Brad Meltzer - The Tenth Justice

“I’ll see you there,” Ben said coldly. Without another word, he hung up.

“What’d he say?” Ober asked.

“I hate that bastard,” Ben said. “He’s so damn smug.”

“Just tell me what he said.”

“Not here,” Ben said, looking around the room. “Not another word in this place.” Ben got up from the couch. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No way,” Ober said. “I’m done with this nonsense. You’re on your own.”

“I’m only going to Lisa’s. It’s a safer place to talk.”

“I don’t care where you’re going. I’ve had enough.”

“Are you okay with everything?” Ben asked, picking up his coat from the living room floor.

“Would you be?” Ober asked. “I just need to get some sleep.”

Knowing there was nothing he could say, Ben buttoned his coat, picked up his briefcase, and walked to the door. As he was about to leave, the door flew open and Nathan stormed inside. “Where the hell are you going?” Nathan asked Ben.

“Out,” Ben shot back, aggravated by Nathan’s accusatory tone.

“Hold on a second,” Nathan said. He turned to Ober and asked, “Did you really get fired?” When Ober nodded, Nathan turned back to Ben. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Really?” Ben asked. “Watch this.” Within seconds, Ben was out the door.

Running up the block, Ben headed directly for the nearest pay phone. Finding one a few blocks away, he pulled a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket, grabbed the receiver, and punched in DeRosa’s 800 number. “Answer the damn phone,” Ben said before the call had even registered.

Impatiently waiting for someone to pick up, Ben was alarmed to hear a recorded voice say, “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.” Within seconds, he hung up and redialed the number, carefully checking to make sure he dialed correctly. Once again, he heard “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.”

“I don’t believe this,” Ben said. With his eyes closed and his hands locked around the frame of the pay phone, he tried to think of a rational explanation for why the number had been disconnected. There was none. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slamming the phone with his fist. His heart pounding, he turned around and screamed, “ARE YOU GUYS OUT THERE? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Hoping for a response, but expecting none, Ben silently waited. Nothing. His eyes scanned the area, inspecting every tree, shrub, and hiding spot within his sight. Still nothing. He was on his own. Spotting the “on duty” roof lights of an approaching emerald-green taxi, Ben jumped in front of the car, which screeched to a halt to avoid hitting him.

“What’s wrong with you? You crazy or something?” the cabbie shouted as Ben opened the door.

“Do you know any cheap motels?” Ben asked, climbing inside.

“I know a few,” the driver responded, unnerved.

“Take me to one,” Ben demanded.

Following Ben’s instructions, the driver headed toward Connecticut Avenue. “You okay?” the driver asked.

Ben was staring out the back window, checking to see if anyone was following him. “I’m fine,” he said. “Perfectly fine.”

Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to the Monument Inn, a plain-looking, one-story building with a neon VACANCY sign. Ben paid the cab driver, walked into the motel, and approached the front desk. “I need a room.”

Packing her briefcase with three soon-to-be-released decisions, Lisa prepared for a long work weekend. Well accustomed to the fact that as long as she worked in the Court, every weekend was a work weekend, Lisa also added three floppy disks, Hollis’s written comments, and photocopies of a dozen already-released decisions that she thought were relevant. She locked her briefcase and scrambled the small combination lock near the handle. As she went to grab her coat, the phone rang.

Fearing that it might be Hollis with a new assignment or another rewrite, Lisa didn’t immediately answer the phone. As always, however, she couldn’t help herself. She had to pick it up. “Hello. This is Lisa.”

“Lisa, I need you to meet me as soon as possible,” Ben demanded.

“What?” Lisa asked. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the Monument Inn. It’s on Upton, near the Van Ness Metro. I’m in room sixteen.”

“What happened with Ober? Is he okay?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Ben said. “Now please come over here. I don’t know what to do.”

Forty minutes later, Ben heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Open the door,” Lisa said.

He looked through the eyehole and let her in.

“What happened?” she asked, walking inside.

Ben peered out of the room to make sure Lisa was alone, then slammed the door and locked it.

Lisa scrunched up her face in disgust. “Nice place,” she said, noticing the peeling wallpaper. “Why didn’t we just meet in a sewer? It’s cleaner and safer.”

“Rick has my house bugged,” Ben said, his face glued to the eyehole on the door. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if yours was, too. I figured we needed a neutral place to talk.”

“Then tell me what happened,” Lisa said, sitting on one of the room’s twin beds.

Turning around, Ben leaned on the door. “They’re not out there,” he said. “They’re gone. I think they switched sides. That’s the only way-”

“Slow down-one thing at a time,” Lisa said. “Who’s not out there?”

Ben walked over to the other bed and sat down across from Lisa. “The marshals. DeRosa. They’re not out there,” he explained. “After talking to Ober, I pushed the panic button and-”

“You dialed the number in your house?” Lisa asked. “Are you crazy? Rick probably heard-”

“I went to a pay phone,” Ben interrupted. “The number’s out of service. It’s been disconnected.”

“Are you kidding me? But DeRosa said-”

“I know what he said. But it’s clear he lied. I think he’s been working with Rick from the beginning. Think about it: DeRosa wouldn’t let Lungen and Fisk know what’s going on, even though they’re the marshals assigned to the Court. He didn’t want me to tell anyone else what I had done. He never took an affidavit from me. He even told me to turn a decision over to Rick. I think Rick approached DeRosa before we did.”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said, grabbing one of the pillows on the bed. “Do you really think Rick has the resources to meet with the head of the Marshals Service?”

“Are you kidding?” Ben asked. “I walked right in to see him. You don’t think Rick can do the same thing?”

Lisa nodded. “But that doesn’t mean they’re necessarily working together.”

“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.