“I don’t think Hollis wants to go down in history as being the first justice to ever use the word ‘piss’ in one of his opinions. He’s crazy like that.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Ben said, flipping through the seventeen-page document. “So tell me what else Hollis said.”
“Nothing really. He’s happy we’re done with Russell because he says that Grinnell will almost definitely be decided tonight.”
“How does he know it’ll be assigned to him?”
“He already spoke to Moloch and Kovacs, and they don’t want to touch it. Whether he’s in the majority or the dissent, Hollis’ll be the most senior justice who wants to write the decision.”
“Any word yet on whether Veidt has hopped the fence?”
“They’ll know tomorrow. Hollis said Veidt is having dinner with Osterman and Blake tonight.”
“Ah, another Supreme Court case is going to be decided based on how hard one justice schmoozes another.”
“Welcome to Washington.”
“Gee, thanks,” Ben said. “You’re so politically astute. Now I know how this town works. And all along I foolishly thought it was democracy that ran our nation.”
“Listen, when I first got to law school, I always used to say that if the Supreme Court was really about true justice, then every issue, no matter who was on the Court, would come out with the same result. If Roe v. Wade granted abortion rights in 1973, then the decision shouldn’t be overturned just because some conservative justices came onto the Court. But over time, I’ve realized that that’s the beauty of the law. We decide each case individually. No fact pattern is exactly the same, and every justice takes all the different facts into account. If we wanted the same decision every time, we wouldn’t need judges-we’d get robots we could plug the facts into, who could reach the same cold, logical decision. But who the hell wants a robot deciding their life?”
“That depends-are they conservative or liberal robots?”
“That’s exactly my point. Stop seeing everything in black and white. No two people see anything exactly the same way. That’s what makes it great. We sacrifice ourselves to people’s particular mores, but we gain an individualized judicial system. I mean, would you really want to live in a world where there were no Ostermans or Veidts?”
“Actually, I probably would,” Ben said. “But I guess that would also mean that the entire madras golf pants market would crash.”
“Ben, be serious.”
“I know, I know,” he said, picking at the hardened remains of his croissant. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be annoyed when a case is decided on personal politics.”
“No, you should definitely be annoyed. But just realize that the personal side of the judicial process also provides a lot of benefits that ensure democracy as we know it.”
“That’s wonderful, General Washington. I’ll keep that in mind every time I tell the story of how Veidt sold his vote away.”
Chapter 8
LATER THAT EVENING, BEN AND LISA RETURNED to Lisa’s apartment, where they found Ober and Nathan waiting outside. “Where the hell were you guys?” Ober asked, running in place. “We’re freezing out here.”
“Why didn’t you wait in the lobby?” Lisa asked.
“Because the asshole doorman wouldn’t let us. He said if our host wasn’t here, we had to wait outside.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lisa stormed into the building and approached the smiling doorman. “Why the hell do you have my guests waiting outside?”
“Ma’am, their party was not here.”
“I’m their party,” she proclaimed. “And if I’m five minutes late, I don’t want my friends waiting out in the cold.”
“Ma’am, you may be their host, but we do have rules in this building, and no guests are admitted without their host’s approval. As doorman, it is my job to ensure that there is no loitering in our lobby.”
“Oh, it is?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” the doorman barked. “The tenants’ association has given me full authority to remove loiterers, vagrants, and other criminal characters from this vicinity.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lisa asked.
“Oh, no,” Ben said, peeking through his fingers. “This is about to get ugly.”
“Let me tell you a few things,” Lisa said, her finger pointed in the doorman’s face. “First, I don’t care who you are, but the moment you have my guests in this building, they become your guests. And if you think you’re authorized to let guests stand out in the cold, you’ve got your head up your ass. This may not be the frozen tundra, but it’s still cold out there. Second, general loitering laws are illegal, since they allow mall cops like you to randomly discriminate against whomever you like. So if you don’t have solid, real reasons to suspect my friends, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Finally, if you are calling my friends vagrants or criminals, I’ll haul you into court on defamation charges just to piss you off. I won’t win the case, but I’ll have a great time wasting your time and money as you argue your way out of it. Now, unless you have anything else to say, I’m going to go upstairs. Have I made myself clear?”
“Certainly,” the doorman said, flustered. Turning to Nathan and Ober, he added, “And I apologize for any misunderstanding.”
“I accept your apology,” Ober said as the friends walked into the elevator.
“Was that really necessary?” Ben asked.
“That was fantastic!” Ober yelled.
“He pisses me off,” Lisa said. “You give guys like him a tiny bit of authority, and they think they’re dictators.”
“Yeah, but I think you made him wet his pants,” Ben said.
“I was impressed with the clarity of your argument,” Nathan said, looking at Lisa with new respect.
“Thank you,” Lisa said, as the elevator door opened.
Walking into the apartment, Lisa flipped on the lights and put her briefcase on her desk. “What’s that smell?” Ben asked as he headed toward the living room.
Sniffing the air, Ober said, “It smells so…feminine.”
“It’s potpourri,” Lisa said. “I just put it out. Do you like it?”
“I’m enchanted,” Ober said.
“I guess you guys aren’t used to a home that doesn’t smell like feet.” As Lisa turned toward her bedroom, she added, “I’ll be right back.” Minutes later, she returned to the living room wearing sweatpants and her favorite Stanford T-shirt. “Ready to start?” she asked, sitting down next to Ben on the sofa.
“Here’s the story.” Ben opened his briefcase and pulled out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Rick and I are meeting tomorrow. The only reason I can think of for the meeting is that Rick still wants something, and the only thing he can want is information.”
“But you don’t know this for sure,” Lisa said.
“It’s the only logical reason. I mean, I don’t think he wants to talk politics.”
“Maybe he just wants to torture you over how big a sucker you were last time,” Ober said.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Ben said, shooting a scowl at Ober.
“But why would he want more information if he already made a million dollars from the CMI decision?” Nathan asked. He sat on the sofa and placed a small blue duffel bag on the floor.
“We have no idea how much he made on CMI. He may’ve made ten million or he may’ve made ten thousand. The problem is, we don’t know his background. If he isn’t wealthy already, then he probably didn’t have a great deal of money to invest in the CMI stock before it shot up. All of his winnings might’ve come from a fee Maxwell gave him.”
“But I’m sure that’s a tidy sum,” Nathan said.
“It probably is,” Ben said, “but I wouldn’t underestimate the power of greed. If Rick made a million his first time out, I’m sure he’d love to make ten million the next. Now, we don’t know that he’s going to ask me for more information, but if he does, I think our best option is to follow Lisa’s original plan and try to get it all on tape.”