The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [51]
“Why don’t you just cooperate with us?” Fisk asked in a calm, soothing voice. Fisk was rugged-looking, with chiseled features offset by a bad complexion and a poorly fitted suit. Fisk’s strong Chicago accent flattened his A’s and rounded his O’s. “If you let us, you know we can help you with this.”
“Listen, I don’t need the good-cop-bad-cop routine,” Ben said, a rush of adrenaline keeping his voice from cracking. “If I leaked the story to Eric, I’d be a complete moron. I mean, no offense to you guys, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Eric and I are roommates. Does it make any sense for me to ask my roommate to write a story that will not only jeopardize my career, but will also call attention to myself?” Letting the logic of the argument sink in, he added, “The story is bullshit. Eric probably wanted attention and—”
“We didn’t say you asked Eric to write the story,” Fisk interrupted. “We just think you’re the one that gave him the information.”
“I didn’t say word one to him. Believe me, I’ve been extremely careful about what I’ve said around everyone, Eric especially.”
“But you did tell Eric that Blake is retiring, didn’t you?”
Ben bit the inside of his cheek. Lungen continued, “Don’t bullshit us, Ben. My friend at the Herald said there’s a story running tomorrow about Blake stepping down. The Herald wouldn’t run it without a solid source, and Eric fingered you.”
Crossing his arms to look confident, Ben knew he was losing control. “I admit I told him about Blake. I told him we’d be releasing the information later this week. But I didn’t tell him about—”
“You admit that you purposely leaked information from this Court about Blake, and yet you expect us to believe you about Maxwell?” Lungen asked.
“You know there’s a difference,” Ben said. “The Blake thing was common knowledge. It was hardly confidential information. What you’re talking about with Maxwell is on a totally different level.”
“That’s exactly our point,” Lungen said. “Now, would you like to start over?”
Determined not to show his frustration, Ben said, “Look, I swear, I don’t know anything about Maxwell. If I did, do you really think I’d be sitting here, talking to you? If I leaked the decision to Maxwell, I’d be on a beach in Greece right now, counting my ten-million-dollar fee.”
“Ben, let me tell you what we think. We agree you probably didn’t leak anything to Eric. That’d be stupid, and frankly, we expect better from you. You probably didn’t personally leak any information to Maxwell, either. As you said, if you did, you wouldn’t need to work anymore. Our fear, however, is that you may’ve heard something from your co-clerk, or from a clerk in another office, about someone else leaking information. You casually mention this to Eric, or maybe he overhears it, and suddenly we have a major scandal on our hands. At this point, though, the only person we do have is you.”
“I’m telling you: I have no idea of anyone, including myself, leaking information from this Court.”
“What about Blake’s resignation?”
“You know what I mean—substantial information concerning legal decisions. When I first started at the Court, I explained to my roommates that I knew all the information in advance. But they never cared—not even Eric. The only way I can figure it is that Eric created this hypothetical situation to get published. Ask your friend at the Herald. You said they wouldn’t run the Blake resignation story unless they had a good source. What was the source for Eric’s story about Maxwell?”
Lungen was silent.
“Eric wouldn’t name his source, would he?” Ben asked. “You obviously