Inside the Secret World of the Mysterious Robert Mueller
Somewhere in the mesosphere of Washington, D.C., where the pale marble declines into the concrete prairie, you will find the newish and largish building where special counsel Robert Mueller is silently drilling down into Donald Trump's White House. Try to imagine the shhh of a combination lock turning on a secure filing cabinet in that anonymous building, the ghostly whisper of papers shuffling between manila folders, the steel roll-down gate ascending so Michael Flynn or Paul Manafort or Michael Cohen can emerge from the mouth of the underground parking garage, their souls now unburdened of incriminating secrets, having disclosed them in the windowless confessional of the special counsel's conference room where, The Washington Post reports, Mueller, a “sphinx-like presence,” does not ask any questions himself, instead sitting in the back and letting his staff work the cooperating witnesses over, like a card player who lets his confederates do the betting.
The fuse on Mueller's investigation has been quietly burning away for more than a year. Soon it will, as the dueling partisans tell it, either explode into another Civil War or fizzle away into nothing at all. In the meantime, we make do with whatever pieces of news slip out. From Mueller, we've seen sober legal filings implicating various members of Trump's team. From Trump, we've been subjected to a series of increasingly anguished tweets. He has claimed that Mueller's investigation is “illegal” and a “Witch Hunt.” Most recently, he forced the resignation of Jeff Sessions and reassigned oversight of the special counsel to a loyalist, Matthew Whitaker, setting up what is likely to be the final stretch of the whole affair.