Free Thirteen Million Dollar Pop by David Levien

either.”
    As Behr traded the pleasantries he wondered if he was going to get invited into Kolodnik’s office where he could ask some real questions without secretaries and executives and a quartet of what were clearly his new security guys, with their blue suits and square jaws, hovering around. They were the matching set to a pair each on the front and back doors of the building outside. But it didn’t look like a private meeting was going to happen.
    “So, what can I do for you?” Kolodnik wondered. “Like I said, I’m in the weeds. The Senate seat and all.” The man was unbelievably easy and affable, as if he lived in a capsule of prosperity and lubricating charm. It was something Behr had noticed the first time he’d driven Kolodnik. The shooting had momentarily punctured the capsule, but now it was clearly resealed and Kolodnik was insulated once again.
    “Right, congratulations on that,” Behr said. The charm bubble made Behr somehow reluctant to roil the waters—any waters—and disrupt the serene good feeling that surrounded Kolodnik. Behr imagined the man would do well in Washington.
    “Thank you. Quite an honor.” A momentary quiet fell and Kolodnik looked at him expectantly. “So I imagine you’ve got a reason for the visit?”
    Behr dropped his voice. “Well, yeah, as a matter of fact. I want to find out why someone was shooting at you, because then I’ll know why someone was shooting at me.”
    Kolodnik nodded mildly. “Of course,” he said, “it was very troubling. Very troubling,” but didn’t continue further, which forced Behr to.
    “I was wondering if you’d heard anything about the police investigation. If anything came up on the security tapes.”
    Kolodnik shook his head.
    “I’ve followed up, but they’re not sharing much with me,” Behr continued.
    “I have people overseeing that. They’ll brief me at such time as there’s significant progress. Obviously this is something of great concern, and I’m taking it very seriously. But right now I can’t afford to shut down the works and dwell on it. I always look ahead, no matter the trauma of the past. Even the recent past. I credit a good portion of my success to that.”
    Behr felt ungrateful and unseemly for bothering the man, for continuing to ask the blunt, unattractive questions, and for so ignominiously being stuck in an earlier time. But he went ahead just the same. “It’s just the timing of it—do you have political enemies already?”
    Kolodnik laughed lightly, without mockery but with genuine amusement. “Those would be the fastest enemies a politician ever gained, wouldn’t they?”
    “So no idea who could have done it?” Behr asked. When interviewing victims of anonymous violence, Behr didn’t ask “Who do you think did it?” That was a limiting question, one that forced the victim to confront his attacker directly in his mind. The “could’ve” made it almost a game. Behr liked to sit them down and make a list of
could’ves
and assign possible motives to each person on the list, as if it were a creative exercise, and eventually the actual “who” and “did it” would often end up staring him in the face. But that took time and cooperation, and it didn’t look like Behr was going to get much of either.
    There had been an arrival in the offices while they talked.Three men and two women. There were roller briefcases, computers, and an audiovisual projector.
    Behr felt his little window of opportunity closing.
    “Disgruntled employees? Ex-employees?” Behr had the unfortunate sensation he was peppering the man. “Business? Personal? I wonder if it would be possible to interview your staff?” Behr was hoping for a developed source, some third party that a staffer might mention, whom he could question when he or she was unprepared, in the hopes of jarring loose some information.
    “Old business saying goes, ‘It’s not a deal unless both parties are sore about it.’ I’ve always gone about