Jericho's Razor by Casey Doran Page A

sleep filled with dreams of purring chainsaws.

Chapter Five
    By seven AM I was on my third cup of coffee and staring at the marker-board that hung on wall in my office. In the center was Sean Booker. Lines stretched out like arms to secondary subjects. Myself. Eric Watts. Preston Masters. It was easy enough to connect the dots with the first two. But Booker’s connection to an ultraconservative United States congressman was a mystery. It bothered me that I could find no plausible connection.
    So I decided to go violate a restraining order.
    City Hall is only a four minute walk from my apartment. I hurried across the street and entered the foyer of the courthouse where I was met by a pair of security officers in grey uniforms flanking a metal detector. The guards themselves wore nine millimeter automatics on their right hips. Rent a Cops with guns, more scary than Christian Black with a case of dynamite.
    I emptied the contents of my pockets into a plastic tray, loaded the tray onto a conveyor belt to pass under an x-ray machine and took a step forward when the Rent a Cop on the left stopped me.
    â€œWhere are you headed?”
    â€œWhere else? Traffic court. I got another ticket for driving with no rearview mirror.”
    Between the many citations I received for driving with no mirror, speeding, and illegal parking, traffic court and I were well acquainted with each other. Most of the guards were used to seeing me there.
    â€œJust as long as you’re not planning on stopping by Congressman Masters’ office. You know you have to stay one hundred feet away from him.”
    â€œNo problem. You can keep that whinny little hemorrhoid away from me, while you’re at it. I just want to see the judge, pay my fine and get out of here. So can I get through, or what?”
    The line was backing up behind me and people were getting impatient. I could hear a man on a cellphone asking someone to email him the Brennan deposition. Which made him a lawyer. He covered his phone and addressed the guards.
    â€œHey, what’s the holdup? I have to be in court in five minutes. Let’s get it moving huh?”
    The guards passed a look between them and then told me to get moving. I gathered my things from the tray and then walked casually towards the elevator. Preston’s office was on the fourth floor with a view overlooking the river. The first thing he had done after being elected was to relocate a judge with thirty years behind the bench. The former congressman’s office had been on the first floor to make it more accessible for his constituents. It was a broom closet now.
    I arrived at Preston’s office to find his secretary standing in the corner.
    â€œThe guards at the lobby called up here and said you might be showing up.” She said. “If you did, the congressman instructed me to delay you until security gets here,” She stood with her arms folded across her chest, as far from Preston’s door as she could get and did not look the least bit inclined to follow her boss’s orders.
    â€œI see. And how, exactly, were you supposed to accomplish that?”
    â€œHe didn’t say. But it’s been a few seconds, so I figure my job here is done.” She waved towards the door. “Go on in. And try not to hurt him too bad.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Preston was behind his desk. He jumped in his seat when I came in.
    â€œSecurity is on the way,” he said.
    â€œDid you really tell your secretary to delay me?”
    â€œI did. And seeing as you how she failed to do her job, she will be fired.”
    I took a step towards the desk and Preston pulled a gun from the drawer, which was a surprise. It was like seeing the pope pull a box of Trojans from his robe.
    â€œPut it down, Preston. You’re too much of a coward to shoot anybody.”
    â€œScrew you, Sands.”
    â€œMaybe later.” I heard voices behind the door. Security was here. Preston slid the gun