The Tenth Justice (45 page)

“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.

“Where are you?” Eric asked. “Nathan said—”

“I’m at Lisa’s,” Ben lied. “I didn’t feel comfortable talking in the house.”

“Are you coming home tonight?”

“No. I’m sleeping here.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Eric said. “Tell me what’s happening. I heard Rick called again.”

“Forget about Rick. I want to get together with you guys so we can talk about what’s going on.”

“Tell me the place. I’ll be there.”

“I want everyone there,” Ben said. “You, Nathan, and Ober.”

“Fine. Where and when?”

“Tomorrow night at eight o’clock. And I want to meet at the place where we celebrated our first night in D.C.”

“At the—”

“Don’t say it,” Ben interrupted. “The phone’s not safe.”

“Oh, yeah. Ober told me.”

“Exactly,” Ben said. “Meanwhile, how is he holding up?”

“He’s a mess. I’ve never seen him like this before. Nathan and I spoke to him for almost two hours, and he’s still crying like crazy.”

“Has he told his parents yet?”

“He’s terrified to call them. You know how his mom is. She’ll be on his back the moment she hears what happened.”

“I know. I was thinking about that. To be honest, I think that’s what he’s most scared of.”

“I don’t think he’s scared of anything,” Eric said. “I’m not even sure he’s upset about his job. I think he’s more devastated by the fact that all of us aren’t getting along.”

“He was saying that when I was there.”

“It’s because he’s such a social animal,” Eric explained.

“He’s like a puppy—if everyone’s happy, he’s happy. But if everyone’s sad, he’s miserable.”

“Keep talking to him. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I agree. It’s just that—”

“Ben, is that you?” Nathan asked angrily as he picked up the phone in the living room. “Where the hell have you been for the past three hours? Get your ass—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ben shot back. “If you want to kick and scream, come meet me tomorrow. I told Eric where.” Ben hung up the phone.

Early Saturday morning, Ben sat up in bed, unable to sleep. In the second bed was Lisa, who was having no such trouble. He looked at his watch and saw that it was seven in the morning. After taking the longest shower of his life, he turned on the television with the sound off, hoping to be distracted by cartoons. Unimpressed, he shut off the TV and returned to his bed. For a full hour, Ben stared at the white stucco ceiling.

At nine o’clock, Ben took the phone into the bathroom. Sitting on the closed toilet, he called information and asked for the number of the Marshals Service. He dialed the number and asked for Director DeRosa.

After a moment, a woman answered the phone. “Director DeRosa’s office. Can I help you?”

“Is the director in today?” Ben asked in his most genial tone.

“I’m sorry, he’s not. Is it anything I can help you with?”

“You probably can,” Ben said, recognizing the voice of DeRosa’s receptionist. “My name’s Ben Addison. I’m the guy who hand-delivered that message from Justice Hollis a couple of weeks ago. I have another message I’m supposed to relay, and I was wondering if you knew how to contact Director DeRosa.” For effect, Ben paused for a second. “It’s an emergency.”

“Hold on a moment,” the receptionist said. “I can try to transfer you to his home number.”

Ben prayed that DeRosa would explain everything: that it was a clerical error, that everything was fine, and everyone was still in place.

“Mr. Addison?”

“I’m here,” Ben said.

“I’m sorry, but the director won’t take your call. I just spoke to him, and he said he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. He has no idea who you are.”

“He knows who I am,” Ben said. “
You
know who I am. I met you two weeks—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Addison. I spoke to him personally, and that’s what he said.”

“What are you talking about? What’s your name?” Ben asked.

“Have a good day, Mr. Addison,” the receptionist said as she hung up.

As Ben put down the phone, reality set in. That’s it, he thought. I’m done. Staring down at the stark linoleum floor, Ben wondered exactly what his next move should be. His thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door swung open. He looked up and saw Lisa, who had obviously been listening.

“What’d they say?” she asked.

“DeRosa’s gone,” Ben said, his voice shaking. “He’s denying he ever met me.”

“Then that’s it—it’s over,” Lisa said, leaning on the door frame. “Are you going to go to the press?”

“I don’t know about the press, but I have to tell someone.”

“You should tell Hollis.”

“Maybe,” Ben said as his mind worked through all the consequences. “I was thinking that I should also put my story in writing. That way, no matter what happens, it’ll all be documented.”

“I wouldn’t be so worried about the writing part,” Lisa said. “Before you face the world, you have to face your roommates.”

At seven-thirty that evening, Ben braved the late January chill and sat on one of the few concrete visitor benches surrounding the Jefferson Memorial. Unable to sit still, he repeatedly shifted his weight, searching for a comfortable position. As he stared blankly at the waterfront walkway leading to the Memorial, his eyes danced across the landscape—focusing on nothing in particular while looking at everything. Fifteen minutes later, he was checking his watch at thirty-second intervals, impatiently waiting for the arrival of his roommates. Slowly becoming convinced that they wouldn’t show, he looked up at Jefferson’s ebony silhouette and wondered why he’d let Lisa talk him into this.

“Why the hell did we have to come out here?” he suddenly heard from the western side of the monument. “It’s freezing.” As Eric and Nathan approached Ben, Eric stared at the giant bronze rendering of the country’s third president. “Let me say, meeting like this—late at night at one of the world’s most famous monuments—I feel like I’m in an overblown spy movie.”

“I’m so glad you’re amused,” Nathan said indignantly.

“Listen, I know you’re upset,” Ben said. “We’re all upset. It’s been a bad week. So let’s start over and—”

“No offense, but I’m not in the mood for touchy-feely right now,” Nathan said.

“Give him a chance, tight-ass,” Eric interrupted. “He called you down here to talk—the least you can do is listen.”

“I came here to find out one thing,” Nathan said, crossing his arms. “Are you going to turn yourself in?”

Ben ignored the question. “Where’s Ober?”

“He said he’d be late,” Eric explained. “He was on the phone with his mother when we were leaving.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Ober said, struggling to fight back his tears.

“What kind of question is that?” Barbara Oberman asked. “I want you to get that job back.”

“Mom, I can’t get it back. They fired me. They didn’t like my work, and they fired me.”

“Don’t give me that. Go back and tell them you’ll change your ways. Tell them you’ll work for less money, and that you’ll double your hours. It doesn’t matter how you do it, but get that job back.”

“What’s so important about my old job?”

“What’s so important? Get this through your head, William: You need that job. It was the only place that ever promoted you. The only place that ever respected you. The only place that didn’t fire you within the first six months. You’ve spent over four years failing at everything else you’ve tried, and now you’ve turned this into a disaster as well.”

“I’ll find a new job,” Ober said. “Ben and Nathan said they’d help me look for one.”

“Forget Ben and Nathan. You’re always obsessed with Ben and Nathan. I don’t want to hear about them. For Ben and Nathan, finding a job is simple. Employers love them, their college professors loved them, the high school principal loved them, their kindergarten teachers loved them. For them, finding a job is simple. But
you
—you’re going to have a harder time.”

“But they said—”

“I don’t care what they said,” she interrupted. “They’re not you. What makes you think they’ll be so eager for a job search?”

“They’re my friends.”

“Big deal, they’re your friends. They don’t know what a job search entails. They’ve never lived in the real world. Looking for a job requires hours and hours of legwork. You remember how hard it was to find the position with Senator Stevens.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. You said it yourself a few months ago: The three of them are always at work—they don’t have the time to find you a job.”

“Yeah, but Ben helped me find this job. Maybe he can—”

“He can’t do anything for you,” she said. “You have to learn to do things for yourself. They may be your friends, but they’re certainly not your equals. When it comes to finding a job, like everything else in this world, you have to suck it up and do it yourself. Now hang up this phone and think about what I’ve said. I don’t want to hear from you again until you have that job back.”

“I asked you a question,” Nathan said, his breath lingering in the cold air. “Are you going to turn yourself in or not?”

“I’ll get to that,” Ben said. He pointed to the empty spaces on his bench. “How about taking a seat first?”

“I’m fine standing,” Nathan said as Eric sat down.

“Fine. Stand,” Ben said as he glanced over his shoulder.