Jericho's Razor by Casey Doran Page B

in a desk drawer and folded his hands on the desk. I was only moments away from a forceful removal from his office and he was clearly eager to see it. No doubt he saw his retribution for the Dumpster close at hand. But he was wrong.
    â€œWhy do you have a gun in your desk?” I asked.
    His eyes, contempt-filled, eyes glared at me from across the room.
    â€œOkay, if you’re not going to answer that question, how about this one: Why was your phone number in a dead drug dealer’s phone?”
    Preston’s face went white. The door was flung open and three men dressed in black security uniforms came in. They were ready to toss me out into traffic, and Preston would have no doubt loved watching it. But my mention of Booker unsettled him. He quickly regained his composure and gave the men his best smile.
    â€œI am sorry, gentlemen. There has been a misunderstanding. Mister Sands has an appointment.”
    â€œAre you sure, Congressman?”
    â€œAbsolutely. Sorry for the misunderstanding. I do appreciate your quick response time. I will be certain to call your supervisor and express my gratitude.”
    The guards gave me a look and then left, shutting the door behind them. I doubted they were going far. I took a moment to check out the office. There were pictures of Preston with his father, the former governor of our state, as well as both former Presidents Bush. None with the mayor. He was a Democrat. None with his sister, Katrina. In a far corner, I saw the confirmation of some of my worst fears. It was a campaign sign that read MASTERS FOR GOVERNOR in bold font. Elections were over a year away, but Preston was already setting the foundation.
    â€œSay it ain’t so,” I muttered. He caught me staring.
    â€œThat’s right. And I’m going to win. Now have a seat.”
    I did, placing myself in the leather chair across from his desk.
    â€œAre you going to offer me coffee?” I asked.
    â€œNo.”
    I shrugged.
    â€œThat is a really nice desk.”
    â€œYes, it is. It came from the governor’s mansion.” Preston loved to brag and could not help himself.
    â€œAwesome. Are you going to bring it back with you when you move in?”
    â€œNo. I will use my father’s desk. Some of us actually have a proud family legacy. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Sands?”
    It was a nice shot. An easy one, but from him I couldn’t expect too much. I glanced at a model in the corner of the room. It represented the new corporate headquarters for a major tax consulting firm that was scheduled to be built in the area.
    â€œI see you got your project pushed through. All it took was demolishing a boys’ and girls’ club.”
    â€œThat club was a den of drugs and gang violence.”
    â€œIt was a haven from drugs and gang violence, dumbass. It was a safe place for kids in the area to play basketball without having to worry about getting caught in a crossfire from a drive-by.”
    â€œI am not debating this with you, Sands. Tell me how you know that Sean Booker had my phone number.”
    â€œHow did you know his name? It hasn’t been released yet.”
    Preston seemed amused by that. “It has been several hours. Do you really think I don’t know everything about what happened?”
    I was fishing, and Preston suspected as much. He was not going to just give anything up. He may have been a weasel and a coward, but he wasn’t stupid, and he had been in politics long enough to know how to cover his ass. It was probably as natural a function for him as breathing.
    â€œI saw it myself,” I said. “In his contact list.”
    I could see his mind working.
    â€œIt would have been easy for him to get the number to this office. He could have found it on the Internet. From a phone book. He could have called 411.”
    â€œTrue. Booker could have easily got the number that goes to your sweetheart out there.