The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [21]
After relaying the information, Nathan told Ober, “Make sure that the letter says that all correspondence should go to me.”
“What’s this for?” Ober asked suspiciously.
“I’ll tell you later,” Nathan said. “Now’s not the time.”
“But isn’t this illegal?” Ober asked.
“Kind of, but it’s an emergency,” Nathan said. “We need this information.”
“Actually, I have a way around the illegal part,” Ben said, grabbing the phone from Nathan. “Ober, it’s me,” he said. “Let me ask you a question: What do you do when a wacko writes a letter to the senator?”
“It depends,” Ober said. “Serious death threats go straight to the Secret Service. But if it seems like the writer is just a regular wacko, we’re supposed to use our discretion.”
“Perfect,” Ben said. “Then here’s what you do: Write a fake death threat to the senator and sign it Rick Fagen. But make the letter a little weird. That way, if anyone ever asks why you opened the investigation, you’ll give them the letter and say you were just trying to protect the senator’s life.”
“Nicely played,” Nathan said, taking back the phone. “Ober, one last thing. Make sure we get a good signature on the autograph machine. You can spot those fake ones a mile away.” Nathan said good-bye and hung up the phone. “Feeling a little better?”
“A little.” Ben wiped his still-wet hair from his forehead. “By the way, thanks for coming home.”
“You give the order, I follow it,” Nathan said, saluting his friend.
Later that afternoon, the phone rang in Ben’s room. “Hello?” he answered, stretching from his bed to pick up the receiver.
“Ben, it’s Lisa. I just called to see how you were feeling.”
“I’m doing okay,” Ben said, uncomfortable about lying. “It was just some stomach cramps.”
“Are you bullshitting me?” Lisa asked. “Because I’ll come straight over there after work.”
“I swear, I’m okay,” Ben said, lying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. “I have an upset stomach and I wasn’t feeling well. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Fine,” Lisa said. “So, how much have you missed me?”
“Tons. Now what happened today? Anything exciting?”
“Nothing really. Everyone’s been talking about the Charles Maxwell case. Hollis is worried that once the decision is announced, everyone is going to scream that he had an inside source.”
“It’s definitely possible,” Ben said as he fidgeted with the vertical blinds that covered his window.
“I guess,” Lisa said. “I just think the media sucks Carter’s left peanut. They cry conspiracy at the drop of a hat.”
“Carter’s left peanut?” Ben laughed. “What decade are you living in?”
“You never heard that? That’s a famous saying.”
“I’m sure it was,” Ben said sarcastically, “back when there was an oil crisis.”
“Listen, I don’t need to be made fun of. I have better things to do. Meanwhile, who sent you the flowers?”
Quickly realizing he’d forgotten to throw away Rick’s bouquet, Ben tried to stall. “What flowers?” he stammered.
“There’s a giant basket sitting on your desk.”
“They’re probably from my mother. I told her I wasn’t feeling well last night.”
“Do you want me to open the card?” Lisa asked. “Because I can see the envelope right next to—”
“No!” Ben yelled. “Leave it alone.”
“Sorry,” Lisa said. “I didn’t—”
“It’s not your fault. I just don’t like people opening my mail.”
“Maybe I should take the week off from work,” Ben said as he and Nathan made dinner.
“No way,” Nathan said, dicing a large onion. “You don’t want to call attention to yourself. The best thing you can do is just go about your business.”
“I won’t be able to concentrate, though. I have to find Rick. I have to—”
“Forget it,” Nathan interrupted. “What are you going to do? Wander aimlessly around the city until you bump into him? If Ober opened the investigation correctly, we’ll have some information by the end of the week.” He pulled the lid off the rice cooker and a fragrant cloud of steam wafted into the room. “Have you decided whether you’re going to tell Ober what happened?”
“I have to,” Ben said as he set out two plates on the table.