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

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

Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Funny,” Ben shot back.

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

“The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal announced. Within seconds, the nine justices strode through openings in the curtain and moved to their respective chairs.

No matter how many times she saw it happen, Lisa was always awed by the simultaneous arrival of all nine justices. “I love this,” she whispered to Ben. “It’s like watching the arrival of the All-Star team.”

“Shhhh!” Ben said, unable to remove his eyes from center stage.

The room faced the nine chairs of the justices. Made of matching black leather, the chairs were specially designed to fit each justice’s particular body type. As the justices took their seats, the marshal announced, “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! 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!” Once again the gavel fell, and everyone took his seat.

Chief Justice Osterman sat in the center seat. “Today we will be handing down the decisions in United States v. CMI and Lexcoll, as well as Tennessee v. Shreve. Justice Blake will be reading both of our decisions today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Blake responded. Appointed to the Court nearly ten years ago, Blake was a South Carolina judge whose Southern drawl was still as strong as the day he first took the bench. Primed for the CMI decision, the spectators held their collective breath. Reading from the prepared statement sheet, Blake said, “In the case of State of Tennessee v. Shreve, we find for the plaintiff and uphold the decision of the Supreme Court of Tennessee.” Knowing full well that the crowd was starving for the CMI decision, Blake took his time announcing the findings of the Court.

When Blake finished the Tennessee case, he sat back in his chair and shifted his weight. Clearing his throat, he reached for one of the pewter mugs that were in front of every justice. He poured himself a glass of water and prepared to read the next case. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, Blake smirked. “In the case of United States v. CMI and Lexcoll, we believe that although the two companies will become a major communications conglomerate, there is no predatory conduct with the intent to monopolize. For this reason, the merger of the two corporations does not violate the Sherman Antitrust Act. We therefore find for the defendant and affirm the decision of the Court of Appeals.”