The Tenth Justice

“Washington National Airport Executive Center. Can I help you?” the operator asked.

“Yes, I have a silly problem that I was hoping you could help me with,” Ben said in his most ingratiating tone. “I was supposed to attend a meeting this Saturday in one of the airport’s executive meeting rooms, but I lost my daily planner and now I have no idea where the meeting is.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but the airlines are responsible for scheduling space in the meeting rooms. Do you know which airline you were dealing with?”

“I have no idea,” Ben said. “It was all in my planner.”

“What about the company’s name? Maybe I can find that.”

“It’s a start-up company,” Ben explained, hoping to convince the operator that she was his only hope. “They haven’t incorporated yet, so it’s all under the CEO’s name—which I can’t remember for the life of me. And since I can’t remember his name, I can’t find him in the telephone directory. Believe me, I’ve tried everything.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“Please don’t hang up,” Ben pleaded. “You have to do something. If I don’t show up for this interview, I’m dead. Isn’t there a master list somewhere? Anything you have may save my life.”

“I’m sorry,” the operator said. “I’m not supposed to give out that information.”

“Please.” Ben tried to sound pleasant. “I’m not some kind of lunatic. I’ll give you my name and address and home phone number. I’ll give you my mother’s number. You can call her and ask her how nice I am. I just don’t want to lose this job over something stupid.”

“Well . . .”

“Please. If you help me, I’ll be forever in your debt. I’ll send you flowers. And chocolates. And individually wrapped kielbasa from Hickory Farms. Anything.”

“Here’s what I can do,” the operator finally said. “I can give you a list of the companies that are meeting in the suites that are run by the airport. There are only six of those, but you may find your company in there. If not, you’ll have to call all the airlines and beg each of them individually for the information.”

“You’re the greatest,” Ben exclaimed. “How can I thank you? Name your price. Diamonds? Pearls? Kielbasa?”

“How about you just leave me alone,” the operator answered.

“You got it.”

“These are the companies that have reservations,” she said. “Texaco has one room. And Brennan, Leit and Zareh has the other.”

“Isn’t that a law firm?” Ben asked as he put a star next to the firm’s name.

“I’m not sure,” the operator said.

“Are there any other companies?”

“That’s it,” she said. “The other four rooms are still open.”

“Oh, well,” Ben said. “I guess I’m off to beg. Thanks for all your help.”

“You’re welcome,” the operator said, sounding relieved.

Fourteen phone calls later, Ben had a list of thirty-four reservations for executive suites. Twenty-two of the reservations were made by major companies, eight were for individuals, three were for law firms, and one was for Congressman Cohen from Philadelphia. Ben pulled up the Lexis database on his computer, logged onto the Periodicals bulletin board, and entered the name “Stewart Moore,” one of the eight individuals who had reservations for Saturday. As the computer scanned through more than four thousand current periodicals, Ben knew the search was futile. Rick’s too smart to make a reservation in his own name, he thought, staring at the computer screen.

Eventually, the words “Twenty-six items found” appeared on the screen. Scanning the first item, Ben read a Wall Street Journal article about Stewart Moore, a Chicago bank president who recently restructured his company’s finance division. When he read that Mr. Moore was fifty-five years old, he knew he hadn’t found Rick. As he typed the second name into his computer, Lisa entered the office. “What’s going on?” Ben asked, looking up from his screen.

Lisa was silent.

“Hello! Earth to Lisa! What’s going on? How are you doing? Why aren’t you responding?”

Again, silence.

“Oh, c’mon, Lisa. Lighten up already. I said I was sorry about a dozen times.”

“Then I completely forgive you,” Lisa said coldly.

“Be serious.”

“Okay, the truth? I’m pretty pissed off that you don’t trust me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked. “I trust you.”

“Ben, look at it from my perspective: For the past three months, we’ve spent every waking minute talking about how we were going to catch Rick. Now I can’t get a single word out of you. What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”

“You can make of it whatever you want. But the truth is that there’s nothing to tell. I haven’t heard from Rick in weeks, and until I do, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re a liar,” Lisa said.

“What do you mean, I’m a liar?”

“I’m not a moron. I know when you’re lying, and I know what you’re thinking. But if you think I’m the one who’s leaking information to Rick, you’re crazy. I’d never do that to you.”

“I don’t think you’d—”

“Just do me one favor.” Lisa walked over and sat on the corner of Ben’s desk. “Look me straight in the eyes and tell me you trust me.”

“But you’re not going to believe—”

“If you tell me the truth, I’ll believe you.”

“Lisa, I swear I trust you,” Ben said, looking directly at his co-clerk. “If I had anything to tell you, I would.”

“One last question. What were you working on when I walked in?”

“What?”

“On your computer,” Lisa pointed. “What were you working on?”

“I was reading The Wall Street Journal on-line. Is that okay?”

“Then how come you’re reading a week-old paper?” Lisa asked.

Ben looked at the top of his computer screen and saw that the onscreen article listed the previous week’s date.

“It sucks to be caught in a lie, doesn’t it?” Lisa challenged. “I bet you wish you could take those words back.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ben said. “You didn’t care what I said to you. You sat on my desk just to see what I was reading.”

“I definitely did,” Lisa said, hopping off Ben’s desk. “And now I finally have my answer.”

“But—”

“Don’t bother. It’d be a waste of both your breath and my intelligence. And when you see Rick, tell him I hope he kicks your ass.”

An hour later, Ben and Lisa were silent, each of them reading a third version of Osterman’s Grinnell opinion. Ben’s phone rang, startling them both. “Hello?” Ben answered. “Justice Hollis’s chambers.”

“Hello, Ben. How’s your day been?”

Recognizing Rick’s voice, Ben tightened his fist around the receiver. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about our meeting on Saturday,” Rick said.

“Then I’m glad you called,” Ben said. “Because I don’t like the airport. I want to—”

“I really don’t care what you want,” Rick interrupted. “I just wanted to tell you that our meeting is canceled. I no longer need what you have to offer.”

“But I thought—”

“Like most of your theories, you thought wrong,” Rick said smugly. “So have fun searching through your little yearbooks, and good luck on your lie detector test. I don’t believe we’ll be speaking again—although I’m sure I’ll hear about all the results.”

“Wait, I—” Before Ben could even get the words out, Rick was gone.

“Who was that?” Lisa asked, noticing Ben’s panicked look.

Ben said nothing. He pushed himself away from his desk, stormed toward the door, grabbed his jacket from the closet, and left the office. He walked down the main steps of the Court, down First Street, and approached the nearest pay phone. Picking up the receiver, he inserted a few coins and dialed Nathan’s phone number.

“Andrew Lukens. Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, recognizing neither the voice nor the name. “I was trying to reach Nathan.”

“Nathan’s been promoted to another office. Can I help you instead?”

“This is his roommate, Ben. Do you know his new extension?”

“Hey, Ben,” Andrew’s voice warmed up. “I’ve heard a lot about you. How’s everything at the Supreme Court? Change any laws today?”

“No, nothing today,” Ben said. “We only change laws on Wednesdays. On Mondays we just try to speak to our roommates.”

“Yeah. Nathan said you had a sarcastic sense of humor,” Andrew said, showing no sign that he intended to transfer Ben’s call. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask Nathan—how’d that prank go with your other roommate?”

“Which one?”

“You know, the one you needed the microphones and cameras for. Nathan said you guys were trying to catch your roommate doing the deed.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ben said, quickly remembering how Nathan had swindled the high-tech equipment out of the State Department. “It went fantastic. I’ll have to remind Nathan to bring you some of the pictures. They were a bit blurry, but they’re pretty funny.”

“Well, if the pictures suck, tell him to bring in the audio. I’m sure the briefcase mikes picked up every moan and groan.”

Ben paused. Briefcase mikes? “How do those mikes work again, Andrew?”

“The same as the cordless ones. The only difference is that they’re built into a briefcase. They’re used when someone is concerned that the regular microphones might get exposed. Pound for pound, I’d say they’re about as close as we get to a James Bond movie. They’re still only at the prototype stage, but Nathan thought you’d get a real kick out of them.”

“Oh, they sure were awesome,” Ben said as a cold sweat covered his brow. “We got to hear everything we wanted to hear.”

“Well, let me transfer you to Nathan,” Andrew said.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ben said. “I’m running late, so I’ll just give him a call later.”

“Do you want me to tell him you called?”

“No, no,” Ben said. “I’m going to be busy all day. I’ll see him at home.”

Ben hung up the phone and leaned his head against the phone booth. Shutting his eyes, his mind searched for a reasonable explanation. When he couldn’t come up with one, his breathing quickened. With his eyes still shut, he slammed his head against the metal booth. “I don’t believe this!” he screamed. He picked up the receiver and searched his pockets for more loose change. As he was about to deposit the money, he paused. “Damn!” he screamed, slamming the receiver back in its cradle. Rubbing his forehead, he mentally replayed his conversations with Rick and Andrew. Struggling to make sense of both exchanges, he stood silent.

Ten minutes later, Ben stepped out of the shadow of the phone booth and returned to the Court. When Lisa heard the door of the office slam shut, she quickly turned her head. After throwing his coat into the closet, Ben stood directly in front of Lisa’s desk.

“What?” she asked. “What’d I do now?”

“Listen, I’m going to tell you this, but I’m only telling you because I need your help,” Ben explained. “A week ago, Rick contacted me—”

“I knew it,” Lisa interrupted. “I knew he—”

“Lisa, please give me a chance to explain,” Ben pleaded. “When I spoke with Rick, he asked me for the Grinnell decision. In exchange, he was going to give me three million dollars. Obviously, I would never give him the decision, but I was hoping that when we met for the exchange, I’d be able to finally I.D. him. Our meeting was supposed to be at the airport this Saturday, probably in one of the executive lounges.”

“And now you need my help to make a plan?”

“I already had a plan,” Ben said. “I had called all the airport lounges to see which ones were reserved for this Saturday. When I got that list, I started doing background checks on any names I didn’t recognize—that’s why I was reading a week-old newspaper. I figured if I could anticipate which room Rick and I were supposed to meet in, I’d be able to wire the room, or bug it, or do something to it in advance. Anyway, just as I start feeling confident that this’ll be the time I nail Rick, I get a surprising phone call from our favorite scumbag.”

“That was Rick who called before?”

“Yep. And he told me that I can go scratch myself because our meeting is canceled. He said he didn’t need my help and then he hung up on me. Obviously, he got the Grinnell decision from someone else.”

“If you think he got it from me, you’re on crack.”

“To be honest, I did think it was you,” Ben admitted. “I figured you were the only other person who had access to the decision.”

“Ben, I swear—”

“Let me finish. After I got Rick’s call, I went to a pay phone to call Nathan. I ended up talking to one of his co-workers, who asked me how the briefcase microphone worked.”

“What briefcase mike?”

“Exactly,” Ben said.

“And now, just because Nathan withheld a piece of equipment, you think he’s the one talking to Rick?”

“What else can I think? This wasn’t just any piece of equipment—if I had the briefcase mike, I would’ve been able to get Rick on tape when we met at the restaurant. I’d have everything documented by now: Rick’s offer, his explanation of the original CMI scam—everything I needed to get me off the hook. But Nathan somehow managed to not include it in his little bag of tricks. You don’t think that’s suspicious?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. But I can’t for the life of me explain why Nathan wouldn’t say word one about it. Especially when it’s such a cool thing to talk about.”

“But if Nathan was working with Rick, Rick would’ve known about the briefcase mike, so it wouldn’t have posed any real threat.”

“I thought about that,” Ben said as he walked toward the file cabinet. “But I keep coming back to the idea that Rick couldn’t have kept the briefcase out of the limo. If he hadn’t let me bring it in, I wouldn’t have gotten in myself. I’d have said that I couldn’t abandon the briefcase in an alley since there were vital Court documents inside. And at that point, Rick had to get me in the car.”

“That’s not a bad theory,” Lisa agreed.

“So now I have to figure out if it’s really Nathan,” Ben said, leaning on the cabinet.

“Ben, let me ask you one question. Fifteen minutes ago, you thought I was selling your soul to the devil, and now you walk in here and pour your guts out to me. Why the change of heart?”

“Lisa, the God’s honest truth is that I have absolutely nothing to lose by telling you. Rick’s cut me loose; he presumably has the Grinnell decision; I don’t have any more meetings with him, and therefore I have no hope of catching him. Even if you are working with Rick, there’s nothing to tell him. I’m lost. I have no suspect, no clues, and a lie detector test in two days. More importantly, I have no one else I can trust.”

“What about Ober?”

“Believe me, he was the first person I thought about. But I realized he really wouldn’t be able to help. Ober’s great, and I love him like a brother, but he couldn’t find his ass with a map and a pickax. I need an extra brain to figure out what to do from here.”

“So if Nathan is in on it, how’d he get the decision?”

“For all I know, he could’ve used some State Department super-computer to break into our computers here. Or he could’ve just as easily gotten it from my briefcase—all he had to do was take it out in the middle of the night, photocopy it, and return it before I got up.”

“Don’t you have a lock on your briefcase? Especially after what happened with Eric?”

“Of course I have a lock. But Nathan knows the combination—he used it for his interview at the State Department.”

“Well, no offense, but your choice of friends is worse than Julius Caesar’s.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Ben said, returning to his desk. “Now, will you help me?”

“That depends,” Lisa said. “Do you trust me?”

“At this point, I don’t trust my own mother. Last time I was home, she started looking a little shifty.”

“Are you at least sorry for your accusations?”

“More sorry than you’ll ever know,” Ben said, tearing the corners off Osterman’s Grinnell opinion. “Now will you please help me?”

“Of course I’ll help you.” Lisa pulled the Grinnell opinion out of Ben’s hands, put his hands flat on the desk, and covered them with her own. “Regardless of what you may think, I really do care about what happens to you. If you were booted out of here, I’d have double the amount of work.”

“That’s funny,” Ben said dryly. “You sure do crack me up.”

“You can hide behind all the sarcastic remarks you want, but I know you appreciate my help.”

“Of course I appreciate it. My life is falling apart, my career is approaching meltdown, and my friends are acting like the charter members of the Benedict Arnold Fan Club. At this point, I’d appreciate election tips from George McGovern. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

“Well, I just hope you realize that you still have some real friends that care about you.”

“Thank you, Lisa Marie. I really do appreciate the help. I mean it.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “But don’t think for a second that I forgive you. You have to get raked over another twenty sets of coals before I forget about the emotional distress you’ve caused me.”

“That’s a deal. And you can pick out the coals personally.”

Taking a few steps backward, Lisa sat on the office sofa. “Now, are we going to catch this motherfucker or not?”

Smiling, Ben pulled a legal pad from the corner of his desk. “I think our only option is to make a list of people Rick might approach at Grinnell and Associates.”

“I can take care of that,” Lisa said. “I’m pretty sure the Clerk’s Office keeps a record of every party’s ownership interests. That should give us a likely list of possible sellers. If we keep an eye on those individuals, we’ll know when Rick makes his move.”

“We don’t even have to keep an eye on them,” Ben said, clearing his computer screen for a new search. “Lexis has its own public records database. All real estate transactions and deed transfers have to be reported to the county clerk’s office. If we have the names of the sellers, we should be able to track them directly from here.”

“Perfect,” Lisa said. “I’ll be back with the names.”

As Lisa left the office, Ben called out, “By the way, I do trust you!”

“I know,” she shouted back.

When the door closed, Ben pulled his chair toward his desk and dialed the number of the phone company. “Hi, I was wondering if you could help me out. By mistake, my wife threw out all of our phone bills. Since we need them for tax purposes, I was hoping we could get copies of them.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, sir,” the operator said. “I just need your name and phone number.”

“The phone is under my wife’s name: Lisa Schulman.” Ben told the operator Lisa’s phone number and added, “I was also wondering if you could send the bills directly to my accountant, since he needs them as soon as possible.”

“We’re not supposed to—”

“It’s my phone,” Ben said. “It’s just under my wife’s name. If it makes it easier for you, I’d be happy to talk to a supervisor.”

“It should be fine. Let me just make a note of that, and then I’ll need the address.”

After giving the operator Ober’s work address, Ben said, “Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

Late that afternoon, Ben stared intently at his computer screen.

“Y’know, you’ll probably go blind if you keep staring like that,” Lisa said.

“I should be so lucky.”

“Stop worrying. You keyed in every name on the ownership papers. If someone sells, you’ll see it change.”

“We’ll never see it,” Ben said, turning away from his computer. “You saw those documents. Grinnell is owned primarily by four limited partnerships, which are owned by eight more limited partnerships, which are owned by sixteen S corporations . . .”

“We pulled out every name we could find. And if we couldn’t find them, what do you think the chances are that Rick could find them?”

Ben shot Lisa his you-must-be-joking look.

“Okay,” Lisa said, “so Rick could probably find anything. But that doesn’t mean we’re not on the right track.”

“It’s not that I don’t think we’re on the right track,” Ben said. “I just feel like this is a very passive plan. We’re just sitting here and waiting.”

“Well, that’s all we can do now. If you’re so anxious, why don’t you start looking through the Harvard and Michigan yearbooks?”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked. “They haven’t arrived yet.”

“Yes, they have. I told you earlier that there were two boxes in reception for you.”

“You never said that,” Ben said, rising from his seat.

“I definitely did. When I got back from getting the ownership documents, I told you there were two boxes waiting for you. You were probably too caught up in your computer screen.”

Ben walked to the closet and pulled out his coat. “Rather than bring the yearbooks home to Nathan, I think I’m going to leave them here. I’ll go through them tomorrow.”

“Where are you going now?” Lisa asked, noticing that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet.

“I want to speak to Ober before Nathan gets home. Can you cover for me in case Hollis calls?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

When Ben arrived home, the hum of silence revealed that the house was empty. Taking off his coat and throwing it on the sofa, Ben checked the kitchen, peeked into the first-floor bathroom, and opened the door to the basement. “Is anybody here?” he called out. When he got upstairs, he peeked into Eric’s and Ober’s rooms, as well as his own. After looking in the second-floor bathroom and every hall closet, Ben opened the door to Nathan’s room. Without turning on the lights, he slid open Nathan’s closet and poked his head inside. Convinced that he was alone, Ben then approached Nathan’s desk, focusing on the small stack of papers arranged in a neat pile. Not making a sound, Ben flipped through the pile. Grocery list, things-to-do list, birthday list, movies-to-rent list. Nothing of consequence. After returning the papers to their original position, Ben held his breath and cautiously pulled open the center desk drawer. Picking up the organizer that kept all the pens, pencils, and erasers in place, Ben slowly and methodically searched for anything that might lead to Rick’s whereabouts. After closing the drawer, Ben picked up the address book on Nathan’s nightstand. Reading each entry, he struggled to account for every name in the book.

“What the hell are you doing with my address book?”

Startled, Ben dropped the book and looked up, surprised to see Ober laughing in the doorway. “Don’t do that!” Ben yelled, picking up the book and returning it to its place.

“You should’ve seen your face. You were—”

“Is anyone with you?” Ben asked, rushing out of Nathan’s room.

“No. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Listen, I’m going to tell you something, but you have to swear you’ll never say a word.”

“I swear,” Ober said, pulling off his tie.

“I’m not joking,” Ben warned. “Not a word to anyone. Not Nathan, not your parents . . .”

“I swear,” Ober repeated as they walked down the stairs toward the living room. “Just tell me.”

After explaining the entire story to his roommate, Ben said, “So tell me: What do you think?”

“I can’t believe what you’re saying.” Ober’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You expect me to believe that Nathan is in on this whole thing?”

“What else am I supposed to believe?”

“No way,” Ober slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Now you’re crazy. I mean, if you said Eric, I’d understand. In fact, last week I saw him in your room going through your garbage.”

“Did you ask him what he was doing?”

“He said someone took his classifieds section, so he wanted to see if it was you.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Ben said. “You should’ve sent him to Nathan—he’s the untrustworthy one around here.”

“There’s no way in hell Nathan would do that,” Ober insisted. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

“Well, I do,” Ben said. “And at this point, that’s all that really matters. Lisa and I are trying to find—”

“How can you suddenly trust Lisa with everything?” Ober interrupted. “I mean, you always say I’m dense, but you must be a moron to tell her stuff again.”

“Listen, I don’t trust her for a second,” Ben said, walking over to the sink. He turned on the water and splashed some on his face. “As soon as she left the office, I started investigating her as well.”

“Then why tell her anything at all?”

“It’s simple. First, she can’t do me any real harm. Second, and I know you’ll never understand this, but she helps me think better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I really can’t explain it, but when I brainstorm with her, I wind up with my best ideas.”

“Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but this isn’t just some Supreme Court decision you two are working on. This is your life, buddy-boy.”

“It is?” Ben said sarcastically. “And here I thought it was just a big ol’ game of Parcheesi. Dang.”

“I think you’re way off in space with this one,” Ober said, shaking his head.

“Fine. I’ll take your advice into consideration. Now, are you going to help me or not?”

“I’m surprised you trust me. I mean, I may be in on it, too.”

“No offense, but I thought about it.”

“Thanks,” Ober said. “I really appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Listen, don’t get offended. I’m telling you, aren’t I?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re telling me.”

“Because I need you to do me a favor,” Ben said. “I had all of Lisa’s phone bills sent to your address at work. It was the only address I could think of that Nathan, Rick, and Lisa don’t have access to. When you get the bills, will you let me know so I can go through them?”

“Of course,” Ober said. “One last question, though: If the house is bugged, why are you still telling me all this?”

“There’s nothing Rick’s heard that he can use against me,” Ben explained. “Lisa’s bills are already on their way, and if Nathan’s on his side, he already knows—” Ben heard a key in the lock of the front door and fell silent. “Don’t say a single word,” he warned, whispering over his shoulder as Ober followed him into the living room. “You promised.”

When the door opened, Nathan walked into the room. “My friend, you are going to be thrilled with me,” he said to Ben as he hung his jacket in the closet. He put his briefcase on the coffee table and sat down next to Ober. “Thanks to yours truly, you are now going to pass the marshal’s ever-alarming lie detector test.”

“And how’s that?” Ben asked.

“Well, let’s just say that I made a number of phone calls today, and I was able to get everything we need to beat the test.” Nathan opened his briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “I spoke to some of the technicians in the security division and they explained it all. First and foremost, you’re right about the test not being admissible in court.”

“I know,” Ben said curtly. “They’ve never been admissible.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nathan asked.

Ober looked at Ben. “It’s nothing,” Ben said. “I’m just nervous about it. What else did they say?”

“This is the way the test works,” Nathan said, consulting a sheet of paper. “When you first walk in, they almost always have the machine set up in the middle of the room. They try to make it look imposing since the theory is that most people will confess because they’re so terrified of the machine. They then ask you questions for at least an hour before the machine is even hooked up and turned on. On average, this is where most people crack,” Nathan said, looking up from the paper to accentuate his point. “They said that the shadow of the box is enough to intimidate the average criminal.”

“Hey, Ben’s far more than average,” Ober said. “He’s at least in the ninetieth percentile of criminals.”

Ignoring his roommate, Nathan continued, “The machine itself measures three things: respiratory rate, blood pressure, and galvanic skin response, which is the skin’s response to electric current. Lying usually has a positive correlation with sweating, so the machine picks up your sweat levels. Not that you’d have any problem with that.”

“Just tell me how to pass the test,” Ben said impatiently.

“Relax,” Nathan said. “After the hour of questions, they’ll hook you up to the machine. And when they attach it, the machine will take baseline readings of your breathing and respiratory levels. This is the place where the undereducated always try to cheat the machine. They’ll try to breathe heavy and fidget around—doing anything they can to convince the machine that their heart rate is higher than it actually is. But the guys in security said that a good machine operator will easily recognize this and will quickly account for it.

“After the initial adjustment, they pull out a deck of cards, and they ask you questions about the cards. This is just to convince you that the machine works. Then they ask you three questions, and you’re supposed to answer no to each one, even if the real answer is yes. That’s how they see if you’re lying. They ask if you’re over the age of twenty-one, if you smoke, and if you’ve ever done anything you’re ashamed of. After that, finally, they ask you a maximum of three questions about whatever it is you’re accused of.”

“And that’s it?” Ben asked skeptically.

“That’s it.”

“But what about the way it works in the movies?” Ober asked. “Where you see the suspect getting grilled with dozens of questions while the needle thrashes across the scrolling paper.”

“Doesn’t happen in real life,” Nathan said. “In the real world, it can only test the truthfulness of three statements in a session.”

“So how does that help me?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Nathan said, reaching back into his briefcase. He pulled out a small brown medicine vial and threw it to Ben. “Those’re the pills that I told you the military uses to beat the tests.”

Ben read the label on the vial. “Prynadolol?”

“It works,” Nathan said. “You’re supposed to take one pill as soon as you wake up in the morning, and if your test is after three o’clock in the afternoon, you should take another pill at lunch.”

“How did you get these?” Ben asked, pulling off the cap to see five pills inside.

“I told the technicians that my younger brother had to take a lie detector test for his job in the mall. When they heard that, they just offered the pills to me.”

“How do they work?”

“They’re supposed to moderate your heart rate and blood pressure,” Nathan explained. “Doctors usually give them to people who have recurring heart attacks, and politicians use them to beat stagefright, but the military realized that they could put them to much better use.”

“Are these experimental or are they FDA approved?”

“If they were approved, everyone would have access,” Nathan said.

“So they’re experimental,” Ben said.

“They’re fine,” Nathan said. “Do you really think they’d give me something that was potentially dangerous?”

“I think it’d be cool if they were dangerous,” Ober said. “Then you’d grow an extra nostril in your forehead and we could sue the government for billions.”

“Or maybe it’d cause me to grow a brain,” Ben said. Looking back to Nathan, he continued, “Now tell me how this helps me pass the test.”

“It doesn’t guarantee you’ll pass,” Nathan said. “It significantly increases your chances, but it’s still primarily up to you. While you’re in the room, you have to be as calm as possible. Don’t fidget and don’t get nervous. The technicians said that if you’re a good liar, you should do fine. If you’re a bozo, you’ll probably freak out and fail regardless.”

“Oh, man, you’re dead,” Ober said to Ben.

Ben put the vial in his pocket and stood up from the couch. “I’m going to make some pasta,” he said coldly. “Anyone else want some?”

“Hey, you’re welcome,” Nathan said, making a face.

“I’ll say thank you if I pass the test,” Ben said, heading to the kitchen.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with you anyway?”

“I just want to be sure I can trust you about these,” Ben said. He turned around and looked directly at Nathan. “I mean, they’re not placebos, are they?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ben, don’t accuse—” Ober began.

“No, let him finish,” Nathan said, standing from his seat. “Accuse me of what?”

“Well, today I got a phone call from Rick, who said that he no longer needs my help. Apparently, he already got a Court decision from someone else.”

“And you think I’m the one that gave it to him?” Nathan asked, his voice rising with anger. “Have you thought about your little friend Lisa, or is all the blood that was once in your brain still being used by your dick?”

“I actually did think it was Lisa,” Ben shot back as he returned to the living room. “And when I called you so that we could talk about her, I had an enlightening conversation with one of your office mates, named Andrew. He was telling me all about the briefcase microphone that we were supposed to use during our first meeting with Rick. He told me how great they work, and how wonderful they are, and how they pick up everything. So you can imagine my surprise when I realized that I hadn’t heard a single word about this marvel of technology.”

“And now you think I’m the one who’s in on it with Rick?” Nathan asked, laughing.

“I’m not joking,” Ben said. “Look at the facts.”

“The facts show nothing!” Nathan yelled. “And beyond that, have you even thought about actually asking me why we didn’t use the briefcase mike?”

“And I suppose there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”

“Of course there is. The briefcase mike is a prototype, and regardless of what Andrew said, it works like crap. The leather muffles the sound, and you can’t hear a thing. The only reason we have it around is because everyone likes the idea. I just figured that we might as well go with equipment that works—I’m crazy like that.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” Nathan said. “But that’s the truth.”

“Nathan, let me tell you something,” Ben said, pointing a finger at his roommate. “I know you. I probably know you better than I know myself. And if you even had the chance, just the possibility, of using a briefcase that concealed a microphone, you’d grab it in a second and bring it right to us, even if it hadn’t ever worked.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Because I know you love to show off. And I know you love to strut like a peacock when you have something no one else has. You would’ve loved walking into Lisa’s with that briefcase mike—you’d have looked like Q from James Bond. And even if you couldn’t get it to work, you’d have brought it home just to show us you could. I mean, think about it logically. Any of us would’ve loved to show off with that thing. But now you want me to believe that not only did you not want to bring it home, but you didn’t even think it was worth mentioning? Please, Nathan. You’re way too competitive and your ego’s way too big for me to believe that you’d ever keep it quiet.”

“Are you done?” Nathan asked calmly, his arms crossed in front of him.

“I think so.”

“Then you can go fuck yourself, you paranoid little piece of shit! I busted my ass to get you that equipment! I risked my job by lying to everyone in my office, and I drove myself crazy trying to figure out a way for you to get out of this nightmare. But when you have the gall to accuse me before you actually even speak to me—well, you can ride the Hindenburg alone. I know you’re in a tough situation, but I have better things to do than take abuse from you.”

“Listen—”

“No, you listen! This thing has made you absolutely insane. And the fact that you accused me and not Lisa shows me that you’re not only way beyond reason, you’re also only a few beats away from the nuthouse. When you regain your senses, I hope you’ll have the integrity to apologize.” Nathan turned away from his roommates and walked out of the living room. As he approached the stairs, he turned around and added, “And when he and Lisa shatter your existence, just know you’ll be sweeping up alone.”

When Nathan was out of sight, Ben remained silent.

“You shouldn’t have accused him like that,” Ober said. “That was dead wrong.”

“What was I supposed to do? No matter how I started, I knew we’d wind up in this position.”

“Still, there are better ways to pick a fight. Some of that stuff you said is unforgivable.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ben said. “If Nathan were in my position, he’d have done the exact same thing.”

“Y’know, Eric said the same thing to you when he wrote his story. And just like Nathan, you told him to fuck off,” Ober said. He got up from the sofa and moved toward the stairs. “Pretty eerie, huh?”

“So are you going to take the pills?” Lisa asked, sipping coffee at her desk the following morning.

“Of course I am,” Ben said, flipping through a Michigan Law School yearbook. “What choice do I have?”

“You can decide not to take them.”

“And I can also decide to fail the test,” Ben said. “Even if they have no effect, I might as well take them. It’s not like they’re mini-cyanide pills and they’ll kill me.”

“How do you know what they are? They can contain anything: cyanide, No-Doz, truth serum—”

“That’s enough,” Ben interrupted. “I’ll take my chances, thank you.”

“I’m serious,” Lisa said. “Who knows what Nathan gave you?”

“You don’t believe that. You’re just mad because I told you he was the one who suspected you.”

“Of course I’m mad about that. Screw him.”

“C’mon now—be nice.”

“Be nice?” Lisa asked. “You want me to be nice? You’re the one who spent last night alienating your closest friends.”

“Thanks for pointing that out. I had almost gone a full two minutes without thinking about it.”

“I’m surprised they’re still letting you live there. If I were them, I’d have thrown you out on your ass.”

“It definitely wasn’t happy town at breakfast this morning. Eric, Nathan, Ober, and I were all eating at the same time and no one said a word to anyone else. If someone wanted more milk or more napkins, they just pointed at them. It was like living with a family of mimes.”

“If you want, you can stay at my place for a while,” Lisa said.

“I appreciate the offer. But if I’m home, I can keep an eye on things.”

Lisa took another sip of coffee. “Have you ever thought that you might be wrong? That your friends really aren’t against you?”

“Of course I have,” Ben said, looking up as he turned a page of the yearbook. “Why do you think I couldn’t sleep last night?”

“So . . . ?”

“So I keep coming back to one idea: What if I’m wrong? As soon as I ask that question, I’m back where I started.”

Nodding, Lisa motioned toward Ben’s reading material. “Does anyone look familiar?”

“They look familiar in the sense that everyone looks like a boring lawyer. But beyond that, nobody looks like Rick.” Ben closed the yearbook. “It’s hopeless—he’s gone, and I’m lost.”

“Don’t say that. Pick up the next book and keep looking.”

“I don’t even know why I bother,” Ben said, opening another yearbook. “This plan is ridiculous.”

“Listen, don’t put all your faith in the yearbooks. If you find him, great. If not, we’ll find him when someone at Grinnell decides to sell. Besides, finding Rick should be secondary at this point. If you fail that lie detector test, you’ll have bigger problems than Rick.”

“I’ll pass the test.”

“Suddenly you’re so self-assured?”

“I’m serious. The average person fails the test because they’re terrified of the machine.”

“And naturally, you’re much more competent than the average person,” Lisa said.

“I am. I may be scared shitless, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let a silly piece of machinery intimidate me. If the machines were so great, they’d be admissible in court. Until then, they’re obviously beatable. Besides, the nature of being a lawyer is arguing what you don’t necessarily believe.”

“But you’re not a lawyer. You’re a clerk.”

“Did I pass the bar exam?” Ben asked. “I’m a lawyer.”

“You’re terrified is what you are. Whenever you get scared, you start acting like a pompous ass—as if that’s a solid form of defense.”

“Okay, maybe. But I still know that I haven’t done anything wrong. Rick tricked me out of that first opinion. I didn’t give it to him intending for him to use it to make money. I was a pawn. A fool. A knave. In my wildest dreams, I never thought Rick would use the information for personal gain. I thought I was speaking in the closest confidence. So if anyone is the victim here, it’s me.”

“That’s a nice speech,” Lisa said, applauding. “You should write it down somewhere.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because if you fail that test tomorrow, you’re going to need it for the opening arguments of your dismissal hearing.”

After work, Lisa and Ben left the Court, walked up First Street and made a right on C Street. Passing the Dirksen Senate Office Building, they saw a band of young Senate staffers empty onto the sidewalk, all of them dressed in tan overcoats and toting leather briefcases. Ben counted the months until spring, when the sun would shine again. Although it hadn’t snowed for a week, the leftover slush, blackened from automobile exhaust and other pollution, covered Capitol Hill with a filthy winter veneer. Ten minutes later, the two clerks reached Sol & Evvy’s Drug Store, the oldest operating pharmacy in the entire city. “Are you sure they have it here?” Ben asked, opening the door that was covered with peeling white paint.

“I’m positive,” Lisa said as she walked inside.

In the small, cramped store, sun-faded maps and decade-old advertisements decorated the walls. “It smells like my grandmother’s house,” he said.

“This place is historic,” Lisa said as she headed to the back of the store. “Have some respect.”

“Trust me, I love places like this. Where else can you find expiration dates that match your birthday to the year?”

“You have to take a look at these maps,” Lisa said as she pointed to the walls. “I don’t think a single one lists Alaska or Hawaii as states.”

“I believe it,” Ben said. “The one near the front door didn’t even have the Louisiana Purchase on it. Ah, those thirteen states of ours.”

When Ben and Lisa reached the back of the store, the pharmacist behind the counter rose from his rusted metal folding chair. “What’s your ache?”

“Just her,” Ben said, motioning to Lisa.

“We’re okay, thanks,” Lisa said. She pointed to the freestanding blood pressure machine next to the counter. “Here it is. I told you they had one.”

“Do you really think this’ll work?” Ben asked, handing his overcoat and suit jacket to Lisa.

“How should I know?”

“Do I have to get undressed for this?” Ben asked, already rolling up his sleeve.

“Read the directions.”

After glancing at the paragraph of directions, Ben pulled a quarter from his pocket, unrolled his sleeve, put his arm into the cuff, and inserted the coin in the machine.

“You can do it over your shirt?” Lisa asked.

“According to the directions.” Suddenly, the cuff tightened around Ben’s arm. Breathing deeply and remaining silent, he waited as the cuff slowly loosened. A set of red numbers appeared on the screen of the machine: 122 over 84.

“Crap,” Ben said.

“What are you normally?”

“One twenty-five over eight-five. The damn pills had almost no effect. My heart rate’s the same, my pressure’s the same. I’m a dead man.”

“Don’t say that. Besides, you only took them two hours ago. Maybe they haven’t kicked in yet.”

Ben put on both of his coats and grabbed his briefcase. “Maybe. But for some reason, I doubt it.”

“Don’t let it get you upset,” Lisa said as they left the store. “If you expect to pass the test, you have to focus on being calm.”