The First Counsel

* * *

By the time I get back to my office, I'm in a full-fledged sweat. If Lamb's right, it's only a matter of days. The race is on. If I don't beat Inez to Vaughn and the money . . . Instinctively, I look at the clock on my wall. Not much longer. Luckily, I've got something to pass the time.

My ego keeps telling me it's the single greatest thing that's ever happened to me, but deep down, my brain knows I'm completely unprepared. Two days from now, I'm going to sit across the desk from the President. And the only thing I can think to say is, "Nice office."

I flip on my computer and grab the wiretap folder, but before I can even open it up, I'm interrupted by the ringing of my phone.

"This is Michael," I say.

"Hey, Mr. Hot Shot. Just returning your call."

I immediately recognize the condescending tone. Officer Rayford from the D.C. police. "How's everything going?" I ask, struggling to sound upbeat.

"Don't yank my chain, boy. I'm not in the mood. If you want your money, I've got a new phone number for you."

On the corner of the folder, I write down the number. "Is that Property Division?"

"In your wet dreams. I transferred it over to Financial Investigations. Now you're the pimple on their ass."

"I don't understand."

"As long as it's suspicious, we've got a right to hold it--and last I checked, driving late at night with ten grand in cash is still suspicious."

"So what do I have to do now?"

"Just prove it's yours. Bank account, cashed check, insurance policy--show 'em where it came from."

"But what if--"

"I don't want to hear it. As far as I'm concerned, it's someone else's problem." With that, he hangs up.

Lowering the receiver, I'm once again back to Inez. If Simon wants to, he can point her to the money. That's his trump card. Mine, God willing, is a drug dealer named Patrick Vaughn. Looking at my watch, I see it's almost time.

Pulling my jacket from the coat-rack, I head for the door. As I step into the anteroom, though, I'm surprised to see Pam still at the small desk outside my office. "Phone go out again?"

"Don't ask," she says as I pass behind her. "Where you headed?"

"Just over to Trey's."

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just going to grab some coffee--maybe steal some Ho-Hos from the vending machines."

"Have fun," she says as the door shuts behind me.