T. Bunn - Drummer in the Dark

He used his fork to point at Valerie’s own salad and said, “That rabbit food’s not going to take you very far.”

“I don’t have much appetite today, I’m afraid.”

“You will.” The AIM chief wasn’t bad as lackeys went, fairly polished and able to mouth almost anything with sincerity. But he had the annoying habit of claiming his superiors’ comments as his own original thoughts. “I’ve been watching you operate, Ms. Lawry. You’re our kind of people. Sharp, hard-hitting, take no prisoners. I want you to head up our account.”

The senior partner dropped his fork. “Don’t you think that’s something we should discuss-”

“I’ve talked it over with my people, and that’s how it’s going to be.” As though the decision had been his to make. “Far as we’re concerned, it’s a done deal.”

Valerie wished she could be pleased. But she remained locked upon the morning’s bizarre beginnings. As she had left her Georgetown home, Jim Burke had called and demanded they meet him in a Rock Creek Parkway rest area. He had tersely spelled out directions and cut the connection.

Valerie made the drive in dark despair, knowing Burke had been sent to deliver the killing blow. She had let the Hutchings Amendment slip by her. They wanted her head on a chopping block somewhere private. She spent the drive searching frantically for some defense and coming up blank.

But when she pulled in behind the airport limo, Burke emerged only to hand her a cellphone and point toward the private overlook. With the morning traffic thundering behind her, Valerie lifted the receiver and waited for Hayek to attack.

Instead, the man had sounded almost jovial. “You must forgive this rather unorthodox means of communication, Ms. Lawry. But matters are coming to a head just now, and I wish to be utterly certain that our conversation is neither overheard nor recorded. This will be our last chat until things have settled down. I would be grateful for your assessment of events.”

He gut told her a carefully worded PR exercise was not required here. “Things,” she replied, “do not look good.”

“Please explain.”

“We’ve been blindsided. The appropriations bill was passed with the Jubilee Amendment attached, and this morning I’ve heard they plan to push the bill through Conference Committee at a record pace. Which means the time we have available to act is cut to a minimum.”

“Then fight harder.”

“We will, I assure you. We can pressure-”

“I want you to do more than pressure. I want you to create absolute havoc.”

Valerie hesitated. “Havoc comes at a very high price in Washington.”

“Spend it.”

“Just a minute. Please. You have to understand, we’re talking about people who shape national agendas. To make this a highly public issue will require bringing in the type of consultants who work on presidential races and shape national party politics. These people are not selling us their time. They’re selling access . Which they can use only so often. This means the price they charge is astronomical, far beyond anything we could logically bill our clients.”

“I will handle that. You will be hearing from the AIM representative today, just to make things official.”

“It would be wiser to hold off on a full frontal attack until the bill returns to the House and Senate floors for the final vote.”

“Impossible.” Hard and definite. “Timing is critical. I want national attention, I want battle, I want upheaval. And I want it now.”

“Nothing at this point can be guaranteed. No matter how much money you throw at it.”

She might as well not have spoken at all. “Whatever it takes, Ms. Lawry. Aim for havoc. I assume you do not require me to spell that out for you.”

Valerie’s boss was nothing if not smooth in the clinch. “Well, certainly, Ms. Lawry is one of our most prized associates, and we’re delighted to see her appreciated by our top clients.”

As the waiter stepped in to refill their glasses, Valerie smiled coldly at her boss. His gaze flicked her way and held. Message received. Associate was no longer sufficient. She wanted her own partner’s chair.

“We’re also extremely concerned about the amendment the House attached last night to the appropriations bill,” the AIM chief went on. “Of course you’re aware of this.”

Valerie allowed the partner to stutter a moment before supplying, “We are.”

“I asked for this meeting to tell you that we want you to defeat it now.”

Valerie pushed her salad to one side, leaned forward, and took control. “It’s not that simple.”

“We’re paying you to make it simple.”

“The Conference Committee is stacked against us. There are a number of waverers, but not enough for us to be certain we can turn the tide.”

“So you’ll have to work a little harder. That’s how you justify your outrageous fees, coming through in moments like this. I want you to kill this thing while it’s still in committee. Under no circumstances is this amendment to make it back to the floors for a final vote.”

A single building took up the entire eighteen-hundred block of K Street. The central atrium was eleven stories high and home to a semitropical forest and a stainless steel waterfall. The floor was tiled in a mosaic of marble and granite, the elevators at opposite corners guarded by dual security desks. The upstairs office suites came in two flavors, rich and opulent for the partners, cheap and tacky for everyone else. K Street rents were among the highest in Washington, and associates clustered in cubicles the size of padded cages. Natural light was something associates rarely glimpsed. The furniture was cubed and coldly modern, the atmosphere charged with desperate ambition, the infighting vicious.

Valerie’s sudden elevation to chief lobbyist on the AIM account meant her entry into the conference room was met with hostile envy. She fed on it as she would a carnal feast. “We are about to enter lockdown mode. Everything else on your desks is to be scrapped. We are going to attack, and we are going to do so tomorrow.”

While the shock registered, she bisected the chalkboard behind her with a line and continued, “We have to grimly salute the opposition. They have managed to place the amendment in an appropriations bill the President considers crucial and that contains perks for almost every district. Our only hope is to eliminate this one amendment while the bill is still in committee. But we are not into stealth tactics here. I fear the committee itself has been stacked against us. We must therefore create so much heat around this specific amendment with all the Senate and all the House that the committee members are forced to change direction.”

Someone along the table said the obvious. “This is going to cost them a bomb.”

“Bomb is the proper term,” Valerie agreed. “They are paying us for nuclear assault, and that is precisely what we are going to deliver.”

Wednesday

Jackie sat outside the prison gates, studying them as she would the doors of death itself. The prison parking lot was surrounded by a high stand of loblolly pine, shielding the Beeline Expressway drivers from all but a fleeting glimpse of chain link and glinting razor wire. Jackie listened to the whispered wail of her own heart. Start the motor, back out of the lot, take the entrance ramp in either direction. Put some solid distance between herself and the most idiotic thought that had ever entered her brain.

Why she had made such a preposterous offer to Eric she could not begin to say. Every ounce of logic told her there was still time, she could go back and heft that sack of cash and name it her very own far-away fund. But despite her finest arguments and the rising cry of her own heart, she started toward the gate and the line of visitors passing through security.