William Bernhardt - Capitol Threat

“I imagine we’re not the only ones in this town making a few plans tonight,” Matera ventured.

“That much is certain. Did you see the latest televised Haskins appearance?”

“At the hospital? Sure. Such a modest man! So unambitious.”

“That’s his story. But I’m willing to bet he read every one of those op-ed pieces recommending him for the nomination after Justice Cornwall died. I bet he was just as mad as I would be when he was passed over.” Keyes chuckled, which sent his considerable girth jiggling, girdled though it was by the vest of a three-piece suit. “Rule One of Washington politics: Never count your nominations until they’re hatched.”

“Whether he wanted the job before or not,” Matera replied, “now he’s got a second shot. If Roush fails, the President will want a sure thing so he can appoint a justice before his term expires. Everyone said before that Haskins was the most likely candidate.”

“Which is exactly why that dog won’t hunt.” The Texas aphorisms didn’t come to Keyes as easily as they once did, just as his Texas twang had faded after decades of spending the better part of the year in Washington. Except when he needed it. “How do the President’s boys explain why he wasn’t chosen before?”

“The President was punishing Haskins for his decision in Barnett v. Adams. He had a chance to narrowly conscribe Roe v. Wade. He didn’t take it.”

“And the Christian Congregation wanted him punished. But now that he’s had his hand slapped a little, they’re willing to reconsider. Assuming he’s willing to give them the assurances they require on certain hot-button issues.”

“You think he will?”

“You saw that media event at the hospital, right?” Keyes paused. “Hell, yeah, I think he’ll give them what they want. I think he’ll give it to them wrapped in gold leaf. The President will get everything he wants.”

“You’re missing the point,” Matera said. “It isn’t about what the President wants. It’s about what he can sell to the people who put him in office. If Haskins was unacceptable once, he’s still unacceptable.”

“Unless he does something to make himself more acceptable,” Keyes said sagely. “Which is, I would imagine, the whole point of his visit to our fair capital city. He needs to show he can be of invaluable service. Win back the good graces of the President via intermediaries.” He took another sip from his snifter. “If either of you hears about Haskins visiting with Richard Trevor or anyone else at the Christian Congregation, I want to know about it immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Potter piped in.

“Meanwhile, we must focus on giving the President what he wants from us. Thaddeus Roush dead.” He polished off his drink and motioned for a refill. “Dead in the water. Dead as a Supreme Court nominee.” He held his refilled beveled glass snifter up to the light, watching it refract into a rainbow of colors. “This is probably the biggest embarrassment of Blake’s career. Gives a rousing speech about what a great jurist this guy is, then the guy outs himself. Hell of a note, isn’t it? The Democrats are rallying support around a Republican nominee, and the Republicans no longer want anything to do with him.” He chuckled. “Suddenly President Blake, the staunch supporter of the Defense of Marriage Act, has nominated the first openly gay Supreme Court justice. If something doesn’t happen fast, he’ll lose his base of support. His approval ratings are already plunging. This mess could have negative ramifications for us all.” He stared at the prismatic glass a little longer. Maybe this stuff did help him think. “Has the Congregation taken any official position yet?”

“They’re stuck in the same conundrum as the President,” Matera explained. “Can’t afford to publicly denounce a Republican candidate. My people think they may be creating or funding a third-party lobbying group, something not officially tied to them, an organization with the freedom to speak out about this nomination. Sort of a Swift Boat Veterans for torpedoing a homosexual judge.”

“Wonderful.” Keyes drew in his breath slowly, his eyes becoming reflective. “Jessie, do you believe these people choose to be gay?”

Matera coughed. “Well, I…I…don’t really know much about it.”

“Did you choose your sexual preference?”

“I don’t recall ever having to give it much thought.”

“Exactly.” Keyes stretched, his hands behind his neck. “I don’t think people choose to be gay. Why would they? All the scientific studies indicate that it’s not chosen, not learned. Nature rather than nurture. And yet like it or not, this inclination written into the genetic code is enough to keep this man off the court. Damn shame, really. Fine man like Roush. Fine mind. Head in the right place on most of the issues. Little soft on the death penalty, but no one’s perfect. In Texas, we have to insist upon the efficacy of the death penalty—otherwise we’ve killed a lot of folks for no good reason. Elsewhere, a man can afford to have reasonable doubts. Fact remains—Roush could be a fine justice. A lot better than some of the idiots on the court now, men and women who only got there because their lives have been so damned boring they could survive the confirmation process. But we’ve got to kill this nomination. Whatever it takes, we’ve got to work together and do it.”

“Actually,” Potter offered, “I don’t think we have to do anything. According to my unofficial straw poll, Roush doesn’t have a chance of clearing the full Senate.”

Keyes smiled again. There was nothing quite so refreshing—if a bit exasperating—as youthful naïveté. “Roush can never get to the full Senate. He can’t survive our committee vote.”

“But—why?”

“Because if he does, every senator in our party will be forced to take a public stand on what by then will be, if indeed it is not already, a referendum on gay rights.”

“But our party has always opposed—”

“And the people do not need to be reminded of that point. Polls show it’s a major bone of contention. Possibly second only to our stance on abortion. The plurality of the people do not share our view. That’s why we must protect our brethren by preventing them from being forced to vote.”

“But—the only way they could not vote—?”

“You’ve got it exactly. They don’t vote if we kill the nomination in committee. But we have to come up with a reason for it. Something that isn’t about him being a homosexual. Even if it really is all about him being a homosexual.”

“And that would be…?”

“Don’t know yet.” Keyes polished off the last of his drink. “But I will. Soon. That’s my job. To protect the President from his own stupidity.”

“But—with what?”

“Don’t know yet.” Keyes’s eyes narrowed. He stared directly at his two companions, one, then the other. “But I have men looking for it. And I want you two to join the search.”

Matera leaned forward. “What it is we’re searching for?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t need your help.” Keyes steepled his fingers before his face. “But I do. Make no mistake about it. This is important. Quite possibly the most important thing you have ever done or ever will do in your entire life. The Supreme Court is evenly divided ideologically. The new justice could well cast the deciding vote on every issue of importance for years to come. What’s more, if we don’t act swiftly and decisively, the fundamentalist support that has been the cornerstone of this party for at least twenty years could be lost. And that, my friends, could eviscerate the entire party and put us all out of work.”

Keyes paused, then sat up. “Equally important, we cannot give the Democrats a victory. Is it a coincidence that they picked up Roush the instant our party let him go? Of course not. We must stop the encroachment of rampant amoral permissive liberalism, the plague that is tearing this country apart, eating away at our moral fiber. Make no mistake about it—this is an ideological war. A battle for the soul of this once great nation. And as in every war, there will likely be casualties.” He hunched over his desk, staring straight ahead. “So—find me that smoking gun. The one that puts a bullet in the center of the forehead of Thaddeus Roush.” Keyes lowered himself slowly back into his chair. “And anyone else who gets in our way.”