Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

the G Street office was empty. The dry rustle of old bank drafts seemed to fill the quiet room as I spread the ledger open under the desk lamp.

Peter walked in, his tie loosened, carrying a stack of late motions.

“These numbers are far too round to be ordinary citizen donations, Peter,” I said, pointing to the neat columns.

He leaned over my shoulder,continue reading …