The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [134]
From this point on, communication will be limited to when we contact you. If something goes wrong, call the 800 number at the end of this letter. It will notify our field agents that you need their immediate assistance. This should be used only in the event of an emergency.
Your complete assistance will ensure your future. I hope the next time we talk, it is under better circumstances.
Ben turned the page to see the list of potential suspects. Suddenly, the door to the bathroom flew open. Through the space between the door hinge and the stall, Ben saw a figure rushing toward him. The man banged on Ben’s stall, screaming, “Get the hell out of there! I know who you are!”
Panicking, Ben crumpled up the letter and stuffed it down the front of his pants.
“Get the hell out!” the man shouted. “I know you’re trying to find me out!”
Ben noticed a slight slur in the man’s voice. “Who are you?” Ben asked.
“You know damn well who I am!”
Ben stepped out of the stall with his briefcase. Before him was a shabbily dressed street person with a long, dirty beard.
The man banged on the next stall. “I know you’re in there!”
Ben approached the man. “Are you—”
“Give me a dollar!” The man pushed his palm under Ben’s nose.
Convinced that the man was neither a marshal nor a threat, Ben opened his briefcase and pulled out his regular turkey sandwich. “It’s not a dollar, but—”
“Thank you,” the man said, grabbing the sandwich. “You’re a good man.”
After rushing through Court security, Ben avoided the elevator and ran up the stairs to the second floor. When he arrived in his office, he threw his briefcase on the sofa, reached into his underwear, and pulled out the letter. He smoothed it flat and passed it to Lisa.
“I hope you don’t expect me to touch that,” Lisa said from her desk.
“Someone passed me this on the subway,” Ben explained, his voice racing with excitement. “The marshals went for it!”
Quickly reading through DeRosa’s missive, Lisa flipped the page and scanned the list of potential suspects. Included were Lungen and Fisk, Nancy, fellow legal clerks, and a variety of other Supreme Court employees. The first three names on the list were Nathan, Ober, and Eric. “Do you think this is real?” Lisa asked, looking up at her co-clerk.
“What do you mean, is it real? Of course it’s real.”
“The only reason I’m asking is because it’s so cryptic. I mean, it’s not addressed to you, it’s not signed by anyone. It makes no reference to the fact that you already met. For all we know, it could be from Rick.”
“It can’t be from Rick,” Ben insisted, snatching the letter back. “It’s from the marshals.”
“Hey, if you’re satisfied, I’m satisfied,” Lisa said.
“Well, I’m satisfied,” Ben said. “Completely satisfied.”
“What do you think of their list?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Ben said, rereading the list of suspects. “But I don’t think my roommates are the ones we should be worried about.”
“I don’t know about that,” Lisa said. “I mean, who else could’ve told Rick about our plan with the yearbooks?”
“Who knows? It might’ve been the people in the mailroom. They received the packages. Anyone could’ve gone through them before we picked them up.”
“Maybe,” Lisa said. “But you’re not telling your roommates about this, are you?”
“No way,” Ben said. “You read the letter. Without my full cooperation, we don’t have a deal. In the end, my roommates will be pissed for being left out, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“Exactly,” Lisa said. “That’s—”
Ben’s phone rang. “Hold on a second,” Ben said, picking up the receiver. “Justice Hollis’s chambers. Can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m looking for an Alvy Singer.”
“This is Alvy,” Ben said hesitantly, remembering the fake name from his P.O. box.
“Hey, Alvy. This is Scott over at Mailboxes and Things. I wanted to let you know that your payment is once again overdue on your second P.O. box, and we need a payment as soon as possible or we’ll have to turn it over to a collection agency.”
Ben realized that Scott