The iCongressman (31 page)

SPEAKER ALBRIGHT

Two dozen votes are left to be cast, all from Democrats,
and by a quick look, half will not be returning for the next Congress having
fallen victim to Bennit’s icandidates. In the time I have been Speaker, only
two Floor votes have surprised me. The first was the day Parker changed his
vote to keep Bennit in the House. This is the second.

In modern politics, Floor votes are never a surprise. Well,
almost never, as current history shows. The Hastert Rule allows me to decide
what gets voted on, and party whips tirelessly effort to report where members
stand on each and every issue to be decided. The system is designed to avoid
embarrassing surprises by utilizing both. I guess that is one more change
Michael Bennit is bringing to Washington.

Six more ballots are cast and I make up some ground.
Apparently some of the Democrats didn’t buy what the minority leader was
selling and broke ranks to do the right thing. I need nine more votes to go my
way and I will still win, even in the face of betrayal by the insufferable
Dennis Merrick and his band of backstabbers.

Six more votes go up on the board and I lose the ground I
just gained. What is wrong with these people? Don’t they understand what is at
stake here? Not only the drama of not having a majority party, but what all
these independents able to vote with no accountability means?

When the first “present” vote pops up, I know it’s over. The
remaining dozen representatives all lost their seats, and aren’t willing to
draw the ire of either party should they ever want to run again. In my mind,
it’s cowardice. They could have been the difference between victory and defeat.

As the seconds tick down, the game is up. I
gavel
the end of the vote and announce the result. The
words taste bitter coming out of my mouth, and I feel the sting of defeat. It’s
the last piece of business to be conducted by this Congress, so with little in
the way of ceremony, I bring a close to the session. Everybody is in a rush to
get out of here. Everyone, except possibly Michael Bennit, that is.

I climb down from the rostrum and track him down in the
middle of the center aisle. It’s embarrassing that I had to fight through the
small crowd of congressmen and women who were taking a moment to extend their
congratulations to the maverick.

“Bennit!
How the hell did you pull
that off behind my back?” I shout, forgetting any manners or proper behavioral
conventions.

“I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Mister Speaker,” he
states defiantly.

“No, you don’t, but I would like to know anyway.”

Michael weighs it in his mind for a few seconds. “I told the
outgoing minority leader that if they supported the amendment, I would convince
all the icandidates to join the Republican Party.”

“Dennis Merrick would never believe that. You had help.”

He shrugs. There is something more, but Michael Bennit isn’t
going to divulge it, not that it matters. Regardless of how he managed it, he
exploited the ideological Achilles’ heel that defines the modern Congress.
Republicans and Democrats haven’t trusted each other in decades, and Bennit
used the rift against us.

“All you’ve done is
destroy
a
process that has worked in this country for over two hundred years.”

“Mister Speaker, not having a majority party is not the end
of the world, despite your panicked attempts to color it that way. Are you
really implying that a country who landed a man on the moon half a century ago
can’t manage a simple ballot process in one of its houses of Congress?”

“Our political structure relies on the two-party system.
Americans need that to keep their government functioning.”

MICHAEL

“
Keep their
government
functioning? Is that what you call this?”

I open my arms and look around the room for the dramatic
effect I probably don’t need given the absurdity of his statement. The men and
women around me, dressed smartly in suits and other business attire, may look
serious, and tell the voters they have the solution to the nation’s problems,
but it’s a farce.

In Congress, politics trumps substance every time. The
weakness of most political firebrands these days is that they often put
partisan warfare ahead of all other considerations. Policy outcomes are a
secondary concern—the greatest desire of modern politicians is to make sure
their side wins and the other guys lose at all cost. That’s the game, Chutes
and Ladders.

“Americans went to the polls in November and elected us
because they’ve lost faith in how that system functions, Mister Speaker. You
can’t understand that because you, along with the media, propagate the myth
that this country is so ideologically torn, cooperation can’t exist. You’ve
promoted the fiction for years that only the party who owns a sizable majority
can get anything
done,
only the American people aren’t
buying it anymore. While there will always be ideological differences in this
country, they are not nearly as vast as you wish they were.”

“And what happens when this experiment of yours fails?” he
says with a certain smugness and unsettling certainty. No wonder politicians
never
work toward common goals anymore—they are too busy
undermining each other to bother.

“That’s a fairly large presumption on your part, sir, but
assuming that’s the case, Americans will figure out who’s to blame and look to
rectify the problem in the next election.”

“It amazes me you think people are smart enough to realize
that, let alone willing to go to the polls to act on it.”

“I do believe they are, Mister Speaker, and I also believe
we are in a new age of political engagement. Social media makes them that way.”

“You’re a grunt, Bennit, nothing more. A poor soldier who
wandered into a war he shouldn’t be fighting. You don’t understand modern
politics, don’t understand how the system works, and ultimately don’t belong
here.”

“Do you know who a grunt is? He’s an exhausted,
dirt-covered, camouflaged, and heavily armed son of a bitch who has protected
the flock by keeping the wolf away for over two hundred thirty years. He’s done
more for this country than any career politician ever has.”

“This isn’t over, Bennit. You have no idea how powerful the
people are who want to see you destroyed. They will stop at nothing to make
that happen, and believe me, they never lose.”

“Here’s a little history question for you, Mister Speaker.
Do you know what King
Leonidas
, George Washington,
and Michael Bennit all have in common?” He just looks at me. “We were all
underdogs who kicked the crap out of the smug bastards who didn’t think they
were capable of losing.”

“
Leonidas
lost at Thermopylae,”
Speaker Albright says with a “gotcha” grin.
Really?
Fine, here comes today’s history lesson.

“Yeah, he did, but then came the naval battle in the Straits
of Salamis which forced Xerxes’ retreat back to Asia. He left
Mardonius
behind in Greece to complete the invasion, but
all he managed to accomplish was to get routed in the Battle of Plataea,
bringing a disastrous ending to the invasion. So yes,
Leonidas
lost the battle, but sometimes inspiring a nation with a noble defeat yields
better long-term results than a short-term victory. Wouldn’t you agree?” The
double meaning is not lost on him. It wouldn’t have been lost on Winston
Beaumont either.

My eyes dare him to open his mouth, but to his credit, he
doesn’t. He shakes his head and walks away, following the aisle up to the doors
leading out of the chamber. We have come full circle. My first real
conversation as a congressman during my term ended with Speaker Albright
walking up that same aisle while plotting my demise. Now it ends with him
walking up it trying to stop his own. Who said irony was only for writers and
poets?

“Michael, you’re the Roadrunner of modern politics.” Members
who supported us wait to offer congratulations and various accolades, but none
of them surprise me as much as the man who belongs to that Barry White-
esque
bass voice.

“No matter how many traps we set for you, or how many anvils
we try to drop on you, you’re still smart enough make us be the ones who fall
off the cliff,” Thomas Parker muses, finishing his rather appropriate Looney
Tunes reference.

Despite all the political disagreements I’ve had with him, I
have to admit the guy is growing on me. And it’s not just because he saved my
ass last August. He’s a staunch conservative, but that’s a reflection of the
voters in his very Southern district. He’s a gigantic pain, literally and
figuratively, but at least he’s here for the right reasons.

“Beep, beep.” That earns a smirk from the distinguished
Republican.

“See you next year, Congressman. It ought to be a very
interesting one.”

“We just found something we can agree on, Reverend,” I say,
offering my hand.
“Merry Christmas, sir.”
He shakes
it, gives me a nod and heads off.

Once again I am nearly alone in the center of the House
chamber, the heads of my staff peeking over the railing in the visitor’s
gallery above. Déjà vu all over again, as Yogi Berra would say.

“You’re the talk of the kingdom, my liege,” Cisco says,
giving me a bear hug from behind. “Courtesans will fall to your feet and
minstrels will sing songs about your victorious exploits.”

“Cisco, have you been watching
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
again, or were you wrapped up in a
game of Dungeons & Dragons during the vote?”

“Eh, leave me to my fun, man. I haven’t had a reason to
smile this much since my girl bought me
mag
wheels
for my lawn mower. Come on, we have a horde of press to impress on the steps.”

“
Mag
wheels on your lawn mower.
You’re turning yourself into a walking stereotype nobody will take seriously,
my friend,” I say, putting him in a headlock as we make our way out of the
room.

“Only to you, buddy. I make everyone else call me
Congressman Reyes.”

SENATOR VIANO

I watch as Michael and Francisco
walk out of the chamber like a couple of frat brothers who just scored at a
sorority house. There’s professionalism at its best. Across the gallery, I see
his staff pile out, presumably to go meet him outside in the hall.

Gary has also tired of the game. With his boss now
unemployed and my star not shining so bright, he left to work on his résumé
right after the final votes were cast. He is a loyal foot soldier, but after
watching every plan we hatched go down in flames, he cut his losses. With the
drama over and the House adjourned, I am alone.

“You didn’t come through, Marilyn.” Well, almost alone. He
can’t know that everything I have tried has failed.

“Nobody could have seen that turn of events.”

“Yeah, right,” James Reed says, taking the seat next to me.
“You knew he would never go for the third-party thing. It was all bluster. If
you really wanted him to take that course of action, there were dozens of ways
you could make it happen. You were hedging your bets on the outcome, and now
you’ve turned on me.”

“I haven’t turned on you, James, but I will. I am a
mercenary in this, and the price for my loyalty just went up.”

“You think you’re in a position to make demands?”

“I think I am the one still in the game and you aren’t.”

“You think that makes a difference?”

“It does if you want results. I spoke to Bennit before the
vote. I will get back in his good graces. He makes the same mistake all new
politicians make—he still believes in people. He’s a fool, and I’ll use that to
my advantage. Eventually, he’ll come around, and once he does, I’ll be in a
position to influence his caucus. Once I do that, I’ll own them.”

“A caucus is not as powerful as a party.”

“Who says they’ll be a caucus forever?” I respond with a
hint of a smile. “Some of the greatest movements the world has ever seen
started with a loose-knit core of dedicated people. I can make them congeal
into something more powerful and influential. Once they get a taste of that,
forming a party will be a foregone conclusion. The only question to be answered
is whether you will still be involved when it happens.”

“What do you want in return?”

“I don’t just want a seat at the table. I want to run the
whole show. You want to call the shots behind the scenes, fine. I won’t settle
for just getting back in the game. I want to be the starting quarterback. If I
make this happen for you, you’re going to help me become president of the
United States.”

“You don’t ask for much,” he replies sarcastically.

“You are going to get everything you want. Why shouldn’t I
get the same?”

He checks the length of his fingernails, thinking over my
proposition. It’s a big gamble with a weak hand, but I’m all in.

“You are making some pretty big promises for someone who
hasn’t delivered anything.”

“I delivered almost eighty independents to the House.”

“Bennit delivered that. What makes you think you’ll ever be
able to control them?”

“I picked their names for a reason. Yes, eventually, I know
I will.” I only hope that’s still the case. The problem with bluffing is you
run the risk of another player calling it. My hand is weak, but I’m betting a
seasoned player like James Reed knows his is weaker.

James lets out a hearty laugh. “You know, I thought you
might pull something like this, so I already made a call to include you in some
plans I’m working on.”

“How forward thinking of you,” I say dryly.

“Oh, I think so too. Well,” he says giving me a pat on my
knee, “we should talk after the new Congress forms. In the meantime, you don’t
want to be late for Bennit’s presser and miss your photo op. I want you
standing right beside him when he gloats over this victory.”