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“Nothing. He had photos, and I had just given Judge the personnel records, but he didn’t have time to even review them. I guess he went home, locked them in the safe, and then he had a huge fire. It’s all gone. I tried to get the records for him again, but I can’t get in. He’s pissed.” Nine smirked at him, nodding. It had worked. They were able to block everyone out. Even the NSA.
“How would you like a new job?” asked Nine.
“Wh-what? Is this a trick? Are you going to kill me?”
“No. Not if you do what we ask.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“We’re going to turn the tables on Morrison and Judge. I need everything you have on them. Everything. Any military service, Morrison’s rise to the Supreme Court, all of it.” Tyler nodded, giving a knowing grin.
“You’re going to like this. I did a lot of background on him when he approached me and threatened me. His military service is a joke. I mean, seriously, a joke. He was a reservist and never left the state. His primary job was typing office supply orders.” Trak and Nine stared at one another, nodding.
“What else?” asked Trak.
“Well, he’s always claimed he was top of his graduating class in law school. At first glance, that appears to be true, but he obviously bribed someone before he got to me. They don’t show the other third of his class. The top third. He was middle of the pack. His first role as circuit court judge was because his father died, and he took the seat.
“When a vacancy was on the state court, he won it by default when the opponent was killed in a hit and run. Convenient. He was appointed to the Supreme Court by Bolton. Bolton wasn’t as stupid as Morrison hoped. He kept notes on everything. Handwritten notes. When he died, his diary was given to the Library of Congress but placed in an archive box. I found it.”
“Go on,” said Nine, narrowing his gaze.
“He recommended the appointment of Morrison because he apparently had been with two young girls, provided by Morrison and a man named Quetz.”
That got their attention. Standing straighter, Nine stared down at the young man.
“Get me everything you have. Everything. I’ll call you to pick it up in two days.”
“Where?”
“Right here,” he said calmly. “You deliver everything I think you can, everything I know there is, and we’ll wipe out your debt. End of story.”
“Seriously?” he gasped, tears in his eyes.
“Seriously. But clean your shit up. If Morrison contacts you again, record the conversation.”
“Oh. I’ve already been doing that.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I have more than five hours of recordings from our meetings. I just wanted someone to know that I wasn’t a piece of shit when my body washed up in the Potomac.”
Nine held out his hand, palm up, wiggling his fingers. Tyler handed him the small recording device.
“It’s all on there. I swear.”
“Two days, Tyler,” said Trak. “We’ll be back in two days, and we want it all.”
“Yes, sir. I promise you’ll have it all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Do we trust him?” asked Nine. Trak nodded.
“His story is true. I could feel his grief for his mother and his shame. He was looking for a way out of his relationship with Morrison, and we gave it to him.”
“How do these damn kids get into so much shit?” Trak stared at his friend, raising his brows.
“We were those kids once.”
