The Tenth Justice

At a quarter after nine on Sunday morning, 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?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Call them,” Lisa demanded. “If Rick’s running around your neighborhood, the first place he’s going to check is your house. Are they still home?”

“Nathan’s at work, but Eric might be.” Ben hung up and searched his pockets for more change. He was a nickel short. Undeterred, he anxiously entered his calling card number into the pay phone. As his fingers danced across the buttons, he realized he’d misdialed the number. “Damn,” he said; hanging up. He picked up the receiver and frantically reentered his calling card number. “C’mon, c’mon,” he said as he waited for the tone. He heard it and entered his home number, praying Eric had finished his editing and left the house.

“Hello,” Eric said.

“Eric, it’s me. Get out of the house. Rick and that guy in the navy coat—”

“Have you spoken to Lisa?” Eric interrupted.

“Don’t worry about Lisa,” Ben said. “You have to—”

“Shut up a second,” Eric insisted. “Rick called here looking for you. He said it was an emergency. And he wanted me to tell you that he was going over to Lisa’s.”

Ben’s heart sank. “How long ago did he call?”

“About a half hour ago. Do you need any—”

Ben hung up the phone, reentered his calling card, and dialed Lisa’s number. “Shit, shit, shit,” he said as the phone rang five times without an answer.

Finally, Lisa picked up. “Hello.”

“Get out of your apartment,” Ben said. “Rick’s on his way over.”

“Or maybe I’m already here,” Rick said. “How are you doing, Ben? Long time, no see.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Why so sad?” Rick asked. “It’s just me.”

“If you hurt her, I swear I’ll—”

“Spare me the threats,” Rick demanded, his voice growing suddenly serious. “I now have both Lisa and Nathan—”

“Nathan?”

“Shut up and listen for once,” Rick said. “I have both of them, and I’m sick and tired of playing games. Now tell me where you are.”

Ben was silent.

“This is no time to be stupid,” Rick said. “You already lost one friend this weekend. Do you want to go for two?” Getting no response, he added, “How about three?”

“I’m at Boosin’s Bar,” Ben finally said. “It’s on New Hampshire.”

“I know where it is,” Rick said. “I expect you to be standing outside in ten minutes. And if you happen to feel the urge to call the authorities, your parents, Eric, or anyone else, I will be extremely upset with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ben said, fighting his rage.

“Good. Now, one last question,” Rick said. “What’s the outcome of American Steel?”

Again, Ben was silent.

“I asked a question,” Rick said.

Still, silence.

“This is just about money,” Rick warned. “Don’t turn it into anything that requires violence.”

“American Steel wins,” Ben snapped. “Are you happy? Now you can go make your millions.”

“I’m extremely happy—that’s exactly the same answer Lisa gave us,” Rick said. “We’ll see you outside in ten minutes.”

Hearing Rick hang up, Ben exploded. He grabbed the receiver and slammed it against the pay phone. The few patrons who were in the bar looked up when they heard the crashing noise. Again, Ben banged the receiver against the metal base of the phone. And again. And again.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. “What the hell is wrong with you?” the bartender asked, pulling the receiver from Ben’s hand.

“Get off me!” Ben screamed, struggling against the bartender.

The bartender dragged him to the front door and pushed him outside. “If you’re going to be a psycho, go someplace else.”

Waiting outside of Boosin’s, Ben teemed with anger. With his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, he despondently kicked at a small pile of snow next to the building. Within ten minutes, a red Jeep pulled up to the curb. The only person in it was Claremont. “Wait right there,” Claremont said as he got out of the Jeep and approached Ben. Now that Claremont was no longer wearing his brown fedora, Ben studied his attacker’s features. With a round face that was highlighted by a worn, floury complexion, Claremont looked much older than Ben had expected.

“Take off your jacket,” Claremont said, pointing with thick, stubby fingers.

When Ben obliged, Claremont patted him down. “Still worried about microphones?” Ben asked.

“I’m told you have a habit of wearing them.” After establishing that Ben was clean, Claremont opened the door for Ben. “All aboard,” he said.

Thirty-five minutes later, the Jeep pulled into the back parking lot of the Palm Hotel, in Bethesda. “Follow me,” Claremont said as he walked toward the back entrance of the building. “And if you say one word to anyone . . .”

“I get the picture,” Ben said.

They took the elevator to the twenty-fourth floor and walked down the hallway to room 2427. Claremont slid his coded card into the electronic lock, pushed open the door, and entered the lavishly decorated suite. The main room was empty.

“Where is everyone?” Ben asked.

“Shut up and follow,” Claremont said. He led the way through the bedroom and opened the door that connected the suite to the one next door. They walked through the second suite and reached a door that connected that suite to a third. Finally, they entered the largest of the three suites, where Rick, Lisa, and Nathan were waiting.

When Ben and Claremont entered the room, Rick got up from his seat on the sofa. “Well, well, the gang’s all here,” he said. “Lisa, Nathan, I believe you know Ben. Ben, this is Lisa and Nathan.”

Ben was surprised to see Nathan and Lisa sitting calmly at the large glass dining-room table. Looking through the glass tabletop, he noticed that they were both handcuffed to their chairs. A swollen black eye colored the left side of Nathan’s face.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked.

“Fuck off,” Nathan said, turning away.

“Children,” Rick scolded. “No fighting.”

“You didn’t have to hit him,” Ben said.

“Yes, we did,” Rick said glibly. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have come with us.”

Looking at Lisa, Ben asked, “They didn’t hit you, did they?”

“Are you kidding?” Rick interjected, showing off the scratch marks on the side of his neck. “She did more damage than you.” When he approached the small mahogany desk in the corner of the room, Rick reached into his briefcase, pulled out two sets of handcuffs, and threw them to Claremont.

Claremont pushed Ben toward the large wooden chair next to Nathan. “Take a seat.”

“Let them go first,” Ben demanded.

“And let them run to the police?” Rick laughed. “Take a seat, Ben. You’re in no position to argue.”

When Ben sat down, Claremont used both sets of handcuffs to fasten Ben’s arms to the chair.

“And if you’re thinking about screaming,” Rick said, “you can save your lungs the wear and tear. We have most of this floor, and the manager promised us complete privacy. You can buy just about anything these days.”

“I don’t know why you’re so smug,” Ben said. “Eric’s still out there. When we don’t come home tonight, he’ll head straight to the police.”

“No, he won’t,” Rick said coldly.

Lisa looked at Ben. “Nathan called Eric and told him that he was working late tonight. And then I called him and told him that we were both okay—that the phone call from Rick was just a fake threat.” Seeing the bewildered look on Ben’s face, she added, “Rick said he would kill you if we didn’t make the calls.”

Surprised by the gravity of Rick’s threat, Ben looked up at his captor.

“Satisfied?” Rick asked.

“Are you going to stop the decision?” Fisk asked, sitting impatiently in Lungen’s office.

“I don’t see how,” Lungen said. “We have no more proof than we did on Friday. Ben and Lisa haven’t been in all weekend.”

“I knew we should’ve staked out his house,” Fisk said, pointing at Lungen. “Now we have no idea where he is.”

“For all we know, he’s out shopping.”

“I still say we pull the plug on the decision. Tell the justices we don’t want it announced until we find Ben.”

“Will you listen to what you’re saying,” Lungen demanded. “You want me to hold up the Supreme Court of the United States because one of their clerks didn’t work this weekend? Do you know how fast we’ll be standing on the unemployment line?”

“What if he doesn’t show up tomorrow?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lungen said. “Until we have all the facts—and I mean every last detail—we cannot bring this Court to a screeching halt. Believe me, when we have the information, Ben Addison’s ass is mine. But until that point, we just sit and wait.”

“And listen,” Fisk said, turning up the speaker on Lungen’s desk.

Ben’s arms were growing stiff from being restrained. “You made a mistake taking only three of us.”

“Oh, we did?” Rick sat on the plush sofa and flipped through the paperwork laid out on the coffee table.

“I mean it,” Ben said. “Eric won’t believe those stories. I bet he’s talking to the police right now.”

“That’s a pretty crappy theory,” Rick said, his eyes still focused on his paperwork.

“And why’s that?”

“You expect Eric to run to the police?” Rick asked, looking up at his captives. “Is this the same Eric who told you to avoid the authorities at all cost? The same Eric who said you could catch me all by yourself? This is the person who’s going to blow this wide open? Even Ober was more resourceful.” Ben’s jaw tightened. “Hit a raw nerve, huh?”

“If it wasn’t for you, he’d still be alive,” Ben said. “I’ll kill you for that.”

“Sure you will. And if you believe that, I can see why you think Eric’s coming to your rescue.” Making himself comfortable on the sofa, Rick added, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re on your own this time.”

Sitting at his desk in the political bureau, Eric was annoyed. For the past three hours, he had tried to locate his roommates. Nathan wasn’t at work, Ben wasn’t at the Court, and Lisa wasn’t at home. Those phone calls had to be a setup, Eric thought as the crumbs of his late lunch fell into his computer keyboard. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he flipped through his Rolodex. No more playing around, Eric thought as he dialed the number of the Marshals Office at the Supreme Court. I need real help.

“U.S. Marshals Office,” a man answered. “This is Carl Lungen.”

“Mr. Lungen, this is Eric Stroman—Ben Addison’s roommate.”

“How’d you get my private line?” Lungen asked, sounding annoyed.

“I stole it from Ben’s Rolodex—you never know when you’re going to need a marshal,” Eric explained. “I’m only calling because it’s an emergency. I think Ben’s in trouble.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, without getting into the whole story, Ben was being blackmailed by this guy named Rick. A few hours ago, I got a call from Ben telling me to get out of my house because Rick was after us. A half hour after that, Lisa called and told me everything was okay. Maybe I’m just being neurotic, but I think something happened to them.”

“Eric, I’m very glad you called,” Lungen said. “Now start from the beginning and tell me the whole story.”

At ten o’clock that evening, Rick and Claremont sat in the center suite, picking at the remains of their room-service dinner. “Only twelve more hours,” Rick said, nibbling on a french fry. “We’re almost there.”

“You promise we’ll cash in the options by noon?” Claremont asked.

“How many times do you need to hear it?” Rick asked. “It’ll all be done by noon.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Claremont said. “If you were in my position, you’d be just as concerned. It’ll only take a few hours before the SEC realizes that an American Steel executive cashed in all of his stock and risked it all on a long-shot bet. This deal is going to raise one hell of a lot of eyebrows over there.”

“We’ll be long gone by the time they put it together,” Rick said. “Don’t get crazy over it.”

“I’ll just be happy when it’s over,” Claremont said.

“You’ll be more than happy,” Rick said. “You’ll be rich. Those options will be worth millions.”

“What if Ben’s lying and Steel actually loses?”

“Don’t worry,” Rick said. “After what happened with Grinnell, I’m not putting a dollar down unless I know he’s telling the truth.”

“Nathan, will you stop it already?” Ben begged. “Talk to me.”

“Leave him alone,” Lisa said. “He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

“Silence doesn’t help anyone at this point,” Ben said. “Get over it.”

“Get over it?” Nathan asked, looking up and facing Ben. “Ober is dead. That’s not something I’ll just get over. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never.”

“Enough with the fighting,” Lisa interrupted, pulling on her restraints. Leaning to her left, she peered over the armrest and saw that her handcuffs were attached to the wooden supports that connected the front and back legs of the antique chair. “I say we focus on getting out of here.”

“Let me guess.” Nathan said. “You have a bobby pin in your hair and you’re a master lockpick?”

“I wish,” Lisa said, tipping her chair forward until she could stand. Hunched over, she shuffled toward Ben. She then lowered her chair, sitting in front of him. “See those supports?” she asked. “I bet if you kick them hard enough, they’ll break in half.”

Ben looked at the width of the supports. “There’s no way,” he said. “It’ll never—”

“Don’t give me that,” Lisa demanded. “Try. Kick the shit out of it. Just don’t kick my hand.”

Ben jerked his chair into position and prepared to kick the support. “Hold on a second,” Lisa said, waving her handcuffed hand. “Give me your other foot.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, the moment you kick this chair, you’ll go flying backward.”

Nodding, Ben let Lisa get a good handhold on his left ankle. With his right leg primed for impact, he counted, “One, two, three,” and slammed his foot against the support.

“Again,” Lisa said as Ben hit the support. “Keep going.” Wildly kicking over a dozen times, Ben felt the wooden support start to splinter. “You’re almost there,” Lisa said. After one more blow, the support snapped, allowing Lisa to slide the handcuff off the chair. With one arm still tied down, she turned her chair around. “Do the other one.”

“Quietly,” Nathan warned, carefully watching the door that connected to the other suite.

When Ben had kicked through the other support, Lisa was free. With the handcuffs still dangling from her wrists, she walked to Ben’s chair and prepared to start kicking.

“Screw the chair,” Ben said. “Run and get help.”

“No way,” Lisa said.

“Don’t argue, just go,” Ben said as the handcuffs pulled against his wrists. “There’s no way we’ll all get free without them hearing.”

“They didn’t hear you, did they?” Lisa asked. “Besides, if I leave and they find out I’m gone, who knows what they’ll do to you?”

“We’ll be fine,” Ben said. “Go get help.”

“I’m not going,” Lisa said. She started kicking at Ben’s supports. “I don’t need your death on my head.”

“They won’t kill us,” Ben said.

Lisa stopped to look Ben in the eye. “Are you kidding me? You think they’d beat us, kidnap us, and chain us up, but not kill us?”

“Go get help,” Ben said.

“Nathan?” Lisa asked.

“Kick the chair,” Nathan said. “I watched them dance on my face. Rick enjoyed it.”

Standing on one leg, Lisa slammed her foot against the support. It refused to buckle. “Damn.”

“Get out of here,” Ben said.

“Shut . . . up,” Lisa said, pounding the support. Slowly, it began to fracture. After six more kicks, it broke in two. Lisa ran to the other side of the chair.

“Hurry,” Ben said.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked as she started working on the other side. Within a minute, the second support broke. Quickly running to Nathan’s chair, the two clerks each took a side and kicked the old wood.

Nathan’s adrenaline was pumping. “It’ll give,” he said. “It’ll definitely give.”

Her legs tired from the attack, Lisa stopped to catch her breath.

“Keep kicking,” Nathan said. “You’re almost there.”

As Ben shattered the wood on his side, Nathan pulled his arm free. Running around to help Lisa, Ben heard a quiet click.

They all looked up.

“Shit,” Nathan said.

“Why do you even bother?” Rick asked. Standing in the corner of the room, he pointed a gun at the three friends. “I want them separated,” Rick demanded as he and Claremont walked toward the large glass table. He pointed the gun at Lisa. “Put her in the bathroom. Lock the cuffs to the pipes under the sink.”

As Claremont grasped her left handcuff, Lisa swung her right one through the air, smashing him in the side of the head. Gripping both her hands in one of his, Claremont smacked Lisa in the face and sent her flying to the floor.

“I’ll kill you!” Ben screamed, racing toward Claremont.

Rick pointed his gun at Ben. “DON’T MOVE!”

Suddenly frozen in fear, Ben stared down the barrel of Rick’s gun.

Just then the door that connected to the second suite crashed open.

“EVERYBODY FREEZE! U.S. MARSHAL!” Carl Lungen screamed as he ran into the room, erratically pointing his gun in every direction. Ben’s mouth dropped open. “You’re all under arrest!” Lungen yelled.

“Where the hell have you been?” Rick asked, unfazed by the entrance. “You were supposed to be here hours ago.”

Lowering his gun, Lungen looked over at Ben and started laughing. “Oh, man, you should see your face,” he said. “You really thought I was coming to your rescue, didn’t you?”

“Help us tie them up,” Claremont said. “They almost got out.”

“How’s it feel to be the fool. Addison?” Lungen asked, pointing his gun at Ben. “Now get your hands up.”

“What the hell is going on?” Ben asked, raising his hands in the air. “You’re working for him?”

With his gun in Ben’s back, Lungen led Ben to a chair that wasn’t broken. “Don’t take it personally,” Lungen said. “Money’s money.”

“Was Fisk in on it as well?” Ben asked as Lungen handcuffed him to the chair.

“I should be so lucky,” Lungen said. He turned toward Rick and added, “That’s where I was all day. Sorry I couldn’t help you bring these three in.”

“Fisk giving you a hard time?” Rick asked.

“Are you kidding? It’s taken every excuse I can think of to keep him from rushing in and arresting everyone. He’s more anxious than a virgin on prom night.”

Rick smirked as he watched the shock on Ben’s face. “Will he stay quiet?” Rick asked.

“He seems okay now, but I’m worried he’ll go nuts when Ben doesn’t show up for work tomorrow.”

“He won’t do anything,” Rick said. “From what you’ve told me, Fisk won’t take a crap without your permission.”

“I don’t believe this,” Ben said as Lungen turned his attention to Nathan.

Lungen reattached Nathan’s loose handcuff to the armrest on Nathan’s chair. “C’mon, Ben,” Lungen said, “did you really think you were that good? Without me, Fisk would’ve bugged your office weeks ago instead of days ago. And that lie detector test—you would’ve never passed without my help. The way I see it, you should thank me.”

“I don’t get it,” Ben said. “Fisk administered that test.”

“But who do you think rigged the machine?” Lungen asked, sitting on the couch next to Rick. “You couldn’t fail that test if you tried.”

“And you thought your roommate gave you placebos and you passed anyway,” Rick said.

Ben turned toward Nathan. “I never thought . . .”

“It’s okay,” Nathan whispered, his voice trembling. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Oh, man,” Lungen laughed, slapping Rick’s knee. “Did you see their faces when I ran in here? They thought it was all over.”

“It will be,” Rick said. “In less than eleven hours.”

By four in the morning, all but one of the lights in the suite had been turned off, and an eerie silence pervaded the darkened room. A small tabletop lamp next to the sofa provided just enough reading light for Lungen to see his newspaper. In the bathroom, Lisa was asleep on the tile floor, her fear overwhelmed by sheer exhaustion. In the living room, Nathan struggled to keep his eyes open, even as his head bobbed down with sleep. Ben was wide awake in the corner of the room, his eyes blazing as he stared at Lungen.

Sitting on the sofa and flipping through his newspaper, Lungen stood guard over the three friends. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught sight of Ben. “If you’re going to stare like that, you might as well say something,” Lungen said. Getting no response, he added, “Why don’t you just go to sleep?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Fine, stay awake,” Lungen said, turning back to his paper. “Like I care.”

“I hope the money’s good.”

“The money’s great.”

“How much does integrity go for these days?” Ben asked. “A million? Two million?”

Lungen folded up his paper and turned back toward Ben. “I don’t need morality lessons from you.”

“That’s fine,” Ben said. “But I hope you realize you’ll be a fugitive for the rest of your life.”

“What are you talking about?” Lungen asked. “This isn’t some rinky-dink operation. When this is over, I’m going right back to my job. And when I walk in with Ben and Lisa, the two most wanted clerks in America, I’ll probably get a promotion.”

“Sure you will,” Ben said.

“Believe what you want,” Lungen said. “But by tomorrow night, Ben Addison is going to be a wanted man. When the SEC traces our stock sales, guess whose name will be attached to the transfer? And that bank account Rick opened for you during CMI—don’t think that baby’s not getting another big deposit. When you put that together with the tape of you giving out the decision, there’s not a person in the world who will believe your story.”

“You don’t have a prayer.”

“I won’t need one,” Lungen said. “Who do you think America is going to believe—the clerk with the million-dollar bank account, or the marshal who brought him in? And if you try to finger Rick, what proof do you have? At this point, you can’t even prove he exists.”

Ben was silent. As his shoulders tensed, the handcuffs pulled against his wrists. “No matter what you say, Rick is out for himself. And that means he doesn’t give a damn about you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of his information points a finger at the Marshals Office. If I were in your position, I’d get out now.”

“C’mon, Ben, do you really think you can trick me into switching sides? I’m not some simpleminded, misunderstood lackey. I’m fully aware of every possible consequence. Rick and I planned this a long time ago, and I plan to see it through to the end.”

“So you’ve been in on this since CMI?”

“How do you think Rick knew so much about the Court?” Lungen asked. “Without an inside man, it’d be impossible to pull this off.”

As the door in the corner of the room opened, the bright light of the connecting suite cut through the darkened room. Rick followed. “Are you two bonding?” Rick asked as he walked toward the center of the room.

“Absolutely.” Lungen got up from the sofa and moved toward the second suite. “Ben convinced me to switch sides. I’ve realized what a fool I’ve been, and now I’m going to turn us all in.”

“That’s great,” Rick said, patting Lungen on the back as he passed him. “Just make sure to get some sleep first. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Stopping as he reached the door to the connecting suite, Lungen turned around. “Have a good night, Ben.”

“I hope you choke in your sleep,” Ben said as the door slammed shut.

“It looks like it’s just the two of us,” Rick said, noting that Nathan was fast asleep.

“So what?” Ben snapped, trying to look over his shoulder. Standing behind Ben, Rick slowly tipped back Ben’s chair. “What are you doing?” Ben asked.

Rick didn’t answer. Dragging the chair to the center of the room, Rick made sure that Ben faced the sofa. With a better view of his most resourceful captive, Rick took a seat. “Don’t pout,” Rick said. “Every game has to have a winner and loser. You just happen to be the loser in this one.”

“And you’re the winner?”

“I am,” Rick said. “You could’ve been a winner too. The offer was there from the beginning. You simply refused to accept it.”

“There was no offer,” Ben said. “You didn’t ask me. You just manipulated my trust.”

“So sue me. Would you have given me the information otherwise?”

Ben said nothing.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, I guess that’s it—you must know everything about me.”

“Ben, do you have any idea what the main difference is between us?”

“Besides the fact you’re a psycho?”

“I’m serious,” Rick said. “It’s a subtle difference, but an all-important one.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ben said. “This is where you tell me some cheesy story—like how we’re opposite sides of the same coin or something.”

“Not at all. We may have similar qualities, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re not even part of the same currency. And it all stems from our one major difference: You think society’s right, while I think society’s a joke.”

“Aren’t you the maverick.”

“Think about what I’m saying and you’ll understand I’m right,” Rick said. “You scheme and lie and manipulate just as much as I do. But you love the way society’s set up. You stick to the rules. Work hard, get the perfect job, find the perfect wife, buy the perfect house, lease the perfect car. You’ll be chasing that carrot for the rest of your life. As long as you follow that path, no matter how smart you are, you’ll always be the predictable pragmatist, and I’ll always have the advantage. And that’s the real reason I picked you.”

“You don’t know me at all,” Ben said coldly.

“Really?” Rick asked. “Then let me ask you the question I’ve always held back on: How about being my partner?”

“What?”

“I’m not joking,” Rick said, his tone deadly serious. “We become partners. I let you go. You go back to the Court. You finish out your term, and you feed me all the lucrative decisions. By summer, we’ll be swimming in money. You’ll never have to worry again.”

“Are you serious?”

Rick smiled. “No. Not at all. Do I look that stupid?”

Ben swung his right leg forward and kicked Rick in the shin. “You’re an asshole.”

“I sure am,” Rick responded. With a swift shove, Rick kicked Ben’s chair. As the chair fell backward, Ben struggled against his handcuffs. Unable to stop the momentum, he braced for impact. With a loud crash, the chair fell back, slamming Ben’s head against the floor. Lying on his back, Ben kept his eyes closed, refusing to show any sign of pain. “Get a good night’s sleep,” Rick said, leaning back on the sofa. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Rick shouted out at a quarter to nine the following morning. Jarred awake when she heard Rick bang on the bathroom door, Lisa jumped and slammed her head against the pipes directly above her head. Groggy as she sat on the floor and leaned against the bathtub, she rotated her wrists to encourage circulation to her pale white hands.

In the living room, Nathan slowly rotated his neck. Still lying on his back, Ben had slept the best of the three friends. He licked the morning film from his teeth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Hold it in,” Rick said, lifting Ben’s chair and setting it upright.

“You two look terrible,” Claremont said to Ben and Nathan, who had matching bags under their eyes.

“Where’s Lungen?” Ben asked, glancing around the room.

“At work,” Rick said as he walked toward Nathan. “Placating Fisk.”

“When are you going to call the broker?” Claremont asked impatiently. “It’s almost nine.”

“I’ll call him in a minute.” Rick tipped back Nathan’s chair and dragged him to the center of the room.

“What’s going on?” Nathan asked. “What are you doing?”

“Testing a theory,” Rick said, letting the chair down. Turning to Ben, who was now facing Nathan’s side, Rick asked, “Do you have a clear view of your friend?”

“Don’t touch him,” Ben warned. “I told you the decision.”

“You also told me the Grinnell decision,” Rick said as he rolled up the sleeves of his white, button-down shirt. “And look where that got me.” Rick pulled his arm back and cracked Nathan in the side of the face.

“Stop!” Ben screamed.

“Does American Steel really win?” Rick asked as Claremont looked on.

“It wins. I swear.”

Rick smashed Nathan in the jaw. “Are you sure that’s the right outcome?”

“Stop it!” Ben yelled. “It’s right.”

As blood dripped from Nathan’s mouth, Claremont said, “He’s telling the truth.”

“We’ll see,” Rick said, walking toward the bathroom. He dragged Lisa out by the handcuffs.

“Don’t you dare!” Ben yelled, seething.

“Shut up,” Rick said. Claremont pulled Nathan’s chair away and brought an empty one to the center of the room. Lisa kicked and fought furiously against Rick.

“Get the hell off me!” she screamed. “I’ll kill you!”

“Quiet,” Rick said as the two men forced her into place. When they had handcuffed her to the armrests of the chair, Rick stepped back to watch Ben’s expression.

Ben exploded as he felt his face turn a bright crimson. “Stay the hell away from her! I told you the damn decision!”

“My,” Rick said. “I didn’t realize you were so attached.”

“Hurry up,” Claremont said, looking at his watch. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Believe me,” Rick said, “if we don’t have the right decision, all the time in the world won’t mean a thing.” Turning back toward Ben, he continued, “Now, Ben, does American Steel really win?”

“Don’t tell him,” Lisa said.

Rick punched Lisa in the face. “No one asked you.” A red patch blossomed around her left eye. “Now you and Nathan match each other.”

“Get away from her!” Ben screamed, his arms struggling against his handcuffs and his body convulsing in a rabid rage. “I’ll kill you!”

“I asked a . . . question,” Rick said as he hit her again.

As blood and saliva flew from Lisa’s mouth, Ben fought uncontrollably to break free. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“That’s not the answer,” Rick said. He slapped Lisa across the face. Her head flew sideways.

Enraged and screaming, Ben couldn’t contain himself. In a mad frenzy, he fought against his restraints. “IT’S THE TRUTH!” he shouted as tears rolled down his face. “WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?”

“What’s the vote?” Rick asked.

“Five to four,” Ben said. “Dreiberg’s the swing vote.”

Rick pulled out his gun and pointed it at Lisa. “Are you sure?”

“C’mon, Rick, that’s enough,” Claremont interrupted.

“Shut up,” Rick said. Holding Lisa by the hair, Rick shoved the barrel of the gun in her mouth and repeated his question. “Are you sure?”

“I swear,” Ben pleaded. “On my life.”

As he pulled back the hammer, Rick put his finger on the trigger. “I’m not joking. I’ll do it.”

“I swear it’s true,” Ben said, his body tensed. “Steel wins.”

Rick paused, searching Ben’s face for a glimmer of deceit. “Fine,” he said, removing the gun from Lisa’s mouth. “I believe you.” Rick walked to the desk in the corner of the room and picked up his cellular phone. Quickly dialing a number, he said, “Hello, Noah? It’s me. Here’s the story. The moment the market opens, I want you to liquidate all those preferred stock certificates I gave you. Then take the proceeds and buy every American Steel option you can find.” Listening for a moment, he continued, “Exactly. I’m positive. Then at noon, I want all the proceeds cashed in and sent to my usual account. Exactly. You got it.” Rick hung up the phone and turned to Claremont. “Now all we have to do is wait.”

Spitting blood all over the carpet, Lisa struggled to stop the room from spinning.

“Lisa!” Ben called. “Over here!”

“She’s coming around,” Nathan said. “Give her a second.”

“What the hell happened?” Lisa asked. “My face feels like a balloon.”

“Are you okay?” Ben asked. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” she said, shutting her eyes tightly to stop the vertigo. “Let me catch my breath.” She remained quiet for a minute, then asked, “Does my eye look as bad as it feels?”

“It’s just a black eye,” Ben said.

“I know what it is,” Lisa snapped. “Tell me how it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad.”

“Did Rick do all the damage or did Claremont take some shots also?”

“It was Rick,” Ben said.

“He’s a dead man when I get out of these handcuffs.” Lisa looked over her shoulder and saw Nathan. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Nathan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Does my eye look as bad as his?” Lisa asked Ben, pointing her chin at Nathan.

“It will in a few hours,” Ben said.

“Great,” Lisa said.

“Hey, Rick,” Ben yelled across the room. “Can we at least get some ice over here?”

“No,” Rick said, pulling his laptop computer from his briefcase.

A few minutes before ten, Rick hooked up his cellular phone to his laptop and logged on to the Westlaw Supreme Court database. Looking over Rick’s shoulder, Claremont asked, “We can watch the decision from here?”

“No,” Rick said sarcastically, “we’re going to take a field trip to the Court so we can all see it in person.” His fingers pounded the keyboard. “The moment it’s announced, the Information Office releases the decision, and Westlaw puts it on-line.”

Across the room, Ben asked Lisa, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“For the tenth time, I’m fine,” Lisa said as the area surrounding her eye continued to swell and darken. “I get punched in the face all the time.”

“Nathan?” Ben asked. “How’s your eye?”

“It’s fine,” Nathan said. “Stop asking about it.”

“All of you, shut up,” Rick said, turning toward his three captives.

At exactly ten o’clock, the Court marshal banged his gavel, and every person in the room stood at attention.

“The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal announced. Immediately, the nine justices stepped out from behind the burgundy velvet curtain and moved to their respective chairs.

“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” the marshal announced. “All persons having business before the Honorable, the Supreme Court of the United States, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Court is now sitting. God save the United States and this Honorable Court!” Again, the gavel fell, and everyone took their seats.

“Today we will be ruling on three decisions,” Osterman said to the packed courtroom. “Alvarez v. City of Gibsonia, Katz and Company v. Nevada, and Richard Rubin v. American Steel. Justice Veidt will be reading our first two decisions, while Justice Dreiberg will read the third.”

“What’s taking so long?” Claremont asked, staring at Rick’s blank computer screen. “It’s almost a quarter after.”

“Relax,” Rick said. “They have three decisions to get through. It’ll be here.”

“Does it come out the moment it’s announced, or do they wait until they’re done with all three?” Claremont asked.

“I said it’ll be here,” Rick said. “Now shut up.”

“. . . is constitutional under the First Amendment. Therefore, in the case of Katz and Company v. Nevada, we find for the defendant and uphold the Supreme Court of Nevada.”

“Thank you, Justice Veidt,” Osterman said. “Justice Dreiberg will announce our final decision.”

“Why don’t you let us go?” Ben asked from across the room. “You have your decision.”

Rick stared intently at his laptop. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“What if he was lying?” Claremont asked. “We could’ve bet on the wrong outcome.”

“Pull it together,” Rick demanded. “He was telling the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if he didn’t, he knows I’ll kill him.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Dreiberg announced, leaning forward on both elbows as she spoke into the microphone. In a slow, monotone voice, she read: “In the case of Richard Rubin v. American Steel, we find that American Steel’s board of directors was not required to seek the approval of its minority shareholders before its merger proceeded. The shareholders’ claim is, therefore, insufficient to establish a private cause of action under the Securities Exchange Act. We find for the respondent and affirm the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.”

“Did we win?” Claremont asked.

Rick’s eyes skimmed through the decision as it scrolled up his computer screen. “Hold on. It’s coming.” He paused. “Looks like American Steel just won itself a huge lawsuit. Congratulations, Addison. You finally did something right.” After he shut his laptop and unhooked his phone, Rick walked over to the couch and placed both items in his briefcase.

“What do we do now?” Claremont asked, elated. “Where are we meeting Lungen? When do we leave?”

“One thing at a time,” Rick said. He pulled a key from his pocket and moved toward Ben. “Help me uncuff these three. Then we can get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” Ben asked as Rick unlocked his handcuffs.

Rick didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Ben out of the chair and pushed him toward Claremont. “Lock them up again,” Rick said to Claremont.

“Stick your hands out straight,” Claremont said. When Ben obliged, he handcuffed him.

Lisa was unlocked and recuffed in turn. Holding their shoulders, Claremont continued to watch over the two clerks as Rick approached Nathan. “Don’t move until I say,” Claremont warned.

Glaring at Ben until she got his attention, Lisa motioned toward Claremont with her eyes while subtly pointing to her crotch. Ben leaned backward. “I’m not feeling so good,” he moaned. “I think I’m going to faint.” Claremont let go of Lisa to catch Ben as he fell. Lisa spun toward Claremont and slammed her knee into his groin. As Claremont and Ben fell to the floor, Lisa rushed to the door. Realizing what was happening, Rick turned away from Nathan, pulled his gun, and started shooting. Two bullets had ripped through the door by the time Lisa grabbed the doorknob.

“DON’T MOVE!” Rick screamed.

The door slightly ajar, Lisa stood there motionless, her hands still cuffed.

“I’ll do it—I’m not kidding. I’ll kill them all,” Rick threatened.

Lisa knew this was her last chance to escape. She darted into the hallway. Three more bullets plowed through the door.

Lisa headed straight for the emergency exit, but when she opened the stairwell door, she was surprised to see two other doors—one leading upstairs and one leading down. Opening the heavy metal door with her still-handcuffed hands, Lisa opted to run downstairs.

“Get her!” Rick screamed to Claremont, who was already staggering to the bullet-ridden door. Rick pointed his gun at Ben. “If you leave this room, I swear you’ll have two dead roommates to deal with.”

Ben looked over at Nathan, who was still handcuffed to his chair. “I’m not going anywhere,” Ben said. “I swear.” Seconds later, Rick was out the door.

Thrown off-balance by her handcuffs, Lisa had trouble navigating the first flight of stairs. Searching for a less awkward running position, she realized it was easier to move when she held her elbows close to her body. When she reached the twenty-third floor, she found another door blocking the stairway that led to the twenty-second floor. “Damn,” she said. Pulling open that door, she heard Rick and Claremont following behind her.

Racing down the stairs, her hands clenched and her elbows tight against her, Lisa fought with a door on every floor. As she grew fatigued, each door was heavier to open, and each staircase took longer to descend. At every landing, she was tempted to run back into the hallway, but fear and skepticism kept her to the stairs. As she opened the door to the sixth floor, she wondered how quickly Rick and Claremont were gaining on her.

When Lisa reached the fifth floor, she was exhausted. The lack of sleep combined with her circular descent caused a return of her morning vertigo. Refusing to surrender, though, she gritted her teeth against lightheadedness and plowed forward. Only four more, she told herself. Once I’m in the lobby, I’ll scream like a banshee. By the time she reached the door that led to the fourth floor staircase, the dizziness had returned and her body was covered in a fearful, fatigued sweat. Off-balance, she lurched for the doorknob. It was locked. Looking up, she saw a stenciled sign painted on the door: TO REACH LOBBY LEVEL, PLEASE USE SOUTH STAIRWELL. No! Not now! she thought, wildly kicking the door. Grabbing the doorknob again and putting her foot against the wall, she desperately pulled on the door. She heard the pounding of Rick’s and Claremont’s footsteps closing in on her.

Turning toward the door that led to the hallway, Lisa yanked it open and left the stairwell. In the sudden calm of the carpeted hallway, she looked through the plate-glass window on her right and caught a glimpse of a crystal-blue indoor swimming pool below. She ran down the corridor, banging on every door with her cuffed hands. “Fire! Everybody out! Fire!” she screamed. Not a single door opened. When she reached the elevators, she repeatedly pounded the down button with her fists. The digital display above the elevator doors showed one at the nineteenth floor and the other at the twenty-sixth. Too long to wait, she thought as she continued running. Heading toward the far end of the hallway, she saw a small sign marked: SOUTH STAIRWELL—LOBBY LEVEL. Praying for an escape, she grabbed the doorknob. Once again, it was locked. “SON OF A BITCH!” she screamed.

From the north stairwell door, Lisa heard Claremont shouting back to Rick. Their voices were loud. Lisa knew they couldn’t be more than a few floors away.

As she raced back to the elevators, Lisa could barely catch her breath. Furiously, she punched both call buttons. “C’mon, you piece of crap! Get here!” One elevator was now on the seventeenth floor and the other was still at the twenty-sixth; they had barely moved. Convinced that Claremont and Rick would be there in seconds, she looked down the hall and remembered the swimming pool outside the window. She took a deep breath. It’s only four stories, she calculated. I can probably make it if I go through fast enough. Before she could talk herself out of it, Lisa tucked her elbows in tight and ran full speed, barreling down the hallway toward the huge window next to the stairwell. Shoulder first, shoulder first, shoulder first, she repeated to herself as she raced toward her target.

Lisa hurled her body against the glass just as Claremont emerged from the stairwell. He grabbed the chain of Lisa’s handcuffs, even as the glass started to shatter. Propelled forward by her momentum, Lisa cleared the threshold of the window, as thousands of tiny glass shards rained down on her. The weight of her fall had brought Claremont down flat on his stomach and dragged him to the edge of the window. But something had stopped his slide: Rick.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked, holding Claremont by the belt.

Looking over the edge, Claremont struggled to hold on to Lisa, who was dangling outside the window. “Y-yeah,” Claremont said.

“No! Don’t!” Lisa screamed as her hands grabbed Claremont’s wrist. Her face and arms were covered in hundreds of tiny, bleeding cuts. “Please don’t drop me!”

Without the momentum to reach the pool, Lisa would fall directly onto the tiled atrium, where a crowd had already started to gather. “Drop her,” Rick said.

“What?” Claremont asked.

“Please don’t!” Lisa screamed. “Don’t drop me!”

“Drop her, and let’s get out of here,” Rick said. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”

Still, Claremont held on to Lisa’s handcuffs, his arm tensing from the weight.

“I said drop her,” Rick demanded. “What’s wrong with you? We were going to kill them anyway.”

With all his strength, Claremont held tight.

Rick pulled his gun from his waist and pointed it at Claremont’s head. “You’re not Richard Claremont. Who the hell are you?” Lifting his arm, Claremont started to pull Lisa to safety. Rick pulled back the hammer on his gun and pressed the gun against Claremont’s head. “You have three seconds to tell me who you are. At the end of three, you’re both going out this window. One . . . two . . .”

“Ben!” Lisa screamed. Rick spun around to a blast of white foam. As Rick rubbed his burning eyes, Ben ran into the corridor wielding a fire extinguisher. With his wrists still handcuffed, Ben swung the fire extinguisher like a baseball bat and slammed Rick in the side of the head. Rick stumbled backward and fell to the floor. He fired his gun, and a jagged pain ripped through Ben’s left shoulder. He’d been shot. Staggering forward, Ben swung the fire extinguisher again, this time knocking the gun out of Rick’s hands.

Ben struggled to swing the fire extinguisher one more time, but the pain in his shoulder was impossible to ignore. Seeing the blood that rushed down his arm, he felt faint and dropped the extinguisher.

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” Rick asked, stumbling to his feet. “The next one’s going in your head.”

Holding his shoulder, Ben looked down the hallway and saw Rick’s gun lying on the floor by the elevators. He looked back at Rick, who was almost standing.

“GET THE GUN!” Claremont screamed, pulling Lisa to safety.

Ignoring the gun, Ben raced toward Rick. Grasping his hands together, Ben swung wildly at Rick’s head. When his handcuffs struck Rick’s face, Rick staggered backward. As Ben moved in to hit him again, Rick slammed his fist into Ben’s gunshot wound. Ben screamed, clutching his shoulder. Rick looked down the hallway at the gun.

Fighting the urge to collapse, Ben saw Rick move toward the gun. Once again, he ran at Rick, plowing into him from behind and knocking him to the floor. Rick turned on his back and tried to fight his way free, but Ben stayed on top of him. Ben grabbed Rick by the throat and pinned him against the floor. “You greedy bastard!” Ben screamed as Rick thrashed wildly. “You killed Ober!”

“He killed himself,” Rick coughed.

“NO!” Ben screamed, banging Rick’s head against the floor. “YOU KILLED HIM!” Ben tightened his grip around Rick’s throat. “YOU WANT TO SEE HOW OBER FELT? YOU WANT TO FEEL HOW HE DIED?” Rick swung at Ben’s head, attempting to remove his attacker. Ben wouldn’t budge. Rick punched at Ben’s bloody shoulder. Ben didn’t move. The more Rick fought, the tighter Ben’s grip. Eventually, the coughing stopped and the struggling ceased—Rick was finally unconscious. But Ben didn’t let go of Rick’s throat. “You killed my friend!” Ben sobbed as rage slowly erupted into tears. “I’ll kill you for that!”

As tears rolled off Ben’s cheeks, Rick’s face turned beet red. Ben clenched even harder. With Rick’s life in his hands, Ben remembered his last conversation with him. “You want to see me break the rules?” Ben growled as blood continued to flush Rick’s face. “Here’s what I think of your damn rules.” Holding fast to Rick’s throat, Ben remembered Rick’s boasting. And Nathan’s beating. And Lisa’s bleeding. And Ober’s hanging.

Ben sobbed and, staring down at Rick’s swollen face, he let go: “Ober! I’m so sorry!”

A small cough emerged from Rick’s lips. Mentally and physically exhausted, Ben collapsed on the floor, his ragged breathing punctuated by sobs. It was finally over.

As Ben lay on the floor, holding his shoulder, the elevator arrived. When the doors opened, Alex DeRosa got out with half a dozen armed U.S. marshals.

“Everybody out,” DeRosa yelled as his men fanned into the hallway. Two of them handcuffed Rick, while two others ran to check on Lisa and Claremont.

“Are you okay?” DeRosa asked Ben, helping him to his feet.

“What the hell is this?” Ben asked, confused. “You were here all along?”

“Sorry about that,” DeRosa said as he unlocked Ben’s handcuffs. “Rick was watching you full-time this whole week. We didn’t want to risk anything.”

“Risk anything?” Ben yelled, rubbing his wrists. “We were almost killed! You lied to my face.”

“I didn’t lie,” DeRosa said. “I needed you to act normally.” DeRosa put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “It was the only way—”

“Don’t touch me!” Ben yelled, pulling away from DeRosa’s hand. “You lied and put all of our lives at risk! Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Ben, I couldn’t get through to you. Rick was always watching.”

“That’s bullshit,” Ben snapped. “You could’ve passed me a note on the subway. You could’ve passed me something at the Jefferson Memorial. At the very least, you should’ve passed me something when Ober died.”

“I’m sorry about that—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ben yelled, walking past DeRosa. Holding his shoulder, he headed up the hallway.

Ben approached Lisa and Claremont. “Thanks for the save,” Claremont said.

“Fuck you,” Ben said, pushing Claremont aside to get to Lisa, who was collapsed against the wall. He grabbed her bloodied hand and looked at her battered face. “How’re you doing?” he asked.

“I’ve had better days,” she said.

“Did you get pushed through the window?”

“No way,” Lisa said with a pained smile. “This was by choice. Great idea, huh?”

“One of your best,” Ben said.

“Let’s get them both to a hospital,” one of the marshals said. “They’re pretty banged up.”

“Did you really get shot?” Lisa asked, looking at Ben’s shoulder.

“No way,” Ben smiled back. “This was by choice.”