Brad Meltzer - The Tenth Justice

“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Lisa said, slapping Ben’s desk. “Since Blake is stepping down, he’s going to be lightening his workload. So he’s no longer writing the Pacheco v. Rhode Island decision.”

“And I suppose we are?” Ben asked. Lisa nodded. “Why do we have to do it? That’s a solid bankruptcy issue. It’s a good case.”

“It’s a good case, but it’s not a great case. Hollis said that when a justice steps down, he gets the pick of the litter when it comes to cases. All the other justices defer to him so he can make his last great pronouncements on the law.”

“So that means he’ll get all the best cases this session?”

“Pretty much,” Lisa said. “He can’t write all of them, but I’m sure he’ll get a good number.”

“That’s great,” Ben said sarcastically. “Did Hollis say when Blake’s office would send us the materials?”

“The Clerk’s Office will transfer them later today.”

Turning on his computer, Ben said, “And Hollis still hasn’t looked over our Oshinsky opinion.”

“Actually, he did,” Lisa said, passing Ben a stack of paper.

“And still not satisfied,” Ben said, unable to avoid the bright red marks covering the front page of the document. “What is this, draft six?”

“Seven if you count our original outline.”

“He’s never going to be happy with this decision,” Ben said. “I think we should just realize that and move on.”

“You have to stop complaining,” Lisa said. “It’s not that bad.”

“Are you kidding? We get here at seven every morning, we have four pending cases that we’re simultaneously working on, a fifth that a retiring justice just passed off on us, and now a sixth case arriving just as soon as Veidt caves in to the conservatives. At the same time, we have a dozen or so cert petitions to get through every week. How much busier can we be?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “I guess we could also be involved in a chase for a psychotic mastermind who’s trying to undermine the entire court system.”

At nine-thirty that evening, Ben and Lisa arrived at Lisa’s apartment, which was a short walk from the Tenleytown Metro. Ober and Nathan were waiting in front of the drab brick apartment building. “What took you so long?” Ober asked as they walked inside. “You said to meet at nine.”

“Sorry,” Ben said sharply. “We were only busting our asses rewriting history at the Supreme Court. Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have jobs that end at five.”

“Hey, who crapped in your Apple Jacks?” Nathan asked as they stepped into an elevator. “We’re the ones trying to help you.”

Getting out on the fourth floor, they walked down the hallway and eventually reached Lisa’s apartment. “I’m sorry,” Ben said to Ober as Lisa opened the door. “I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

“Here we are,” Lisa said. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.” Sparsely decorated, the living room consisted of a worn brown leather couch, a coffee table, and a desk, which was actually a piece of finished wood balanced on two small file cabinets. Both the coffee table and desk were submerged under papers. On the wall opposite the sofa was a huge picture of cats playing poker. Over the couch were two portraits done on black velvet, one of the Mona Lisa, the other a Smurf standing next to a flower.

“Nice art,” Ben said, intrigued to see how his co-clerk lived.

“I’m into neo-garbage,” Lisa said. “The trashier, the better. The Smurf is the prize of my collection. I won it at a carnival.”

“This is actually a pretty cool place,” Ober said.

“You sound surprised,” Lisa said. “Were you expecting pink and purple satin pillows thrown everywhere?”

“I’m not sure,” Ober said. “I think I was expecting maxi pads and other feminine hygiene products.”

“Expecting or hoping?” Nathan asked as he took a seat on the couch.

Lisa threw her attaché case full of Court documents on her desk and headed toward the kitchen. “Does anyone want something to eat or drink?”

“I’ll take a rack of lamb and a white wine spritzer,” Ober said.

“Where’s Eric?” Ben asked, sitting on the couch.

“He’s working late tonight,” Ober said. “He said he’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”

“Typical,” Ben said.

“Are you okay with this?” Nathan asked, watching Ben rifle through the magazines on the coffee table.

“Huh?” Ben asked. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to get started.”

Lisa pulled a chair from the kitchen, put it down in the living room, and faced the couch. “What I don’t understand is why Rick sent you the letter through his P.O. box. He could’ve just mailed it, or better yet, he could’ve put the letter in your box.”

“I was thinking about that,” Ben said. “I think Rick was just showing off. In that one action, he ripped apart my new plan and sent the message that my attempts at secrecy were a joke.”

“What I can’t understand is why he wants a truce,” Ober said. “It’s obvious you have no chance of catching him. In a way, you’re nothing more than an annoyance.” Looking at Ben, he added, “No offense.”

“I think he wants information,” Nathan said.

“I agree,” Ben said. “There’s no reason on earth why Rick needs a truce with me.”

“Do you think he wants you to tell him another decision?” Lisa asked.

Ben continued to flip through the magazines. “That’s the only thing I can imagine.”

“Then I think we should assume that’s what he’s going to ask you when you go to the restaurant on Saturday.”

“You’re going to meet with him?” Lisa asked.

“Of course I’m going to meet with him,” Ben said. “You think I’m going to let him get away from me? He’s mine come Saturday.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Lisa asked.

“I’m not sure. That’s where I was hoping you’d help. I was thinking about videotaping him at the restaurant, or something like that.”

“I got it!” Ober yelled. “What if one of us dresses up like a waiter and somehow gets his wineglass, which will be covered in his fingerprints.”

“And then what?” Lisa asked. “We’ll run it through our computers in the Batcave?”

“We can send it through Nathan at the State Department.”

“I say we take surveillance pictures of him as he enters the restaurant,” Nathan said. “We’ll have a positive I.D. on this guy in no time.”

“I know the perfect spot for you to wait,” Ben said as his voice raced with excitement. “There’s an outdoor café right across the street from the restaurant.”

“We can go buy a night lens for the camera,” Ober said, rising from the couch.

“And we can wear cool disguises with trench coats and hats and fake mustaches,” Lisa said sarcastically. “You all have to relax. That won’t do you any good.”

“Oh, it won’t?” Ben asked. “And I assume you’ll tell us why.”

“So what if you have a few pictures of him? You’re still in the same position you’re in right now. Even if you have Rick’s real name, you can’t turn him in-unless we want Ben to go to jail too.”

As silence swept through the room, Nathan said, “The woman speaks the truth.”

“We have to somehow get him to proposition you about a new case,” Lisa suggested. “If he does that, then we can get him for bribing a public official.”

“Ben’s not a public official,” Ober said.

“He’s a federal employee,” Lisa said. “By bribing him, Rick will be attempting to interfere with the United States government. That’s a federal offense, and it’ll get him put away for at least a couple of years.”