The First Counsel by Brad Meltzer Read Free Book Online

my chain, boy. Where’s someone like you get ten grand in cash?”
    “Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
    He kicks the rusty bumper on the back of my Jeep. “No offense, but you’re not exactly traveling in style.”
    I shake my head. “You don’t know anything about me.”
    He smirks at my response and knows he’s hit a sore spot. “You can’t hide who you are—it’s written all over your face. And your forehead.”
    Self-consciously, I touch the cut on my head. The blood’s starting to dry. I’m tempted to fight back, but instead let it pass. “Why don’t you give me my speeding ticket and I’ll be out of your way.”
    “Listen, Smallville, I don’t need to hear your attitude.”
    “And I don’t need to hear your insults. So unless you have some reasonable suspicion of a crime taking place, you have no right to harass me.”
    “You have no idea what you’re—”
    “Actually, I have a really good idea. Far more than you’regiving me credit for. And since there’s no law against carrying money, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me my stuff and write up my ticket. Otherwise, you’re risking a harassment suit and a letter to your sergeant that’ll be a bitch to explain when you’re up for promotion.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nora smile. The cop just stands there. The way he scratches his cheek, I can tell he’s plenty pissed off. “Vate, do me a favor?” he eventually says to his partner. “They’re doing a drug sweep on 14th and M. See if they’ve broadcasted any lookouts yet. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
    “It’s not like that,” I tell him.
    He looks at me skeptically. “Let me tell you something, Smallville—pretty-boy, clean-cut white boys like you only come to this neighborhood for two reasons: drugs and whores. Now let’s see that license and registration.” I hand them over and he turns back to his partner. “Any word yet, Vate?”
    “Nothing.”
    The cop walks away from me and heads back to his car. Five minutes go by and I climb into the driver’s seat of my Jeep. Nora’s next to me, but she’s brutally quiet. She looks my way and offers a faint smile. I try to smile back, but she turns away. I could kill her for taking that cash. Why the hell would she be so stupid? I mean, what would she even use it for? My mind jumps back to her so-called aspirin, but I’m not ready to believe the worst. Not yet.
    Staring vacantly out the window, she’s resting her chin in the palm of her hand. The way her shoulders sag, I realize the eyes of the world are always on her. It never lets up. Eventually, the cop returns with a pink slip that’s marked “Confirmation of Receipt.”
    “Where’s my money?” I ask.
    “As long as it’s clean, you’ll get every cent of it back.” Reading my confused expression, he adds, “If our boys on the street are unavailable to make an ID, we can legally hold your cashas the likely proceeds of a criminal act.” He’s not smiling, but I can tell he’s loving every minute of this. “Now does that check out with you, Mr. Attorney-at-Large, or do you want to speak to my sergeant yourself?”
    I shake my head, calculating the consequences in my head. “When do I get it back?”
    “Give us a call next week.” He knows we’re not selling drugs; he’s just doing this to bust my chops. Leaning in toward the window, he adds, “And just so we’re clear . . .” He motions to Nora, who’s still sitting next to me. “I’m not blind, boy. I just don’t need the headache that comes along with this.”
    Unnerved by the confidence in his voice, I shrink down in my seat. He knew who she was all along.
    “And one last thing . . .” He reaches in the window and slaps a piece of paper against my chest. “Here’s your speeding ticket.”
    • • •
    Ten minutes later, Nora and I have returned to downtown D.C. and are heading straight for the White House. The adrenaline bath with every spigot open is now finally