The Tenth Justice by Brad Meltzer Read Free Book Online Page B

could he?” Lisa asked Ben.
    “No. No way,” Ben said, a chill running down his back as he remembered his conversation with Rick. Maxwell couldn’t have known, Ben told himself. “There’s no way. It was a lucky guess. The Court’s decision isn’t completely unpredictable. Maxwell must’ve spoken with his legal experts.”
    “Whatever he knew,” Eric said, “they’re calling it the riskiest decision Maxwell’s ever made. If he’s right, he’s a billionaire, but if the Court denies the merger, he’s invested all of his money in the worst communication alliance in history.”
    When Ben arrived at work the next day, a memorandum was sitting on his desk. Addressed to all clerks, the memo stated that due to the recent circumstances regarding the CMI merger, everyone should be reminded that all Court information is extremely confidential and should not be released under any circumstances. Suddenly, Ben felt a hand on his shoulder. “Who the f—” he yelled, spinning around.
    “Take it easy, big guy,” Lisa said.
    “You scared the shit out of me,” Ben said, wiping his forehead.
    “Can you believe this memo?” Lisa was holding up her own copy. “Who the hell do they think they are? Is this an accusation or what?”
    “I don’t think it’s so bad,” Ben said as he fidgeted with his tie. “I think it’s just a reminder. I’m sure the press is all over them to see if Maxwell’s guess was correct.”
    “Well, the decision’s been pushed up to next week, so all the vultures will know soon enough it he’s a guru or a goofball. Listen, I’m going to get some coffee. You want anything?”
    Ben shook his head. When Lisa left the office, Ben went straight to his Rolodex and looked up Rick’s number. After picking up the phone and dialing the number, he was surprised to hear a mechanical female voice say, “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.” Confused, he redialed, double-checking each digit. “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.”
    Slamming down the phone, Ben crumpled the Rolodex card in his hand and threw it against the wall. Damn, he thought. What the hell do I do now? He picked up the phone, and quickly dialed information. “In D.C., I’m looking for the phone number of a Rick Fagen. F-A-G-E-N.” Ben tapped his pen nervously.
    “I’m sorry, sir,” the operator said. “I have no Fagens listed.”
    “How about if I give you his old phone number? Can you see if there’s a forwarding number?” Ben asked.
    “I can try,” the operator said. Ben ran to the other side of the room to retrieve the Rolodex card. “Sir, are you there?”
    Ben raced back to his desk and sat in his chair. “I’m here.” He read off Rick’s old number.
    “I’m sorry, sir,” the operator said, “that number is no longer in service.”
    “I know that,” Ben snapped. “That’s why I asked if there was a forwarding number.” Bristling, he asked, “Can you tell me where the bill was forwarded to?”
    “I’m sorry, we cannot give out that information.”
    “Thanks,” Ben said, hanging up the phone. In a full-fledged sweat, he put his forehead down on the desk. There must be an explanation for this, he told himself. Rick just moved. There’s no reason to panic. There’s nothing to be upset about. He redialed information and got the number for the phone company. “Hi, my name is Rick Fagen,” Ben said to the operator. “I recently disconnected my number, and I think I might’ve given you the wrong forwarding address. Can you check it, because I don’t want to be late on my payments.”
    “Let me transfer you to the accounts payable department, Mr. Fagen,” the operator said.
    “Can I help you?” the new operator asked.
    Ben described his situation again.
    “What was your old phone number?”
    Ben read the number off the crumpled Rolodex card and waited. Finally, the operator