A sharp murmur shot through the crowd as observers acknowledged the cunning of Charles Maxwell’s recent decision to increase his holdings in Lexcoll. Then, seconds after the decision was read, the Clerk’s Office turned off its intercom to the courtroom and notified the Information Office that the decision had become public. Immediately, the seven-person staff of the Information Office handed out copies of the official decision to the assembled reporters who waited in the basement office, while two computer staffers posted the decision on various legal computer networks. Inside the courtroom, the print media took notes on the mood of the justices. Outside the Court, at least two dozen television reporters vied for stand-up space, hoping to be the first to break the story on air. By the time Justice Blake had finished explaining the Court’s reasoning, more than 3,760 people had their own copies of the decision, while 6 million people had heard the outcome of the case. As the marshal officially closed the session, the media were exhausted, Charles Maxwell was a genius, and Ben was devastated.

“Crap,” Ben said as he and Lisa walked through the mob of people exiting the courtroom.

“Why are you surprised? You’ve known the outcome of the case for months.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Ben said, pushing his way through the crowd. As they swiped their I.D. cards through a small machine, two bulletproof doors opened, and the co-clerks were granted access to the first floor’s private office area. Taking one of the less-trafficked staircases, they walked upstairs and returned to their office. “I just can’t believe it,” Ben said as soon as the door closed behind him. “Maxwell becomes a captain of industry because a schmuck law clerk couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Taking off his suit jacket, he hung it on the back of his chair. “Maybe Eric was right. Maybe I should go to the press.”

“No way,” Lisa said. She grabbed a brown folder from her desk and walked to the back of the office. Turning on the paper shredder, she fed the entire stack of paper to the machine. She never destroyed her old versions of an opinion until the opinion was actually announced. “First, you have no proof, so they’ll think you’re crazy. Second, if they do believe you, you’ve just sacrificed your entire career.”

“But Maxwell would be revealed.”

“Are you crazy? You’d give up your life just to be spiteful?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Ben said, slumping on the office sofa. “I can’t find Rick; we may never see him again; it’s impossible to track him. It’s the only way to resolve this mess.”

Lisa walked over to the couch and stared down at Ben. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like the whole world is about to end. It was a mistake. You blew it. You got conned. But you didn’t do it on purpose. You were outsmarted-”

“And that pisses me off,” Ben shot back, sitting up straight.

“Is that it? You’re mad because someone finally outsmarted you? This whole feeling-sorry-for-yourself deal is based on the fact that you were intellectually beaten?”

“You don’t understand.”

“I definitely understand, Ben. You’re mad because he beat you on the I.Q. test.” Lisa sat down next to him on the sofa. “Get your head out of your ass. It’s not your fault. You weren’t stupid or gullible. You did what any smart person would’ve done. You just got set up. Rick played you and you have to accept that.”

“Can’t I just sulk a little more?”

“You get thirty more seconds,” Lisa said, looking down at her watch. She waited. “Okay, time’s up. You done?”

“How’d the decision go today?” Eric asked Ben later that night as they sat in front of the television.

“It was fine. What was the Washington Herald’s take on the whole affair?”

“They went crazy with it,” Eric explained between mouthfuls of cereal. “Wait until you see tomorrow’s edition. The front page has a massive picture of Maxwell minutes after the decision. He’s wearing this shit-eating grin that just about makes you want to vomit.”

“Great.”

“And the Sunday edition is running a massive piece on him. The guy is getting better press than the pope.”

“Great,” Ben repeated, flipping through channels. He stopped on CNN, then caught a glimpse of Maxwell and continued flipping.

“CMI stock flew up almost seventeen points by the end of closing today.”

“Great. Eric, can you go to the kitchen and get me a knife? I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Oedipus, huh?” Eric said, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “That’d be a good look for you.”

Without warning, Ober walked into the house singing, “Guess who’s stopped answering phones in Senator Stevens’s office?”

“You got a promotion?” Eric asked, jumping up to embrace his friend.

Nathan strolled in behind Ober. “He got the promotion?” Ben asked.

“You won’t believe this one,” Nathan said. “Ober, tell the story.”

“Oh, you’ve got to hear this,” Ober said. “This is mondo.”

“Mondo?” Eric laughed. “This isn’t L.A. Get out of here with that crazy talk.”

“Just let him tell the story,” Ben said.

“Here’s the story,” Ober began. “Remember when you had me write that fake death threat from Rick to Senator Stevens?” Ben nodded. “Apparently, the staff director found out that I started a State Department computer search on Rick. Last week, she came up to me and asked me why I did it, so I told her I was just being cautious-that I didn’t think it was a real death threat, but I wanted to be extra safe. This week, she calls me into her office and tells me that I’m their newest legislative assistant. I’ll be responding to all of the constituent complaints on zoning laws and orange juice subsidies.”

“Clearly, you’re at the forefront of Stevens’s re-election campaign,” Ben said.

“It gets better,” Nathan said. “Ober, show them the letter.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ober said, opening the leather briefcase his parents had bought him for graduation. He pulled out a single piece of paper and handed it to Ben.

“Dear William,” Ben read aloud as he stood in the living room. “Thank you so much for your follow-up efforts on the recent threat on my life. Your actions are a shining example of the kind of initiative few people are willing to take. I hope you know how much I appreciate all of your work. Marcia tells me you are doing a wonderful job. Keep up the fight.”

“Read the closing,” Ober said, laughing.

“Your friend, Paul.”

“He signed it ‘Paul’?” Eric asked, grabbing the letter from Ben’s hands.

“And I’m his friend,” Ober said.

“This is unbelievable,” Ben said.

“Unprecedented,” Nathan said.

“Unheard of.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s fantastic!” Ben continued.

“They’re mondo stupid!” Ober shouted. “And I got a promotion out of it!”

As Ober and Eric danced around the room, Ben asked, “Have you ever read ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’?”

“Exactly,” Nathan said as the phone rang.

“Hold on a second.” Ben walked to the kitchen to get the phone. Picking up the receiver, he answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, Benjamin.”

“Hi, Mom,” Ben said.

“Benjamin, let me ask you a question. Did you have anything to do with that Charles Maxwell decision that came down today?”

“Not really,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “That was handled by another justice’s clerks.”

“But you knew the decision before it happened, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, Mom. I knew it three months ago.”

“Thank you,” Sheila Addison said. “Now why don’t you tell your father because he’ll never believe it if I say it. The man thinks that just because he’s a columnist, he knows everything.”

“Mom, is there anything else?” Ben asked. “We’re in the middle of celebrating. Ober just got a promotion.”

“Good for him!” Sheila said. “Oh, Barbara will be so proud. Put him on the phone, I want to say hello.”