William Bernhardt - Capitol Threat

Loving hedged. “Well, I’m workin’ on that. But this creep had no reason to lie.”

“Loving, you were threatening to kill him!”

“Aw, all I did was squeeze his scrotum a little. That pansy-ass leaked like a sieve.”

Ben took a deep breath. “You’d better be right.”

“I am. Anythin’ else I can do?”

“No. When you’re finished with the police, get to the hospital.”

“Ah, I don’t need—”

“I want you checked out, tough guy. There could still be internal bleeding. I don’t want my personal information highway to kick off. After the docs clear you, get back to the office as soon as possible.” Ben wiped his brow, unsure whether to be elated or horrified. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. And a lot of work to complete before morning.”

Ben wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t get an appointment to see Senator Keyes, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him, either. He called Senator Hammond and got him to make an appointment—even Keyes couldn’t turn down the Senate Minority Leader on the eve of the confirmation debate. Once Ben knew Keyes was in his office, he marched past the poor receptionist, who appeared to be even older than Senator Keyes and accustomed to senators behaving with proper decorum—not crashing through the gates during someone else’s appointment. When Keyes looked up from his desk and saw Ben, he appeared more bemused than annoyed, although a little of both. He told the receptionist to retake her position, before some new barbarian crashed the gates, and offered Ben a chair.

Thirty minutes later, Ben was still begging.

“C’mon, Senator. Work with me.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Keyes said, his Texas drawl in full force. “Working against you has been so pleasurable.”

“Was it that pleasurable when you got out-voted in committee?” Ben knew it was imprudent to cross swords with the leader of the Judiciary Committee, but desperate men took desperate actions. “We smoked your butt.”

“You got lucky.”

“We smoked your butt.”

“And you wouldn’t have even gotten lucky if it hadn’t been for those turncoats Matera and Potter. Woman must be going through menopause or something. She’s got one foot in the grave so she decided to cultivate a conscience. You can’t take credit for that.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Keyes peered at him through bushy eyebrows. “Perhaps I have underestimated you, Senator Kincaid.”

“No ‘perhaps’ about it.”

“But what you’re asking now is out of the question. Help you? Good God, boy—I’m getting telegrams from home telling me I should organize a filibuster. Even though the man has no chance of rustling up the necessary votes for confirmation. They just want to be sure.”

“A filibuster would mean the Senate doesn’t get to exercise its constitutional right to approve and confirm.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“There hasn’t been a filibuster against a Supreme Court nominee since Abe Fortas went up for Chief Justice back in the sixties.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t happen now.”

“Surely you don’t want that. How can we go on pretending you’re honoring the Constitution if you won’t even let it come up for a vote?”

Keyes shrugged. “Did you think you were working in a candy factory, son?”

“No, I thought I was working in a democracy. Are you going to filibuster?”

He shrugged diffidently. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Please don’t. Let this case be decided on its merits.”

“Kincaid, it isn’t a courtroom.”

“Yes, I believe you’ve mentioned that once or twice. What I’m saying is—instead of screwing around with all this political BS, why don’t we see if we can actually uncover the truth?”

“You’re so naïve.”

“C’mon, at the end of the day, don’t we both want the same thing? The truth?”

“Speak for yourself. All I want is to get the damn leader of the free world off my back.”

“You’re too smart and too—forgive me—too old to be nothing but a political pawn.”

“You’re right.” He smiled. “I’m going to be a political pawn and the next Vice President of the United States.”

“So anything goes? As long as you get what you want?”

“Well, perhaps not anything. But a great deal.”

Ben looked at him squarely. “I never thought I’d say this, but—you’re better than this.”

“Better than the vice presidency?”

“Better than letting an innocent man be hung out to dry.”

Keyes turned his head to one side and drummed his fingers. Ben knew from the hearing that this was not so much a sign of irritation as a sign that he was doing some deep thinking. “How can you be so sure about his innocence?”

“I’ve shown you what I’ve got.”

“It’s not enough.”

“I’ll make it work. You’ll see.”

“You’ll make it work, huh?”

“If you give me a chance. If you kill the filibuster. And if you recognize me during the debate.”

Keyes’s eyes went skyward. “Recognize the junior senator from Oklahoma? A known supporter of Roush? His counsel at the hearing? My party would hang me out to dry.”

“I don’t believe anyone can hang you out to dry.”

“Well.” Keyes sniffed, shrugged his shoulders. “That is as it may be, but…”

“Will you do it?”

“And what would I get in return?”

Ben pursed his lips. He should have anticipated this response, this being Washington. But he wasn’t sure what to say. “What do you want?”

“How about you use your influence with Senator Hammond to get that pansy-ass Wilderness Bill killed?”

“I can’t do that. My fiancée has been working for months on that bill. It’s very important to her.”

“Like the vice presidency isn’t important to me?”

“The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is our last untouched wilderness area. We can’t let it be devastated by drilling, no matter how badly Americans want to drive their cars.”

“Nothing you’re saying is persuading me to give up the vice presidency.”

“You don’t have to.” Ben leaned forward. “I think I can swing it so you can do the right thing and still be the President’s top choice.”

Keyes arched a bushy eyebrow. “Is that so? And that’s because you’re so tight with the Commander in Chief?”

“No. But I still think I can make it work. Please. Give me a chance.”

Keyes stared at him for a long time, not making a sound other than the drumming of his fingers. A minute passed, then another. After a while, the silence seemed deafening. Ben imagined he could hear the carpet rustling in the air-conditioned breeze.

“All right then. I’ll make sure there’s no filibuster.” He made a harrumphing sound. “Didn’t care much for the idea, anyway. Little too partisan, even for me.”

“And you’ll make sure I have a chance to speak during the deliberations?”

“You’ll have the same chance to be recognized as every other senator.”

“I need a promise.”

“And what if it all goes bad? Where will I be then? What happens if you put on your dog and pony show and it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Ben said, a soft but firm voice. “It has to work.”

“There are no guarantees in politics, son.”

Ben nodded. “This isn’t about politics. This is about justice.”

57

“Comfortable, Angel?”

“How could I be comfortable with all these television cameras around? My stomach is churning enough to make butter.”

“It shouldn’t take too long.” Judge Haskins had a front-row seat in the gallery above the Senate chamber. In only a few minutes, the confirmation debate would begin. In compliance with the President’s request, he and his wife were attending, reminding the senators that they had a ready alternative. “There’s no point in a protracted debate. He doesn’t have the support. Keyes will probably push for an immediate vote.”