The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [95]
Ignoring the light snow that melted on the car’s front windshield, Rick watched the entrance to the Air and Space Museum. “What’s taking them so long?”
“I’m sure they’re just looking around. Now get back to the real question: Are you sure you can get the decision?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rick said, turning on the defroster. “We’ll definitely get it. My source tells me—”
“I wish you’d stop relying on this source. Simply being close to Ben doesn’t mean a thing. We need—”
“Trust me, I know exactly what we need. And if we don’t get the decision from our source, we can always get it from Ben. I should be meeting with him sometime next week—I’m just waiting for him to get back to me.”
“How do you know he’ll agree to meet with you?”
Watching Ober, Nathan, and Ben leave the museum, Rick grinned. “I know Ben. Given the opportunity to catch me, he can’t resist. He values his career too much to let me walk all over it. Besides, even if he can’t catch me, how many people can say no to a three-million-dollar finder’s fee?”
Chapter 12
AT NOON THE NEXT DAY, BEN LEANED ON THE file cabinets in the corner of the room, waiting for his first draft of the Grinnell dissent to roll out of the printer. Anxious to hand the opinion over to Lisa, he knew she would have to find it impressive. Wait until she sees it, he thought as the first page crawled out. This dissent is so strong, she won’t know what to do with herself. First, apologies will flow freely. She’ll beg for my forgiveness. She’ll swear that she’ll never doubt me again. Clearly, she’ll say, “You are the superior writer.” She’ll then rip off her clothes and lie naked on the desk.
As Ben smiled to himself, Lisa burst through the door carrying two medium-sized boxes. She put them on the sofa. “Where were you? You missed the anniversary party for Blake.”
“Big deal,” Ben said, grabbing another sheet from the laser printer. “I couldn’t care less that he’s spent ten years on the Court. Besides, I really wanted to finish Grinnell. I was close to the end and I didn’t want to stop the flow of genius that was oozing out of me and into my computer.” As Lisa walked back to her desk, Ben asked, “What’d Blake do, anyway? Shake hands and thank everyone for their support?”
“Basically. But it was really nice. All the justices were there, and all the clerks and support staff. It was only about a half hour, but it was nice.” Putting on her reading glasses, she added, “And you missed the inevitable confrontation between Osterman and Kovacs.”
“Did they really go to blows?” Ben asked, curious about the rumored hatred between the ultra-conservative Osterman and the semi-liberal Kovacs.
“Nothing happened, but they’re the only two who never talk to each other. And Joel told me that when Kovacs was originally appointed to the Court, Osterman greeted him by saying, ‘I hope you realize you have a great deal of reading ahead of you.’”
“Stop it.”
“I’m not joking,” Lisa said. “It was obviously a crack at Kovacs’s intelligence.”
“And what’d Kovacs say back?”
“I have no idea. That’s all Joel said.”
“It’s just so silly,” Ben said. “Some of these justices are almost seventy years old and they still behave like children. They’re like little kids in a sandbox.”
“That’s the way it works,” Lisa said as she sat at her desk. “The old justices haze the new justices. It’s like a geriatric fraternity. The newest justice gets the worst office, the worst seat on the bench, the worst section of seats reserved for their family. Even when the justices meet in Conference, the lowest-ranking justice is the one who has to answer the phone if it rings and answer the door if anyone knocks.”
“That’s not true, is it?”
“It’s definitely true. Go down to the basement bookstore. It’s written in all the books about the Court.”
“I can’t imagine it—justices hazing each other.” In a deep voice, Ben imitated Osterman and barked, “Hey, Kovacs, I want my chambers cleaned and dusted before oral args tomorrow! And if you’re not done, you’re not getting the Mirsky dissent! Do you