F Paul Wilson - Novel 02 (2 page)

           
"That means he's in the
Senate, " Blair said with a condescending smile. "On the floor of the
Senate."

 
          
"I
see." She did her best to hide her disappointment.

 
          
"Besides,
the senator doesn't do the hiring and firing. I do."

 
          
Oh,
great. Her disappointment was swept away by a wave of apprehension.

 
          
She
had the distinct impression that Blair didn't like her.

 
          
Blair
gave her a quick tour of the office. She'd already seen the small front section
with its two receptionists, one male, one female, and its antiseptic, dentist's
waiting-room ambience. The rear space was much larger and sloppier, looking
like a real working office with modular work spaces, cluttered desks, sagging
bookshelves, glaring computer monitors, empty coffee cups, papers and folders lying
on every available horizontal surface. And phones. Phones everywhere, each
bearing a little U. S. Senate seal.

 
          
The
staff occupied two floors that communicated via a central stairway.

 
          
The
two-tiered space offered more room than most senators had, but Marsden
represented one of the larger states, and she knew "appropriation by
population" was religious dogma on the Hill.

 
          
The
second floor was pretty much like the first except for a small lounge and the
computer room that housed the central processor for the office's LAN. The
striking feature of the second floor was the mail room with its bins, many
bins, of letters. Blair told her anywhere from ten to fifteen thousand pieces
of mail were sorted, filed, and answered on a weekly basis by the staffs
legislative correspondents.

 
          
Blair
decided to interview her in the senator's office. Gin was surprised at the
Spartan decor. She'd expected heavy oak paneling, plush carpeting, indirect
lighting, a big leather chair, a huge impressive desk sporting a U. S. Senate
seal and flanked by state and national flags, the works. Apparently Marsden
wasn't impressed by the trappings of his office. The desk and its straight-back
chair were of some nondescript wood, looking plain and slightly battered in the
late morning sunlight that poured through the high windows. Files were stacked
on the desk and floor. A few plaques and diplomas adorned the walls along with
pictures of his family. A single bookcase was overflowing. A miniature
basketball hoop was set up over the wastepaper basket.

 
          
Gin
had a pretty good idea right then that she was going to like Senator Marsden.

 
          
But
first she had to get past his chief of staff.

 
          
She
and Blair settled themselves on opposite sides of the coffee table in the
sitting area of the office. Blair spent another ten minutes or so talking about
his prowess in helping guide the senator's bills through the many pitfalls of
the legislative process, his gaze all the while drifting between her legs and
her breasts. Gin drew the skirt hem closer to her knees.

 
          
She
had decent legs and wore a 54-C bra. What else did he want to know? Maybe she
should have worn a pantsuit.

 
          
Finally
he began shuffling through her resume.

 
          
"Very
impressive," he said, "but I don't see anything here about party
affiliation."

 
          
"I'm
an independent, " Gin said.

 
          
He
glanced up at her as if she'd burped, then cleared his throat.

 
          
"Party
affiliation is very important. We have to know whom we can trust."

 
          
"If
I'm on your staff, you can trust me. If you want a straight answer, I'll give
it to you. If I don't know an answer, I'll find out."

           
He stared at her. "I don't
know . . . the senator was impressed that a practicing physician, especially a
young one, would apply for a position as a legislative assistant on the
Guidelines bill. Tell me, what do you think you can bring to the committee that
we don't already have?" Finally, here was the question Gin had been
waiting for.

 
          
"I
can bring a lot of things. First off, ''

           
"You know the history of the
committee, don't you?" he said. Gin did, but that wasn't going to stop
Blair "Well, back when you were still in training, before a national
healthcare program and universal coverage became hot topics, Senator McCready,
a ranking member of the Committee on Labor and Human Resources, introduced his
Medical Practice Guidelines Bill in the Senate at about the same time
Congressman Allard introduced a very similar bill in the House. In a rare show
of cooperation a joint committee was formed. Senator McCready chaired the
hearings but died before the bill could be sent to the floor of either house.
With one of its chief sponsors gone, the bill died in committee." Gin
nodded.

 
          
"But
earlier this year the president stepped in. Yes, he personally asked Senator
Marsden to revive the McCready committee. But he wanted the legislation to
include not only practice guidelines, but mandates on medical ethics as well."

           
"And that's why you need me,
" Gin said, rushing in before Blair could drone on further with his
recitation. "I'm a board-eligible internist who came through the medicine
and public policy residency at Tulane. I'm a fully trained physician who's well
versed in public health issues. You're going to be collecting reams of
testimony, much of it conflicting. You'll need someone like me to sift through
it and septate the wheat from the chaff. If Senator Marsden, "

           
"Quite frankly, I don't share
the senator's enthusiasm for having a doctor on board, " Blair said,
staring at her. "I think it could cause too much confusion, maybe even
dissension. So, what can you say or do that will change my mind? " Gin's
skin crawled at the way he looked at her when he said that. She decided to
ignore it.

 
          
"I
think you need all points of view to draw up a well balanced plan. I can
provide the senator with a valuable perspective, one he's not seeing now, one
he has little access to. The best generals always keep abreast of the conditions
in the trenches. I can offer,"
  
Blair
glanced at his watch. "Look at the time We've already carried this over
the limit I'd set for it." He closed her file and stood up.

 
          
"Well,
thank you, Dr. Panzella" He walked to the door and opened it for her.
"I'll discuss your application with the senator. We'll be in touch if he
decides to hire you." His expression was perfectly flat, his eyes empty.
"Can you find your way out?"

           
"Of course, " Gin said,
forcing a smile.

 
          
Her
heart sank as the message came through loud and clean Don't call us, we'll call
you.

 
          
Gin
let the smile fade as she wound past the cubicles and out through the reception
area. What a nightmare of an interview. She couldn't imagine how it could have
gone worse. What was Blair's problem? Was he threatened by her? Or was he
looking for something from her? What can you say or do that will change my
mind? What was that all about?

 
          
What
had he expected her to do, lift her skirt?

 
          
She
felt her jaw muscles bunch in anger. A little man with a little power equaled a
big problem. Was this the way it was going to be?

 
          
She
had the elevator down all to herself. She leaned against a side wall and fought
the disappointment. Okay, so she probably wasn't going to get on the chairman's
staff. She'd been prepared for that, not for a screw up like this, but for the
real possibility that the senator wouldn't think he'd need her. There were six
other members, no, check that,
Congressman Lane
had died in that car accident a while back.
So at the moment there were five other legislators who were members of the
Guidelines committee. As the ranking House member, Congressman Allard was the
next obvious choice. Gin had set up a fail-safe appointment with him on
Wednesday morning. Looked like she'd be keeping it.

 
          
She
left the elevator and rounded the corner into the atrium. That was when she
heard a man's voice from her left.

 
          
"Excuse
me, but does the word ‘Pasta’ hold any special significance for you?" She
froze. It was a name she hadn't heard since high school. A name she'd never
wanted to hear again.

 
          
Gin
turned. Him again. Or still. The blond guy in the suit. She now saw some fine
linear scars across his forehead and down his right cheek that she hadn't
noticed before. He was edging closer, staring at her face like the kids in
pediatrics stared at "Where's Waldo" puzzles.

 
          
What
was his problem?

 
          
But
then she was struck by something familiar about him. If she imagined his hair
four or five inches longer . . .

 
          
He
stuck out his hand. "My God, it's really you. I don't know if you remember
me from high school, but I'm," The name leapt into her mind.

 
          
"Gerry!
" She grasped his hand. "Gerry Canney! "

           
"Right! I'm flattered you
remember."

 
          
Remember? How could she forget?
Co-captain and quarterback for the football team, captain of the swim team, and
an honor student to boot.

 
          
She'd
had a monstrous crush on Gerry Canney all through Washington-Lee High in
Arlington
. She remembered positioning herself in the
hall outside social studies after third period every day just to watch him
stroll by. The scars on his face had wrought subtle changes on his looks, but
he was still gorgeous.

 
          
"You're
flattered I remember you? " she said. "I'm flabbergasted you remember
me."

           
He grinned. "I've got a great
memory for faces. And who could forget a girl with a name like Pasta."
He'd said it again.

 
          
She'd
have to nip this in the bud.

 
          
"It's
Gin, Gerry. Gin."

           
He blinked. "Got you. I don't
think I ever knew your real first name. Gin it is. But I barely recognized you.
You look great." He winced and waved his hands in the space between them,
as if trying to erase the words. "Wait. That didn't come out right. I
didn't mean, "

          
"It's okay, " she laughed,
placing a hand on his sleeve. "I understand. I'm not half the girl I used
to be. And you . . . last time I saw you, you had huge sideburns and hair over
your ears."

           
He rubbed his clean-shaven cheeks.
"Yeah. The seventies. Can you believe how we dressed back then? But tell
me, what've you been doing with yourself?"

           
"I just finished an internal
medicine residency."

 
          
"You're
a doctor? That's great! " He glanced at his watch. "Look, I've been
waiting down here to meet you since you walked in. I mean, I just had to see if
it was really you. But now I'm late for a meeting and I've got to run. But
let's get together soon."

 
          
"That'd
be nice."

 
          
"How
about tomorrow night? Are you free?

 
          
She
sensed he was asking about more than just time

 
          
"Tomorrow?
No, I'm moonlighting Tuesday night." She started a twelve-hour shift at
Lynnbrook at eight.

 
          
"Wednesday
night? "

           
"Sorry. Moonlighting
again." But she didn't want to turn him down flat. "Maybe we could
get together for an early bite before I go on duty. Or wait till Friday."