Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

table, my legal pad open on my lap, watching the morning sun strike the high windows.

Peter Zeidenberg did not look back at me. He was busy arranging his files, tapping his heavy fountain pen against his palm with a steady, rhythmic click.

At the end of the defense table, Pras Michel sat perfectly still, slowly turning the heavy silver ring on his left continue reading …