The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [69]
“Now you’re getting caught up in semantics. Do you really believe I’d be dumb enough to just show up with a bag of money at your doorstep? Your three million dollars will be put into an account that no one but ourselves will ever be able to find.”
“Of course—the Swiss bank account. How stupid of me.”
“Ben, this isn’t a game. This is real life here. If you want to risk your existence on the unlikely possibility of media incompetence, be my guest. But I know you’re more of a pragmatist than that. Unless you take the money, you risk losing everything. I hope you’ll choose a more secure future.”
“And if I don’t help you, how do I know you won’t blackmail me?”
Rick looked coldly across at his passenger. “You don’t. But blackmail doesn’t solve any of our problems. Revealing your link with these decisions means risking my own indictment as well. As you know, if the truth comes out, the world’s largest magnifying glass will be turned on all of us. While it’s easy to outsmart a single Supreme Court clerk, it’s not as easy to sidestep the SEC and the resources of an unrelenting media.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll find someone to say yes,” Rick said. “Believe me, it won’t be hard.”
“Is there a particular decision you have in mind?”
“Grinnell v. New York is one. There are others.”
“And when do you want the information?”
“Get it to me at least three weeks before the decision is announced. The earlier the better.”
Ben picked at a hole in the leather seat. “How does it feel to know you’re going to hell?”
“Don’t get on a moral high horse with me,” Rick said. “It’s easy to be honest when you’re on top. Try starting the race from the back of the pack.”
“Cry me a river.”
“I’m serious. If I were you, I’d be less concerned with ethics and more concerned about securing your future. There isn’t much demand for out-of-work legal geniuses.”
“Let me ask you one last question,” Ben said. “How’d you get all the information about me?”
“That would be telling. You know the line—about magicians revealing their tricks.”
“That’s a good one. You’re so original. So what else do we have to talk about?”
“I believe that’s it.”
“You should know one thing,” Ben said. “Ever since they lowered my security clearance, the marshals have been watching me pretty hard.”
“I don’t think your recent drop in security status will affect anything,” Rick said. “In the future, if you need to reach me, you can contact me through our P.O. box.”
“By the way, that P.O. box thing was a pretty good trick. I was impressed.”
“Doesn’t take much,” Rick said sarcastically. Pushing the intercom button on the side of the door, he said to the driver, “As soon as you see a good place, I want to let our guest out.”
“One last thing,” Rick said as the driver pulled to the side of the road. “Please take out your contact lenses.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Take out your contacts. I’d prefer that you didn’t memorize our license plate.”
“These things cost a hundred bucks,” Ben said as he took out his left lens.
“I don’t want to keep them,” Rick said. “I only want them out of your eyes.”
When he saw that Ben was holding both lenses, Rick opened the door and let him out. “Thanks for dinner,” Ben said sarcastically. Rick slammed the door and the limo sped off. Squinting hard, Ben struggled in vain to read the plates. “Asshole.”
“Where the hell is he?” Nathan asked.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ober said, bent over and staring into the refrigerator. “He and Rick just went for a ride.”
“How can you be so damn calm?” Nathan asked.
“I’m not,” Ober said, selecting a soda. “But what do you want me to do? He’ll be home when he gets home.” As he opened the can, he added, “You don’t think Rick kidnapped him and threw him off a pier, do you?”
“Of course not,” Nathan said, walking into the kitchen. “Rick isn’t some petty criminal. If he wanted to eliminate Ben as a witness, he would’ve put a bullet in his brain a few days