The iCongressman (23 page)

“The stakes have gone way up from once upon a time when we
only wanted to beat the incumbent congressman from our district. I need you
guys to be vigilant about what you are doing in school. Be careful who you get
close to, what you post on social media, and where you go. Most of all, watch
each other’s back.”

“Do you think they could come after us?” Peyton says with a
hint of concern. Considering she was one of Beaumont’s targets during the first
campaign, it would figure she would be most sensitive to a possible repeat of
that trauma.

I am purposely watering down this warning, and Chelsea and
Kylie both know it. Scaring them is counterproductive, and we don’t really have
any concrete information. I value honesty and integrity, but I also value not
terrifying my staff without good reason to do so.

“I don’t know, Peyton. The game has changed. Getting some
independents elected is bad enough, but having no majority party creates a
whole new set of problems. Both parties will go nuts trying to get a majority,
and I don’t need a Magic 8-Ball to tell me it’s a real possibility if they get
desperate enough.”

“But why us?”
Vanessa asks. Kylie
glances at me and then handles the answer to the question exactly like she
thinks the political elites will. It is also the reason why she may be more
fearful than ever.

“Because you guys led the movement that just broke the U.S.
House of Representatives.”

SPEAKER ALBRIGHT

My conference room on the second
floor of the Capitol offers a view of the Mall from its three windows as
majestic as the one from my office. Under these vaulted ceilings, and
classically designed walls with ornate gilded moldings, is the only place I can
get a moment of peace since legislators have begun to reassemble for the lame
duck session.

Nothing substantial usually happens during the last session
of the year. It’s only been a week since the election, and congressmen who have
lost their seat are not eager to vote on bills after being cast out by the
people in their districts. And for this particular session, there have been a
lot of casualties. The seismic shift of political success has left us with an
untenable situation.

There is a loud series of raps at the door before it opens,
and my most important appointment of the day enters. I have been engaged in
meeting after meeting since the moment I set foot back in town. The capital is
in an uproar over the results of the election, and honestly, even I’m stunned
at the result. Lawsuits are pending in states across the country, and the media
is going crazy with their coverage to cash in on the drama. In the end, I don’t
think it will matter. Despite the legal maneuvering and pressure being applied,
the result will be the same, and we have to figure out how to handle the
consequences.

“Come on in and have a seat,” I say, pointing to the large,
twenty-five-foot-long mahogany table. “I’m glad you decided to accept my
invitation.”

“I was a little surprised to get it, Mister Speaker,” Blake
Peoni says, taking his seat at one of the high-backed chairs surrounding the
table.

He’s probably not as surprised to receive it as I was in
needing to send it. In my dealings with James Reed, I came across some
information that Blake worked as a minor functionary for the Ibram & Reed
firm. That in itself is unimportant until you consider he moonlights as a
liaison between Marilyn Viano and Michael Bennit. A strange relationship
considering Reed is so bent on removing Bennit. Politics may make strange
bedfellows, but this is the equivalent of Yankee fans rooting for the Red Sox
to win the World Series.

“Things are pretty sensitive down here in Washington. I
honestly almost decided not to send this invite.”

“I almost didn’t accept it,” Blake says glibly. “What can I
help you with, Mister Speaker?”
The direct approach.
I
can work with that.

“I need a question answered. Does Michael Bennit know who
your current employer is?”

Blake grasps the small triangular pin on his lapel. It looks
like something military, but it is not a unit I’m familiar with. Either way, he
somewhat unconsciously straightens it and says nothing.

“I didn’t think so. I find it odd that you would be working
for a man like James Reed while working with Marilyn Viano to support the
Bennit campaign.”

“Mister Speaker, I’m not sure where you’re going with this,
but I don’t like it. I don’t owe you any explanations, so make your point or
I’m out of here.”

“No need to get defensive, Blake, I’m not playing games with
you. This isn’t an attempt to blackmail you or manipulate you in any way. The
way I see it, you’re between a rock and a hard place.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Marilyn Viano and James Reed are like oil and water. They
are supporting different goals, yet you are working for both. Sooner or later,
something has to give. It’s like playing in the middle of a busy street—you
risk getting hit from traffic in both directions.”

Blake says nothing, apparently trying to figure out how much
I know. After a few moments of awkward silence, he finally says something of
interest.

“If you’re trying to figure out where my loyalty lies, the
answer is neither,” he says with hardness in both his voice and eyes. The
response surprises me, although I doubt he’s telling me the truth. “My loyalty
lies with Bennit.”

“Michael Bennit. Washington D.C.’s own caped crusader,” I
muse. “I know all about your history with him. You ran quite the smear campaign
for Winston Beaumont before he got issued an orange jumpsuit. Do you think
Bennit is ever going to trust you, especially after you finally tell him who
your current employer is? Believe me, he won’t.”

“Don’t be so sure, Mister Speaker.”

I get out of my chair and move over to one of the windows facing
out on the Mall. It’s a gray day, matching the mood in this town. Tourists
mingle between the monuments and museums of The Smithsonian, oblivious to the
atmosphere in the Capitol they helped create on Election Day.

To a lesser extent, Blake is too. Michael Bennit may have
meant well with his push to get independents elected, but the result is a
crisis never before seen in the lower chamber. The U.S. House of
Representatives is set up to work in a two-party system. It requires a minority
and majority party to function and an influx of representatives with no party
affiliation upsets the balance of power. A third party coming into existence,
as the rumors spreading like wildfire around town have been speculating, is a
bad dream. Having no majority party and no consensus on a Speaker is a
certifiable nightmare.

I think back to the file Reed handed me before the election.
It’s the nuclear option, but I think it’s the only one I’m going to be left
with, and I’m going to need a strong player to get it passed.

“After everything that happened between you and Bennit, you
still think he trusts you?” I turn and face him. “Does his staff?” That strikes
a nerve with him.

“We have a history, yes, but I’m not going to give any of
them a reason not to trust me moving forward.
Ever.”

“I understand, and that is admirable. Let me ask you an
unrelated question. Both parties are going to do whatever it takes to sway the
icandidates to their side. Do you think any of them will?”

“No, I highly doubt it,” he answers gruffly.

“I don’t either,” I say with a forced grin. Under any other
circumstances I would never say that, but I’m guessing the new crop of
icongressmen will be last people either the GOP or Democrats can persuade, at
least in the short term.

“So we’re going to have a major problem in January unless we
do something about it now. And if I’m right, when this thing finally blows up,
Bennit is going to be under all kinds of pressure I don’t think he’s prepared
to handle. Push is going to come to shove in this town, and when it does, is
Michael Bennit going to be turning to you for help?”

I let that question hang in the air for a moment for Blake
to ponder. He has to know he will never get in Michael Bennit’s good graces.
Even if he did, nobody in that camp would ever trust him.
Time
to play my hand.

“You are going to be the one on the outside looking in.
Unless …” I cast my baited hook in the water to see if he bites.

“Unless what?” Bingo.

“Unless you help me fix it.
Blake,
I’m not here to threaten you, or milk you for information. We are heading into
a very turbulent time for this government and I want your help getting us
through it. I’m here to offer you a job. I want you come to work for me.”

CHELSEA

I’m twenty years old and officially
tired of watching the news. Since the election, it has been nonstop coverage of
what they are billing as “The House in Crisis.” It’s a ridiculous notion, since
the government isn’t going to collapse because there’s no majority party.

Not that the media sensationalizing things should be a
surprise to anyone. From idiot weathermen reporting three inches of snow as if
it were a blizzard, to the over-hyped birth of a royal baby in England, you can
always count on the media to blow things out of proportion. Yet, we all tune
in, so maybe it’s really us who should take the blame.
 

“There has to be all kinds of dealings going on all over
town and with the host of independents who just got elected. What are the odds that
one or more of them can be swayed to join a party and end the gridlock?” the
moderator asks another panel of “experts.”

“I think it’s very likely. Washington operates on promises
and back room deals―”

“No, no, no, no, no,” another panelist interrupts. “Haven’t
you been paying attention at all to this icandidate movement? The men and women
who got elected by running inexpensive, social media campaigns are not going to
even engage in discussions over it! Their allegiance is to Michael Bennit, and
they will not―”

I hit the power button on the remote. I’ve hit my limit of
nonsensical political analysis for the day. The congressman says even he would
be surprised if all of the icandidates who won remain loyal. There are too many
carrots and even a few sticks both parties will wield to entice them to the
dark side of the force.

I grab my coat and let everyone know I am leaving the office
for the evening. It may be the first time I will be home before nine p.m. since
I started this job. I make my way down to the lobby, happy that the day is
behind me.

“Chelsea, wait up!” I hear as several sets of shoes cause a
clatter that echoes off the walls. Okay, maybe not.

Rushing up to greet me are the Three Amigos, Chris and the
other two whose names I still can’t
remember
. I think
for a fleeting second that I need to correct that, and then I remember that I
don’t plan on being here much longer.

“You got a quick minute to talk?” one of them asks.

“Not really,” I say, still trying to preserve my hasty exit
home.

“Trust
me,
we will make this worth
your while.”

“All right, what can I do for you?”

“Not here,” he states, beckoning me to follow him down the
hall before ducking into one of the twenty-three committee rooms located in the
building.

“Okay, this is a little creepy,” I relay, more to make them
uncomfortable than any fear I might feel being alone in a room with three men.

“We have some information for you that we would like to
exchange for a favor,” the Second Amigo says, ignoring my comment.

“I’ve learned the hard way not to make arrangements like
that blind,” I state defiantly. “You want to play strip poker, you are going to
have to take your clothes off first and we’ll take it from there.”

Not the best metaphor I could have come up with. The three
men look at each other while my impatience grows.
The only
thing worse than annoying a redhead is keeping one waiting.

“You’re getting good at this game, Miss Stanton,” Amigo
Three says.

“We’ve heard rumors that there’s a bill getting vetted by
the OLC.”

The Office of Legislative Counsel is an obscure institution
responsible for the language of new legislation introduced to the House. Please
tell me they are not keeping me from a rare dinner at home for a piece of
useless information. “Okay … that happens all the time. Get to the point.”

“We heard the drafted bill is a rules change forcing all of
the independents elected to the House to declare allegiance to the caucus of a
political party.”

I’m floored. That has to be the most ridiculous thing I have
ever heard. Aside from it being questionable constitutionally, why would either
party head down a path that would earn them the ire and wrath of the American
people?

“We know what you’re thinking, because we thought it too. So
we checked around and found the staff members who wrote the bill. It came from
the Speaker’s office.”

That bit of info from Amigo One, a.k.a. Chris, is even more
stunning. Almost all of the leg work of drafting bills and negotiating the
final form of proposed legislation is done by staff. Representatives to Congress
rarely do the dirty work of writing bills themselves anymore. If the Three
Amigos are to be trusted, then confirmation from staff members is all the proof
I need that something is afoot.

“We’re not asking you to take our word for it. You can check
up on it on your own. We just wanted to point you in the right direction.”

“Okay. What is it you want in return?” The three of them
look at each other again. Do they share a brain or something? Just spit it out
already.

“We’ve heard the assertions and counter-assertions about
Bennit forming a third party around the … What are we calling the icandidates
now?”

“The icongressmen,” Amigo Three answers.

“Right.
The latest rumors are
Bennit will form it with sole purpose of working to bring consensus to the
chamber and get things done.
True or false?”

“I hate to disappoint you guys, but we have never had any
intention of forming a third party. Sorry.”

“Is that the truth? Seriously, it’s important you level with
us,” the Third Amigo pleads.

The talk about this new party stuff is making me nauseous.
When I see Senator Viano again, it will take every ounce of willpower to tamp
down my redheaded tendencies and not wrap my hands around her throat to squeeze
the life out of her. I want to smile at the thought of that, but with these
guys, it will convey the wrong message.

“It’s the truth, cross my heart. Now, tell me why it
matters.”

“Our bosses are … interested in finding a way to work with
Bennit.”

“You know, you said that to me once before and came up with
all sorts of excuses as to why you couldn’t. So tell me, what the hell does
that mean?” The temper is starting to come out, causing the Three Amigos to put
their heads on a swivel looking at each other again. “Will you guys stop
friggin
’ looking at each other and just … out with
it!
My God, does everything in this town have to be
mysterious? I’m tired, hungry, and want to go home.”

“If you were interested in forming a third party, or
something along those lines, our bosses would consider joining.”

“You’re saying you would leave your parties?”

“Under the right circumstances, yes, that’s exactly what
we’re saying,” Amigo Two clarifies.

“And we’re not the only ones who think that way,” Chris
adds.

“I think you could compel a lot of moderates to join your
cause.” That was from the last remaining Amigo. It’s like trying to have a
conversation with a set of stereo speakers.

“I will relay that to the boss.”

“Thank you, Chelsea. Keep us in the loop.”

I start to walk away and then stop. “Guys, don’t take this
the wrong way, but what the hell are your names?”

“I’m Chris,” Amigo One says.

“I knew yours.”

“Then ours should be easy enough to remember. I’m Chris as
well, and so is he,” Amigo Three says with a smirk.

“Three guys named Chris. I should have known.” I think I
will stick with Amigo One, Two, and Three.

We say our good-byes, exit the committee room, and head our
separate ways. They have given me a lot to think about, and I know my dream of
calling it an early night is now vanquished. I head back up to the office to
tell the congressman what I
learned,
knowing tomorrow
is going to bring a scramble to find out just who our friends and enemies
actually are.