The Tenth Justice (47 page)

“You should feel guilty.”

“Don’t tell me how I should feel,” Ben said, his voice shaking. “Ober was my best friend! I would’ve done anything to save him.”

“You
could’ve
saved him,” Nathan said. “All you had to do was open your mouth.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ben lashed out. “How can you be so callous? I was going to the authorities! That’s what tonight was all about! I didn’t
know
Ober’d kill himself! I didn’t
know
he was suicidal!”

“And I don’t know what you expect me to say. Do you think that just because you admit it’s your fault, I’ll absolve you of your sins? It doesn’t work like that. You killed him. Now you have to deal with it.”

Enraged, Ben punched Nathan in the stomach. “I DIDN’T KILL HIM!”

Bent over in pain, Nathan struggled to catch his breath.

“I DIDN’T KILL HIM,” Ben repeated. “HE KILLED HIMSELF!”

Still heaving, Nathan ran toward Ben, tackling him and sending them both crashing into the coffee table. The homemade table splintered in two, the yearbooks and the scrapbook sliding onto Nathan and Ben.

Sitting on top of Ben, Nathan grabbed him by the shirt. “Why did you let this happen?” he screamed.

Ben pushed Nathan back and staggered to his feet. “I never wanted this to happen!”

“Then why didn’t you—”

“I wish I could’ve done a million things!” Ben yelled.

“You didn’t have to do a million things,” Nathan said. “All you had to do was one.”

“I swear, I was going to turn myself in tomorrow!”

“Who cares what you were
going
to do?” Nathan screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ober died
tonight!
He’s gone, Ben! We’ll never see him again! Because of you, he’s dead! Ober is dead!”

“Nathan, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Nathan said, storming toward the stairs. “Enough of your damn excuses. No matter what you say, I know you killed him. And I hope that thought haunts you forever.”

“I told you already,” Richard Claremont told Rick. “I never touched him. I spent the whole night watching the other three at the Jefferson Memorial.”

“If you’re lying, the police will find you,” Rick warned. “They dusted the entire place for fingerprints.”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t know he killed himself until I got back here.” Taking off his coat, Claremont asked, “And since when are you so concerned about what happens to these guys?”

“I’m not concerned when one of them loses his job, but I am concerned when one of them winds up dead.”

“I don’t know why you’re so shaken by this,” Claremont said, sitting on the plush hotel sofa. “You put them in an impossible scenario—you should’ve expected one of them to snap.”

“I never meant for this to happen!” Rick shouted.

“But you should’ve known—”

“Don’t tell me what I should’ve known,” Rick interrupted. “You can’t anticipate something like this.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Rick said. “Drop it.”

“Consider it dropped,” Claremont said. “Now, what are we going to do about the decision?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Rick pulled a miniature bottle of white wine from the hotel refrigerator. “I’m afraid Ben’s no longer running in the maze.”

“You don’t think he’s going to meet us tomorrow?”

“Not a chance,” Rick said, opening the wine. “He’ll be talking to the authorities by noon.”

“But if he—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rick reassured his colleague. “He’ll never get there.”

Wrapped in a haze of anguish and remorse, Ben walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He undressed and stepped into the hot stream of water, anxious to wash away the past few hours. With his arms outstretched in front of him, he leaned against the front wall of the shower, letting the water glide over his body. For a full three minutes, he stood there, motionless. Slowly and without warning, a quiet fit of weeping overcame him. “I’m sorry, Ober,” he sobbed, as his crying became hysterical. “I’m so sorry.” As the water rushed over him, he imagined carrying Ober’s coffin, and remembered carrying his brother’s. He imagined Ober’s mother’s face when she heard her son was dead, and remembered his own mother’s wails. He imagined the future without Ober, and knew how much he’d miss his brother.

AT A QUARTER AFTER NINE ON SUNDAY MORN
ing, Ben put on his coat and picked up his briefcase. Still reeling from Ober’s death, he tried not to think about the unnerving silence that now filled the house. Instead, he turned around and walked out the front door. A new layer of snow blanketed the neighborhood. He stepped outside, carefully maneuvering into the footprints left behind by Eric and Nathan. As he headed toward the Metro station, he periodically looked over his shoulder. After the events of the past few nights, Ben’s watchfulness had become instinctive. When he rounded the corner he saw a man in a navy winter coat and a brown fedora coming toward him. He was bothered that the brim of the hat blocked the man’s face. In the street, a gray car pulled up and stopped. Ben immediately recognized it as Eric’s.

“How’re you doing?” Eric asked, rolling down his window.

“Okay, I guess,” Ben said unconvincingly. He stepped into the street and leaned in the window. “I slept about five minutes last night.”

“Me too,” Eric said. “I can’t get him out of my head. Just the thought of him dangling there…”

“Please, let’s not talk about it,” Ben said, his gloved hands gripping the metal door frame.

“Did you tell Lisa?”

“I called her late last night. Before I finished my first sentence, she was crying. I never heard her like that. She offered to help with the eulogy.”

“That was nice of her.” Noticing the briefcase in Ben’s hand, Eric asked, “Where are you headed now?”

“The U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

“So this is it?”

“I hope so,” Ben said. “By this time tomorrow, I should be done with this nonsense.”

“I know I didn’t say this last night, but I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Thanks,” Ben said as the stranger in the navy coat passed behind him. Ben turned around to watch him walk down the block. “Does that guy look suspicious to you?”

“Not really. Why?”

“He looked a little weird to me.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Eric said. “I’m sure he’s no one.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, pulling out of the window.

“Do you want a ride to the Metro?” Eric asked.

“I’d prefer a ride downtown.”

“No time. I have to do some quick edits at the house, then I need to get back to work. The Metro is as good as it gets.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said, heading back to the sidewalk. “I think I can handle the two blocks.”

“Your choice,” Eric said, rolling up his window. “See you tonight.”

“I hope,” Ben said. “If you don’t hear from me by dinner, it means I’m still in the middle of my plea bargain.”

As the car pulled away, Ben continued his walk up the block. When he reached the commercial section of the neighborhood, his eyes darted everywhere. At the old man pulling his grocery cart along the snow-covered sidewalk. At the undeterred athlete jogging with her black labrador. At the supermarket employee shoveling the sidewalk. At the overweight woman struggling to keep her footing. Still jumpy, Ben reached his favorite bakery. I really have to calm down, he told himself as he stepped inside. There’s no one following me. After a quick bagel and a fresh banana, Ben wiped his mouth, zipped his coat, and stepped back into the cold. Immediately he saw that the only thing between him and the Metro station was the man in the navy coat and the brown fedora.

Cautiously, Ben inched up the block, trying to identify the approaching stranger. The man appeared to be Rick’s height, but heavier. But then, it was a heavy coat, Ben thought. As his heartbeat accelerated, Ben tried to convince himself that it was just his imagination. Relax, he told himself. There’s no reason to get crazy. When they were ten feet apart, Ben pulled off his right-hand glove and made a tight fist, determined to swing if the man made a suspicious move. When he was five feet away, Ben was sweating furiously. As they were about to pass each other, Ben was frantic, his mind preparing for every possible scenario.

Holding his breath as the man walked by him, Ben fought the urge to turn around. It wasn’t until he was well past the stranger that he finally breathed a sigh of relief. All that perspiration for nothing, Ben told himself, forcing a laugh. As he was about to turn to get one last look at the man, Ben’s neck snapped back as he was grabbed from behind. He felt an arm wrap firmly around his neck, while a hand in a navy coat sleeve shoved a pungent handkerchief into his face. Instinctively, Ben threw his head back, slamming it into his attacker’s nose.

“Son of a bitch!” the man yelled, releasing Ben and grabbing his bleeding nose.

Coughing as he ran up the block, Ben struggled to catch his breath. As he passed the supermarket, he looked back and saw that his attacker was in pursuit. Ben dropped his briefcase and grabbed the snow shovel from the hands of the supermarket employee. As the man approached him, Ben swung the shovel wildly. “Stay the hell away from me!”

“Calm down,” the man said. “I’m not here to hurt you.” As the man tried to keep Ben’s attention, Rick turned the corner and was slowly sneaking up behind Ben.

“Who are you?” Ben asked. “Who sent you?”

“I’m on your side,” the man said. “I swear. I’m from the Justice Department.” His eyes were locked over Ben’s shoulder.

Following the man’s gaze, Ben spun around, swinging the shovel blindly as he turned. To his surprise, the flat side of the shovel connected with Rick, who would’ve otherwise grabbed him. “I don’t believe it,” Ben said. When Rick fell to the ground, Ben took the shovel and hit Rick once more in the head. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Ben screamed. “This is my life!”

Ben yelled at the supermarket employee. “Call the police!”

“We are the police,” Rick’s accomplice said to the employee. “Don’t call anyone.”

“Grab him already, Claremont!” Rick yelled, holding his ear, which was covered in blood.

Throwing the shovel at Claremont, Ben turned around and ran down the block.

“Follow him!” Rick yelled, even though Claremont was already in motion.

Faster and more athletic than either of his attackers, Ben ran back toward the residential part of his neighborhood. Hopping fences and racing through backyards, Ben crisscrossed between houses so his pursuers never had him in sight for longer than a few seconds. He turned down one driveway, made a left when he reached the backyard, hopped over a fence into the next-door neighbor’s garden, ran to the back of the garden, hopped over a fence that put him in a connecting backyard, and ran back out another driveway. Weaving through the neighborhood, Ben knew that the only house he had to avoid was his own. If his two attackers had split up, one of them would definitely be waiting there. As the cold air packed his lungs, he worked his way back toward the supermarket, staying off the main streets and navigating through the garbage-filled alleys. Hoping he had lost his pursuers, he ran toward Boosin’s Bar, the only place he knew that had a pay phone and, more important, a back door. He took one last look around and then entered the bar.

Ben headed directly for the back of the bar. He shoved open the door to the men’s rest room, entered a stall, and locked it. He bent over and tried to catch his breath. As the warmth of the bathroom replaced the cold of the outdoors, Ben felt like he was burning up. He pulled off his jacket, then lifted the toilet seat and vomited the banana and bagel he had just eaten. When his stomach was empty, he convulsed with dry heaves, as his body reacted to the panic that flooded his mind. He flushed the toilet and sat down, shaking. I can’t believe this, he thought, his elbows resting on his knees. What the hell is happening? As he dabbed his forehead with toilet paper, Ben’s body temperature eventually returned to normal, and the color slowly returned to his face.

Twenty minutes later, convinced that Rick and his colleague were long gone, Ben left the rest room. He searched his pockets for change and pulled out a few coins, which he inserted into the pay phone. As he dialed Lisa’s number, his eyes darted through the bar, which was filled with a few basketball fans who were eating breakfast before the first game of the day.

“Hello,” Lisa answered.

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” Ben said, his voice racing. “I just got attacked by Rick and some other guy. They jumped me and tried to kidnap me. I slammed them in the head with a shovel and ran for—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lisa said. “One thing at a time. Start over.” After hearing his explanation of the past half hour, she said, “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Ben said.

“Did you get a good look at Rick’s partner?”

“Not really. My mind was running at full speed. All I remember is that he was trying to tell me that he was from the Justice Department.”

“Do you think he was?”

“Of course not,” Ben said. “The Justice Department doesn’t attack people with chloroform. He just didn’t want them to call the cops.”

“Who was he, then?”

Ben’s eyes were focused on the front door of the bar. “Either Rick’s lackey or the guy Rick’s using to make money on
American Steel
.”

“Why would Rick need a new person? American Steel’s a public company. Rick can buy all the stock he wants.”

“But you need money to buy stock. And presumably, Rick was wiped out from
Grinnell
. He needs someone who already has a lot of American Steel stock or who’s willing to put up the funds. Otherwise, he’s—” Ben looked at his coat on the floor. “Damn,” he said. “I just realized I left my briefcase by the supermarket. I’m sure they grabbed it.”

“You didn’t leave the decision in there, did you?”

“Of course not. But the letter I was working on is in there. Which means they know that I’m turning myself in.”

“They knew that the moment you didn’t show up at the museum yesterday,” Lisa said. “Meanwhile, have you called Nathan and Eric?”