The iCongressman, page 20
part #2 of The Michael Bennit Series Series
“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.
-FORTY-TWO-
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?
-FORTY-THREE-
SENATOR VIANO
There are few things more thrilling to the politically minded than a presidential election year. Between the contest for the Oval Office and the phenomenon that is the social media candidacies of over a hundred independents for the House, the media is so elated they have been doing cartwheels for weeks.
Now that we have finally reached Election Day, coverage is at a fever pitch. Networks are paying rapt attention to what the viewers want to see more of and are desperate to give it to them. Considering how tuned in the country is, the competition over who calls what races first will be as staunch as ever.
“Exit polls across the country are telling the story of this election. America is fed up with politics as usual in Washington,” an analyst says from in front of a huge display of the United States, “and that is being felt in the ardent conservative and liberal districts where social media candidates are running. These exit polls indicate that many of these races will be decided with the final votes cast …”
The knock on my hotel room door interrupts the trance the cable news coverage had me in. Probably for the best as it’s almost time to head to Millfield.
“Blake?” I ask after answering the door. “This is a pleasant surprise. Come in.” What the hell does he want? It’s not like I wasn’t planning on seeing him in an hour.
“Thanks,” he says, entering my hotel room suite and looking around. “Where’s Wonder Dog?”
“I assume you mean my superhero-infatuated former chief of staff. It’s Election Day. He’s handling his duties for his current boss. His absence has been noticed of late so he can’t exactly skip out on holding his boss’s hand as he loses an election.”
“I suppose not.”
“I’m just getting ready to head to the coffee shop. Something on your mind?” Not that I really care if something is or not, but he wouldn’t be bothering me otherwise.
“Yeah, there is. What’s your plan?” The question isn’t bothering me so much as how he is asking it. While there is no way he could know with any certainty what is in store on this big night, I have to wonder what he’s been able to deduce.
“My plan? What do you mean?” I reply, stalling and fishing for more information at the same time.
“Senator, I’ve known you my whole life. I grew up listening to you and your political adventures at the dinner table at Thanksgiving. You don’t help people out of the kindness of your own heart. You are doing this for a purpose, and it’s time you let me in on it.”
Isn’t that bold of him? I have toyed with the idea of looping him in, but I can’t be sure whether I trust him yet or not.
“Okay, Blake, you’ve earned that much. I do like Michael Bennit, but you know what I think of the House of Representatives. There is a reason the Senate is known as the ‘upper chamber.’ Anyway, I will never get support as a traditional candidate again after the Democrats abandoned me. So, I want to run as the first icandidate in the Senate.”
“I don’t believe you,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not. It’s the truth and whether you accept it or not is your problem.”
“You can run again any time you like, Aunt Marilyn. You have connections and financial resources and didn’t have to help Bennit for that.”
“I believe social media candidacies are the future of elections in the United States, but doesn’t it makes sense for me to want an unassailable proof of concept that running as a virtual candidate can work? We have demonstrated the viability of running an election this way, regardless of tonight’s results. Now I plan to march a new wave of icandidates into the Senate in two years,” I lie. A convincing one, if I may say so myself, but a lie nonetheless. “And since when do you think you have the right to question my motives? That’s pretty ballsy, even for you.”
I can almost hear the gears turning in Blake’s head. I have him back on his heels, questioning everything he thought he knew. There is an old adage that claims “the truth will set you free.” It’s a load of crap. In politics, the truth only gets you in trouble. Lies are much more convenient.
“If that were true, you would have told me from the beginning. No, there’s more to it you’re not letting me in on.”
“You are your father’s son, Blake.” I pause, putting my coat on and thinking exactly how I want to put this. I still need him on my side. “You know, I loved my brother to death, but he could be a crazy ideologue when he wanted to be. Everything was about sacrifice and honor with him.”
“You talk as if that’s a bad thing.”
“It is when it is both unappreciated and unreciprocated. Do you really think the people of this country give a damn about his sacrifice? About anyone’s for that matter? Sure, they pay it lip service, but all anyone really cares about are themselves. They prove it day after day and election after election. It’s why we are in the same place now that we were thirty years ago. Americans cannot be bothered.”
“And you’re any different?”
“No, I’m no different, with one major exception. I care enough to educate myself and am willing to make the tough decisions for them.”
“You sound like a despot,” he scoffs, clearly not buying my benevolent women of the people routine.
“You used to agree with me, remember? Why do you think you worshipped Beaumont once upon a time? I got you in the door with him because you were two peas in the same pod.”
“Don’t compare me with Winston Beaumont.”
“Why? Does the truth hurt? You may be engaging in some revisionist history, but we all know the truth. That crisis of conscience you had was nothing more than weakness. You may pat yourself on the back for taking down a scoundrel, but you’ll be remembered for your disloyalty and nothing more.”
“How I am judged for my past actions isn’t as important to me as how I want to be judged for my present ones,” he says, sounding like a quote on morality. “I know you’re up to something, and since you feel compelled not to include me, I’m going to assume it’s not in Bennit’s best interests. Or mine.”
“Assume away, Blake. I don’t require your approval or your counsel.”
“No, but you do require the congressman’s. If I think for a second you are working against him, I will do everything I can to freeze you out.” That’s an empty pledge coming from Blake. He doesn’t hold any standing with Michael or his campaign staff, and I’m annoyed that he dare challenge me like this.
I was right when I made the decision not to loop him in. I almost caved after the debate and am sincerely happy I went with my gut and didn’t. Blake’s loyalty to Michael, his staff, and his combativeness towards me leads to another problem. I planned to include him at some point, but now the price is too high. Things have changed, blood is not always thicker than water, and I can’t count on him being in my corner. I need to find a way to get him removed from the situation.
“I have been nothing but helpful to Michael, and I will continue to be long after you are nothing more than an afterthought. With all the challenges he faces, I am beginning to think you are a bigger problem for him than you think I am.”
“Keep believing that, Aunt Marilyn. I’ll be watching you.” With that, Blake leaves the room, the door closing behind him.
“That’s right, Blake, keep watching. Maybe you’ll finally learn how it’s really done in Washington,” I say to myself once he’s gone.
-FORTY-FOUR-
SPEAKER ALBRIGHT
“It’s now seven p.m. and polls have closed in seven states. We have some projections both in the presidential race and the closely watched congressional races.”
For the first time in my political career, I am more interested in the congressional races than who wins the presidency. The race to become the next president will come down to just a handful of swing states as usual. The Republicans still hold dominion over the South, Midwest, and Texas. The Dems still own the Pacific Northwest, New England states, New York, New Jersey, parts of the Rust Belt, and California. Per usual, the contest comes down to the voters in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Florida, and Virginia. I only half listen as the analysts on CNN drone on about precisely that.
My political career hangs on the ability of social media to get people to the polls. Watching the first Bennit campaign, the world saw what a capable social media candidacy could do. Not only did he reach people and establish a rapport with them, it became a motivated grassroots effort that showed up at the polls. But that was then and this is now. Now he’s the iCongressman, and the question for tonight is whether he can spur the other independents running virtual campaigns to similar turnouts.
“There are seventeen independent candidates running in districts where polls are closed, and we are ready to announce some early results. In Georgia, we can proclaim Michael Garcia winner over the Republican incumbent. The other races there are too close to call. In South Carolina, it looks like Speaker of the House Johnston Albright will keep his seat, but two fellow incumbents have fallen. We project Independents Mickey Stevenson and Pamela Russell will claim the seats in districts that have been Republican held for a generation.”
I listen as the anchor announces similar results in Kentucky and Indiana. This is a nightmare.
“The Democrats are also falling victim to the icandidates. We can now announce that five-term incumbent Geraldine Cantera from Vermont has lost her seat to Jeremy Penton. And in Virginia, Democrats Kenneth Michaud and Brett Gemmell, serving strong blue districts around Richmond, have also been defeated.”
I wish I could take solace in knowing that any of those seats were vulnerable. They weren’t. Had there not been independents running, the incumbents from both parties would have won easily.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case, and it’s all because of that damned Michael Bennit. How could one man create so much havoc with so much unmitigated regularity? Harvey was right—he was a threat. The only disagreement now was whether we needed to get rid of him or let political natural selection run its course.
