The iCongressman, page 23
part #2 of The Michael Bennit Series Series
“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.”
-FORTY-NINE-
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.
-FIFTY-
SENATOR VIANO
Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. With my husband gone almost all the time, it is the only couple of hours where I’m not bothered. Except, of course, when Michael Bennit takes it upon himself to sit in the seat across from me.
“I don’t remember inviting you to sit down,” I say smugly.
“And I don’t remember either asking or giving a shit,” he responds in kind. I dab the corners of my mouth with a napkin, half tempted to get up and leave him with the check.
“Just don’t flip the table until I’m finished eating. How did you find me?”
“Turned out to be easier than trying to pronounce the name of this place,” he quips, ordering a coffee when the waiter comes by.
La Chambre aux Oiseaux didn’t seem that complicated to say, but then again, Michael Bennit is a bit of a Neanderthal. For those who failed high school French, it translates to The House of Birds and has been my favorite eatery for more than a decade now. Not only is it close to where I live in Old Town Alexandria, but the food is beyond reproach.
“At least you showed up without a trail of reporters.”
“I managed to lose the paparazzi on the way out of town. How long have you known about the resolution?”
“Which one?” Best to remain coy and find out how much he knows.
“I didn’t realize we were seated at the kids’ table, Marilyn. Maybe we should move this meeting to a McDonald’s PlayPlace so you can feel more at home―”
“Did you expect this Congress to stand idly by while you threaten the way they’ve done business for decades?” I interrupt, getting the point. I already know what he’s talking about. “Lobbyists are going crazy and are pushing our current crop of legislators to regain control of the situation. You are removing money from the political equation, and it is making them very nervous.”
“You’re telling me lobbyists are behind this?” Oops, time to back track a little. I need to keep my composure and watch my tongue.
“No, I’m telling you they are prodding the parties to go in the direction the leadership was already heading. Independents are loose cannons most fear will disrupt the operation of the House. To limit the upheaval in political order, they will force you all to caucus with a political party.”
Most of America would have no idea what I just said, nor would they care. The inner workings of Congress are of little interest to the public, and this will be no different. The citizens of this country elected Michael and his misfit toys to do a job and don’t want to hear excuses as to why they can’t do it. There is no way the majority of the population would understand that the independents are being sabotaged before even starting.
“They have to know we might form our own party and caucus because of this. Our current winner-takes-all approach to elections in this country doesn’t work well with a three-party structure, and its creation will lead to instability like you see in Europe’s parliamentary systems. It makes no sense that they would push for this.”
“You’ve publically stated you won’t form a third party.”
“And if I do, now they can paint me as a liar and deceiver,” he says, finally figuring out a part of the game.
“Now you get it,” I condescendingly affirm.
“They’re playing with a live hand grenade. It’s still a possibility. Forcing us to join a caucus―”
“Join their caucuses, Michael, not caucus with a third party.”
“Thus eliminating the havoc created by having no majority party in the House and reestablishing the system in place that makes committee assignments, selects the Speaker, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Precisely.”
“That’s why you were pushing for this on Election Night. You knew it would come to this.”
I take a long sip of my own coffee as the waiter arrives with his. Maybe this meeting is more beneficial than I thought. I long assumed I could not sway Michael over to my line of thinking, but perhaps I misread him again.
“People are running around Capitol Hill like it is raining razor blades. What do you think their next step is?” he inquires.
“They need to pass this during the lame duck session. The votes of the outgoing members are key, and providing cover for those lucky enough to get reelected is a top priority. On occasion, the House will pass rules that take effect for the next Congress. This is one of those moments. They’ll announce the new resolution on the Sunday morning talk show circuit—Meet the Press, Face the Nation, This Week, Fox News Sunday …”
“So I need to talk to the independents by then and get them on board for our own party.”
“That would be my line of thinking. The rules bill is going to pass—there will be enormous pressure put on the members to vote yes. If you form a third party the day it’s signed, you undermine their efforts―”
“Leaving them all the political downside without any of the upside.” Wow, he actually gets it.
Michael regards me after draining the rest of his cup of coffee. I will never understand the allure of being a caffeine junkie. I can almost see his mind in overdrive trying to process what I told him, looking for flaws in the plan. There are none. Everything is working just like I originally hoped it would. Maybe I should have approached him far earlier in the process instead of trying to ambush him on the night of the election. Perhaps all he needed was a chance to get used to the idea.
“Who would run this new party?”
“We would,” I respond, leaning forward in my seat. “You from the House and me when I announce a Senate run next year using the same template in the midterm elections. If we can command sizable numbers in both houses of Congress, we will have succeeded in forming the third party Americans are desperately calling for.”
Michael spends a few moments thinking about what I said while the waiter refills his coffee. One thing I love about this restaurant is that the service is impeccable. Once the cup is brimming with steaming java and the waiter moves off, he brings up the subject I was wondering if I would hear.
“We’ve been getting a lot of threats lately.”
“You’re a congressman. Threats come with the territory. I used to get them myself. I’m sure you’ve received some before today.”
“Not this many.”
“You’re a national figure now. Even more than you were when you were the iCandidate. Are these cyber threats or letters?”
“Both, but a lot more letters. It feels almost ... planned.”
“I’m assuming you’re smart enough to bring these concerns to the proper authorities.”
“Of course. They haven’t gotten anywhere with their investigation yet.” Part of me would be surprised if they did. If a threat is not immediately determined to be credible or imminent, things move remarkably slowly.
“Maybe someone thinks they can intimidate you. Independents by definition are not united and make easy targets.”
“You don’t think that lone crazies are just coming out of the woodwork?”
“I have no idea, but look at the timing. It would be pretty damn coincidental.”
Michael is one of those rare leaders who thinks about others before himself. A trait he picked up during his military service, no doubt. I am certain this line of questioning is out of concern for his staff more than himself.
“Do you think creating a third party will make it stop?” I exhale, taking a moment to look like I am thinking of an answer.
“If they are mentally unstable people looking to make the six o’clock news, no, the threat’s won’t stop. If it’s a planned effort by some groups to influence your vote, then it will. There is strength in numbers, especially in national politics.”
“Okay,” he says, finishing the rest of his second cup of coffee before getting up out of his seat. I’ve never met a man more fond of caffeine. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be in touch.”
“No problem. I’m here to help if you need me. We’ll chat soon.”
I can only smile to myself as he walks away.
-FIFTY-ONE-
MICHAEL
“He should be here any minute,” I hear Chelsea say from my office as I pass by the other staff outside my door.
“He’s here now,” I say with a smile, crossing through the open door into my office with Cisco right behind me. Fresh off a landslide victory for the ages in his Texas district, he’s eager to mix it up. I notice Amanda, Emilee, Peyton, and Brian are all present on the Skype session connected from a laptop to the big screen television on the wall. “Is X going to join?”
“He’s got an away game tonight and is in transit. I briefed him on what’s going on before he left. He sends his best.”
“Who’s he playing, Chels?”
“UNC.” Oh, that’s going to be a good game.
I give the love of my life a kiss. It may be the middle of a workday with media sharks chummed into a feeding frenzy, but Kylie still made it here to this meeting. I know she is still having problems adapting to her role as an investigative journalist with the Post, but her being here shows how fed up with her job she is. She wants to get in on the action.
