“You don’t have a prayer.”

“I won’t need one,” Lungen said. “Who do you think America is going to believe-the clerk with the million-dollar bank account, or the marshal who brought him in? And if you try to finger Rick, what proof do you have? At this point, you can’t even prove he exists.”

Ben was silent. As his shoulders tensed, the handcuffs pulled against his wrists. “No matter what you say, Rick is out for himself. And that means he doesn’t give a damn about you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of his information points a finger at the Marshals Office. If I were in your position, I’d get out now.”

“C’mon, Ben, do you really think you can trick me into switching sides? I’m not some simpleminded, misunderstood lackey. I’m fully aware of every possible consequence. Rick and I planned this a long time ago, and I plan to see it through to the end.”

“So you’ve been in on this since CMI?”

“How do you think Rick knew so much about the Court?” Lungen asked. “Without an inside man, it’d be impossible to pull this off.”

As the door in the corner of the room opened, the bright light of the connecting suite cut through the darkened room. Rick followed. “Are you two bonding?” Rick asked as he walked toward the center of the room.

“Absolutely.” Lungen got up from the sofa and moved toward the second suite. “Ben convinced me to switch sides. I’ve realized what a fool I’ve been, and now I’m going to turn us all in.”

“That’s great,” Rick said, patting Lungen on the back as he passed him. “Just make sure to get some sleep first. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Stopping as he reached the door to the connecting suite, Lungen turned around. “Have a good night, Ben.”

“I hope you choke in your sleep,” Ben said as the door slammed shut.

“It looks like it’s just the two of us,” Rick said, noting that Nathan was fast asleep.

“So what?” Ben snapped, trying to look over his shoulder. Standing behind Ben, Rick slowly tipped back Ben’s chair. “What are you doing?” Ben asked.

Rick didn’t answer. Dragging the chair to the center of the room, Rick made sure that Ben faced the sofa. With a better view of his most resourceful captive, Rick took a seat. “Don’t pout,” Rick said. “Every game has to have a winner and loser. You just happen to be the loser in this one.”

“And you’re the winner?”

“I am,” Rick said. “You could’ve been a winner too. The offer was there from the beginning. You simply refused to accept it.”

“There was no offer,” Ben said. “You didn’t ask me. You just manipulated my trust.”

“So sue me. Would you have given me the information otherwise?”

Ben said nothing.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, I guess that’s it-you must know everything about me.”

“Ben, do you have any idea what the main difference is between us?”

“Besides the fact you’re a psycho?”

“I’m serious,” Rick said. “It’s a subtle difference, but an all-important one.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ben said. “This is where you tell me some cheesy story-like how we’re opposite sides of the same coin or something.”

“Not at all. We may have similar qualities, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re not even part of the same currency. And it all stems from our one major difference: You think society’s right, while I think society’s a joke.”

“Aren’t you the maverick.”

“Think about what I’m saying and you’ll understand I’m right,” Rick said. “You scheme and lie and manipulate just as much as I do. But you love the way society’s set up. You stick to the rules. Work hard, get the perfect job, find the perfect wife, buy the perfect house, lease the perfect car. You’ll be chasing that carrot for the rest of your life. As long as you follow that path, no matter how smart you are, you’ll always be the predictable pragmatist, and I’ll always have the advantage. And that’s the real reason I picked you.”

“You don’t know me at all,” Ben said coldly.

“Really?” Rick asked. “Then let me ask you the question I’ve always held back on: How about being my partner?”

“What?”

“I’m not joking,” Rick said, his tone deadly serious. “We become partners. I let you go. You go back to the Court. You finish out your term, and you feed me all the lucrative decisions. By summer, we’ll be swimming in money. You’ll never have to worry again.”

“Are you serious?”

Rick smiled. “No. Not at all. Do I look that stupid?”

Ben swung his right leg forward and kicked Rick in the shin. “You’re an asshole.”

“I sure am,” Rick responded. With a swift shove, Rick kicked Ben’s chair. As the chair fell backward, Ben struggled against his handcuffs. Unable to stop the momentum, he braced for impact. With a loud crash, the chair fell back, slamming Ben’s head against the floor. Lying on his back, Ben kept his eyes closed, refusing to show any sign of pain. “Get a good night’s sleep,” Rick said, leaning back on the sofa. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Rick shouted out at a quarter to nine the following morning. Jarred awake when she heard Rick bang on the bathroom door, Lisa jumped and slammed her head against the pipes directly above her head. Groggy as she sat on the floor and leaned against the bathtub, she rotated her wrists to encourage circulation to her pale white hands.

In the living room, Nathan slowly rotated his neck. Still lying on his back, Ben had slept the best of the three friends. He licked the morning film from his teeth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Hold it in,” Rick said, lifting Ben’s chair and setting it upright.

“You two look terrible,” Claremont said to Ben and Nathan, who had matching bags under their eyes.

“Where’s Lungen?” Ben asked, glancing around the room.

“At work,” Rick said as he walked toward Nathan. “Placating Fisk.”

“When are you going to call the broker?” Claremont asked impatiently. “It’s almost nine.”

“I’ll call him in a minute.” Rick tipped back Nathan’s chair and dragged him to the center of the room.

“What’s going on?” Nathan asked. “What are you doing?”

“Testing a theory,” Rick said, letting the chair down. Turning to Ben, who was now facing Nathan’s side, Rick asked, “Do you have a clear view of your friend?”

“Don’t touch him,” Ben warned. “I told you the decision.”

“You also told me the Grinnell decision,” Rick said as he rolled up the sleeves of his white, button-down shirt. “And look where that got me.” Rick pulled his arm back and cracked Nathan in the side of the face.

“Stop!” Ben screamed.

“Does American Steel really win?” Rick asked as Claremont looked on.

“It wins. I swear.”

Rick smashed Nathan in the jaw. “Are you sure that’s the right outcome?”

“Stop it!” Ben yelled. “It’s right.”

As blood dripped from Nathan’s mouth, Claremont said, “He’s telling the truth.”

“We’ll see,” Rick said, walking toward the bathroom. He dragged Lisa out by the handcuffs.

“Don’t you dare!” Ben yelled, seething.

“Shut up,” Rick said. Claremont pulled Nathan’s chair away and brought an empty one to the center of the room. Lisa kicked and fought furiously against Rick.

“Get the hell off me!” she screamed. “I’ll kill you!”

“Quiet,” Rick said as the two men forced her into place. When they had handcuffed her to the armrests of the chair, Rick stepped back to watch Ben’s expression.

Ben exploded as he felt his face turn a bright crimson. “Stay the hell away from her! I told you the damn decision!”

“My,” Rick said. “I didn’t realize you were so attached.”

“Hurry up,” Claremont said, looking at his watch. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Believe me,” Rick said, “if we don’t have the right decision, all the time in the world won’t mean a thing.” Turning back toward Ben, he continued, “Now, Ben, does American Steel really win?”

“Don’t tell him,” Lisa said.