Read Online The Tenth Justice by Brad Meltzer - Free Book Online

his link with Maxwell. Otherwise, I don’t know what else to do. Can’t we put a search on him through the State Department?”
    “Not without saying why we’re looking for him. And if you do, you can say good-bye to your job.”
    “And my entire career.”
    “But we can do a confidential search,” Nathan blurted, his voice racing with newfound confidence. “All we need is a member of Congress to—” Hopping off the counter and grabbing the phone, Nathan dialed Ober’s number. “Hello, Ober? It’s me. We need some serious help. Are you still answering constituents’ letters?”
    “Absolutely,” Ober said. “I’m the master of junk mail.”
    “Then you still have access to the pen-signing machine that fakes the senator’s signature?”
    “Of course,” Ober said. “Did you really think Senator Stevens signed your birthday card?”
    “I need a favor,” Nathan said. “I need you to write an official request on Senate letterhead. Address it to my attention at the State Department and ask that a confidential background check be done on—what’s his name, Ben?”
    “Richard or Rick Fagen,” Ben said with a wry smile. “Here’s his old phone number and address.”
    After relaying the information, Nathan told Ober, “Make sure that the letter says that all correspondence should go to me.”
    “What’s this for?” Ober asked suspiciously.
    “I’ll tell you later,” Nathan said. “Now’s not the time.”
    “But isn’t this illegal?” Ober asked.
    “Kind of, but it’s an emergency,” Nathan said. “We need this information.”
    “Actually, I have a way around the illegal part,” Ben said, grabbing the phone from Nathan. “Ober, it’s me,” he said. “Let me ask you a question: What do you do when a wacko writes a letter to the senator?”
    “It depends,” Ober said. “Serious death threats go straight to the Secret Service. But if it seems like the writer is just a regular wacko, we’re supposed to use our discretion.”
    “Perfect,” Ben said. “Then here’s what you do: Write a fake death threat to the senator and sign it Rick Fagen. But make the letter a little weird. That way, if anyone ever asks why you opened the investigation, you’ll give them the letter and say you were just trying to protect the senator’s life.”
    “Nicely played,” Nathan said, taking back the phone. “Ober, one last thing. Make sure we get a good signature on the autograph machine. You can spot those fake ones a mile away.” Nathan said good-bye and hung up the phone. “Feeling a little better?”
    “A little.” Ben wiped his still-wet hair from his forehead. “By the way, thanks for coming home.”
    “You give the order, I follow it,” Nathan said, saluting his friend.
    Later that afternoon, the phone rang in Ben’s room. “Hello?” he answered, stretching from his bed to pick up the receiver.
    “Ben, it’s Lisa. I just called to see how you were feeling.”
    “I’m doing okay,” Ben said, uncomfortable about lying. “It was just some stomach cramps.”
    “Are you bullshitting me?” Lisa asked. “Because I’ll come straight over there after work.”
    “I swear, I’m okay,” Ben said, lying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. “I have an upset stomach and I wasn’t feeling well. Is that okay?”
    “Sure. Fine,” Lisa said. “So, how much have you missed me?”
    “Tons. Now what happened today? Anything exciting?”
    “Nothing really. Everyone’s been talking about the Charles Maxwell case. Hollis is worried that once the decision is announced, everyone is going to scream that he had an inside source.”
    “It’s definitely possible,” Ben said as he fidgeted with the vertical blinds that covered his window.
    “I guess,” Lisa said. “I just think the media sucks Carter’s left peanut. They cry conspiracy at the drop of a hat.”
    “Carter’s left peanut?”
Ben laughed. “What decade are you living in?”
    “You never heard that? That’s a