The Tenth Justice (9 page)

“It was one of those old ones,” Nathan explained. “Right above the office door. But that’s hardly an impossible obstacle.”

“What if we deliver a pizza to the building?” Ober asked. “That’ll get us in.”

“No, it won’t,” Ben said. “The office is probably empty, so there’s no one to receive the pizza.”

“But at least that’ll get us past the doorman and into the building,” Ober said. “Then all we have to do is pick the lock to the office.”

“It’ll never work,” Ben said. “Unless you’re an expert locksmith, we don’t have a chance of picking the lock on our own. We have to somehow get the doorman to let us into the office.”

“Excuse me,” Lisa interrupted. “I hate to burst your bubble, but have you guys realized that what you’re planning is illegal?”

“I told you you shouldn’t have invited her,” Ober said. “She’s ruining everything.”

Ignoring Ober, Lisa shot Ben a cold stare. “This isn’t make-believe. You break into that building, and you’re breaking the law. You of all people should realize that.”

“I don’t feel like I have a choice,” Ben said nervously.

“Then you’d better think about the consequences,” Lisa said. “If you get caught, you’re out of a job. You’ll be disbarred. Your career’ll be ruined. All over a stupid breaking and entering offense.”

“It won’t be breaking and entering,” Ben said defensively. “If we get the doorman to let us in, we have his permission.”

“But you’re lying to get in,” Lisa said.

“So then the most we’ll get is unlawful entry.”

“Well, that’s real bright,” Lisa said. “Why don’t you just—”

“What do you want me to do?” Ben asked, his voice wavering. “I have to get in there. If it gets out that I leaked information to an outsider, my career is ruined anyway. At least this way I have a chance of preventing that. If you don’t like it, I understand, but please don’t lecture me on it. This is hard enough as it is.” Turning to his roommates, he said, “Any other ideas?”

“What if we dress up as exterminators and say we have to spray the office for roaches?” Ober said.

“And where do we get all this exterminator equipment?” Nathan asked. “Or do we just show up dressed in jeans and carrying flashlights and hope they don’t notice?”

“What if we dress up like painters?” Ober asked. “It’ll be just like
The Sting
. The doorman’ll let us in, and instead of painting, we’ll raid the files.”

“If you really want to do this, I have an idea,” Lisa interrupted. “Instead of taking the low road first, why don’t we try to get in semilegally? We can walk right up to the doorman and offer him a bribe. Then we’ll give him Rick’s apartment number and ask him to go check the leases for us. That way we’re not the ones breaking and entering.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Nathan admitted.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Ben asked, shrugging his shoulders. “The guard says no?”

“How about they recognize you and they kill you?” Eric said, returning from the kitchen with a roast-beef sandwich in hand.

“They’ll never recognize us,” Nathan said. “There’s no way the doorman that was there during the day is still there at night.”

“And what if he is?” Eric asked.

“We’ll pretend we have the wrong building,” Nathan said. Noticing Ben’s prolonged silence, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ben said unconvincingly. Turning to Lisa, he added, “I can understand if you don’t want to come.”

“Don’t pull that macho shit on me,” Lisa said. “I’m coming.”

“What happened to all your worries about getting arrested?” Ben asked.

“We both know conspiracy law,” Lisa said. “Just by being here, I’m involved.”

“I can’t go,” Eric said, swallowing a bite of roast beef. “I have to go back to the paper to finish my story.”

“What do you mean, you’re not going?” Nathan asked. “Ben needs—”

“What am I supposed to do?” Eric asked. “I have a story.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said. “But if you don’t hear from us by two in the morning, call the police.”

At midnight, the friends looked for a parking spot around the corner from the building. “This city is the worst,” Nathan said. “Thousands of people. Thousands of cars. Twelve parking spots.”

Ben studied the drizzle that tapped the windshield. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Now you’re having second thoughts?” Lisa asked from the backseat. “What happened? Your brain suddenly started working again?”

“I’m not having second thoughts,” Ben said, turning around in his seat. “I’m just nervous. Is that okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ober said. “You’ll be fine.”

Convinced he would never find a spot, Nathan pulled into a small alley next to the building. “Do you have the money?” he asked, shutting the engine off.

“I have it,” Ben said, feeling his right jacket pocket for the first hundred and his left jacket pocket for an additional two hundred.

“I still think I should go,” Nathan said.

“Stop taking it personally,” Ben said. “I told you before: Lisa and I are going. They’re more likely to believe a man and a woman.”

“Says who?” Ober asked.

“Says me,” Ben said. “Now stop whining about it. It’s no big deal.” He grabbed an umbrella from below the front seat, opened the door, and got out of the car. Lisa followed.

Walking toward the building, Ben held the umbrella over Lisa. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lisa asked.

“Not really,” Ben said.

“Then why don’t we turn around and—”

“You know I can’t,” Ben pleaded. “I have to find Rick. Right now, this is the best way to do that. If you want to leave…”

“I’m here,” Lisa reassured him. “As long as we keep it legal, I’ll be here.”

When they reached the building, Ben was surprised find the front door locked. Lisa pressed her face against the glass to get a better view of the interior. “Buzz,” she instructed. “He’s in there.”

Moments later, a buzzer sounded, allowing Ben to pull open the door. Confidently and calmly, Ben and Lisa approached the night guard, who was sitting at his metal desk. “What’s wrong?” the guard asked. “Don’t you have a key?”

“We don’t actually live here,” Ben explained.

“Then who do you want to see?” the guard asked, picking up his phone.

“We don’t want to see anyone,” Ben said. “We have a favor to ask.”

The guard hung up the phone. “I’m listening.”

“My wife and I are looking for her brother, who used to live here. He has some money of ours, and as you can imagine, we’re trying to get it back.” Ben pulled out the five twenty-dollar bills from his right pocket and put them on the guard’s desk. “We were wondering if you could help us find his lease or his forwarding address. Either piece of information would be extremely helpful.”

Staring intensely at Ben and Lisa, the guard said, “There aren’t any leases.”

“How about a forwarding address?” Ben asked. “Can you check the Rolodex for us?”

“There are no files on anyone,” the guard said. “No Rolodex. Nothing.”

“Can you double-check to be safe?” Ben asked. “Maybe there’s something in the office.” He threw another hundred dollars on the desk. “His apartment was number three seventeen. All I need is his name or address. No one will ever know.”

“If he’s your brother, why do you need his name?” the guard asked suspiciously.

“Listen, do you really need to know the answer to that?” Lisa jumped in. “This is easy money. Do you want it or not?”

The guard continued to stare at the two clerks. Finally, he picked up the money. “Make it three hundred and I’ll do it.” Ben threw another hundred on the desk. Pocketing the money, the guard stood from his chair and opened the top drawer of his desk. He then pulled out a gun and pointed it at Ben and Lisa. “I’ll count to three.”

“What’d we do?” Ben asked, raising his hands in the air.

“I know who you are,” the guard said. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“Just relax,” Lisa said.

The guard pulled back the hammer on his gun. “Get out! Now!”

Turning around, the two clerks quickly walked to the door. When they got outside, they ran.

“Get us out of here,” Ben said when he and Lisa got back into the car.

“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked as he started the engine. “Did you get the lease?”

“Drive. Just drive,” Ben said nervously. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

At twelve-thirty, the roommates returned home. “What happened?” Eric asked from the sofa, remote control in hand.

“We didn’t get a thing,” Nathan said, collapsing on the big couch. “Ben’s a wanted man in that building.”

“And we lost three hundred dollars,” Ober added, taking off his sweatshirt and throwing it on the couch.

“Where’s Lisa?” Eric asked.

“We dropped her off at home,” Ben said. “There was nothing else to talk about.”

“From what the guard said, there were no leases and no records of the building’s tenants,” Nathan explained. “The way I see it, Rick is even more sophisticated than we thought.”

“So that’s it?” Eric asked. “You’re done with your search?”

“Not at all,” Ben said, walking up the stairs. “We’re just getting started.”

“HI, MY NAME IS RICK FAGEN, AND I WAS
wondering if you could help me out,” Ben said in his most diplomatic voice. “I recently disconnected my phone, but I still haven’t paid the bill, and I think it’s because you still don’t have my new address.”

“What was your old phone number, sir?” After typing in Rick’s old number, the phone company employee said, “Mr. Fagen, you are correct. We still don’t have a forwarding address for you. If you’ll give me your new address, we’ll be happy to send you a duplicate bill.”

“That’d be great,” Ben said. “My new address is Post Office Box 1227, Washington, D.C. 20037.”

“Mr. Fagen, you should receive this bill in the next few weeks,” the employee said. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“Actually, I have one last favor,” Ben said. “I just realized that when I moved, I misplaced all my old phone bills, which I need for tax purposes. Is it possible to get duplicates of those as well?”

“Certainly,” the employee said. “Let me just make a note of that here, and we’ll get those to you. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope. I think that’s it. Thanks for your help.” When he hung up the phone, Ben looked up at Lisa who was sitting across from him.

“Do you think the bills will really help?” she asked.

“Not really,” Ben said. “I don’t think Rick is dumb enough to call anyone important on a traceable phone. My guess is he was constantly mobile and worked most of his deals on a cell phone. The local number was probably just for me.”

“That was smart to get the P.O. box,” Lisa said, in an effort to cheer him up.

“Whatever,” Ben said. “If anyone’s watching that phone line, they already know I’m involved.”

“You don’t know that,” Lisa said. Looking at her watch, she added, “It’s almost ten. We should probably head over.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Ben said, suddenly irritated.

“Are you crazy?” she asked. “They’re handing down the
CMI
decision. Don’t you want to see the crowd’s reaction?”

Ben was silent.

“Well, you’re coming anyway,” she said, grabbing his hand. “We’re not supposed to miss decisions.”

Although the justices returned to work in early September, and the fall term officially began on the first Monday in October, it wasn’t until early November—when the first decisions were announced—that the energy of the Court reached critical mass. While oral arguments were heard throughout the week, decisions were handed down at precisely ten
A.M.
on every subsequent Monday. Open to the public, the decision sessions were always packed with tourists, press, and friends of the Court. On a typical decision day, the line began to form outside the Court at eight in the morning. For a more popular case, the lines started at six. When the
Webster
abortion case was handed down in 1989, local entrepreneurs found that both tourists and press would pay big money to have others wait in line for them. The result was an underground line-sitting business that covered all major media events on Capitol Hill. In anticipation of the
CMI
decision, the professional sitters had started lining up almost a day in advance.

At approximately nine in the morning, the restless crowds were finally led into the building. While the groups were herded through the Great Hall and two separate metal detectors, Ben and Lisa walked straight into the main courtroom. “I love this,” Lisa said as she watched the lines of tourists who were slowly being seated.

Ben was hardly enthusiastic to see Charles Maxwell’s impending victory, but he had to acknowledge the excitement of a decision day. Reporters swarmed into the tiny press area on the left side of the courtroom. It was the only place in the room where observers were allowed to take notes, although there were no recording devices allowed. Armed guards escorted tourists and other observers into the twelve rows of benches in the center of the room, where they all eagerly awaited the arrival of the justices. Everyone spoke in hushed whispers, which added a buzz of energy to the room. On the right was a seating area reserved for family and friends of the justices, as well as a small private area for the Supreme Court clerks.

“They’re all sheep,” Ben said, looking at the packed courtroom. “They just come to see the spectacle and then they leave. They don’t care about the consequences. To them it’s just a tourist attraction.”

“Lighten up,” Lisa said. Still thrilled by the pomp and circumstance, she watched the clock tick toward ten.

Ben fixed his eyes on the marble frieze over the main entrance, which the justices faced. It displayed the Powers of Evil—Corruption and Deceit—offset by the Powers of Good—Security, Charity, and Peace, with Justice flanked by Wisdom and Truth.

Following Ben’s gaze, Lisa asked, “So, does art imitate life?”

“Funny,” Ben shot back.

At exactly three minutes before ten, a buzzer summoned the justices to the conference room, where they prepared to enter the courtroom. Behind the burgundy velvet curtain, the justices ceremonially shook hands with each other. It was a custom instituted by Chief Justice Fuller early in the Court’s history, to show that “harmony of aims if not views is the Court’s guiding principle.” At precisely ten o’clock, the marshal banged his gavel, and every person in the room rose to his feet.