It was the tiniest dent in the seat bottom, not really even a dent so much as a bump, just perceptible enough to dig into her thigh. Cash Cavanaugh considered shifting her weight in the folding metal chair to alleviate the tingling sensations creeping down her left leg. But she had been at this game for more than a decade now and knew that the slightest hint of discomfort would be interpreted as a weakness. The aldermen hurling question after question at her might not even consciously register the shift. Nevertheless, even a flinch of less than an inch would chum the water and might quicken an attack that, as yet, had not come.
Thus she resolved not to relieve the pressure, to remain still, and just return to her seat very carefully once their questions had ended. Right now, they were bus
