“You got me,” Ben said. “You figured it all out. Eric and I are friends again. Alert the local militia.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“You’re damn right it’s not a joke,” Ben interrupted. “It’s my life you’re playing with. For the past two weeks you’ve obviously been racking your brains trying to come up with my crime. But let me tell you, it’s not against the law to make up with your roommate. So until you can actually prove something, I’d appreciate it if you just stayed the hell away from me.”

“Tell me why Eric was in the Court that day.”

“He’s the reporter who’s assigned to the Court! What do you think he was doing here?”

“Why did he use Nathan’s name?”

“To be honest, because I told him that if you guys found out we’d made up, you’d be all over our asses. What a surprise-I was right.”

“That still doesn’t-”

“Listen, I’m done with this conversation. No matter what I say, you’re still going to suspect me. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I have nothing to hide. If you don’t believe that, I’m sorry. But if you’re committed to interfering with my life, you’d better get proof or go away. Because I swear, if this doesn’t stop, I’ll slap your office with a workplace harassment suit faster than you can say, ‘Forced retirement and bye-bye pension.’ Now if you don’t mind, I have to go do some work. I hope I won’t hear from you soon.” Before Lungen could respond, Ben slammed down the phone. When he noticed Lisa staring at him, Ben asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just admiring your ambassadorial abilities-always calm and level-headed; never once losing your temper.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Take it easy,” Lisa said. “Forget about the marshals. They don’t have anything on you.”

“Of course they don’t. If they did, I’d be out of here by now.” Ben grabbed the manila envelope from his desk and threw it to Lisa. “Now, back to the original crisis.”

Dumping the envelope’s contents on her desk, Lisa saw a miniature cassette tape and a small stack of photocopies. She picked up the copies and looked at the first page, which resembled the first page of a bankbook. There was a single entry for $150,000, and the words “City of Bern” were in fine print at the bottom of the page.

“As far as I can tell, it’s a Swiss bankbook,” Ben said.

“Is this Rick’s account?”

“In truth, it is,” Ben explained. “But take a look at the last page.”

Lisa reached the final page in the stack, titled “Registration of Account,” and saw that the account holder’s name was Ben Addison.

“I know,” Ben said, noticing Lisa’s distressed reaction. “He took out all the vital information like the bank’s name and the account number, but he made damn sure we saw my name in there.”

“November seventeenth?” Lisa looked at the date of the first and only deposit. “What happened then?”

“I wanted to check that,” Ben said, grabbing his desktop calendar. He flipped back toward November. “It’s what I thought. That’s the day the CMI decision came down.”

“Any idea what’s on the cassette?” Lisa asked, putting down the papers.

“None,” Ben said. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his Dictaphone. “But I bet it’s not James Taylor’s Greatest Hits.” Ben put the tape in the small recorder.

“What’s happening with the CMI merger? Doesn’t that come down next week?”

“Actually, it probably won’t come down for another few weeks. Blake and Osterman asked for more time to write their opinions. You know how it is-merger cases always wind up confusing everyone. It takes forever to sort through all the regulatory nonsense.”

“So who wins?”

“It was actually pretty amazing. When the justices were voting in Conference, it was five to four against CMI. At the last minute-”

“Shit,” Ben said, stopping the tape. “He taped the whole conversation.”

“Was that when you first told him the decision?”

“No, it was when we were exchanging recipes. Of course it was the time.”

“Don’t-”

“Damn!” Ben said, slamming his desk with his fist. “How could I be so stupid?”

“Listen, there’s no way you could’ve known,” Lisa said. “You thought Rick was a friend.”

“But if I never said anything-”

“You probably wouldn’t be in this mess. You’re right-you wouldn’t. We’ve been through this before. The point is, for the first time you’re finally in a position to get out of it.”

“I don’t even know if that’s true anymore. What if the marshals didn’t set everything up in time?”

“I’m sure they did,” Lisa said. “I’m sure they started working on it the moment you left DeRosa’s office.”

“I hope so,” Ben said, staring at the small tape player on his desk. He looked up at Lisa. “You have to admire the way Rick set it up, though. Before today, the only thing at risk was my job. All he could prove was that I broke the Court’s Ethics Code. But by combining the tape with the bankbook, Rick’s created a whole new reality: Now it looks like I was paid for the information. He’s created proof that I was paid. That’s more than an ethics violation. Accepting a bribe as a public official is a federal offense.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Lisa said, walking over to Ben’s desk. She opened his Dictaphone and pulled out the tape. “We’ll send this to DeRosa just to be safe.”

“Do you think DeRosa would ever believe it happened that way?” Ben asked. “That he’d see this and think I really took a bribe?”

“Not anymore,” Lisa said, dropping the tape in an envelope. “By going in and being honest about it, you’ve preempted that conclusion. Mailing him this just seals the deal.” As Ben wrote a quick note to DeRosa, Lisa asked, “Do you think DeRosa is listening to us talk right now?”

“No way,” Ben said. “He’d only bug us if he thought I was lying. And if he thought I was lying, there’s no way I’d still be working at the Court. They can’t risk another breach like that. This is the one place we can actually feel safe.”

Lisa went to her desk, picked up the copies of the bankbook pages, and handed them to Ben. He inserted the copies in the envelope. “So what do we do now?” Lisa asked.

“We sit here and hope Rick calls.”

“Oh, he’ll definitely call,” Lisa said. “Mark my words. He’s going to make sure you got his package of incriminating evidence, and then he’s going to blackmail you. My guess is he’ll threaten to distribute the tape and the bankbook unless you give him a new decision.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I hope he does.”

At six-thirty that evening, Ben returned to the office. “Anyone call for me?”

“Not yet,” Lisa said. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Ben said. “Antsy, but okay. By the way, in case you were wondering, I flipped through the U.S. Code and confirmed that accepting a bribe usually carries a sentence of five to fifteen years.”

“Great,” Lisa said wryly. “Any other vital bits of-”

Ben’s phone rang. When he didn’t grab it, she said, “What are you waiting for? Pick it up.”

“Should I-”

“Pick it up!”

Hesitantly, Ben lifted the receiver. “Hello, this is Ben.”

“Hey, Ben. It’s Adrian Alcott calling.” Before Alcott even identified himself, Ben had recognized the voice of Wayne & Portnoy’s most persistent recruiter.

“It’s not Rick, is it?” Lisa asked.

“I should be so lucky,” Ben whispered, covering up the mouthpiece of the phone.

“So how is everything in the ol’ Court?” Alcott asked.

“It’s fine. We’re super-busy.”

“I’m sure you are,” Alcott said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay there. Last time we spoke, we got cut off abruptly.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ben said. “We had to get something directly to Hollis, so I had to run.”

“No apology necessary,” Alcott said. “I mean, who’s more important, me or a Supreme Court justice?” When Ben didn’t respond, Alcott added, “By the way, the reason I’m calling is that I wanted to tell you that we’re going to be there in three weeks. We’re arguing for the respondent in Mirsky.”