The Tenth Justice by Brad Meltzer

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.”
    “I’m not putting him on the phone,” Ben said.
    “Well, tell him I better see him when you guys come home for Thanksgiving. By the way, do you know if you’re coming in Tuesday or Wednesday yet?”
    “It’s still three weeks away. I have no idea,” Ben said. Hoping to change the subject he asked, “What else is going on at home?”
    “Nothing really,” Sheila said. “I got a piece of mail for you today. It looked like an important bill, so I didn’t know if you wanted me to open it before I sent it to you.”
    “Who’s it from?” Ben asked.
    “The return address says ‘Mailboxes and Things.’ It has a big stamp on it that says ‘Second Notice.’”
    Recognizing the name of the store where he had opened his P.O. box, Ben was confused. He’d already paid them in advance, he thought. “Open it,” he said.
    “It’s definitely a bill,” she said. “It says that if you don’t pay the balance, your P.O. box, number thirteen twenty-seven, will be closed, and your mail confiscated. Why do you have a P.O. box, Benjamin?”
    “What was the number of the box?” Ben asked, ignoring his mother’s question.
    “Thirteen twenty-seven.”
    “It must be a mistake. That’s not my box.”
    “Should I