The incident happened on Thursday morning, three days after the regulator's notice was issued. It wasn't a dramatic crash or a shouted threat. It was subtle, which made it infinitely more disturbing. Sarah was driving the armored SUV through the Kensington underpass, a stretch of road that always deadened the city noise. We were ten minutes from the office. The traffic was light, flowing smoothly in the single lane.
I was reviewing a deposition brief on my tablet, my eyes scanning the legal jargon without really absorbing it. My head was pounding, a persistent throb behind the temples that had become my constant companion since the fundraiser launch. Sarah was silent, her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, her hands at ten and two on the wheel.
"Change lanes," Sarah said. Her voice was c
