Capitol Conspiracy

39

There were few places in the Capitol more incongruously named than the Senate Reading Room, Christina mused, since no one ever went there to read. By all rights, it should have gone the way of the Senate Library, another large room no one ever seemed to visit. In this case, however, some energetic majority leader had seen fit to convert the Reading Room into the Viewing Room, with theater seating and a large projection screen. In addition to getting about five hundred cable channels, it had a closed-circuit link to the floors of the House and the Senate. It seemed to Christina that if someone really wanted to know what was happening on the floor of the Senate, they would just walk across the hall and look. Unless, perhaps, a senator did not wish to be spotted by his fellow senators. Or the folks at home watching on C-SPAN.

All day today, the screen had been following the House floor debate on the proposed constitutional amendment. Christina and Jones and several others had been watching for hours. It was a long shot, but if the House rejected the amendment, any Senate vote would become irrelevant. She and Ben could put this behind them and move on to something more important, like the Alaskan Wilderness Bill or the antipoverty bill. Or their honeymoon.

But it was not to be. “Blast,” Christina muttered under her breath, halfway through the voting.

“Don’t give up yet,” Jones whispered. “There are still several congressmen who haven’t voted.”

“Not enough. This monster has passed the House. And last night’s polls show popular support is greater than ever. And you know what that means.”

“Bye-bye civil rights?”

Christina pursed her lips. “It means it all comes down to what happens in the Senate. If the bill passes-it’ll be law in a matter of months.” She paused, shaking her head. “And our Ben is leading the charge.”

“Well, that should be a comfort. It’s not as if Ben has a reputation as a Senate power broker.”

“Jones, how long have you known Ben?”

“Almost as long as you.”

“And has Ben ever had a reputation as a power…anything?” She sighed. “And yet, he usually manages to get the job done. He finds a way.”

Jones looked at her gravely. “And you think he’ll do that again. For the amendment.”

Her voice was quiet. “I know he will.”

She was about to say more when she heard a commotion outside the back door of the Reading Room. “What on-?”

She didn’t need to watch the rest of the vote anyway. It was like watching the last third of the Titanic sink beneath the waves-she knew how it was going to end.

Outside, dozens of people raced down the central corridor, mostly Capitol Police. One of the officers nearly knocked Christina to the floor. She took a step back into the relative safety of the doorway.

“What’s going on?”

She tried to ask questions, but the police officers raced by her without even acknowledging that she had spoken. Off to the right, she saw Jimmy Claire, the Senate Information officer, sprinting double-time.

Him, she could handle. At least he didn’t carry a gun.

She ran toward him and grabbed an arm. “Jimmy!”

Held fast by her grip, he slingshotted back and nearly barreled into her.

“What’s happening?”

His eyes were wide and wild. “Haven’t you heard the news?”

She took a guess. “The House approved the proposed amendment.”

“No. Senator DeMouy has been murdered.”

“What?”

“He was found a few minutes ago. He’d been dead for a while.” Jimmy paused to catch his breath. “Looks like another case of ricin poisoning via mail.”

Her hand instinctively covered her mouth. “Oh my God. How could that happen? You said that all the security measures had been tripled. How could-?”

“That’s what we have to figure out. Please, I need to-”

“But why would anyone want to kill Senator DeMouy?”

“Hell if I know. They already killed the minority leader. Maybe the majority leader was next in line. Or maybe it has something to do with the amendment.”

Christina felt a cold chill race up her spine. “What do you mean?”

“Figure it out, Christina. The amendment will beef up antiterrorist laws. Maybe this terrorist doesn’t want the laws beefed up.”

“So he’s taking out the leading proponents of-” She froze in midsentence. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

She raced toward the electronic tram that would carry her back to the Russell Building while simultaneously dialing her cell phone.

“Pick up, damn it. Pick up!”

No one answered.

“Ben!” She sprinted toward the downward staircase that led to the subterranean passageway. “For God’s sake, Ben-don’t open the mail!”