The iCongressman, page 12
part #2 of The Michael Bennit Series Series
“All of our districts are,” another voice booms from next to me, deciding to take a seat uninvited. “Good afternoon, Mister Speaker,” he says, before turning to Harvey. “And to you, Mister Leader.”
“So you have a problem with Bennit, too, Dennis?” I ask the longtime Democrat and reigning minority leader of the U.S. House of Representatives. Meetings between party leadership rarely happen in public these days, although that was not always the case. While old-school reporters may remember a day where we would all be seen at a restaurant table together, a young journalist would crap his pants if he walked by this dining room and saw Harvey and me sitting with Dennis Merrick right now.
“Fifty of the districts on that list are Democrat strongholds. You’re damn right we’re worried about him.” Dennis is a politician’s politician. In his late forties, he has television looks and a disarming demeanor. Coming from Washington State, he is remarkably popular with the hipster crowd that frequents the Seattle coffeehouse scene.
“I think you guys are overestimating the effectiveness of a social media campaign in a presidential election year,” I state. “There was nothing else to talk about when Bennit ran in the midterms. Now, everyone will be focused on who will win the White House. Nobody is going to care about virtual campaigns. It’s been done.”
“That was my initial thought,” Dennis says, “but the members of my caucus are concerned that people will be more tuned into social media because of the presidential race.”
“Okay, the only thing I know about social media is my teenage daughter’s posting of duck faces on something called Instagram and documenting her every activity in Facebook status updates. Harvey, what’s their plan? How are they planning to stand out if there are a hundred of them running?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure they have one. These aren’t run of the mill lawyers bred for politics. They are teachers, tradesmen, businessmen, and entrepreneurs. Many of them probably built their own dedicated following like Francisco Reyes did down in Texas.”
“That’s the other reason they are dangerous. In today’s media age, we are expected to answer questions about any subject. Let’s face facts; most of the incumbents in these safe seats don’t have the expertise to argue the issues against some of these candidates. They’ve never had to worry about mastering many subjects because they win reelections so easily.”
Dennis is more legitimately concerned about this than I ever thought. A professional politician to his very core, you always have to be aware of alternative agendas. He will do anything that benefits the Democrats, and would even ally himself with Bennit in a heartbeat if it meant reclaiming the House for his party. Maybe that’s something we should consider.
“What’s the status of the Bennit investigation?” Harvey asks, getting to the point.
“It’s progressing. The evidence is strong, but is still being validated. I’m concerned that there are members of the committee who won’t be swayed though,” I add, staring directly at the minority leader to allow no confusion that the comment is directed toward him.
“That shouldn’t be a concern,” he replies. Yeah, right. Everything is a concern when Dennis Merrick is involved. He would vote to abolish the Fourth of July if he thought he could make my party look bad.
“I know how the Republicans will vote,” Harvey says, trying to coax a more concrete reassurance from his counterpart. “Are you saying the Democrats are with us?”
“What I’m saying is you don’t need to lose sleep wondering if Democrats on the ethics panel will make this a partisan fight. We will follow your lead if it means getting rid of Bennit before November.”
“We have a long history with you, Mister Leader,” I tell the leading Democrat in my most foreboding voice. “Not all of your pledges of support ever materialize the way you advertise them.” I may run the show as Speaker of the House, but I am first beholden to protecting the interests of my own party. This Bennit thing is bad, but getting politically outmaneuvered would be even worse.
“There is no love lost between my party and Bennit,” Dennis discloses. “Winston Beaumont may have been a blowhard, but he was our blowhard. Now, because of Bennit, he’s spent more time in court than Lindsey Lohan.” Yup, definitely a hipster.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we will not cross you on this, Harvey. On that you have my word,” he promises, getting up to leave. “Keep my office in the loop on any developments. Good day, gentlemen.”
“The RNC wants this too, you know that, Mister Speaker,” Harvey says, once the minority leader leaves our private dining area.
“You trust him?”
“Merrick? Hell, no. He will turn this into a political opportunity to regain the House the first chance he gets. But I do believe he’ll instruct his caucus not to interfere with the proceedings in the Ethics Committee.”
“Okay. Let’s get a press conference scheduled for two weeks from now and fire a shot across his bow,” I command. “Maybe he takes the hint and resigns on his own, but at a minimum, it might scare all these independents into not working with him.”
“I’ll get it scheduled. In the meantime, have the Chairman of the Ethics Committee press forward with the investigation and get a hearing scheduled in August before we hit convention season. Any negative press or public backlash will be buried under the avalanche of media surrounding the nominations for president.”
“Let’s hope so.”
-TWENTY-THREE-
MICHAEL
Even as a congressman from the state, I spend very little time in Hartford. When the occasion calls for the elected representatives of Connecticut to come together for the best interests of our residents, I am usually left out in the cold. The governor, a longtime, flag-waving Democrat and friend of Winston Beaumont, will not even return my calls. But that’s not what brings me here today.
The State Armory and Arsenal in Hartford was built in the early twentieth century and is the largest such facility in the state. Located only a quarter mile from the state capitol building, the classical revival-style structure serves as headquarters of the Connecticut Military Department and holds the office of the man currently lined up in my crosshairs.
Major General Timothy Reinert is The Adjutant General of the Connecticut National Guard, and is responsible to the governor and the National Guard Bureau for providing mission-ready forces to support both Army mobilization and state emergency operations requirements. He is a two-star, and the man who ultimately implements policies applicable to all state Guard units. That makes him responsible for their failures as well.
“I’m sorry, the general has asked not to be disturbed,” the staff sergeant seated at the desk in the small outer office decrees without looking up.
“That’s his problem, not mine,” I retort, already cranky that I had to drive up here to storm the ramparts of this man’s office because he could not manage to hold a civil conversation with one of my staff members.
The NCO looks up, equally annoyed at the disturbance and my affront to his status as gatekeeper for the state’s ultimate military authority. “There are no appointments scheduled so you, whoa …” he trails off mid-sentence after recognizing me. “My apologies, Congressman Bennit, I didn’t realize―”
“Don’t sweat it, Sergeant; you’re just doing your job. However, trust me when I tell you that I’m also doing mine. Please go tell your boss I’m here to see him, and that he will come out to take this meeting or I will dust off my breaching skills, go all infantry, and kick his damn door in.”
“Yes, sir!” the staff sergeant says, probably impressed he just met a politician who actually speaks his language. He disappears into the general’s office and shuts the door behind him. The ensuing one-sided conversation with his boss was a spirited one from what I could hear through the door. As a former NCO, I know what it’s like to stand in front of an officer’s desk and have to tell him something he doesn’t want to hear. It’s not a pleasant experience.
After a moment, the tall, gray-haired general emerges in his utility uniform, the subdued two-star rank insignia unmistakable in the center of his torso. He is struggling to mask how pissed off he is, and would almost succeed if his eyes didn’t give it away.
“Congressman Bennit, welcome to the Connecticut National Guard. It’s good to see you, sir.” I know I’m supposed to say something equally political, so I won’t. Shock and awe is so much more fun.
“Good morning, General. I’m the last person you want to see today, so drop the façade and cut the bullshit.” Perfect. You don’t get any more non-political than that without dropping an f-bomb or two. He grins, maybe appreciating the fact that I’m not here to be coddled.
“Let’s head into my office,” he says, leading the way. His office is typical of most military men, adorned with various plaques, framed shadow boxes, and gifts from various units he served in and commanded. Almost every service member has similar “I love me” walls, but the higher in grade someone climbs, the more extensive the décor. General Reinert has managed to cover all four walls of his office.
“As I told your staff member, sir, I cannot interfere with an ongoing investigation,” he says, getting to the point. Usually, I prefer being called Michael, but this isn’t one of those moments.
“No, General, you told Meghan she doesn’t understand the military and should mind her own business. That’s just half the problem you and I have today, though. You then asked her to tell me that if I have a problem with that, I should come see you so you can tell me to get lost to my face.” I watch the blood drain out of his. “Go ahead, I dare you.”
“My apologies, Congressman, I intended no disrespect.”
“Yes, you did. You know my background. I was a NCO, and dealt with officers who were jockeying for the next rank all the time. You don’t reach your position without being politically astute, so I will hazard a guess that your purposeful avoidance of me was probably ordered by the governor.”
General Reinert exhales, and I know I’m right on target with my comment. Now he relaxes, given the knowledge that I understand his actions without him having to tell me. I have a flight to catch back to D.C., so it’s time to get this done.
“This isn’t about you and me, or the politics that rule our respective worlds,” I say. “It is about a young soldier who is having a bad time of it and some men who may be behaving in a manner that neither of us condones.”
“Yes, sir, but we don’t know if their behavior constitutes harassment yet. I cannot interfere on your behalf,” Reinert concludes, the double meaning of his statement not lost on me. He will face consequences if he consents to any of my requests.
“Then it’s settled.”
“What’s settled, sir?” the old soldier asks, confused as to whether I missed the point of his statement.
“General, when the governor calls after hearing that I was spotted in the building, you are going to tell him that you told me I’m an amateur and to go pound sand.”
“I am, huh?”
“Yes, you are. Then you are going to hear through an imaginary source that a soldier under your command may be having issues with sexual harassment in her unit. You will direct the command to perform a fair and speedy investigation, and order that commander to remove her from any situation where alleged behavior may be repeated for her protection.”
“Imaginary source? Look, I know who her uncle is. The governor―”
“Will never find out the subject of this discussion,” I say, cutting him off. “You can make up a reason why I was here. Where you got the information about the NCO in question from isn’t my concern. Soldiers talk, especially in headquarters buildings. In the end, you will be the firm leader enforcing your zero-tolerance policy on harassment, while having the cover of not doing it for me. Agreed?” As if he could say no to that.
“Agreed.”
“Excellent,” I say, turning to leave his office.
“Congressman Bennit?” he says, stopping me before I hit the door. “Congressman Parker hates your guts. This isn’t a political favor, so why are you doing this?”
“‘All Soldiers are entitled to outstanding leadership; I will provide that leadership. I know my Soldiers, and I will always place their needs above my own,’” I recite from the NCO Creed. Every sergeant worth a damn should be able to quote it from memory.
“‘I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same,’” he replies from his own oath with a nod. “You could try to score political points publically over this if you wanted to. Why aren’t you?”
“Because a soldier who just wants to do her job has a problem she needs our help with. She doesn’t care about me, you, or anyone else’s political scorecard.”
“Despite being a former Green Beret, you know that’s not how business is done in Washington, or even here for that matter,” General Reinert laments.
“No, sir, it isn’t. But imagine the problems we could solve in this country if it was.”
-TWENTY-FOUR-
CHELSEA
“This is my spot, Blake, go find your own,” I say as he takes a seat next to me on the Capitol steps.
“We’ve covered this. It was mine first, remember?” Damn, I forgot that part.
“Fine. Just sit there with your mouth closed or you’ll find yourself swallowing your teeth.”
Blake looks like he has a witty comeback in mind, but wisely thinks twice about it. It’s just after lunch, and I wanted to spend a few quiet moments outside in this beautiful weather before returning to the grind of the day.
July is coming to the capital, and with it oppressive heat and humidity typical for that time of year. Today is gorgeous though, with the thermometer only reaching the low eighties and humidity unseasonably low. Too bad it’s being ruined now.
“Any plans next week for the Fourth of July?”
“I thought I warned you not to talk to me.”
Blake resumes watching the people mill around the Capitol reflecting pool below us. I can’t stand the guy, but maybe I’m being too hard on him. While I’m not one to forgive and forget, I am stuck working with him now that we are allies with Senator Viano.
“No, I don’t have any plans,” I say. I’m direct, and about as nice as I can force myself to be.
“And your boss?”
“It’s one of his favorite holidays. He will be watching stuff blow up somewhere.”
“I’m never going to get you to like me, am I?” Blake comments, changing the subject after a long, serene pause.
“You have no idea how unlikely that is.” That may be the most truthful statement uttered anywhere near this building today.
“More or less unlikely than you ever trusting Senator Viano?” Blake asks. So that’s why he’s here.
“Very slick, Blake. I don’t trust either of you. None of us do.” I have daily meetings with Brian, Peyton, and the gang, and they are very vocal about their reservations with Viano and dislike of Blake. Say what you want about my generation, but we do know how to hold grudges.
“I don’t blame you, at least in one regard. I don’t trust the senator either.” Well, that’s news.
“So why get her teamed up with the congressman?
“You guys needed help. She approached me a while back, and I thought it made sense to at least make the introduction to a possible ally and let you all make the decision,” Blake explains in a manner that almost sounds sincere.
“But you don’t trust her?”
“No. I’ve know the senator for a very long time, and she can always be counted on doing whatever is in her own best interests. For some reason, she looks at working with Bennit as an opportunity, so your interests are aligned. So long as they stay that way, she will fight like a pit bull for you guys.”
“And when they aren’t aligned?”
“We’ll need to walk around with steel plates on our backs to deflect the daggers she will try to stick in them.”
“Great, there’s something to look forward to.” I study Blake for a moment, looking for any indication he’s lying to me. My BS meter is much more active than it was back in high school, probably because the people in this town make it go off so often. It’s quiet right now, which has me both concerned and curious.
“Why are you telling me this? What’s your angle?”
“You like to accuse me of always having an angle,” Blake says with a series of small laughs. “You accused me of that backstage at the debate once, remember?”
I actually do remember. In the heat of watching Mister Bennit wipe the floor with his boss, he pulled me aside to warn me that Beaumont could get desperate following the thumping he took. Blake was right, but conveniently omitted that it was he who would try to embarrass us through a baseless claim of an affair.
“Given our history, Blake, I can’t see you as the altruistic type.”
“Altruistic. Good word. I’m not going to pretend to be anything of the sort, Chelsea. I’m not perfect, but I’m also not the guy I was back when I worked for Beaumont. I want you to trust me again, and I know it will take a long time to ever get to that point.”
“You want me to trust you, or Congressman Bennit to?” I ask, wondering if there was an implied meaning to his choice of words.
“Both, but I want to start with you. I need to start with you.”
I stare into his eyes and see a pain I’ve never seen before in him. It’s the kind of thing you only read about in stories printed in Glamour or Elle magazine. For the first time since I met Blake, it actually feels like he is opening up and being genuine. I feel like there is a lot of emotion dammed up inside him that is about to come pouring out, and I am lost in the moment of it.
“I hate to interrupt … whatever this is … but we have a situation,” Vince says from behind us. I turn to see Vince staring at us with a furious look on his face. I’m not sure if it’s because he sees me with Blake or because of whatever prompted him to come find me here.
