Capitol Conspiracy

12

Christina rushed into the office, her arms brimming over with files, folders, and large saddle-stitched reports. Somehow, in an act seemingly defiant of gravity, she also managed to carry a briefcase, although in the mass of paperwork obscuring the upper half of her body and most of her strawberry blond hair, the briefcase seemed to be floating along on its own powers of levitation.

As she passed by his station, Jones eyed her with his usual stoic expression. “Got anything going on, Chris? Or are you just goofing off again?”

As if in response, or perhaps in revenge, she dumped the entire mass of papers on his desk, knowing full well the effect it would have on Jones’s neat-freak temperament.

When the screaming stopped, she smiled and said succinctly, “File that, would you?”

Jones’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. If heat vision had been among his powers, Christina would have been charbroiled. “May I ask what this is?”

“Everything I’ve been able to drum up relating to the new proposed constitutional amendment. Polling data, both of the public and the Congress. Judicial and historical precedents. A formal copy of the evil amendment itself as submitted to the appropriate committees in both houses. And a lot of other crap acquired from virtually every other senator’s office.”

“Were you able to get an idea which way Congress leans on this?”

“The problem is that every other chief of staff in every other office is doing exactly the same thing.”

“Ah, but they don’t all have your gift for setting tongues a-wagging.”

“Well, I like to think I have a certain panache,” she said, lightly buffing the bob of her hair. “But they do their best. At any rate, I was able to learn what the consensus opinion is on who’s leaning where. Whether that reflects actual reality I can’t be certain.”

“So don’t keep me in suspense.”

Christina picked up one of the file folders she had dumped on Jones’s desk and flipped it open. “Everyone seems to think the House is a done deal. The Republicans have a significant majority; the president basically has them in his back pocket.”

“But he’ll need two-thirds.”

“And everyone seems to think he’ll get it, given the massive public support for the bill. Have you seen today’s polls?” Jones nodded. “They show that the voting public favor passage by a huge margin. Apparently a lot of people have always thought civil rights favored criminals more than good honest God-fearing folk. But even some who generally consider themselves civil libertarians are supporting the bill. The attack in Oklahoma City dramatically changed the way some people think.”

“It-was a rather horrific event,” Jones said. “You can see where people might feel the need for greater protection.”

“I can see that people are running scared,” Christina replied. “And when people are scared, they don’t think clearly. Somehow, we have to slow down this process. Give the reasoning public a chance for some sober second thoughts.” She did a quick scan of the office. “So where’s our dear senator Benjamin?”

Jones hedged. “Well…”

Loving, their huge barrel-chested investigator, sauntered down the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. “I think the correct answer to that question is: Deep in hiding.”

Christina couldn’t help returning the smile. “Good to see you again, Loving. How was the vacation?”

“It…had some interestin’ moments. But I came back soon as I heard about the amendment.”

“Appreciate that. So Ben is hiding from the press?”

Loving chuckled. “Actually, I think he’s mostly hiding from you.”

“Damn well he should. First the man cancels my honeymoon, then he says he thinks this fascist amendment might not be a bad idea. Ever since the attack, I’ve barely seen him. He always manages to come back to the apartment after I’m sound asleep. I don’t even remember the last time we-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Loving held out his hands. “Too much information alert.”

“Moving right along,” Jones said, nervously shuffling his papers. “You do remember that Ben is supposed to represent his home state, don’t you? He should implement the will of his people, not the, um, will of his wife.”

Christina gave him a look that could stop traffic.

“Support for this bill in Oklahoma is even higher than the national average. The word on the street-”

“Is this the word on the street?” Christina said sharply, “or the word in the library?” Jones’s wife, Paula, was a librarian for the Tulsa City/County Library system.

“I have talked to Paula, since you ask, in your rather pointed I’m-an-underdog-and-crusader-for-justice-so-I-can-be-as-rude-as-I-want way. She says she doesn’t know anyone who doesn’t support the amendment. And she travels with a pretty highbrow crowd.”

“I hear the same thing from my people,” Loving added. Christina suspected that “his people” were mostly found in honkytonks and strip bars, but still, they were giving her an interesting cross section of public opinion.

“Just because it’s popular doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Jones replied, “but bear in mind that Ben is not only Oklahoma’s U.S. senator, he’s currently Oklahoma’s only U.S. senator. Doesn’t he have an obligation to vote the will of the people?”

“Absolutely not,” Christina said firmly. “He has an obligation to do what he thinks is right. Public opinion is no excuse for betraying your conscience. If the people don’t like what he does, they can vote him out next election.”

“Well, technically, they never voted him in.”

“Nonetheless, while he’s in office, his job is to do what’s best for the nation. Which is not necessarily appeasing a reactionary public opinion.”

“But what if he wants to run for reelection?” Loving asked. “Goin’ against a huge majority favorin’ the amendment could tank him.”

“Have you heard him say he’s running for reelection? Last I heard he was still dithering about, avoiding a commitment. As usual.”

“This amendment’s gonna be a big deal, Chris. If he comes out on the wrong side-it’s good-bye Washington.”

Christina grabbed her phone messages-there were more than thirty-and marched back to the main corridor. “This speculation is all well and good, but I think I’d like to talk to the senator myself. There’s a remote chance he may have made up his mind what he wants to do. I’ll-”

The phone rang, cutting her off.

“Just a minute, Chris,” Jones said, clicking the button that activated his phone earpiece. “It’s probably for you.”

He waited a moment, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. His jaw slowly dropped. “Or…maybe not.”

He continued listening. Christina and Loving moved in closer.

“Oh, right. Like he makes his own phone calls. Is this you, Morgan? Because if it is, let me tell you that this is not funny in-”

Another abrupt pause. “Really?” Jones’s shoulders sagged. His forehead creased. “Really? Well, I don’t know exactly where he is, sir, but I can find him. Yes. As soon as possible.”

Christina gave him a long look. “Who’s calling?” she whispered.

Jones cleared his throat again. “That would be the, um, President of the United States,” he said, his voice warbling. “And he wants to see Ben. Immediately.”