Brad Meltzer - The Tenth Justice

“Was he adamant about getting it tonight?”

“He seemed to be.”

“Try and stall until Sunday. That way we can contact-” There was a knock at the office door.

“Come in,” Ben yelled. Nancy stepped into the room.

“And how are you two doing today?” Nancy asked, carrying a small pile of books and papers. “Don’t you look tired,” she said to Ben as she handed Lisa a thin manila folder.

“Are these the corrections for the commercial speech dissent?” Lisa wiped the salad dressing off her hands with a napkin before she picked up the folder.

“You got it,” Nancy said. Walking past Ben’s and Lisa’s desks, she approached the back wall of the office and straightened the framed picture of the justices. She then turned toward Ben, who was still stretched out on the sofa. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a full hour last night.”

“You really should take a day off,” Nancy said. “Every year I watch the clerks here kill themselves. It’s just not worth it.”

“I know…” Ben began. His phone started ringing. He jumped from the sofa and put his hand on the receiver.

“Thanks for the delivery. I’ll give you the rewrite before the end of the day,” Lisa said to Nancy.

“Take your time. He doesn’t expect it until Monday,” Nancy said, leaning on Lisa’s desk. “So do you have any interesting plans for the weekend, or are you working?”

Convinced that Nancy was not leaving the office anytime soon, Ben reluctantly picked up the phone. “Justice Hollis’s chambers,” he said. “This is Ben.”

“Are you ready to deliver?” Rick asked.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Ben said, as he struggled to sound as cheerful as possible.

“I’m not joking anymore.”

“I’m fine,” Ben forced a laugh. “I’m just visiting with some colleagues.”

“What’s your answer?” Rick asked.

Ben turned his chair away from Lisa and Nancy. “I need more time.”

“This isn’t Grinnell. You don’t need more time.”

“I do,” Ben said. “It’s not done yet.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Rick warned. “I know that decision is finished.”

“I swear-” Ben began.

Rick hung up.

“Hello? Are you there?” Replacing the receiver, Ben turned around and faced Lisa and Nancy, who were staring at him.

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asked.

“Yeah. Fine,” Ben said nonchalantly. “I got disconnected.”

“Don’t worry,” Nancy said. “They’ll call back.” Walking to the door, she added, “Lisa, I’m serious about the corrections. I can tell Hollis won’t look at it until Monday.”

“Thanks,” Lisa said as Nancy left the room. As soon as the door closed, Lisa looked back at Ben. “What’d he say?”

“The son-of-a-bitch hung up on me!” Ben said. “He asked for the decision, I tried to stall, and he hung up. I don’t believe it.” Ben and Lisa waited for the phone to ring again. After a full minute, Ben said, “He’s not calling back. What the hell is going on?”

“He’s just trying to make you crazy,” Lisa said.

“It’s working,” Ben said. “What should I do?”

“Relax. I’m sure he’ll call back.”

“He’s not calling back. What the hell is going on?”

“He’s just trying to make you crazy.”

“It’s working. What should I do?”

“Relax. I’m sure he’ll call back.”

Smiling as he paced across Lungen’s office, Fisk was thrilled that the microphone was finally working. “I don’t know what they’re up to, but there’s no way this kid is innocent.”

Lungen’s eyes were focused on the small charcoal-gray speaker on his desk. “I don’t know,” he said. “Whoever this Rick is, he’s got Ben terrified. It sounds like he’s being blackmailed.”

“Blackmailed or not, he broke the law.”

“We don’t know that,” Lungen said. “I still think we’re missing half the story.”

“You must be kidding,” Fisk said as he stopped pacing. “Within the first five minutes we put this thing on, we hear them talking about leaking a decision to an outside party.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Who needs to jump? The answer is staring us in the face. Regardless of how they got involved, these two are up to no good.”

“The microphone was just installed last night. It took us until lunch to finally get it working, and we’ve heard a total of five minutes of conversation. All I’m saying is that we should give it a bit more time. I want all the facts before we run in with guns blazing.”

“Trust me, we’ll get the facts,” Fisk said as he turned up the volume on the speaker. “The way these two are talking, by next week, Justice Hollis will be interviewing new clerks.”

“That’s it,” Rick said, slapping shut his cellular phone. “I’ve had enough of his shit.” He opened the passenger-side door and got out of the car.

Getting out of the driver’s side, Richard Claremont, American Steel’s executive vice president of marketing, asked, “What’d he say?”

Slamming the car door shut, Rick looked up the block, where he had a perfect view of the Court. “He was trying to stall.” Unfazed by the frigid wind that whipped down First Street, Rick didn’t even button his overcoat. “He sounded nervous, but he was definitely trying to stall.”

“He should be nervous. From everything you’ve said, it sounds like his life is ruined.”

“I don’t want him to be scared, though,” Rick explained, approaching the Court. “If he’s scared, he’ll go to the authorities. But if he still thinks he has a chance of catching me, we have a better chance of getting the decision.”

“So you think he may still go to the police?” Claremont asked.

“Actually, no,” Rick said, watching a busload of bundled-up tourists snap pictures of the nation’s highest tribunal. “Ben’s too concerned about his résumé to do that. That’s the reason I picked him in the first place. He’s got a great deal to lose.”

“Then why didn’t you pick Lisa? From your file on her, she’s got a similar background.”

“Ben’s a much better mark. Between the two, Lisa’s smarter. She never would’ve given up the original decision. Ben’s more anxious to please. I knew he’d bite.”

“If you say so,” Claremont said. “Though it sounds like he hasn’t been as predictable as you’d hoped.”

“He’s had his moments,” Rick said. “But this week has really worn him down. He’s exhausted.” Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Besides, he’s about to realize that this is no game.”

Even two-dimensional, you look good, Ober thought as he admired the most recent photocopy of his face. Sitting at his government-issue desk, he pulled open the bottom-left drawer, removed a thick file folder and added that day’s photocopy to the three hundred and twenty-six other photocopies already in the folder. Every day, Ober placed his face on the photocopier and posed for the world’s quickest portrait in an attempt to create a photo album unlike any other. After writing the date on his newest copy, he placed it in the folder with the others. As he returned the file to its drawer, he saw Marcia Sturgis, the staff director for Senator Stevens, standing in the doorway of his office.

“Ober, can I see you in my office?” Marcia asked abruptly. A Capitol Hill veteran, Marcia had started as a receptionist for Senator Edward Kennedy soon after she had graduated from college, then spent almost twenty years working her way through the bureaucratic ranks. In her view, the years of toiling in obscurity were well worth it-she was currently the most important member of Senator Stevens’s staff. With a workday that began at six in the morning and ended at eleven at night, Marcia controlled most of what the senator saw and heard. She attended committee meetings, organized floor appearances, and edited the senator’s speeches and press releases. She was also responsible for the most important decisions affecting the senator’s staff.