Capitol Threat

45

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Ben kept saying, but no one was listening. Everyone in Washington he knew, and several people he didn’t, were packed into his office. Champagne glasses were clinking. Everyone was congratulating Roush, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back. He appeared pleased—a little stunned, perhaps, but pleased. It was a brief but heartfelt celebration. Another fifteen minutes, and then they had agreed they would put the booze away and let the press in. Then things would really become chaotic.

“Appreciate it,” Roush said as Ben approached the center circle where Roush was speaking to Sexton, Carraway, Senator Hammond, and others. “But I can’t take credit. I owe this one to Senator Kincaid.”

Ben waved the compliment away. “I had lots of help.”

“I know. And I’ll thank everyone. But you turned the tide. You made the people of America sit up and listen, voice their opinion, give it a second thought. You made it possible for Senator Matera to do what she did.”

“Maybe,” Ben said quietly, “but remember, we’re—”

Everyone present recited the rest of the sentence in unison: “—not out of the woods yet!” And then burst out in riotous laughter.

Christina approached with a trayful of champagne refills. “Ben, don’t be a wet blanket. We’re celebrating here.”

“But we don’t have anything to celebrate yet.”

“Tad got out of committee, fooling every pundit in the city. I’d say that’s worth celebrating.”

“But he still has to go before the full Senate. And the Republicans hold a majority there, too.”

“Then you’ll turn them around just like you did the committee.”

“I’ll be lucky if I’m allowed to speak. There won’t be a hearing. The senators will debate, then vote. Period.”

“Polls show an increasing groundswell of support for our nominee,” Beauregard said, clutching his clipboard and somehow holding a champagne glass at the same time. “More and more people are setting aside their problems with homosexuals and focusing on his qualifications. Much as it pains me to admit it—you made that happen, Ben.”

“I think Senator Matera had a little something to do with it, too.”

“She fanned the flames. You started the fire.”

“Got to agree with that,” Senator Hammond said. “And speaking as the Senate Minority Leader, let me tell you that this is a service that will not soon be forgotten. You need to get your hat in the ring for reelection, Ben. I think you’ll be surprised by how much support you get.”

“Speaking as a lowly lawyer,” Sexton said, “I think anyone with your natural skills is wasted in the courtroom, Kincaid. You’ve found your niche here in Washington, and you’ve been given a lucky break most people would covet. Make the best of it. The voters will remember what you’ve done here today.”

Ben shrugged. “All I did—”

Christina hung on his shoulder. “Ben, stop resisting and accept the compliments.” She bounced up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

Ben’s face instantly turned bright red. “Christina,” he said under his breath, “I’ve told you before—”

Once again, the crowd finished his sentence in unison: “—not in the office!”

This time the laughter was so loud, so infectious, Ben couldn’t help but give in and smile.

“Hey, you wild and crazy party animals!” Jones was standing on his desk, trying to be heard above the fray. “Are you taking media calls yet? I’ve got a reporter from the Post just dying to talk to our Supreme Court nominee.”

Roush started toward the phone, but Ben stopped him. “This is your party,” Ben said. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll take the call.”

“Are you sure?”

Ben nodded. “We told them to wait till six. I think I’m capable of saying ‘No comment at this time’ as well as you are.”

Ben wove his way through the crowd and took the phone receiver from Jones. “Look, we don’t have anything—”

The female voice on the other end of the line cut him off. “This is Brandi Barnett with the Washington Post. Do you have a comment on the Fox News report?”

Ben found himself swallowing air. “The what?” He started over. “We have no comment at this—”

“I understand from a highly placed anonymous source that the Republicans are planning to filibuster if they can’t muster the votes to stop the confirmation process. Can you confirm or deny?”

“Can—the Republicans? What—?”

“I also have a White House source saying the President is going to publicly ask Roush to step down and that he has already done so privately. Can you confirm or deny that?”

Ben didn’t know what to say. Information was speeding by much faster than he could process it. “What are you talking about?”

“Should I take that as a denial?”

“You should take that as an I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-you’re-talking-about.”

And then she told him.

Ben returned to the celebratory circle, a somber expression on his face. “Tad,” he said quietly. “I need to talk to you.”

Roush took one look at Ben’s face and the smile on his own disappeared. “What is it, Ben?”

“There’s an unconfirmed report on Fox News…”

Hammond waved a hand in the air. “Then I think we can dismiss it without even hearing it.”

“There’s…There’s apparently some evidence…” Ben stammered. “Tad, we should talk in private.”

“No,” he said firmly. “We’ll do it here. I have no secrets from my friends.” The strange thing was, Ben didn’t sense that Roush was dismissing the importance of the report. He just wasn’t going to hide from it. “They’ll all hear soon enough, I’m sure. What is it?”

“They’re saying…” Ben swallowed. “They’re saying that you had a child. A long time ago. But I know that’s not possible.”

“Because?” Roush tilted his head to one side.

Again, Ben noticed that he wasn’t denying anything. “Because, you know…”

“I have had heterosexual relationships, Ben. Before I came to grips with who I really am. Almost got married once.”

Ben noticed that Christina’s hand was trembling. As always, her instincts were excellent. “Then,” she said quietly, “this story…”

Roush threw his shoulders back and assumed his best military posture. “Yes, it’s true. I fathered a child.”

“Out of…of…” Ben found himself stammering again. “Out of wedlock.”

“Yes. I know, I should’ve told you. But I didn’t want to bring any unnecessary embarrassment. On me or the mother, okay? So I didn’t, and I apologize for that. Satisfied?”

Ben wished he could answer in the affirmative, but he was still troubled. “But that reporter…” He took a breath and started again. “I mean, that reporter was saying that the Republicans were all up in arms. Planning to filibuster, if necessary. And the President was going to make some kind of public statement.”

“And you don’t think an illegitimate child is enough to merit that kind of backlash?” Roush set his glass down on a tabletop, then walked to a window, his back to the crowd. The sun was setting just behind the Washington Monument. A beautiful spectacle, but one that, at the moment, did not comfort Ben in the least. “You would be right.”

“We can still go someplace private,” Ben said, stepping behind him. “But I need to know. I need to know everything.”

“Like what?”

Ben threw up his hands. He hardly knew where to begin. “Like who has the child now?”

“No one.”

“You mean, you put the baby up for adoption?”

“No. There is no baby.”

Ben struggled to understand. “You’re saying the baby died.”

Roush turned slowly, looking a hundred years older than he had only moments before. “I’m saying the fetus was aborted.” His once erect posture sagged, as if tons of weight had been yoked across his shoulders. “You see the problem. From a political perspective.”

Abortion. The only major political bugaboo Roush hadn’t already transgressed against. Ben clenched his eyes shut. “And you knew about the abortion?”

“Knew about it?” Roush picked up his drink and downed it in a single swallow. “I paid for it.”