Capitol Conspiracy

40

Ben found the office empty. How often did that happen? At first, it seemed rather refreshing. Then, inevitably, insecurity and neurosis tainted the peaceful picture. Did everyone know something he didn’t? Was there someplace he was supposed to be?

What the heck. He’d been working like a dog for days. If he missed one briefing on some issue somewhere, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He already had some meetings with Senator DeMouy on the amendment that he couldn’t get out of, wheeling and dealing to get the remaining votes they needed to assure passage. He wanted to make sure he got home in time tonight. Christina told him she’d been shopping at Victoria’s Secret during her lunch hour.

Yes, he definitely wanted to get home tonight.

He noticed a stack of mail on his desk. Was he imagining it, or was Jones getting lazier on a daily basis? Pretty soon he’d have to answer his own phone. Of course, back in Tulsa, he’d always answered his own phone. But now that he was an important D.C. senator-well, that just wouldn’t do anymore. Besides, when people called a senator they always seemed to want something. He supposed when people called a lawyer, they usually wanted something, too. But at least they expected to pay for it.

He reached for the mail-then stopped. No, the mail, too, would only bring him more work. He could let that slide for now. He opened his briefcase and pulled out his notes from the last meeting and began to read.

A few moments later, he felt his cell phone ringing. He flipped it open.

“Hello?”

There was no caller ID. And there was so much static on the line he could barely make out the voice, except he could tell it was female, and he thought he heard his wife’s name.

“Christina, is that you?”

More static. “Sweetie, I can’t hear you. Are you somewhere near? I can go meet you.”

If anything, the static intensified. He could pick out only a few words here and there. “…open the mail…don’t let Jones…surprise…”

“What? Are you saying you want me to open the mail?”

“…don’t let Jones…”

This was impossible. Why would she not want Jones to-?

Oh, wait. His birthday was coming up, wasn’t it? Must be a present, or the receipt for something she ordered, something like that. Another perk of marriage. She remembered birthdays; he always forgot birthdays, even his own. Now she could shop for both of them.

“Christina, tell me which envelope,” he shouted, trying to be heard over the static.

There was a clicking sound; then the line went dead.

Well, hell’s bells. What was he going to do now?

He picked up the stack of mail, but one envelope immediately caught his eye. It was long, oversize, and cream-colored, with blue lettering. No stamp, which meant it must have come from somewhere within the building. Handwritten on the front was the word: PHOTOS.

He just hoped they were photos of Jones. Last time someone mailed him photos featuring himself…well, he preferred not to think about it. He was very fortunate Christina had been understanding-once. He didn’t care to push his luck.

Seemed like as good a place to start as any. As soon as he was ready, he slid one finger under the flap. The envelope opened easily, and Ben detected a faint odor emanating from the package…