Capitol Threat

38

“This just in,” Beauregard said, flying into the conference room with a blue-rimmed piece of paper in his hands. “We’ve crossed the Rubicon.”

Ben squinted. “I don’t understand.”

Senator Hammond smiled. “When Julius Caesar was fighting the Gallic Wars—”

“I understood the historical reference,” Ben said, trying not to appear annoyed. After the day he’d had, he was a little tired of being cast as the political equivalent of the village idiot. “What I don’t understand is what he’s talking about.”

“The latest instant polls indicate that more people favor the Roush nomination than oppose it. And this is the first time that’s been true since he made his coming-out speech in the Rose Garden.”

“Swell,” Roush said. “Does that mean we’re winning?”

“Hard to say. This was a poll of the public, not the eighteen members of the Judiciary Committee. Still, one tends to lead the other.”

Carraway pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I’m getting the same intel from my media contacts. Apparently Ben’s little speech touched a few of the right chords,” she admitted grudgingly.

“What?” Ben said, pressing his hand against his chest. “Can this be? Are you suggesting that I did something right?”

Christina kicked him under the table. “Gina’s trying to be nice,” she muttered. “Don’t push it.”

“To be specific,” Carraway said, avoiding Ben’s question, “the reference to partisan politics played very well. People are sick and tired of partisan politics. At least that’s what they always say to pollsters. In reality, of course, they love it. Scandal is great fun, and they’d much rather read about someone’s sexcapades than their views on foreign policy. But at any rate, that bit played well. Also, the line about McCarthy’s ghost. Pure genius. Who wrote that for you?”

“Actually,” Ben said, “it just came to me as I was speaking.”

She gave him a long look. “You’re saying you…extemporized? Used a line that hadn’t been tested? Instant-feedback polled?”

“I wasn’t even planning to give a speech. But after Roush declined to respond, I knew I had to do something.”

Beauregard stepped between them. “Your remarks were not vetted in advance? Not approved by the oversight committee? Not play-tested before a shadow audience?”

“Nope. Just made it up.”

“And what the hell do you call that?”

“Ummm…speaking from the heart?”

Carraway pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “God help us. That’s so…amateur. Hammond, I can’t work with this.”

Hammond smiled. “The kid did good, Gina. Leave it alone.”

She closed her eyes, her disgust unmasked. “I’m a kingmaker,” she muttered. “A kingmaker surrounded by peasants.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Hammond slapped Ben’s shoulder. “I thought it was a hell of a good speech. Not the first time I’ve heard you do it, either. I hope you’re giving serious thought to running for another term. I think you could pull it off.”

Ben frowned. “I don’t know. I can’t decide. On the one hand, it seems wrong to pass on an opportunity to do some good in the world. On the other hand, the thought of undergoing a campaign is horrifying.”

“Why?”

“Ben is afraid someone will dredge up his lurid sexual history,” Christina said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What? Don’t tell me you go to gay bars, too.”

“I most certainly do n—” He glanced at Roush. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But—”

“I thought you two were engaged,” Hammond said.

“We are,” Christina said firmly, when Ben didn’t.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get married. That’ll make him more electable. It will stifle sexual speculations and put an end to any talk about Ben being gay.”

“Since when has there been any talk about Ben being gay?” Ben said, sitting up straight—then noticing Roush glaring at him. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Roush rolled his eyes, then turned to Hammond. “And this was the man you chose to be my chief advisor?”

Hammond chuckled. “Don’t gripe, Tad. The man saved your bacon in there. Or at least kept you in the frying pan.”

Bertram Sexton raced into the conference room, carrying his jacket. It was the first time Ben had ever seen him wearing only two of the three pieces of his suit. “Been trying to get a line on how the undecided members of the committee are going to vote. Without success. No one’s talking.”

A line creased Roush’s forehead. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Hammond assured him. “Means they’re waiting to see which way public opinion tilts.”

“But we know Keyes and Matera are voting against me, no matter what happens.”

“And Potter and at least five others who don’t have the spine to buck the party line,” Hammond conceded.

“But if everyone follows party lines, we were dead before we began.”

“So we have to assume someone will show some courage.”

“A rather tall order,” Sexton commented icily.

“But not impossible. If we have public opinion on our side.” Hammond thought for a moment. “And if we can make it seem like the right thing to do. Nothing a politician loves more than playing the hero for a just cause. Especially if there’s no risk involved.”

“Here’s something else you might want to see,” Sexton said, passing around photocopies of a brief report. “We’ve managed to trace funds from a right-wing lobbying group that somehow found their way into the bank accounts of two of the people who testified against Tad. Who accused him of…well, you know.”

“So they were paid,” Christina said, grabbing a copy.

“Of course, the organization is saying they were just expense reimbursements.”

“Ten thousand dollars?”

“Yeah. Guess they stayed at a really nice hotel.” Sexton grimaced. “I’d be willing to bet more money will follow. Once the heat is off.”

“This doesn’t help their credibility,” Ben said, thinking aloud. “But it doesn’t prove they were lying, either. Man, I’d love the chance to cross-examine them.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking a swing at them myself,” Sexton agreed. “But it isn’t going to happen. They’re not even giving interviews. Their financiers are taking no chances.”

Christina turned up the volume on the corner television set. CNN was running a recap of the day’s hearing, a greatest-hits compilation, the shouting points, always culminating with a clip of Ben’s closing—usually ending on the “McCarthy’s ghost” remark.

“I for one am tired of hearing that,” Ben commented. “Do you suppose if we called Ted Turner and asked him nicely, they’d stop running it?”

“We don’t want them to stop running it,” Sexton said. “The more people see it, the more chance we have of converting people to support our nominee.”

“But the committee votes first thing tomorrow morning!”

“I know,” Sexton replied, and for once, a trace of sadness tinged his eyes. “I never said it was a great chance. But it’s the only one we’ve got.”