Brad Meltzer - The First Councel

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Pam persists.

“Yeah,” I answer. I slowly pick my head up. That’s when he does the most incredible thing of all. He looks right at me and smiles.

“Is everything okay, Michael?” he asks.

The entire room turns and waits for my answer. “Y-Yeah,” I stammer. “Just waiting to get started.”

“Good, then let’s get right to it.” As Simon makes a few general announcements, I try my best to wipe the bewilderment from my face. If I hadn’t looked him straight in the eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. He didn’t even take a second glance at the cut on my forehead. Whatever happened last night, Simon doesn’t know I was there.

“There’s one last thing I want to comment on and then we can get to new business,” Simon explains. “In this morning’s Herald , an article made reference to a birthday party we threw for our favorite assistant to the President.” All eyes shoot to Lawrence Lamb, who refuses to acknowledge even the slightest bit of attention. “The article went on to mention that the Vice President was noticeably absent from the invite list, and that the crowd was buzzing with rumors of why he wasn’t there. Now, in case you’ve already forgotten, besides the President and the First Family, the only other people in that room were a handful of senior staffers and approximately fourteen representatives from this office.” He rests his hands flat on the desk and lets the silence drive home his point.

Without question, he has us. I may never look at him the same way again, but when he turns it on, Edgar Simon is an incredible lawyer. A master of saying it without saying it, he takes a quick scan of everyone in the room. “Whoever it was-it has to stop. They’re not asking those questions to make us look good, and this close to reelection, you should all be smarter than that. Am I making myself clear?”

Slowly, a grumble of acquiescence runs through the room. No one likes to be blamed for leaks. I stare at Simon knowing it’s the least of his problems.

“Great, then let’s put it behind us and move on. Time for some new business. Around the room, starting with Zane.”

Looking up from his legal pad, Julian Zane smirks wide. It’s the third meeting in a row that he’s been called on first. Pathetic. As if any of us is even counting.

“Still haggling with SEC reform,” Julian says in a self-important tone that slaps us all across the face. “I’m meeting with the Speaker’s counsel today to hit a few of the issues-he wants it so bad, he’s skipping recess. After that, I think I’ll be ready to present the decision memo.”

I cringe as Julian blurts his last few syllables. The decision memo is our office’s official policy recommendation on an issue. And while we do the research and writing for it, the finished product is usually presented to the President by Simon. Every once in a while, we get to do the presentation too. “Mr. President, here’s what we’re looking at… ” It’s the ultimate White House carrot-and something I’ve been waiting two years for.

Last week, Simon announced that Julian was presenting. It’s no longer news. Still, Julian can’t help but mention it.

Shading his eyes as he checks his schedule, Simon reveals the same silhouette I saw in his car. I try to bury it, but I can’t. All I see is that forty grand-ten of which is now linked to me.

Simon shoots me a look, and a hiccup of bile stabs up from my stomach. If he does know, he’s playing games. And if he doesn’t… I don’t care if he doesn’t. As soon as we’re out of here, I’m calling in some favors.

With a quick nod, we move to the person on Julian’s right. Daniel L. Serota. A shared smile engulfs the rest of the room. Here comes Danny L.

Everyone hired by the Counsel’s Office brings their own personal strength to the office. Some of us are smart, some are politically connected, some are good at dealing with the press, and some are good at dealing with pressure.

Danny L? He’s good at dealing with large documents.

He scratches the front of his glasses with his fingernails, trying to remove a smudge. As always, his dark hair is out of control. “The Israelis had it right. I went through every MEMCON we have on file,” he explains, referring to the memoranda of conversations, which are taken by aides when the President talks to a head of state. “The President and the Prime Minister never even speculated about how the hardware got there. And they certainly never mentioned U.N. interference.”

“And you got through every MEMCON that was in Records Management?” Simon asks.

“Yeah. Why?”

“There were over fifteen thousand pages in there.”

Danny L. doesn’t skip a beat. “So?”

Simon shakes his head, while Pam leans over to pat Danny L. on the back. “You’re my hero,” she tells him. “You really are.”

As the laughter dies down, I continue to fight my panic. Simon’s enjoying himself too much. That doesn’t bode well for what he was doing in the woods. At first, I liked to think he was a victim. Now I’m not so sure.

My mind churns through the possibilities as Pam takes her turn. The associate in charge of background checks for judicial appointments, Pam knows all the dirt about our country’s future judges. “We have about three that should be ready for announcement by the end of the week,” she explains, “including Stone for the Ninth Circuit.”

“What about Gimbel?” Simon asks.

“On the D.C. Circuit? He’s one of the three. I’m waiting for some final paperw-”

“So everything checks out with him? No problems?” Simon interrupts in a skeptical tone.

Something’s wrong. He’s setting Pam up.

“As far as I know, there’re no problems,” Pam says hesitantly. “Why?”

“Because at the Senior Staff meeting this morning, someone told me there are rumors floating around that Gimbel had an illegitimate child with one of his old secretaries. Apparently, he’s been sending them hush money for years.”

The consequences quickly sink in. As the room falls silent, all eyes turn toward Pam. Simon’s going to hammer her on this one. “We’ve got an election that’s two months away,” he begins, his tone unnervingly composed, “and a President who just signed major legislation against deadbeat dads. So what do we do for an encore? We tell the world that Hartson’s current judicial candidate has intimate knowledge of our newest law.” Across the room, I see Julian and a few others laugh. “Don’t even snicker,” Simon warns. “In all the time I’ve been here, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen all three branches of government collide so embarrassingly.”

“I’m sorry,” Pam says. “He never mentioned anything abou-”

“Of course he didn’t mention it-that’s why it’s called a background check.” Simon’s voice remains calm, but he’s losing his patience. He must’ve taken plenty of heat in Senior Staff to be this worked up-and with Bartlett’s campaign slowly closing in, all the bigshots are on edge. “Isn’t that your job, Ms. Cooper? Isn’t that the point?”

“Take it easy, Edgar,” a female voice interrupts. I turn to my right and see Caroline Penzler wagging a finger from the couch. Dressed in a cheap wool blazer despite the warm weather, the heavyset Caroline is Pam’s supervisor on nominations. She’s also one of the few people in the room who’s not afraid of Simon. “If Gimbel kept it quiet and there’s no paper trail, it’s almost impossible for us to know.”

Appreciating the save, Pam nods a silent thank-you to her mentor.

Still, Simon’s unimpressed. “She didn’t ask the right questions,” he blasts at Caroline. “That’s the only reason it went through your legs.”