I was sitting on the other side of her desk, looking past her to browse her bookshelf, impressed by what I saw. History, philosophy, and economics books filled the shelves, and they had a well-used appearance. Otherwise, the office was Spartan, lacking ostentation. It was smaller than I had expected. Here, at the center of power and influence, was an office that would have shamed a mid- level bureaucrat. The desk was plain gray steel. The blotter resting on the laminate top was covered with doodles, scribbled notes, and yellow legal pads. Her PC was no more intimidating than the stuff available in any discount store.
Since Senator Arnold had taken the liberty of investigating me, I had felt it only fair that I check her out. My task was easier; so much of her life was a matter of public
