Political Science 101

Chapter Eighty-Six

DETECTIVE LENNY Knight — as far as he believed — had it all figured out. Months of investigating, nosing around, digging through mountains of public (and not-so-public) records gave him the confidence that he could blow the lid off the Arnold Jenkins murder, the corruption of Lenore Sable, and the fraudulent appointment of Ray Doyle.

He even had a plan. He sat behind his desk at the precinct sipping cheap coffee, watching his colleagues file-in, doing their morning routines, grinning to himself, planning the theatrics of how he would let the cat out of the bag tonight at Ray Doyle's Election Night victory party. He wanted his grandeur to be historical. And as he sat at his desk, just after 8AM, he still had plenty of time to finalize his plans for this revelation.

Detective Knight was so brazenly confident that he seemed to have no worries at all about exposing a corrupt politician and accusing one of the richest women in the country of assassinating a United States Congressman. His smug grin seemed to have become a momentarily-permanent fixture upon his aging face as his colleagues casually passed him in the morning office foot traffic, oblivious to what Lenny Knight thought he knew.

His digging and investigating into the life and dealings of Lenore Sable yielded some valuable and crucial information. And as Lenny sat at his desk, tuning-out his surroundings, he began to flip through the bullet points written in his notes about this mysterious woman.

          · Third-richest independently-wealthy woman in the country.

          · Financier of several right-wing Political Action Committees.

          · Silent partner and shareholder of the second-largest construction company in the United States.

          · Majority shareholder of three separate oil, electrical power, and natural gas companies — all of which were founded by her late husband in the mid-1960s.

          · Majority shareholder of three separate oil, electrical power, and natural gas companies — all of which were founded by her late husband in the mid-1960s.

          · Personal friends with the current Governor of Missouri, two of the Koch brothers, and former president George W. Bush.

          · Close financial ties to nearly every company bidding on all aspects of the upcoming proposed international pipeline.

The list went on, but Lenny had nearly committed all the information to memory, not because he tried to, but because he'd read and reread, written and rewritten, the list so many times. He felt like his information would shake the world of politics. He felt like Woodward and Bernstein; he felt like Gray Grantham and Darby Shaw.

The power was intoxicating. As he sat at his desk, still grinning, he felt like he held the entire political system under his thumb, and all he had to do was apply pressure and it would all collapse. On the morning of Election Day, Detective Lenny Knight ruled the world, and the poor ignorant souls around him had no idea.

Power can be more addictive than any drug known to man. But if real, genuine power is like pure Columbian cocaine, then ill-conceived power is like cheap trailer park meth.

But Lenny Knight didn't care which; the high was all the same to him.

He checked the clock. It was just before 9AM and he had plenty of time to finalize his words and actions for the evening.

"Knight," a faceless voice said from in front of him.

"Huh?" Lenny replied, not realizing that someone had been standing in front of him for ... he didn't know how long.

"I said," the voice said, slightly impatient, "I need you to sign this."

Detective Lenny Knight shook his brain back into the world and focused on the piece of paper being handed to him by a uniformed police officer.

"What is it?" He looked up to ascertain the identity of this uniformed officer standing in front of his desk, realizing it was the young rookie cop with whom he'd interacted several times, Officer Gavin Thompson.

"It's the report you wanted me to track down yesterday from Jacob."

"Jacob?" Lenny said, still bringing his thoughts back to one place.

"The computer tech guy," Thompson said. "The fat Indian guy."

"Oh," Lenny said, feeling a bit silly, "yes, of course." He took the file from Thompson in as friendly a manner as possible. "Sorry," he said, "I just have a lot on my mind." He looked up at the clean, pressed, and properly-arranged patrolman's uniform which Officer Gavin Thompson wore with pride and noticed one detail which did not belong. Just above his badge, Officer Thompson wore a small white ovular sticker; I VOTED, the sticker proudly declared to the world. Lenny chuckled. "Thank you," he said to the young police officer, opening the file as Thompson turned and walked away.