Early morning. Harrisburg.
Dozens of black sedans were parked by the side entrance of the Parliament Building.
The car doors opened, and a group of men stepped out, carrying briefcases, their leather shoes polished to a mirror shine.
They were K Street's top-tier lobbyists, the attack dogs that pharmaceutical giants paid a fortune to keep.
They made their way directly into the private offices of the representatives.
This was a traditional ground offensive.
The door to Representative Jason Smith's office was shut tight.
Smith sat in his leather chair, looking at the smiling lobbyist across from him.
The lobbyist's name was Michael. The two were old acquaintances and often played golf together at a country club in Washington.
Michael pushed an envelope across the desk to Smith.
The envelope was thin and unsealed. If Smith glanced down, he could see the corner of the check inside.
The number on it was fifty thousand dollars.
