Silent as he stared at Ober, Ben knew his friend was right. “What about you?” he finally asked. “Will you forgive me?”

Ober wiped his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“But-”

“Please don’t say anything,” Ober interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Before Ben could respond, the phone rang. Ben glanced at it, then looked back at Ober.

“Pick it up,” Ober said. “You know you want to get it.”

“It’s not that,” Ben said. “It’s just-”

“Pick it up,” Ober insisted.

Ben grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

“So, you still interested in Wayne and Portnoy?” Alcott asked enthusiastically.

“Adrian?” Ben asked, annoyed.

“Of course,” Alcott answered. “You had said to give you a call so we could set up a lunch, so I figured-”

“Adrian, why are you calling me at home?” Ben asked, rising from the couch. His movement sent the base of the phone crashing to the floor.

“I apologize,” Alcott said. “The secretary at the Court said you were gone for the weekend, and I wanted to set up something for Monday.”

“Let me tell you something,” Ben said, gripping the receiver. “Don’t call me at home. If I’m not at work, I don’t want to be bothered by you. In fact, even when I’m at work, I don’t want to be bothered. I know all about the firm, and an extra lunch isn’t going to get me to go there.”

“I’m-” Alcott stuttered.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ben interrupted. “If I want to go to lunch, you’ll hear from me. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m busy.” Without waiting for Alcott’s response, Ben slammed down the phone.

“Who was that?” Ober asked.

“No one,” Ben explained. “It was a-” The phone rang again. Ben picked it up. “Adrian, I’m sure you’re sorry, but I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“This isn’t Adrian, and I’m certainly not sorry.”

“Rick?” Ben asked, knowing the answer to his question.

“Sounds like you’re having quite a night,” Rick said. “Ober gets fired; he’s on the verge of a breakdown; you scream at the one person still recruiting you. I have to be honest; if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t yell at someone who was offering me a job.”

Ben turned to Ober. “Rick’s been listening all night. The whole place is bugged.” He turned back to the phone. “What do you want, Rick?”

“You know what I want,” Rick said. “The only question is whether you’re going to deliver.”

Ben sat down on the couch. “What do you think?”

“I think Ober’s breaking your heart. So my guess is you’re thinking of turning yourself in,” Rick said. “I just want you to know that if you give me the decision, you can still walk away from all this.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Ben said. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“If the decision works out, you’ll never hear from me again. Case closed. You get to keep your job. Nathan gets to keep his. I get what I want. All parties are happy.” Without giving Ben a chance to respond, Rick continued, “If you’re interested, go to the Museum of American History at noon on Sunday. There’s a courtesy phone next to the information desk. Wait there, and I’ll leave a message where you can meet me. If you’re not there, your bankbook and Nathan’s letter will be hand-delivered to your respective superiors.”

“I’ll see you there,” Ben said coldly. Without another word, he hung up.

“What’d he say?” Ober asked.

“I hate that bastard,” Ben said. “He’s so damn smug.”

“Just tell me what he said.”

“Not here,” Ben said, looking around the room. “Not another word in this place.” Ben got up from the couch. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No way,” Ober said. “I’m done with this nonsense. You’re on your own.”

“I’m only going to Lisa’s. It’s a safer place to talk.”

“I don’t care where you’re going. I’ve had enough.”

“Are you okay with everything?” Ben asked, picking up his coat from the living room floor.

“Would you be?” Ober asked. “I just need to get some sleep.”

Knowing there was nothing he could say, Ben buttoned his coat, picked up his briefcase, and walked to the door. As he was about to leave, the door flew open and Nathan stormed inside. “Where the hell are you going?” Nathan asked Ben.

“Out,” Ben shot back, aggravated by Nathan’s accusatory tone.

“Hold on a second,” Nathan said. He turned to Ober and asked, “Did you really get fired?” When Ober nodded, Nathan turned back to Ben. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Really?” Ben asked. “Watch this.” Within seconds, Ben was out the door.

Running up the block, Ben headed directly for the nearest pay phone. Finding one a few blocks away, he pulled a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket, grabbed the receiver, and punched in DeRosa’s 800 number. “Answer the damn phone,” Ben said before the call had even registered.

Impatiently waiting for someone to pick up, Ben was alarmed to hear a recorded voice say, “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.” Within seconds, he hung up and redialed the number, carefully checking to make sure he dialed correctly. Once again, he heard “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.”

“I don’t believe this,” Ben said. With his eyes closed and his hands locked around the frame of the pay phone, he tried to think of a rational explanation for why the number had been disconnected. There was none. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slamming the phone with his fist. His heart pounding, he turned around and screamed, “ARE YOU GUYS OUT THERE? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Hoping for a response, but expecting none, Ben silently waited. Nothing. His eyes scanned the area, inspecting every tree, shrub, and hiding spot within his sight. Still nothing. He was on his own. Spotting the “on duty” roof lights of an approaching emerald-green taxi, Ben jumped in front of the car, which screeched to a halt to avoid hitting him.

“What’s wrong with you? You crazy or something?” the cabbie shouted as Ben opened the door.

“Do you know any cheap motels?” Ben asked, climbing inside.

“I know a few,” the driver responded, unnerved.

“Take me to one,” Ben demanded.

Following Ben’s instructions, the driver headed toward Connecticut Avenue. “You okay?” the driver asked.

Ben was staring out the back window, checking to see if anyone was following him. “I’m fine,” he said. “Perfectly fine.”

Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to the Monument Inn, a plain-looking, one-story building with a neon VACANCY sign. Ben paid the cab driver, walked into the motel, and approached the front desk. “I need a room.”

Packing her briefcase with three soon-to-be-released decisions, Lisa prepared for a long work weekend. Well accustomed to the fact that as long as she worked in the Court, every weekend was a work weekend, Lisa also added three floppy disks, Hollis’s written comments, and photocopies of a dozen already-released decisions that she thought were relevant. She locked her briefcase and scrambled the small combination lock near the handle. As she went to grab her coat, the phone rang.

Fearing that it might be Hollis with a new assignment or another rewrite, Lisa didn’t immediately answer the phone. As always, however, she couldn’t help herself. She had to pick it up. “Hello. This is Lisa.”

“Lisa, I need you to meet me as soon as possible,” Ben demanded.

“What?” Lisa asked. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the Monument Inn. It’s on Upton, near the Van Ness Metro. I’m in room sixteen.”

“What happened with Ober? Is he okay?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Ben said. “Now please come over here. I don’t know what to do.”

Forty minutes later, Ben heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?” he asked suspiciously.