Ober pulled his jacket from the couch. “Ben, I’ll talk to you about it later, when she’s gone. I really have to get back to work.”

“Good riddance,” Lisa shouted as Ober slammed the door. “Listen, I really should get going, too. We’ll talk about this later?”

“Sure,” Ben said. “Just abandon me now. It’s okay.”

“C’mon, Ben, don’t give me guilt. You know that we have to get those cert petitions done. At least this way, one of us will be working on them.”

“No, you’re right,” Ben said. “It’ll be good for me to have some time alone. That way I don’t have to share my burden with anyone else.”

“Don’t say that,” Lisa said. “You know I care about-”

“I’m just joking,” Ben interrupted. “Go ahead. We’ll talk about it later.”

Avoiding the main lobby of the Washington Hilton, Rick slid his coded key into the computerized lock and walked into the side entrance that adjoined the parking lot. As he headed straight for the elevators, his pace was brisk and confident. Getting off on the tenth floor, he made a sharp right turn toward room 1014. Sliding his key into the lock, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

“Where the hell have you been? You’re a half hour late.”

“Where I’ve been is none of your business,” Rick said, a faint smile lighting his features.

“So you made a lot of money. Big deal.”

“It was definitely a big deal,” Rick said. He sat back on one of the canary-yellow couches and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. It was a plush suite: three rooms, oil paintings on the walls, deep cream carpet, and a full bar. “Did you know that President Reagan was shot at this hotel?”

“I didn’t know that. But I’m sure the information will someday come in handy.”

“It’s true,” Rick said. “Locals still call it the Hinkley Hilton.”

“That’s great. I’m thrilled.”

“What’re you so pissed about?” Rick asked.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work. Is the money transferred or not?”

“The last five hundred thousand will be there at the end of business today,” Rick said. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small sheet of paper, and slapped it on the coffee table. “Here’s the account number. I hope you enjoy your winnings.”

“I definitely will.”

“And to think,” Rick said, “all of this happened because you don’t like your roommate.”

“You have it all wrong. Just because I took a decision from Ben’s briefcase doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just saw a golden opportunity that I couldn’t walk away from.”

“Sure, sure. And you’re a great friend otherwise. That’s the real reason you told me about the lie detector and the yearbooks and the-”

“I meant to ask you: How come Ben couldn’t find you in the yearbooks? I thought that was a foolproof plan on his part.”

“Then you’re as big a fool as he is,” Rick said. “The flaw with the yearbook plan is that it assumes I went to a top law school. Being the intellectual snobs you are, you can’t fathom the possibility that smart people exist at non-Ivy League schools as well.”

“You’re definitely right. You fooled me.” Slapping himself on the knee, he rose from the couch. “Oh, well, you win some and you lose some.”

“Well, I guess you won this time.”

“That’s for sure.”

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Rick said, extending his hand.

“You, too,” Eric said as he walked into the hallway. “Maybe I’ll see you on the beach.”

Chapter 15

AT NINE-THIRTY MONDAY MORNING, LISA AND Ben prepared to go down to the courtroom to watch the justices announce the decisions to the public. “I still think you should turn yourself in,” Lisa said, putting on her beige-and-black-striped suit jacket.

“No way.” Ben tightened his gold and navy tie. “Not at this point.”

“Why not? I’m sure they’d go easy on you.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s not a viable option as far as I’m concerned. Even if I don’t go to jail, they’ll have to fire me from the Court. And if they’re going to take me out of this place, you better believe I’m going out kicking and screaming. I refuse to serve myself up on a platter.”

“It’s your life. I just think you’re making a mistake.”

A light knock on the door interrupted the debate.

“Come on in,” Ben said.

The door opened and Nancy entered. “Ben, your visitor’s here.”

Ober moved around Nancy and walked into the room with his arms outstretched. “Bubby! So this is where the big boys play, huh?” Ober asked, his hands brushing over everything he passed: the books on Lisa’s desk, her computer monitor, Ben’s pencil sharpener, his telephone.

Ben pointed to the sofa and offered Ober a seat. “I guess you had some trouble getting in.”

“Not at all,” Ober said, taking off his coat and throwing it on the sofa. “It was easy. The security guard downstairs said that the courtroom was full today. And then I told him that I was here to see Ben Addison. Well, let me tell you, the man checked his clipboard and, bingo, I was inside and at the front of the line. After I got through the metal detector, another guard led me up here.” Ober looked around the room. “This is a pretty good setup here. It feels like the White House-everything is old and serious.”

“It is the Supreme Court,” Lisa said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Did someone say something?” Ober asked, looking at Ben. “I thought I heard a whiny bitch, but it must’ve been my imagination.”

“Ober, you promised,” Ben scolded.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good,” Ober said, sitting on the sofa. “How are you today, Lisa?”

“I wish a pox on you.”

“Why, thanks for saying so. I just had it cut last week,” Ober said, touching his hair. “This is a great sofa,” he noted, bouncing up and down on its springy cushions. “And you guys have a lot of privacy. So have you ever, you know…late at night after the cleaning lady leaves…?”

“Can you please show some decorum?” Ben begged.

“Can I ask you a question?” Lisa said to Ober. “How can you be so damn festive when you know your friend is scared to death?”

“Don’t judge me,” Ober warned. “You help Ben your way and I’ll help him mine.”

“Both of you, stop it,” Ben said, heading for the door. “Let’s go downstairs.”

In the Great Hall, the slowly diminishing crowd filed through two metal detectors, while Ben, Lisa, and Ober walked straight into the main courtroom. “He’s with us,” Ben explained to a security guard who was staring at Ober.

“This is amazing,” Ober said when he finally entered the room packed full of spectators, reporters, and Court staff.

“If you want pomp, we’ve got pomp,” Ben said as they walked to a roped-off section of seats on the right side of the room.

“Is everyone in front of us a clerk?” Ober asked, noticing that they all seemed to be his age.

Ben nodded. “Only clerks and roommates of clerks can sit here.”

As the remaining spectators were ushered into the room, Ober said, “Well, Ben, I have to admit, the Court looks the same as when I worked here.”

The clerk in front of Ober turned around. “Who’d you clerk for?”

“Osterman,” Ober said.

“Me too!” the clerk said, clearly excited. Extending a hand, he said, “I’m Joel.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” Ober said, his voice growing deeper.

“What’s he saying now?” Lisa asked Ben.

“Nothing,” Ben said, amused. “Let him go.”

“Hey, if he puts you in a good mood, I’m in a good mood,” Lisa said.

“So what’d you think of the big man?” Joel asked Ober.

“He was always the nicest in my book.”

“Really?” Ben asked. “Because Osterman’s usually known as being the biggest asshole on the Court.”

“Well, that’s what I meant,” Ober said. “He was nice in that ‘mean asshole’ sort of way.”

“Your friend wasn’t a clerk, was he?” Joel asked Ben. When Ben smiled, Joel said, “Fuck you, Addison. You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”