Brad Meltzer - The Tenth Justice

“I’m a dead man,” Ben said as he rushed into the rain, toward the car.

Throughout the drive back, Ben was silent. “C’mon, snap out of it,” Nathan said when they returned home.

“I just need to think,” Ben said, heading straight for the kitchen.

“You’ve been thinking for the past fifteen minutes. Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ben raised his voice. “I just got screwed, and I jeopardized my entire career. Boy, what a wonderful day!”

“Listen, don’t take this out on me,” Nathan said. From the refrigerator, he poured himself a glass of iced tea. “I’m here for you, and I’ll do my best to help you, but don’t make me your whipping boy.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said as he sat at the small kitchen table. “It’s just-I just-this’s a disaster.”

Nathan handed the iced tea to Ben. “That’s okay. But let’s at least do something. Focus your energy. How about we plan Rick’s death?”

“I’ve been doing that for the past three hours,” Ben said, clutching the glass. “So far, the best I can come up with is slicing off his eyelids and sitting him in front of a mirror. He’ll go insane watching himself since he won’t be able to shut his eyes.”

“That’s one way to deal with him.”

“I’m not screwing around,” Ben said. He took a gulp of tea. “I have to find this guy. If word gets out that I leaked a decision, my life is over. And without Rick, I can’t prove my innocence. At least with him, I can try to prove his link with Maxwell. Otherwise, I don’t know what else to do. Can’t we put a search on him through the State Department?”

“Not without saying why we’re looking for him. And if you do, you can say good-bye to your job.”

“And my entire career.”

“But we can do a confidential search,” Nathan blurted, his voice racing with newfound confidence. “All we need is a member of Congress to-” Hopping off the counter and grabbing the phone, Nathan dialed Ober’s number. “Hello, Ober? It’s me. We need some serious help. Are you still answering constituents’ letters?”

“Absolutely,” Ober said. “I’m the master of junk mail.”

“Then you still have access to the pen-signing machine that fakes the senator’s signature?”

“Of course,” Ober said. “Did you really think Senator Stevens signed your birthday card?”

“I need a favor,” Nathan said. “I need you to write an official request on Senate letterhead. Address it to my attention at the State Department and ask that a confidential background check be done on-what’s his name, Ben?”

“Richard or Rick Fagen,” Ben said with a wry smile. “Here’s his old phone number and address.”

After relaying the information, Nathan told Ober, “Make sure that the letter says that all correspondence should go to me.”

“What’s this for?” Ober asked suspiciously.

“I’ll tell you later,” Nathan said. “Now’s not the time.”

“But isn’t this illegal?” Ober asked.

“Kind of, but it’s an emergency,” Nathan said. “We need this information.”

“Actually, I have a way around the illegal part,” Ben said, grabbing the phone from Nathan. “Ober, it’s me,” he said. “Let me ask you a question: What do you do when a wacko writes a letter to the senator?”

“It depends,” Ober said. “Serious death threats go straight to the Secret Service. But if it seems like the writer is just a regular wacko, we’re supposed to use our discretion.”

“Perfect,” Ben said. “Then here’s what you do: Write a fake death threat to the senator and sign it Rick Fagen. But make the letter a little weird. That way, if anyone ever asks why you opened the investigation, you’ll give them the letter and say you were just trying to protect the senator’s life.”

“Nicely played,” Nathan said, taking back the phone. “Ober, one last thing. Make sure we get a good signature on the autograph machine. You can spot those fake ones a mile away.” Nathan said good-bye and hung up the phone. “Feeling a little better?”

“A little.” Ben wiped his still-wet hair from his forehead. “By the way, thanks for coming home.”

“You give the order, I follow it,” Nathan said, saluting his friend.

Later that afternoon, the phone rang in Ben’s room. “Hello?” he answered, stretching from his bed to pick up the receiver.

“Ben, it’s Lisa. I just called to see how you were feeling.”

“I’m doing okay,” Ben said, uncomfortable about lying. “It was just some stomach cramps.”

“Are you bullshitting me?” Lisa asked. “Because I’ll come straight over there after work.”

“I swear, I’m okay,” Ben said, lying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. “I have an upset stomach and I wasn’t feeling well. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Fine,” Lisa said. “So, how much have you missed me?”

“Tons. Now what happened today? Anything exciting?”

“Nothing really. Everyone’s been talking about the Charles Maxwell case. Hollis is worried that once the decision is announced, everyone is going to scream that he had an inside source.”

“It’s definitely possible,” Ben said as he fidgeted with the vertical blinds that covered his window.

“I guess,” Lisa said. “I just think the media sucks Carter’s left peanut. They cry conspiracy at the drop of a hat.”

“Carter’s left peanut?” Ben laughed. “What decade are you living in?”

“You never heard that? That’s a famous saying.”

“I’m sure it was,” Ben said sarcastically, “back when there was an oil crisis.”

“Listen, I don’t need to be made fun of. I have better things to do. Meanwhile, who sent you the flowers?”

Quickly realizing he’d forgotten to throw away Rick’s bouquet, Ben tried to stall. “What flowers?” he stammered.

“There’s a giant basket sitting on your desk.”

“They’re probably from my mother. I told her I wasn’t feeling well last night.”

“Do you want me to open the card?” Lisa asked. “Because I can see the envelope right next to-”

“No!” Ben yelled. “Leave it alone.”

“Sorry,” Lisa said. “I didn’t-”

“It’s not your fault. I just don’t like people opening my mail.”

“Maybe I should take the week off from work,” Ben said as he and Nathan made dinner.

“No way,” Nathan said, dicing a large onion. “You don’t want to call attention to yourself. The best thing you can do is just go about your business.”

“I won’t be able to concentrate, though. I have to find Rick. I have to-”

“Forget it,” Nathan interrupted. “What are you going to do? Wander aimlessly around the city until you bump into him? If Ober opened the investigation correctly, we’ll have some information by the end of the week.” He pulled the lid off the rice cooker and a fragrant cloud of steam wafted into the room. “Have you decided whether you’re going to tell Ober what happened?”

“I have to,” Ben said as he set out two plates on the table. “He’s my friend.”

“He’s also a moron,” Nathan added.

“Yeah, but he’s still my friend. And he has a right to know what that letter’s about.”

“How about Eric?” Nathan asked as he dumped the diced onion into a saucepan.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to drag everyone into this. It’s bad enough you two are involved.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I think you should tell Eric. Maybe some of his contacts at the paper can find out something about Rick’s building.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ben agreed.

“Have you thought about telling Hollis?”

“I can’t,” Ben said, shaking his head. “He’d lose all respect for me. Not to mention having to fire me for violating the Code of Ethics.” As he put out forks and napkins on the table, he added, “I think I may tell Lisa, though.”