The Zero Game

23

During my very first job interview on the Hill, a burned-out staff director with the worst case of Brillo hair I’d ever seen leaned across his desk and told me that at its core, Congress operated like a small town. Some days it was grumpy; others, it was riled up and ready to pick a fistfight with the world. As someone who grew up in a small town, the analogy hit home. Indeed, that’s the very reason I’m pacing back and forth across the storage room, waiting for someone to pick up on the other end of the line. As any small-town resident knows, if you want to get at the real secrets of a town, you have to visit the hall of records.

“Legislative Resource Center,” a woman with a matronly voice answers.

“Hi, I’m hoping you can help me out. I’m searching for some information on a lobbyist.”

“Let me transfer you to Gary.”

In small-town talk, the Legislative Resource Center is like sitting on the porch with the grumpy old lady whose house is across from the only motel. It’s not a sexy place to hang out, but when all is done and said, she knows exactly who’s screwing who.

“Gary Naftalis,” a man answers. His voice is dry, showing almost no emotion. “How can I assist?”

“Hey, Gary — I’m calling from Senator Stevens’s office. We’ve got a company that’s been calling us on this bill, and we’re trying to figure out which lobbyists they’re working with. You guys still do that?”

“Only if we want to keep the lobbyists honest, sir,” he laughs to himself.

It’s a bad joke, but a valid point. Every year, over seventeen thousand lobbyists descend on Capitol Hill, each one armed with a tommy gun of asks and special requests. Combine that with the boatloads of bills that’re submitted and voted on every day, and it’s overwhelming. As anyone on the Hill knows, there’s too much work for a staffer to be an expert on it all. So if you need some research? Call the lobbyists. Want some talking points? Call the lobbyists. Confused by what a specific amendment does? Call the lobbyists. It’s like buying drugs. If what they give you is good, you’ll keep coming back. And that’s how influence is peddled. Quietly, quickly, and without leaving fingerprints.

The thing is, right now I need those fingerprints.

If Pasternak was playing the game, other lobbyists played as well. Fortunately, all lobbyists are required to register with the Legislative Resource Center and list the names of their clients, which gives me the chance to see who’s working for Wendell Mining.

“Is it possible to just put in a particular company?” I ask.

“Sure, sir… all you have to do is come in and-”

“Can I ask you a huge favor?” I interrupt. “My Senator’s about to rip my head off and vomit down my windpipe… So if I gave you the name right now, would you mind looking it up for us? It’s just one company, Gary…”

I say his name for the final sell. He pauses, leaving me in silence.

“It’d really save my ass,” I add.

Again he gives me the pause. That’s what I hate about being on the phone…

“What’s the name of the company, sir?”

“Great… that’s great. Wendell Mining,” I tell him. “Wendell Mining.”

I hear the clicking of his keyboard, and I stop my pacing. Staring out below the dust-covered vertical blinds, I have a clear view of the narrow pathway and marble railing that run along the west front of the building. The morning sun’s beating down on the copper roof, but it pales to the heat I’m feeling right now. I wipe a puddle of sweat from the back of my neck and unbutton the top of my shirt. The suit and tie were enough to get me back in the building without a second glance, but if I don’t get some answers soon…

“Sorry,” Gary says. “They’re not coming up.”

“Whattya mean, they’re not coming up? I thought every lobbyist had to disclose their clients…”

“They do. But this time of year… we’re barely halfway through the pile.”

“What pile?”

“The disclosure forms — that the lobbyists fill out. We get over seventeen thousand forms each registration period. Know how long that takes to scan in and update our database?”

“Weeks?”

“Months. The deadline was just a few weeks ago in August, so we’ve still got a ton that aren’t in.”

“So it’s possible there’s a lobbyist working on their issue…”

“This is Congress, sir. Anything’s possible.”

I roll my tongue inside my cheek. I hate government humor.

“They add about seven hundred names to the database each day,” Gary continues. “Best bet is to just give us a call back later in the week, and we can check if it’s in there.”

I remember that this is the second year Wendell Mining made the request. “What about last year?” I ask.

“Like I said, nothing came up — which means they either didn’t have someone, or that person didn’t register.”

That part actually makes sense. When it comes to getting earmarks, the smaller companies try to do it by themselves. Then, when they fail, they get smart and cough up the beans for a pro. If Wendell had someone pulling for them, the name’ll eventually show up in this database. “Listen, I appreciate th-”

There’s a loud knock on the door. I go silent.

“Sir, are you there?” Gary asks through the receiver.

The person knocks again. This time to the tune of shave-and-a-haircut.

“It’s me, you shut-in!” Viv calls out. “Open up!”

I leap for the door and undo the lock. The phone cord is pulled so far, it knocks over the stack of keyboards, which go crashing to the floor as the door swings open.

“Mission accomplished, Mr. Bond. What’s next?” Viv sings, cradling the two notebooks as if she were still in high school. That’s when it hits me. She is still in high school. Sliding inside, she whips past me with a frenetic new bounce in her step. I’ve seen the same thing on staffers the first day they get on the Senate Floor. Power rush.

Gary’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Sir, are you-?”

“I’m here… sorry,” I say, turning back to the phone. “Thanks for the help — I’ll give you a call next week.”

As I hang up, Viv dumps the notebooks across the desk. I was wrong before. I thought she was the girl who sits silently in the back of the class — and while that part’s true, I’m quickly starting to realize that she’s also the girl who, when she gets around people she knows, never shuts up.

“I guess you didn’t have any problems,” I say.

“You should’ve seen it! I was unstoppable — I’m telling you, it was like being in the Matrix. They’re all standing there dumbfounded, then I weave around in super-slow-mo… dodging their bullets… working my voodoo… Oh, they didn’t know what hit ’em!”

The jokes are coming too fast. I know a defense mechanism when I see one. She’s afraid. Even if she doesn’t know it.

“Viv…”

“You woulda been proud of me, Harris…”

“Did Dinah say anything?”

“You kidding? She was blinder than the blind guy…”

“The blind guy?”

“All I need now is a code name…”

“Barry was there?”

“… something cool, too — like Senate Grrl…”

“Viv…”

“… or Black Cat…”

“Viv!”

“… or… or Sweet Mocha. Howbout that? Sweet Mocha. Ooh, yeah, let’s get down to Viv-ness!”

“Dammit, Viv, shut up already!”

She stops midsyllable.

“You sure it was Barry?” I ask.

“I don’t know his name. He’s a blind guy with a cane and cloudy eyes…”

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing — though he kept following me as I walked. I can’t… he was slightly off… but it’s like he was trying to prove — not that it matters — but trying to prove he wasn’t that blind, y’know?”

I lunge for the phone and dial his cell. No. I hang up and start again. Go through the operator. Especially now.

Five digits later, the Capitol operator transfers me to Matthew’s old office.

“Interior,” Roxanne answers.

“Hey, Roxanne, it’s Harris.”

“Harris… how are you?”

“Fine. Can you-”

“Y’know you’re in my prayers, sweetie. Everything with Matthew…”

“No… of course. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s kind of an emergency. Is Barry still floating around back there?”

Viv waves for my attention, slowly moving toward the door. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers. “Just one more stop…”

“Wait,” I call out.

She doesn’t listen. She’s having too much fun to sit around for a scolding.

“Viv!”

The door slams, and she’s gone.

“Harris?” a voice asks in my ear. I’d know it anywhere. Barry.