“Give it your best shot. Let me know when you’ve got it lined up.”
“You’re going to owe me.”
“I know.”
I thanked him and ended the call.
After breakfast, I rode with Jack over to the professional building. I didn't think he’d be dosed up on any heavy drugs, but I’d be there just in case he needed someone to drive him home.
Pepper checked him in at the desk, and we waited in the lobby. Jack fidgeted with nervous anticipation. Nobody liked going under the drill.
The assistant called him back after a few minutes.
Jack stood up, put the magazine on the coffee table, and said, "Wish me luck."
I hung out, read magazines, and talked to Pepper while the sound of the drill echoed throughout the office.
The flatscreen was tuned to a 24-hour news channel. A reporter interviewed Senator Charles Bergen.
“Why the shift?”
“I don’t think I’ve shifted my position at all,” Bergen said. “Maybe solidified it. Strengthened it.”
Bergen was early 60s with silver hair, a narrow face, and a slightly crooked nose. He’d been in politics since before the dinosaurs.
The reporter gave him a doubtful look, then quoted from her notes. “‘I believe it’s time we de-militarize the police. Re-allocate budgets to more community programs. We don’t have a crime problem—we have a social problem. More police officers is not the solution.’ That was you just last year.”
“As I said, my views on the subject have become more focused,” he said with a smile.
“Last year, you were calling for budget cuts, less interdiction, softer penalties. This year, you’re pushing increased spending, more interdiction, harsher penalties. Sounds like a flip-flop to me.”
Bergen’s face tightened. “The world is an evolving place.”
“Is this evolution of policy a result of your declining poll numbers moving into the midterms?”
Bergen didn’t like the way the interview was going. He forced a smile. “No. I’m not concerned with midterms. My concern is my constituents.”
I stayed out of politics. The insiders in DC weren’t on the streets fighting the good fight. They didn’t see the teenagers ODing on fentanyl. They didn’t raid the semisubmersibles with $150 million in cocaine. They didn’t see the lives destroyed.
It seemed like the tighter we squeezed, the more avenues for corruption opened up. I didn’t have the answers. It seems futile at times, but I just did what I could do and tried not to think about the bigger picture.
It took the dentist about an hour to do the tooth prep, and when Jack emerged, he didn't look any worse for wear.
Dr. Latham hovered in the doorway and said, "Take some ibuprofen when you get home, and just take it easy for the rest of the day. I was able to get in and drill out most of the cracks. You had a massive cavity underneath that filling, so this was the right thing to do. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to call me. We’ll work through them together. You’ll be pretty numb for the rest of the afternoon, so don't chew on that side. No heavy food for 24 hours. You've got a temporary crown, and we’ll setthe permanent one in about two weeks when it comes back from the lab.”
JD and I left the office and walked back to the Porsche.
"How are you feeling?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. "I just had my tooth drilled out. How do you think I feel?" he slurred. "I can't feel half my face.”
I drove him back to the boat. He took some ibuprofen, then climbed back into bed.
My phone buzzed with a call from Isabella. "I don't have all the answers, but something's going on."
"I'm listening.”
"I watched all of that footage, and I do meanall. I hope you can appreciate that."
