his hands, Ben remembered his last conversation with him. “You want to see me break the rules?” Ben growled as blood continued to flush Rick’s face. “Here’s what I think of your damn rules.” Holding fast to Rick’s throat, Ben remembered Rick’s boasting. And Nathan’s beating. And Lisa’s bleeding. And Ober’s hanging.
Ben sobbed and, staring down at Rick’s swollen face, he let go: “Ober! I’m so sorry!”
A small cough emerged from Rick’s lips. Mentally and physically exhausted, Ben collapsed on the floor, his ragged breathing punctuated by sobs. It was finally over.
As Ben lay on the floor, holding his shoulder, the elevator arrived. When the doors opened, Alex DeRosa got out with half a dozen armed U.S. marshals.
“Everybody out,” DeRosa yelled as his men fanned into the hallway. Two of them handcuffed
Rick, while two others ran to check on Lisa and Claremont.
“Are you okay?” DeRosa asked Ben, helping him to his feet.
“What the hell is this?” Ben asked, confused. “You were here all along?”
“Sorry about that,” DeRosa said as he unlocked Ben’s handcuffs. “Rick was watching you full-time this whole week. We didn’t want to risk anything.”
“Risk anything?” Ben yelled, rubbing his wrists. “We were almost killed! You lied to my face.”
“I didn’t lie,” DeRosa said. “I needed you to act normally.” DeRosa put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “It was the only way—”
“Don’t touch me!” Ben yelled, pulling away from DeRosa’s hand. “You lied and put all of our lives at risk! Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Ben, I couldn’t get through to you. Rick was always watching.”
“That’s bullshit,” Ben snapped. “You could’ve passed me a note on the subway. You could’ve passed me something at the Jefferson Memorial. At the very least, you should’ve passed me something when Ober died.”
“I’m sorry about that—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Ben yelled, walking past DeRosa. Holding his shoulder, he headed up the hallway.
Ben approached Lisa and Claremont. “Thanks for the save,” Claremont said.
“Fuck you,” Ben said, pushing Claremont aside to get to Lisa, who was collapsed against the wall. He grabbed her bloodied hand and looked at her battered face. “How’re you doing?” he asked.
