William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“There’s nothing I can do to prevent someone from filing a suit,” Ben said.

“Yes, but if she does, you can crush it dead before it gets out of hand. I’ve followed your career, Ben. You’re smart, you’re hardworking, and you’ve got credibility. People believe you. That work you did up in Chicago on the Tony Barovick case-absolutely brilliant. And very well covered by the media. You came out smelling like a rose, even though you had a supremely unsympathetic client. How many defense attorneys could’ve pulled that off? I think that case made you the best-known attorney from the state of Oklahoma.”

“And, ironically,” Christina interjected, “the poorest.”

“Anyway, that’s why I want you working for me. If you can defend a violent gay-basher and come out looking good, my case should be a cinch.”

“You can’t be sure of that, Todd. I’m new to this town. I’m not even licensed to practice here.”

“Big deal. We’ll line up some token local counsel and get you admitted pro hac vice. The bottom line is this: if you tell the judges this case is frivolous, they’ll listen, and we can get rid of it before the right-wing nudniks turn it into a political football.”

“The plaintiffs will try to make you out as some sort of sexual predator. The Senate lothario. Anything to back that up?”

“Like what?”

“Prior incidents. In the office or elsewhere.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Todd,” Ben said slowly, “you’re a lawyer. You know how important it is to tell your counselor everything. The good and the bad.”

“Ben, there’s nothing. So what do you think? Will you go to bat for me?”

“I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Sure you can. You can guarantee you’ll do your damnedest. That’s all I can ask of anyone.” His eyes shifted slightly. “And I want you working right beside him, Ms. McCall.”

Christina shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Senator… I’m not sure I should be working on this case. I-”

He held up his hands. “I know. You think I’m a scum bucket. You think I forced that intern to perform a vile sex act against her will. Veronica wasn’t like that. I’d been with her before-she was a poster girl for saying ‘no’ when she meant ‘please God yes.’ But you don’t have to believe me. In fact, I don’t want you to believe me. I think it’ll be good to have a skeptic working with Ben, someone to play devil’s advocate. That could be very valuable when we’re planning our strategy.”

Christina’s head tilted slowly to one side. “If you say so.”

“I know so. I also know that-”

He was interrupted by a burly man, sandy-haired, with a bright tie and a pin-striped suit that was way too flashy for Ben’s taste. He seated himself in the fourth chair at their table without asking. “How’s it hanging, Todd?”

Glancy did not appear particularly pleased or amused to see his visitor. “Oh, fine. Just a day like any other,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“Todd, we’ve got to talk about the Alaska bill.”

Glancy brought Ben and Christina into the picture. “This is Steve Melanfield of Kodiak Oil. He’s a lobbyist.” He frowned at his new guest. “I didn’t think they allowed lobbyists in here.”

Melanfield grinned. “Just a matter of greasing the right palms.”

Glancy turned back to Ben. “You have to understand that in DC, there’s a certain hierarchy. The president is at the top, of course. Then the Senate majority leader, the Speaker of the House, et cetera, et cetera. And lobbyists fit in… well, somewhere beneath the carnival geeks. You know, the guys who bite the heads off live chickens. There’s no one lower. Except the NRA lobbyists.”

Melanfield was unfazed. “Come on, Todd, let’s be friends. I’d think you could use a pal right now. Especially one who could put a lot of loot into your campaign coffers.” He paused. “Or your defense fund.”

“And you’re willing to give that to me?”

“Damn straight.”

“And all you ask in return?”

“Is that you reconsider your position on the Alaska wilderness bill. It’s your opposition that’s keeping the bill from getting out of committee.”

“You know what that bill would do.”

“Yeah, I do. It would allow us to stop being dependent on foreign oil. Which would allow the U.S. to stop meddling in the Middle East in a never-ending series of conflicts that only increase anti-American sentiment and kill thousands of U.S. troops.”

“By turning what is quite literally the last untouched wilderness preserve in the fifty states into a noisome oil refinery.”

“We’ve spent billions in the Middle East -”

“Inveighing against foreign policy I don’t support won’t persuade me to change my vote, Steve. I won’t do it. Not for your money or anyone else’s.”

“You know it’s going to happen, Todd. Eventually. Just a matter of time. When the people want oil bad enough, they’ll demand that their politicians find it, quick. And that’ll mean bye-bye, Alaskan preserve.”

Glancy sighed. “The sad thing is, you’re probably right. But it’s not going to happen on my watch. Now push off, will you?”

Melanfield rose to his feet, no longer smiling. “You’re making a big mistake, Todd. Mark my words-you’ll regret this.” He left the room.

“I think you just made an enemy,” Ben said.

“You can’t be a senator without making enemies. But a man has to draw the line somewhere, even in this day and age, when politics are dominated by big money. Can you imagine-letting the last untouched American wilderness be destroyed by oil companies? This is the country that invented conservation, the whole idea of preserving land from development. We had the first national park system in the world. And slowly but surely we’ve let that American ideal be eroded. Logging in the national forests. Commercial sponsors in the national parks. And now this. Well, I’m drawing a line in the sand. Whatever it costs me.”

“At least he’s a lobbyist, not a senator.”

“Right. Which means he has a lot more clout.”

“What?”

“Sorry to disillusion you, Ben, but lobbyists run this town. There are more than fifteen thousand of them running around any given time of the year. And they have enormous influence.”

“Because of their campaign contributions?”

“Money is good, no doubt about it. But what these guys really have that makes them indispensable is information. They can determine whether a senator comes off as an out-of-touch dodo or a sapient policy analyst.”

“But your staff-”

“Is overworked and underpaid. You have any idea how many thousand of bills we have to consider every year? No one could possibly be knowledgeable about all of them. But if the media catch you with your pants down, even once, they’ll crucify you. So we call on lobbyists to give us the quick and accurate info we need to seem informed. That’s the true source of their power. Pissing one off, any of them, can have serious repercussions.”

“Nonetheless,” Ben noted, “you just did it.”

He looked out the corner of his eye and smiled. “Like the distinguished representative from Arkansas said. Don’t let the bastards get you down.”

S handy hadn’t intended to invade anyone’s privacy. She just needed a few moments to herself. Sure, she wanted this job-had fought for it, in fact. Had done everything imaginable to get it. But what a day to start work! There had been almost no orientation, not even instructions on how to work the coffee machine. The moment she returned from the senator’s committee meeting and the keenly disturbing aftermath, that rhymes-with-witch Amanda (Shandy didn’t like to use sexist terms, even to herself) had shoved a pile of phone messages into her hand and told her to return the calls-without telling anyone anything. Good luck with that.