The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [144]
Even two-dimensional, you look good, Ober thought as he admired the most recent photocopy of his face. Sitting at his government-issue desk, he pulled open the bottom-left drawer, removed a thick file folder and added that day’s photocopy to the three hundred and twenty-six other photocopies already in the folder. Every day, Ober placed his face on the photocopier and posed for the world’s quickest portrait in an attempt to create a photo album unlike any other. After writing the date on his newest copy, he placed it in the folder with the others. As he returned the file to its drawer, he saw Marcia Sturgis, the staff director for Senator Stevens, standing in the doorway of his office.
“Ober, can I see you in my office?” Marcia asked abruptly. A Capitol Hill veteran, Marcia had started as a receptionist for Senator Edward Kennedy soon after she had graduated from college, then spent almost twenty years working her way through the bureaucratic ranks. In her view, the years of toiling in obscurity were well worth it—she was currently the most important member of Senator Stevens’s staff. With a workday that began at six in the morning and ended at eleven at night, Marcia controlled most of what the senator saw and heard. She attended committee meetings, organized floor appearances, and edited the senator’s speeches and press releases. She was also responsible for the most important decisions affecting the senator’s staff.
Following Marcia to her office, Ober tried to guess what he had done wrong this time. Since his promotion to administrative assistant, visits to Marcia’s office had become commonplace. There was one when his reply letter to an irate constituent simply said, “Relax.” There was another when he misspelled Mrs. Stevens’s name on a letter to another senator. And there was another when Marcia caught him making prank calls to Republican staffers, telling them to “Give up.”
As he stepped into Marcia’s office, Ober noticed the stiff-shouldered stranger sitting in one of the chairs facing Marcia’s desk. When he saw the solemn look on the man’s face, Ober knew this visit wasn’t about the coffee he had spilled on Marcia’s computer.
“Take a seat,” Marcia said, pointing to the empty seat next to the stranger. “This is Victor Langdon, from the FBI.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ober said, extending his hand.
“Can we get to the point?” Victor asked.
Marcia’s eyes were focused on Ober. “I wanted to tell you about an anonymous fax I got a few hours ago,” she explained. “It said that the death threat you investigated a few months ago was actually written by you. The fax also accused you of writing the threat to Senator Stevens in an attempt to advance your own career. Considering that your promotion was based on your handling of that situation, we were wondering what you had to say for yourself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ober said. Crossing his legs, he tried his best not to panic.
“I don’t want to play that game,” Victor said, pointing a finger at Ober.
“Ober, don’t lie about this one,” Marcia pleaded, her hands in tight fists on her desk. “This is serious.”
“It’s not the way it looks….” Ober stuttered.
“Do you deny it?” Victor asked.
“If you didn’t write it, and you know who did, tell us,” Marcia said.
Ober leaned away from Victor. “It wasn’t a real death threat. The senator was never in danger.”
“I already told the FBI that,” Marcia said. “Just tell them who wrote it.”
Trying to figure out a way to avoid implicating Ben, Ober was silent.
“If you don’t tell us who wrote it, I’ll be forced to ask for your resignation,” Marcia said.
“Attempted assassination means you’ll get life in prison,” Victor added, grabbing Ober’s armrest.
Ober pushed Victor’s hand away. “It was never an assassination.”
“Then tell us what happened,” Victor said. “Who wrote the letter?”
Again, Ober fell silent.
“Ober, please make this easier on yourself,” Marcia said, leaning on her desk.
“That