The iCongressman, page 31
part #2 of The Michael Bennit Series Series
-SIXTY-NINE-
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.”
-SEVENTY-
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.”
-SEVENTY-ONE-
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.”
-SEVENTY-TWO-
SPEAKER ALBRIGHT
“Mister Speaker,” my secretary says as I enter the room, “the majority leader is waiting for you in your office.” Oh, that’s just great. He isn’t wasting any time, is he?
I walk in to find the smug bastard I call a friend sitting in the chair behind my desk. The only better signal of his ambitions other than comfortably ensconcing himself in my office is catching him measuring for new drapes.
“You may covet that chair, Harvey, but I strongly suggest you remove yourself from it until it’s yours,” I say in as harsh a tone as I can muster.
“That day may be closer than you think,” he responds, rising from it and circling back towards the front of my oversized desk. “That vote sealed your fate, Johnston. The committee wanted no part of your continued leadership next Congress before this disaster, and they certainly won’t after it.”
The Republican Study Committee is the most conservative and largest element of my membership. It is also very influential when we ballot for leadership positions every two years, and Harvey owns it.
“And you think you are going to curry favor with them? What will they say when they find out you were the architect of all this?”
Blame avoidance is a way of life on Capitol Hill. Nobody takes responsibility for any negative action that can ever show up in an opponent’s television ad. The same axiom applies when jockeying for positions of power in Washington.
“All I did was pass on the concerns of the members.”
“You’re the one who put me up to all this! If you had listened to me in the first place, Bennit would be gone and there would have been no icandidates.”
“Inaction was not a feasible alternative. Nobody was willing to bury their heads in the sand and hope he didn’t become a problem later. I think the party thought you were capable of handling Michael Bennit. Do you think Gingrich or Boehner would have failed so miserably? Hell, even Pelosi could have navigated these waters better than you.”
Comparing any political leader to predecessors in that manner is an incredible insult. Stepanik is trying to get me emotional so I say something stupid, but I’m not going to take the bait. I have played this game for far too long.
I pull the Macallan out along with the pair of tulip-shaped glass tumblers. How many drinks have I shared with Harvey Stepanik in this very office? I pour us both a couple of fingers and hand him his glass. He accepts it apprehensively, no doubt wondering why I am offering to drink with him as he plots my political downfall. Frankly, I’m wondering the same thing. Politics makes strange bedfellows, but rarely does your most trusted political ally become your most ardent political adversary.
“Do you know how South Carolina got the nickname ‘The Palmetto State’?”
“What?”
“You aren’t deaf, Harvey. You heard me. Do you know?”
“No.”
“It refers to our state tree, the Sabal Palmetto, which has a historical significance dating back to the American Revolution. In 1776, we repulsed the British fleet’s attack on Sullivan’s Island. Colonel Moultrie had a palmetto-log fort built that withstood a withering barrage of British cannon fire until the fleet retreated.”
“You’re starting to sound like Bennit.” He’s right, I do. “You think you’re going to survive the bombardment heading your way?”
“That’s the idea.”
Stepanik presses his lips together and nods before taking a long sip of his scotch. What is he up to now?
“What will happen when it’s made public that you knowingly colluded with a major lobby group to frame Michael Bennit for accepting a bribe in an attempt to expel him?”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did. We know James Reed sent you the pictures and you knew it was a setup. We wanted you to get rid of Bennit, not compromise the integrity of the party. Add to that this debacle we just witnessed―”
“Harvey, I swear, I had no idea those photos were―”
Harvey holds up his hand to stop me. He swirls the last of the scotch in the glass before drinking it in one swallow. He places the glass down on my desk and we just stand and stare at each other for a long moment.
