William Bernhardt - Capitol Threat

“I gather that’s a no?” Christina said. “Possibly a ‘hell, no’?”

Carraway pursed her lips. “The exact words were: ‘I’m not going to put my money on the line for a horny homo baby-killer.’ ”

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you thought this person would be a likely contributor?”

“Sadly, yes. I thought he was our best shot. It will all be uphill from here.”

“Swell.”

“Problem is, Roush has no support base anymore, not in either party. Everyone sees him as being totally on his own, abandoned. And if there’s any truism to which everyone subscribes in this town, it’s that you can’t do anything without money.” She tossed down her clipboard and stretched. “I haven’t been able to locate the source of the funds for the anti-Roush 527s. Originally, it was a consortium of pro-life groups, but they’ve gotten some extra seed money from other organizations, all of them new. The Republican National Committee can’t get formally involved, but a lot of its biggest contributors can and have. Which is not to say there have been no contributors from the left side of the fence. There have been. Lots of them.”

“This is so wrong,” Christina said. “Tad is a man without a country.” She turned toward Ben. “How is he?”

“I don’t know. He called and asked if it was necessary for him to come in today. I told him it wasn’t.”

“When will the full Senate debate the nomination?”

“It could be as early as Monday. Certainly the President wants it over and done with as soon as possible. He wants to take advantage of this latest firestorm. Besides, all these TV spots are expensive.”

“That’s too soon,” Christina said. “How can we possibly turn around public opinion by Monday?”

Carraway cracked her knuckles. “What could we do to turn around public opinion if we had a year? Hope the world develops a case of collective amnesia? This nomination is over. Finished. Dead in the water. Gay, I could work with. Gay bars, even, I could work with. But abortion? It’s hopeless. If Roush has any brains, he’ll withdraw.”

“But he won’t,” Ben said quietly.

“Then he’ll wish he did.”

Ben sighed. “At least it couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

Annabeth hated it when the boss failed. It didn’t happen very often. Maybe twice in the ten years she’d worked as his AA. Keyes had one of the most successful track records in the history of the Senate—that’s how he ended up chairing the Judiciary Committee in the first place.

“Massage your neck?” she asked. It had always worked in the past.

“If you insist,” Keyes grumped.

Annabeth walked behind his desk, removed her glasses, and began slowly and gently kneading the elderly man’s shoulders. “You didn’t fail, you know. How could you possibly know Matera would do a Benedict Arnold on you?”

“I should’ve known. It was my job to know.”

“She’s just a sad old woman who wanted to do something memorable before she goes gently into that good night. I don’t think she had a prayer of getting the VP nod; I don’t care what anyone says.”

“And I’m just a sad old man who would happily accept the vice presidency if it were offered, but my chances went down like the stock market on Black Friday when Roush got out of committee. Especially when those scheming bastards on the other side made it a matter of conscience.” He swore silently. “I hate matters of conscience.”

Annabeth kept stroking, sinking her long fingernails into Keyes’s almost gelatinous flesh. She could see the short hairs rising on the back of his neck. “So what’s the problem? Surely you don’t think the Senate will confirm his nomination. Not after the abortion revelation.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then what’s to worry about? He’s going down.”

“Yes, he’s going down. But he’s not going down because of me!” Keyes shrugged off her hands. “I’m supposed to be the power broker in this chamber. Nobody should be able to get to first base without my help. Instead, in this mess, I come off looking like a doddering old has-been who couldn’t even keep a goddamn baby-killer from getting out of committee!”

“I think you’re taking this much too seriously,” Annabeth said. She was trying to sound soothing, but he was making it increasingly difficult. “A few months from now, no one will remember that you didn’t ground him in committee. They’ll just remember that he didn’t get on the Supreme Court. You’ll be blameless.”

“Have you learned nothing in the time you’ve been working for me, woman? In this town, there’s no such thing as blameless.”

“Come on,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and hugging tightly. “Where’s that Texas optimism? There must be a silver lining in this somewhere. When Thaddeus Roush steps into the Senate chamber, you’ll destroy him.”

“Wish me luck with that,” Keyes burbled. “Probably the only comfort that man has at this point is, no matter how bad everything is, it couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

Judge Haskins’s cell phone popped open. “I told you never to call me on an open line.”

“You told me never to call you at home, too.”

“So take a hint. Don’t call.”

Richard Trevor sighed heavily into the receiver. “I’m sensing some hostility here, Judge. What’s the matter? Haven’t you read the papers? Or watched television?”

“Of course I have. How could I miss that influence-peddling barrage? It’s the most embarrassing display since LBJ’s little girl with the daisy.”

“But it’s working. Polls show—”

“I don’t care about your polls. I don’t want any part of your seedy operation!”

“That’s not what you said last week.”

“Last week you promised me the Roush nomination wouldn’t get out of committee.” Haskins made sure the doors to the bedroom were closed and his wife wasn’t listening. He must remember to keep his voice down, no matter how excited he got. “You were wrong.”

“Details, details. Roush will be rejected. Monday. Probably before the lunch break.”

“I don’t care! Don’t you see what you’ve done!”

“No,” Trevor said wearily. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“You’ve made it dirty! Before it was supposed to be a clean, aboveboard affair. The nominee turns out not to be the person the President thought he was, so the committee rejects him and the President picks someone else. I could live with that. But now it’s something entirely different. Now it’s more like the committee found nothing wrong with him, so some big-money power players dug up some dirt because they have a vendetta against homosexuals!”

“I can assure you, that’s not the way it’s playing in the public eye. I’ve seen the tracking polls.”

“I want you to stop calling me, stop trying to meet with me. I want you to leave me alone.”

He heard Trevor’s long exhalation on the opposite end of the phone. “So does that mean you are no longer interested in being a member of the Supreme Court?”

Haskins didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought. You want it so bad you can taste it. You just want to get through the confirmation process and emerge squeaky-clean. Like a hero.” He chuckled in a way that set Haskins’s teeth on edge. “Don’t worry, hero-boy. You’ll be okay. You can stay as far away from me as you like. But stay close to the President, okay? And when the time comes, I expect you to remember who got you the job you’ve wanted your entire professional life.”

Haskins’s lips pressed together; his eyes were livid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. Have a nice weekend, and fear not. Roush will not be confirmed.”