The iCongressman (20 page)

MICHAEL

“For you, I have more than a moment,” Congressman Bennit
says as he gives our only elected ally a handshake and hug accompanied with a
couple of hard slaps on the back. Kylie rolls her eyes at the display of man
affection. “Cisco,
it’s
five days until the election
and you’re taking a road trip?”

“I got all my lawns mowed early,” he answers with his
typical self-effacing cultural humor. “If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be up
here freezing my ass off. You need to hear this. Can we talk here?”

Mister Bennit looks at Cisco’s friend and then back at Laura
who is finishing cleaning up behind the counter so she can go home.

“Laura is through here, so we have to get going, but there
is a quaint little restaurant around the corner still open I think.” The Asian
man nods.

“I will never understand your decision to work out of the
coffee shop again, so I guess it will have to,” Cisco adds. “Not that you don’t
run an impressive operation from here.”

“My chief of staff believes in keeping me well-caffeinated,
so this works. Give us a minute to grab our coats,” I say, indicating I want
Kylie and Chelsea to be there for whatever this is. “We can do the
introductions on the way.”

We retrieve our coats and head out into the chilly New
England evening. We walk through the parking lot to the front of the Perkfect
Buzz and then make a right, heading down the sidewalk towards the center of
town.

“Okay, Cisco, who’s your friend?”

“Terry
Nyguen
,” he says, shaking
my hand. He also introduces himself to Chelsea and Kylie as we walk.

“Terry is a senior coordinator for the Freedom Coalition for
Responsible Government. You ever heard of it?”

I look back at Chelsea, hoping she has. There are so many
organizations based in Washington that it is near impossible to know them all
and still do my job.

“A think tank dedicated to the spirit of the constitutional
convention that decries ideologues and promotes moderate candidates in races
across the country,” Chelsea says. Yep, that’s why she runs my staff.

Think tanks are research organizations and advocacy groups
that delve into public policy areas ranging from political strategy to business
policies. Most are non-profit organizations, while others receive funding from
wide-ranging interests including “concerned citizens” and even governments
themselves. They can be incredibly partisan or not at all, making
distinguishing between them nearly impossible for anyone not an insider.

We enter the little bistro and settle into a corner booth
where we can enjoy some privacy. After my last restaurant run-in with somebody
I don’t know, I almost wish I had Brian here to record this again.

“I can’t say I have ever heard of you, Mr.
Nyguen
. Especially odd considering I’m probably your poster
boy.” Not to mention he looks like a mercenary, with his short haircut and
military demeanor. I’ve served with sergeants major who were less intimidating
than this guy.

“We’re a small operation that provides financial backing and
political advice to moderate candidates willing to work to find a consensus in
Washington. You have never needed us before now.”

“And from our experiences, you haven’t had a lot of success
in your objective,” Chelsea adds, clearly meaning to test him.

“A prospect I also hope will change shortly. I understand
your apprehension―”

“Which is why you approached Cisco instead of coming
directly to us,” Kylie finishes. Always the journalist, she is digging to get
to the bottom of exactly who this guy is and why he’s here.

“Honestly, yes.”

“You need to understand something, Terry. Trust is not
something we have a huge supply of these days. Now you show up here, days
before the election, and expect us to buy whatever it is you’re selling?”

“Hear him out guys. Please,” Cisco pleads. We all nod, but
hardly give him a ringing endorsement to continue.

“I don’t expect you to buy anything, Miss Stanton,” he says,
leveling with us. “You can choose to ignore everything I have to say here. All
I am asking is for you to hear me out. We can take it from there.”

“Go ahead, Terry.”

“Congressman Bennit, are you aware there is a rumor floating
around that you plan on uniting the icandidates under one political banner once
they are elected?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kylie asks before a word can slip
from my mouth.

“No, I’m not. Are you planning on forming a third party if
all these independents you are helping win?”

“No.”

“Someone in your camp says you are.” He looks at each of us,
clearly trying to gauge our reactions. “These ideas don’t come out of nowhere,
and the source of this rumor has to be someone well informed, because it’s
gaining traction.”

I begin to think of the people close to the campaign, but
quickly realize I am looking at things the wrong way. Maybe not in my camp, but
issued a visitor’s pass to it. I look at Chelsea to see if we are on the same
page.

“Viano,” is all she has to say. I agree with her, but I
don’t want to air the laundry in front of this guy. I don’t trust him enough to
let him in on our relationship with the former senator.

“We can figure out if that’s the case later, Chels, but
right now I want to know why it matters.”

“It doesn’t, insofar as it only leads me to the next piece
of information. Are you familiar with Ibram & Reed?”

“You can’t spend a day in the House and not be.”

“They were the ones who helped run the little operation to
get the congressman sent packing out of D.C.,” Chelsea adds. “William
Mashburn
was one of their employees.”

“You may want to reconsider using the past tense, Miss
Stanton. They aren’t done yet.”

“What do you mean?” Kylie asks. I am not sure where Terry
gets his
intel
from, but
it’s clearly news to the woman who lives for uncovering underhanded dealings
each day for the
Washington Post
.

“I don’t have specifics, but my sources are telling me they
are looking for a way to help the leadership neutralize any independent that
gets elected.”

“I haven’t heard anything of the sort,” Kylie retorts,
clearly upset that she may be getting scooped by some guy at a think tank.
“That firm has bunkered itself to fight off a pending federal investigation of
framing an elected official. They wouldn’t dare make another play so soon.”

“Yet they are. They may be hiding from people like you in
the media, but it is still very much business as usual for them behind closed
doors. Their crusade against you experienced a setback in their eyes, nothing
more.”

“Why?”

When I was in a classroom, it was the question I loved to ask
my students. It’s one thing to know when the American Revolution happened or
who was involved in the women’s suffrage movement, but understanding the why is
the relevant part.

“That’s the real question, isn’t it? I only can offer a
theory. People have come to understand getting elected to Congress costs a lot
of money. It is a truth that has been propagated for decades now by the very
interests we are talking about. Your first race showed a campaign could be
competitive without that level of financial support.”

“And even if they look at the first race as a fluke …”

“Success of a hundred independents using the same model
isn’t,” Kylie says, finishing Chelsea’s statement.

“You are changing that paradigm and it's scaring the wits
out of some very powerful people, and I don’t mean just the smooth-talkers at
Ibram & Reed. There are other people out there that could make things
dangerous for you, and I mean more than just politically.”

I look over at Cisco who meets my stare. Now I know why he
brought Terry here to meet me, and why he did it in person. In the age of NSA
scandals about wiretapping, electronic communication could be compromised. You
can’t assume what your enemy’s capabilities are and aren’t. Great, now I’m
thinking like the author of a spy novel.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what makes me nervous. We know
Ibram & Reed’s motives, along with some of the other power players. We can
watch them. It’s the unknowns that make me nervous.”

“One hell of an assertion you’re making, Terry, considering
you have no specific information to back it up.”

“Unfortunately, Congressman, what I’m telling you isn’t
based on anything concrete. There is no imminent threat, so to speak, but
something we wanted to make you aware of.”

“
We being
…?” Kylie asks, fishing
for answers to who this guy really is.

“
We being
us.” Yeah, that helps.

“Having people target us is not outside the realm of
possibilities. We’re poised to cause more casualties than Jack Bauer in this
election, Michael.” Cisco knows how to speak my language.

I am amazed at just how surreal my life has become. Three
years ago, I was a simple history teacher getting ready to ask my girlfriend to
marry me. Now I’m having a cloak and dagger meeting in a restaurant, seriously
discussing whether someone might try to kill me.

“You’re not taking this seriously, are you, Congressman?”
Chelsea inquires.

I honestly don’t know what to think. I don’t know
Nyguen’s
credentials, or how he came across any of this
information. He could just be a guy making this up to get closer to our
campaign. He could be a false flag planted by an enemy to distract us. Who
knows? Despite my misgivings, my gut tells me to trust what he’s saying. And I
have firsthand experience in knowing that trusting that intuition in combat
keeps you alive.

“Chels, I’m used to being shot at, but it’s not something I
would ever want to expose my staff to. Dodging bullets is not in your job
description, so if there are threats being made, I want to know about them.
Have we received any?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.
Anything that comes through has been passed on to the Capitol Police as usual.”

Threats against Congress are more common than most Americans
know. House Speaker Sam Rayburn had a cross burned on his front lawn in Texas
during debate on civil rights legislation in the 1960s. There was a sharp
increase in the number of threatening communications during the health care
reform debate in 2010. Republican Eric Cantor even got his campaign office
window shot out. If all that isn’t enough for me to take this seriously,
there’s the assassination attempt on Gabrielle
Giffords
in early 2011.

“How concerned should we be?” Kylie asks, taking this even
more seriously than I am. It was of her opinion that the driver of the taxi
outside of ABC was aiming to run me down. I may have convinced her of the
absurdity of it being an organized plot, but she has been weird about it ever
since. This conversation is simply feeding that initial paranoia.

“And don’t answer with one of your cryptic responses,” I add
for good measure. The corner of Terry’s mouth turns up. Forget military. I am
beginning to think this guy either was CIA or FBI, or still is.

“I don’t believe the national committees and PACs will take
defeat lying down. I know the lobby industry and major contributors won’t. If
Ibram & Reed is unscrupulous enough to frame you when you were ineffective
and ostracized, I’m afraid of what someone may try to do to silence a more
powerful voice.”

“Meaning what?” Chelsea asks, channeling Kylie’s concerns.

“Blackmail, intimidation, threats, and even assassinations
have all been used in the past. There is no reason to think they won’t in the
future. I am saying you should watch your backs.”

I see the fear flash in Kylie’s and Chelsea’s eyes. We are
days away from the election and I can’t have them peeking over their shoulder
looking for ghosts. I want to take this warning seriously, but I can’t afford
to have the two most important women in my life getting consumed by it.
“You
must read a lot, Terry, because you are starting to sound like a Brad Thor
novel,” I utter, articulating an earlier thought in a futile attempt to ratchet
down the tension.

“I do actually. And what I have learned is all good fiction
has elements of truth in it that makes it believable. Look, I don’t know for
certain if you are in any physical danger, Congressman. All I am saying is that
you are getting tangled up with groups of people with a lot to lose if you pull
off this coup. You think Beaumont was desperate to keep his seat? It’s nothing
compared to what the card-carrying members of that club will do to keep their
power.”

Yeah, I’m sure that reassurance is going to put Kylie and
Chelsea at ease.

CHELSEA

“Is this what you did on the last Election
Day? Stand on a bridge and wait for the polls to close?” the familiar voice
calls out as his footfalls echo off the bridge decking.

I love autumn, but the one thing that sucks is it gets dark
way too early once daylight savings time ends and we turn the clocks back. So
to see my town bathed in the oranges, purples, and pinks of a beautiful
November sunset, I had to break away from the chaos while they remain open for
another three hours.

“Blake, if there is one thing for certain I know in this
world, it’s you cannot lay claim to this spot.”

So much for having some time to myself to
think.
With one of the most important decisions I will ever make hanging
over my head, an interruption from the likes of Blake Peoni was the last thing
I needed. I’m vulnerable enough as it is.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says coming up beside me and
leaning on the railing of the bridge. We quietly enjoy the view for a few
moments, but since I have him here alone, I might as well dig for some
information.

“I have two questions to ask you, if you’re up for it.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you wear that ridiculous pin on your lapel? I
noticed it right before the election two years ago and I’ve seen you wearing it
every day since.”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” he dodges, straightening the
triangular pin with his index finger and thumb. “Let’s just say it’s a memento
I was given to remind me of my father and a pledge to be a better man than I
was.”

“Is it working for you?”

“Is that your second question?” he asks playfully.

“No, that was part B of the first one.”

“This is starting to sound like a pop quiz. Yeah, I would
say
it’s
working. That was a pretty tame first
question, so what’s your second one?”

“If you are a better man like you say you are
,
why are you working with a snake like Viano?” Blake spins
his head around and looks at me with a mix of confusion and consternation. I
meet his deep brown eyes with a hard look of my own.

“What do you mean, Chelsea?”

“Blake, you’re part of Senator Viano’s inner circle. You’ve
already told me you don’t trust her. Are you really going to stand there and
tell me with a straight face that you don’t know she’s trying to screw us?” I
shake my head and turn back to admire my view.

“She hasn’t let me in that far yet. I don’t think she trusts
me enough to let me in on whatever her scheme is.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because she knows what I did to you guys two years ago and
understands I swore never to do it again. If she’s up to no good, she will only
let me in once she thinks she has the leverage to make me do what she needs me
to.”

“Jesus, Blake, how did you get mixed up with her to begin
with?”

“That’s a complicated story. Let’s leave it at sometimes you
don’t get a choice in the matter.”

“Whatever.” I never get the full story with this guy.

“Chelsea, are you ever going to find a way to trust me?” he
asks with weird sincerity in his voice. Now I turn to face him, the wind
whipping my strands of red hair that sprung loose from under my white knit hat.

“Are you ever going to give me a reason to?” I demand,
realizing it’s too late to stop myself from opening up.

“I asked first.” Blake reaches for my face and gently
brushes the strands of red hair to the side. His touch is so gentle, so caring.
I haven’t experienced that in a long time.

“Chelsea, I promise on my father’s grave that I will not let
anyone hurt you or Michael Bennit again so long as I can help it,” he promises.
“If it means I have to take a bullet for you to prove that, then that’s what
I’ll do.”

Before I could stop myself, I put my arms on his chest as he
wraps his arms around my back. We share a soft kiss, and for a moment, there is
nothing else in the world but us. No year of hell in Washington, no campaign,
no politics, and no letter of acceptance to Harvard. Then I realize whose arms
I am finding solace in.

“I can’t do this, Blake,” I say, pushing him away. I try to
fight back the tears as I hurry past him. “I’m sorry!”

“Chelsea, wait!” I hear him say, but I don’t turn back.

What the hell am I thinking? I rush off the bridge and onto the
well-travelled dirt path back towards the parking area. I only slow my pace
when I’m sure he’s not chasing after me. The last thing I need in my life right
now is all the complication that comes with any personal involvement with
Blake. My God, what have I just done?