The Tenth Justice (10 page)

“The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal announced. Within seconds, the nine justices strode through openings in the curtain and moved to their respective chairs.

No matter how many times she saw it happen, Lisa was always awed by the simultaneous arrival of all nine justices. “I love this,” she whispered to Ben. “It’s like watching the arrival of the All-Star team.”

“Shhhh!” Ben said, unable to remove his eyes from center stage.

The room faced the nine chairs of the justices. Made of matching black leather, the chairs were specially designed to fit each justice’s particular body type. As the justices took their seats, the marshal announced, “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! 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!” Once again the gavel fell, and everyone took his seat.

Chief Justice Osterman sat in the center seat. “Today we will be handing down the decisions in
United States
v.
CMI and Lexcoll
, as well as
Tennessee
v.
Shreve
. Justice Blake will be reading both of our decisions today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Blake responded. Appointed to the Court nearly ten years ago, Blake was a South Carolina judge whose Southern drawl was still as strong as the day he first took the bench. Primed for the
CMI
decision, the spectators held their collective breath. Reading from the prepared statement sheet, Blake said, “In the case of
State of Tennessee
v.
Shreve
, we find for the plaintiff and uphold the decision of the Supreme Court of Tennessee.” Knowing full well that the crowd was starving for the
CMI
decision, Blake took his time announcing the findings of the Court.

When Blake finished the
Tennessee
case, he sat back in his chair and shifted his weight. Clearing his throat, he reached for one of the pewter mugs that were in front of every justice. He poured himself a glass of water and prepared to read the next case. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, Blake smirked. “In the case of
United States
v.
CMI and Lexcoll
, we believe that although the two companies will become a major communications conglomerate, there is no predatory conduct with the intent to monopolize. For this reason, the merger of the two corporations does not violate the Sherman Antitrust Act. We therefore find for the defendant and affirm the decision of the Court of Appeals.”

A sharp murmur shot through the crowd as observers acknowledged the cunning of Charles Maxwell’s recent decision to increase his holdings in Lexcoll. Then, seconds after the decision was read, the Clerk’s Office turned off its intercom to the courtroom and notified the Information Office that the decision had become public. Immediately, the seven-person staff of the Information Office handed out copies of the official decision to the assembled reporters who waited in the basement office, while two computer staffers posted the decision on various legal computer networks. Inside the courtroom, the print media took notes on the mood of the justices. Outside the Court, at least two dozen television reporters vied for stand-up space, hoping to be the first to break the story on air. By the time Justice Blake had finished explaining the Court’s reasoning, more than 3,760 people had their own copies of the decision, while 6 million people had heard the outcome of the case. As the marshal officially closed the session, the media were exhausted, Charles Maxwell was a genius, and Ben was devastated.

“Crap,” Ben said as he and Lisa walked through the mob of people exiting the courtroom.

“Why are you surprised? You’ve known the outcome of the case for months.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Ben said, pushing his way through the crowd. As they swiped their I.D. cards through a small machine, two bulletproof doors opened, and the co-clerks were granted access to the first floor’s private office area. Taking one of the less-trafficked staircases, they walked upstairs and returned to their office. “I just can’t believe it,” Ben said as soon as the door closed behind him. “Maxwell becomes a captain of industry because a schmuck law clerk couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Taking off his suit jacket, he hung it on the back of his chair. “Maybe Eric was right. Maybe I should go to the press.”

“No way,” Lisa said. She grabbed a brown folder from her desk and walked to the back of the office. Turning on the paper shredder, she fed the entire stack of paper to the machine. She never destroyed her old versions of an opinion until the opinion was actually announced. “First, you have no proof, so they’ll think you’re crazy. Second, if they do believe you, you’ve just sacrificed your entire career.”

“But Maxwell would be revealed.”

“Are you crazy? You’d give up your life just to be spiteful?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Ben said, slumping on the office sofa. “I can’t find Rick; we may never see him again; it’s impossible to track him. It’s the only way to resolve this mess.”

Lisa walked over to the couch and stared down at Ben. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like the whole world is about to end. It was a mistake. You blew it. You got conned. But you didn’t do it on purpose. You were outsmarted—”

“And that pisses me off,” Ben shot back, sitting up straight.

“Is that it? You’re mad because someone finally outsmarted you? This whole feeling-sorry-for-yourself deal is based on the fact that you were intellectually beaten?”

“You don’t understand.”

“I definitely understand, Ben. You’re mad because he beat you on the I.Q. test.” Lisa sat down next to him on the sofa. “Get your head out of your ass. It’s not your fault. You weren’t stupid or gullible. You did what any smart person would’ve done. You just got set up. Rick played you and you have to accept that.”

“Can’t I just sulk a little more?”

“You get thirty more seconds,” Lisa said, looking down at her watch. She waited. “Okay, time’s up. You done?”

“How’d the decision go today?” Eric asked Ben later that night as they sat in front of the television.

“It was fine. What was the
Washington Herald’s
take on the whole affair?”

“They went crazy with it,” Eric explained between mouthfuls of cereal. “Wait until you see tomorrow’s edition. The front page has a massive picture of Maxwell minutes after the decision. He’s wearing this shit-eating grin that just about makes you want to vomit.”

“Great.”

“And the Sunday edition is running a massive piece on him. The guy is getting better press than the pope.”

“Great,” Ben repeated, flipping through channels. He stopped on CNN, then caught a glimpse of Maxwell and continued flipping.

“CMI stock flew up almost seventeen points by the end of closing today.”

“Great. Eric, can you go to the kitchen and get me a knife? I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Oedipus, huh?” Eric said, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “That’d be a good look for you.”

Without warning, Ober walked into the house singing, “Guess who’s stopped answering phones in Senator Stevens’s office?”

“You got a promotion?” Eric asked, jumping up to embrace his friend.

Nathan strolled in behind Ober. “He got the promotion?” Ben asked.

“You won’t believe this one,” Nathan said. “Ober, tell the story.”

“Oh, you’ve got to hear this,” Ober said. “This is mondo.”

“Mondo?” Eric laughed. “This isn’t L.A. Get out of here with that crazy talk.”

“Just let him tell the story,” Ben said.

“Here’s the story,” Ober began. “Remember when you had me write that fake death threat from Rick to Senator Stevens?” Ben nodded. “Apparently, the staff director found out that I started a State Department computer search on Rick. Last week, she came up to me and asked me why I did it, so I told her I was just being cautious—that I didn’t think it was a real death threat, but I wanted to be extra safe. This week, she calls me into her office and tells me that I’m their newest legislative assistant. I’ll be responding to all of the constituent complaints on zoning laws and orange juice subsidies.”

“Clearly, you’re at the forefront of Stevens’s re-election campaign,” Ben said.

“It gets better,” Nathan said. “Ober, show them the letter.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ober said, opening the leather briefcase his parents had bought him for graduation. He pulled out a single piece of paper and handed it to Ben.

“Dear William,” Ben read aloud as he stood in the living room. “Thank you so much for your follow-up efforts on the recent threat on my life. Your actions are a shining example of the kind of initiative few people are willing to take. I hope you know how much I appreciate all of your work. Marcia tells me you are doing a wonderful job. Keep up the fight.”

“Read the closing,” Ober said, laughing.

“Your friend, Paul.”

“He signed it ‘Paul’?” Eric asked, grabbing the letter from Ben’s hands.

“And I’m his friend,” Ober said.

“This is unbelievable,” Ben said.

“Unprecedented,” Nathan said.

“Unheard of.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s fantastic!” Ben continued.

“They’re mondo stupid!” Ober shouted. “And I got a promotion out of it!”

As Ober and Eric danced around the room, Ben asked, “Have you ever read ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’?”

“Exactly,” Nathan said as the phone rang.

“Hold on a second.” Ben walked to the kitchen to get the phone. Picking up the receiver, he answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, Benjamin.”

“Hi, Mom,” Ben said.

“Benjamin, let me ask you a question. Did you have anything to do with that Charles Maxwell decision that came down today?”

“Not really,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “That was handled by another justice’s clerks.”

“But you knew the decision before it happened, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, Mom. I knew it three months ago.”

“Thank you,” Sheila Addison said. “Now why don’t you tell your father because he’ll never believe it if I say it. The man thinks that just because he’s a columnist, he knows everything.”

“Mom, is there anything else?” Ben asked. “We’re in the middle of celebrating. Ober just got a promotion.”

“Good for him!” Sheila said. “Oh, Barbara will be so proud. Put him on the phone, I want to say hello.”

“I’m not putting him on the phone,” Ben said.

“Well, tell him I better see him when you guys come home for Thanksgiving. By the way, do you know if you’re coming in Tuesday or Wednesday yet?”

“It’s still three weeks away. I have no idea,” Ben said. Hoping to change the subject he asked, “What else is going on at home?”

“Nothing really,” Sheila said. “I got a piece of mail for you today. It looked like an important bill, so I didn’t know if you wanted me to open it before I sent it to you.”

“Who’s it from?” Ben asked.

“The return address says ‘Mailboxes and Things.’ It has a big stamp on it that says ‘Second Notice.’”

Recognizing the name of the store where he had opened his P.O. box, Ben was confused. He’d already paid them in advance, he thought. “Open it,” he said.

“It’s definitely a bill,” she said. “It says that if you don’t pay the balance, your P.O. box, number thirteen twenty-seven, will be closed, and your mail confiscated. Why do you have a P.O. box, Benjamin?”

“What was the number of the box?” Ben asked, ignoring his mother’s question.

“Thirteen twenty-seven.”

“It must be a mistake. That’s not my box.”

“Should I send you the bill?”

“No, I’ll just go down there tomorrow to fix it. Listen, I really have to go. Give my love to Dad.” Ben hung up the phone and returned to the living room.

“Are you coming out with us?” Ober asked. “We’re going to celebrate my promotion.”

“Of course I’m coming,” Ben said, grabbing his coat from the hall closet. “Miracles like this happen only once a decade.”

Walking into Boosin’s Bar, Ober inhaled the smell of stale beer and smoldering cigarettes. “Ahhh, there’s nothing like bar whiff,” he said. “I feel like I’m back in college.” Their regular haunt since they had arrived in D.C., Boosin’s was the second home for much of Washington’s young shirt-and-tie crowd. It wasn’t long before they were approached by their regular waitress at their usual spot in the back.

“Hey, Tina,” Ben said.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Ober got promoted today. We’re hoping to fill him with so much beer that he falls down and vomits in joyous celebration.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said as she headed to the bar. She returned with two pitchers and four glasses. After filling each of the roommates’ glasses, Nathan raised his glass in a toast.

“To Ober. May dumb luck embrace you in all of your travails.”

After the friends toasted, Ben put his hand on Ober’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, my friend.”

“Wow, a compliment from the Job Guru himself.”

“I’m serious,” Ben said. “No matter how it happened, we all know you deserve that promotion.”

“I don’t know,” Ober said. “I mean, I’m still not a Supreme Court clerk.”

“You don’t have to be a clerk,” Ben said. “All you have to do is be yourself.”

“And always let your conscience be your guide!” Eric and Nathan sang.

A half hour later, Ober was tapped on the shoulder by a beautiful brown-haired woman, dressed in a jet-black designer pantsuit. “Do you mind if we join you?” she asked.

“Lila!” Ober shouted. “What are you doing here?” After getting up to hug the stranger, he looked at his roommates and explained, “This is Lila Jospin. We used to fool around in college.”

“That’s a wonderful introduction,” Ben said. Shaking Lila’s hand, he said, “You are obviously a woman of fine taste. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Lila said.

“Looks like you brought some friends. How many are you?” Ober asked as he began to pull together tables to make more room.

“There are four of us,” Lila said as her three friends approached the table.