The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [31]
“But Maxwell would be revealed.”
“Are you crazy? You’d give up your life just to be spiteful?”
“It’s the right thing to do,” Ben said, slumping on the office sofa. “I can’t find Rick; we may never see him again; it’s impossible to track him. It’s the only way to resolve this mess.”
Lisa walked over to the couch and stared down at Ben. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like the whole world is about to end. It was a mistake. You blew it. You got conned. But you didn’t do it on purpose. You were outsmarted—”
“And that pisses me off,” Ben shot back, sitting up straight.
“Is that it? You’re mad because someone finally outsmarted you? This whole feeling-sorry-for-yourself deal is based on the fact that you were intellectually beaten?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I definitely understand, Ben. You’re mad because he beat you on the I.Q. test.” Lisa sat down next to him on the sofa. “Get your head out of your ass. It’s not your fault. You weren’t stupid or gullible. You did what any smart person would’ve done. You just got set up. Rick played you and you have to accept that.”
“Can’t I just sulk a little more?”
“You get thirty more seconds,” Lisa said, looking down at her watch. She waited. “Okay, time’s up. You done?”
“How’d the decision go today?” Eric asked Ben later that night as they sat in front of the television.
“It was fine. What was the Washington Herald’s take on the whole affair?”
“They went crazy with it,” Eric explained between mouthfuls of cereal. “Wait until you see tomorrow’s edition. The front page has a massive picture of Maxwell minutes after the decision. He’s wearing this shit-eating grin that just about makes you want to vomit.”
“Great.”
“And the Sunday edition is running a massive piece on him. The guy is getting better press than the pope.”
“Great,” Ben repeated, flipping through channels. He stopped on CNN, then caught a glimpse of Maxwell and continued flipping.
“CMI stock flew up almost seventeen points by the end of closing today.”
“Great. Eric, can you go to the kitchen and get me a knife? I want to gouge my eyes out.”
“Oedipus, huh?” Eric said, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “That’d be a good look for you.”
Without warning, Ober walked into the house singing, “Guess who’s stopped answering phones in Senator Stevens’s office?”
“You got a promotion?” Eric asked, jumping up to embrace his friend.
Nathan strolled in behind Ober. “He got the promotion?” Ben asked.
“You won’t believe this one,” Nathan said. “Ober, tell the story.”
“Oh, you’ve got to hear this,” Ober said. “This is mondo.”
“Mondo?” Eric laughed. “This isn’t L.A. Get out of here with that crazy talk.”
“Just let him tell the story,” Ben said.
“Here’s the story,” Ober began. “Remember when you had me write that fake death threat from Rick to Senator Stevens?” Ben nodded. “Apparently, the staff director found out that I started a State Department computer search on Rick. Last week, she came up to me and asked me why I did it, so I told her I was just being cautious—that I didn’t think it was a real death threat, but I wanted to be extra safe. This week, she calls me into her office and tells me that I’m their newest legislative assistant. I’ll be responding to all of the constituent complaints on zoning laws and orange juice subsidies.”
“Clearly, you’re at the forefront of Stevens’s re-election campaign,” Ben said.
“It gets better,” Nathan said. “Ober, show them the letter.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ober said, opening the leather briefcase his parents had bought him for graduation. He pulled out a single piece of paper and handed it to Ben.
“Dear William,” Ben read aloud as he stood in the living room. “Thank you so