Eventually, the words “Twenty-six items found” appeared on the screen. Scanning the first item, Ben read a Wall Street Journal article about Stewart Moore, a Chicago bank president who recently restructured his company’s finance division. When he read that Mr. Moore was fifty-five years old, he knew he hadn’t found Rick. As he typed the second name into his computer, Lisa entered the office. “What’s going on?” Ben asked, looking up from his screen.
Lisa was silent.
“Hello! Earth to Lisa! What’s going on? How are you doing? Why aren’t you responding?”
Again, silence.
“Oh, c’mon, Lisa. Lighten up already. I said I was sorry about a dozen times.”
“Then I completely forgive you,” Lisa said coldly.
“Be serious.”
“Okay, the truth? I’m pretty pissed off that you don’t trust me anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Ben asked. “I trust you.”
“Ben, look at it from my perspective: For the past three months, we’ve spent every waking minute talking about how we were going to catch Rick. Now I can’t get a single word out of you. What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”
“You can make of it whatever you want. But the truth is that there’s nothing to tell. I haven’t heard from Rick in weeks, and until I do, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“You’re a liar,” Lisa said.
“What do you mean, I’m a liar?”
“I’m not a moron. I know when you’re lying, and I know what you’re thinking. But if you think I’m the one who’s leaking information to Rick, you’re crazy. I’d never do that to you.”
“I don’t think you’d-”
“Just do me one favor.” Lisa walked over and sat on the corner of Ben’s desk. “Look me straight in the eyes and tell me you trust me.”
“But you’re not going to believe-”
“If you tell me the truth, I’ll believe you.”
“Lisa, I swear I trust you,” Ben said, looking directly at his co-clerk. “If I had anything to tell you, I would.”
“One last question. What were you working on when I walked in?”
“What?”
“On your computer,” Lisa pointed. “What were you working on?”
“I was reading The Wall Street Journal on-line. Is that okay?”
“Then how come you’re reading a week-old paper?” Lisa asked.
Ben looked at the top of his computer screen and saw that the on-screen article listed the previous week’s date.
“It sucks to be caught in a lie, doesn’t it?” Lisa challenged. “I bet you wish you could take those words back.”
“I don’t believe it,” Ben said. “You didn’t care what I said to you. You sat on my desk just to see what I was reading.”
“I definitely did,” Lisa said, hopping off Ben’s desk. “And now I finally have my answer.”
“But-”
“Don’t bother. It’d be a waste of both your breath and my intelligence. And when you see Rick, tell him I hope he kicks your ass.”
An hour later, Ben and Lisa were silent, each of them reading a third version of Osterman’s Grinnell opinion. Ben’s phone rang, startling them both. “Hello?” Ben answered. “Justice Hollis’s chambers.”
“Hello, Ben. How’s your day been?”
Recognizing Rick’s voice, Ben tightened his fist around the receiver. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to talk about our meeting on Saturday,” Rick said.
“Then I’m glad you called,” Ben said. “Because I don’t like the airport. I want to-”
“I really don’t care what you want,” Rick interrupted. “I just wanted to tell you that our meeting is canceled. I no longer need what you have to offer.”
“But I thought-”
“Like most of your theories, you thought wrong,” Rick said smugly. “So have fun searching through your little yearbooks, and good luck on your lie detector test. I don’t believe we’ll be speaking again-although I’m sure I’ll hear about all the results.”
“Wait, I-” Before Ben could even get the words out, Rick was gone.
“Who was that?” Lisa asked, noticing Ben’s panicked look.
Ben said nothing. He pushed himself away from his desk, stormed toward the door, grabbed his jacket from the closet, and left the office. He walked down the main steps of the Court, down First Street, and approached the nearest pay phone. Picking up the receiver, he inserted a few coins and dialed Nathan’s phone number.
“Andrew Lukens. Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, recognizing neither the voice nor the name. “I was trying to reach Nathan.”
“Nathan’s been promoted to another office. Can I help you instead?”
“This is his roommate, Ben. Do you know his new extension?”
“Hey, Ben,” Andrew’s voice warmed up. “I’ve heard a lot about you. How’s everything at the Supreme Court? Change any laws today?”
“No, nothing today,” Ben said. “We only change laws on Wednesdays. On Mondays we just try to speak to our roommates.”
“Yeah, Nathan said you had a sarcastic sense of humor,” Andrew said, showing no sign that he intended to transfer Ben’s call. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask Nathan-how’d that prank go with your other roommate?”
“Which one?”
“You know, the one you needed the microphones and cameras for. Nathan said you guys were trying to catch your roommate doing the deed.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ben said, quickly remembering how Nathan had swindled the high-tech equipment out of the State Department. “It went fantastic. I’ll have to remind Nathan to bring you some of the pictures. They were a bit blurry, but they’re pretty funny.”
“Well, if the pictures suck, tell him to bring in the audio. I’m sure the briefcase mikes picked up every moan and groan.”
Ben paused. Briefcase mikes? “How do those mikes work again, Andrew?”
“The same as the cordless ones. The only difference is that they’re built into a briefcase. They’re used when someone is concerned that the regular microphones might get exposed. Pound for pound, I’d say they’re about as close as we get to a James Bond movie. They’re still only at the prototype stage, but Nathan thought you’d get a real kick out of them.”
“Oh, they sure were awesome,” Ben said as a cold sweat covered his brow. “We got to hear everything we wanted to hear.”
“Well, let me transfer you to Nathan,” Andrew said.
“I’ll tell you what,” Ben said. “I’m running late, so I’ll just give him a call later.”
“Do you want me to tell him you called?”
“No, no,” Ben said. “I’m going to be busy all day. I’ll see him at home.”
Ben hung up the phone and leaned his head against the phone booth. Shutting his eyes, his mind searched for a reasonable explanation. When he couldn’t come up with one, his breathing quickened. With his eyes still shut, he slammed his head against the metal booth. “I don’t believe this!” he screamed. He picked up the receiver and searched his pockets for more loose change. As he was about to deposit the money, he paused. “Damn!” he screamed, slamming the receiver back in its cradle. Rubbing his forehead, he mentally replayed his conversations with Rick and Andrew. Struggling to make sense of both exchanges, he stood silent.
Ten minutes later, Ben stepped out of the shadow of the phone booth and returned to the Court. When Lisa heard the door of the office slam shut, she quickly turned her head. After throwing his coat into the closet, Ben stood directly in front of Lisa’s desk.
“What?” she asked. “What’d I do now?”
“Listen, I’m going to tell you this, but I’m only telling you because I need your help,” Ben explained. “A week ago, Rick contacted me-”