The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [9]
“I guess,” Ben said. He walked over to his bookshelf, and began to reorganize his books.
Nathan watched his friend for more than a minute. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he finally said. “It is the Supreme Court.”
“I know. It’s just that everyone there is so damn smart. They can name every Court precedent for the past twenty years; I can name the original cast of L.A. Law. That’s not going to get me far.”
Without knocking, Ober entered the room. “Who died?” he asked, recognizing the anxiety on Ben’s face.
“He’s just worried that the Supreme Court will be intellectually intimidating,” Nathan explained.
“Big deal,” Ober said as he sat on Ben’s bed. “Tell them you can name the entire cast of L.A. Law. That always impressed me.”
“I’m a dead man,” Ben said as he continued to reorganize his books.
“Ben, stop with the books. You have nothing to worry about,” Nathan said. “For your whole life, you’ve been at the top of the intellectual ladder. You went from Columbia, to Yale, to a clerkship with Judge Stanley. Now you’re working for Justice Hollis, one of the best justices on the Supreme Court. Either all of your success is a fluke, or you’re just stressing. Which do you think is more likely?”
“He’s probably a fluke,” Ober teased.
“Shut up, pinhead,” Nathan scolded. “Ben, you’re the ultimate overachiever. You used to alphabetize the crayons in the Crayola Sixty-four box. You researched the aerodynamics of the whiffle ball…”
“He was the only one of us who didn’t eat the Play-Doh,” Ober added.
“Exactly,” Nathan agreed. “Besides myself, you’re the smartest person I know.”
Now smiling, Ben turned toward Nathan. “I’m smarter.”
Holding back his own laughter, Nathan said, “Three letters, buddy-boy: S-A-T.”
“Just because you beat me by a measly hundred points on the SAT does not mean you’re smarter,” Ben said.
“The test does not lie,” Nathan said as he walked to the door. “You may have the street-smarts, but when it comes to unbridled intellectualism, you can call me master. And Ober, when we were little, none of us ate the Play-Doh. We used to pretend to eat it, just to watch you.”
As Nathan left the room, Ober turned toward Ben. When Ben started laughing, Ober shouted back, “I knew that!”
Chapter 2
AT SEVEN THE FOLLOWING MORNING, BEN walked into Justice Hollis’s chambers wearing plaid shorts and a faded T-shirt. “BEN, IS THAT YOU?” he heard Lisa shout from their office. “Get your ass in here!”
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, running into the office. “Are you okay?”
“You won’t believe what just happened.” Lisa’s fingers were racing through the Rolodex on her desk. “I got a call from the governor’s office in Missouri, and we have twenty-four hours to act on this application for a death penalty stay.”
“What are you talking about?” Ben asked, throwing his briefcase on his desk.
“Here it is!” Lisa proclaimed, pulling a card from the Rolodex. Turning to Ben, she explained, “There’s a murderer in Missouri who killed three little kids. He was sentenced to death about ten years ago and his case has been appealed through the courts since then. The execution was set for October, but for some reason, the state bumped up the date to tomorrow. He’s allowed an appeal to the Supreme Court, so we now have twenty-four hours to find Hollis and get his opinion.”
“How do we reach him?” Ben asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Lisa said, holding out the Rolodex card. “He left me the number where he was staying in Norway, but apparently he went traveling for a few days. I took his Rolodex from his office. I know he has a sister who lives in California, so I’m going to call her.”
Ben picked up his phone, dialed information, and asked for the number of the U.S. Marshals Service. Looking at Lisa he said, “Every justice has to have a marshal with them at all times. They must know where he is.”
“Hi, Mrs. Winston?” Lisa asked. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but I’m a clerk for Justice Hollis and we need to reach him. It’s an emergency.”
“Hello, is this the Marshals Service?” Ben asked. “This is Ben Addison