Senate Cloakroom Cabal (11 page)

Michael smiled at that thought.

25

I
arrived at the paper at 9:30 hoping to see Lassiter right away, but she was “elsewhere in the building,” her news assistant told me.

I waved to Van, who was in his office on the phone, and then swung by Mary's desk. No one home. I felt like going out and coming back in. Instead, I went to my desk and read over my Dalton notes. I was blessed with clear handwriting and a self-invented shorthand. After a short review, I began typing. I bulleted notes on a pad, my crib sheet for when I talked with Lassiter.

My intercom buzzed. It was Mary. “Editor Lassiter can see you now.” I collected my stuff and headed for her office. I was surprised to find Barton Williams there.

“Close the door behind you,” Lassiter said. That startled me, and I hesitated. “Not to worry.” She motioned for me to close it and sit.

I did as asked. I noticed the blinds on the windows facing into the office had been drawn and wondered what was going on. Barton stood, waiting for me to sit. He had a puzzled look on his face. “Good to see you again so soon, Laura.”

Lassiter, knowing how my mind works, spoke, “If Laura seems a little concerned, Barton, it's because I have a policy of never closing my door unless I'm firing someone.”

There was a momentary pause while a herd of snails crossed the room, then a burst of laughter from Barton. “That's certainly not going to happen.”

Lassiter took control. “This is about you covering the Senate.”

I sat next to Barton, who was winding down. Why did I do these things to myself? Of course, I wasn't being fired. Why would I even think that?

Why do I think the worst?

Barton said. “I understand you met privately with Senator Dalton last evening.”

“Yes. At her apartment.”

I became aware of something different in the room. When Barton was present, Lassiter usually sat out in the room, in the copse of chairs away from her desk. However, today she was sitting behind her desk. This told me she was the lead editor in this discussion, if not in true rank.

Lassiter began, “Our sending you up on the Hill is not like sending any reporter. Your new celebrity will attract attention and questions, like . . . why?”

“Yes,” Barton said, shifting in his chair to face me. “In your normal beat, you wouldn't be regarded differently, except for a comment about your award.”

He appeared uncomfortable, which was uncharacteristic for him. “Going up on the Hill . . . well, that's new territory for you. Your presence will create speculation about why you are there.”

“We don't know,” Lassiter jumped in, “exactly how Capitol Hill reporters will react, but having a Metro reporter with a Pulitzer in her crib might make some wonder.”

My mind raced, but I kept my mouth shut.

“Yes,” continued Barton. “We've been scratching our heads, so to speak, and have come up with what we hope will mollify the situation.”

Mollify?

“We are reassigning you,” Barton said assertively.

He paused and looked at Lassiter. I held my breath.

“We are changing your title to Feature Writer,” Lassiter said.

I was stunned and then anxious. I didn't want to leave Lassiter. Not yet anyway.

“But,” my editor went on, leaning into her desk, “you won't be physically moving. You will stay where you are.”

“Yes,” Barton added quickly. “You will continue to report to Editor Lassiter. I will be kept in the loop to ease our congressional reporters' minds, if that need arises. You know how people talk.”

That showed how blind I could be. To me, this was just another assignment, different location. I never thought about my celebrity.

He went on. “We have no idea where this Rogers thing is going. We have not gotten far enough into this to understand Senator Dalton's position. After what happened last year, you know, with what you uncovered and all, we don't want to raise any flags that we're looking into the private lives of some senators.”

He chuckled a little too nervously, I thought.

“That's why the title Feature Writer,” Lassiter said, emphasizing the title. “Using your considerable knowledge of the DC government, your assignment will be to look into the relationship between the DC government and the federal government. See how the current system works, and what might be needed to improve it.”

“I'd love to do that story,” I blurted.

“Yes, it will be considered a local story. I have spoken with Claire Rowley, our senior congressional correspondent, and asked her to show you around, which she is happy to do. You won't need to stay in contact with her after that.”

My head was spinning. Both editors were being very careful to explain away my presence on the Hill. Instead of hiding me or sending me to spy school, they've given me a useful cover. I might even do some real work on it, if or when things heat up.

“Laura,” Lassiter said, jolting me out of my thoughts, “to complete the cover, you may have to spend a little time on the House side, go to some committee hearings. I know it will be dull, but then when you ease into FDA stuff, you can cut that off entirely. You may find schmoozing with other reporters a help. I'm sure some would like to socialize with you anyway.”

Lassiter knew how independent I was, that I wasn't a mixer.

“Use your best judgment,” she said indifferently.

I wondered if Barton thought investigating Senator Dalton's allegations was a good idea, but sending me up on Capitol Hill wasn't.

“I suggest,” he said, “you stay away from the pharmaceutical lobbyists. Use this as a breaking-in time, getting background for your cover.”

Lassiter cut in. “Schmooze like you did when you first went to City Hall, the council meetings, events that included the mayor, that sort of thing.”

“We may be more worried about this than is warranted,” Barton half mumbled.

I wished this meeting would come to a fast conclusion.

“You could even joke about the DC/Fed thing as being next to impossible,” he chuckled, “and that you were probably assigned to it while the paper decided what to do with you.”

I didn't like any of that—neither the whole idea of “mixing” nor Barton's giggle.

He went on. “You have just won a most prestigious award, Laura. It is natural that some may feel a little envy. That is really their problem. Only Avery, Van, and I will know the true purpose of your mission.”

I saw Lassiter chomping at the bit for this meeting to end. I decided to help and stood. “When do I start?”

Barton automatically stood.

Lassiter smiled. “Now.”

26

I
had barely gotten out of the shower, getting ready for my first visit to Capitol Hill, when Jerry called up to me.

“Laura, put on WTOP.”

Why would I want an all-news radio station? Besides, I liked my easy jazz station. But . . . Jerry was not into idle prattle.

“Hurry, it's almost the top of the hour.”

“Okay,” I called back to him. I switched stations, catching the tail end of the weather report, followed by a musical jingle, call letters, and finally the news anchor's voice.

“The FDA announced late last night that Rogers Pharmaceuticals's drug Tutoxtamen, touted to be a miracle cure for most cancers, has been denied approval. Reaction opposing the decision has been swift and vociferous. In a late night release, Senate Minority Leader Olin Davis called the decision capricious and without merit. Senate Majority Leader Thomas Kelly has not been available for comment.”

Well, I thought, whether Senator Dalton likes it or not, she is a member
of the majority and will be questioned about it. How would she answer that,
seeing she supported the leader?

“Pretty heavy stuff,” Jerry said, standing in the bedroom doorway.

“A piece I heard while you were in the shower said there were scientific concerns about potential side effects and that Rogers would have to—”

“I know,” I interrupted, “do more testing.”

“That means a couple of years.”

I continued dressing. “More like many years. It's known as FDA's purgatory. What time you going in?”

“Early. 8:30. I'll call Anna.”

He knew I'd want to leave early, too. “You're a sweetheart.”

When I joined Jerry and Tyler in the kitchen, Jerry was watching the
Today Show.
The male host was just switching to a female reporter on split screen with him. She was outside Rogers Pharmaceuticals in New Jersey.

“We've been told that Sherman Rogers, president and CEO of Rogers Pharmaceuticals, is returning from a family trip in Naples, Florida, and will be making a statement later this morning. People coming into work did not want to talk to us. One woman appeared to have tears in her eyes . . .”

Jerry turned off the set. “The tears thing was a nice touch,” he quipped.

“I guess. Except we don't know why she was crying. Could have been dust in her eye.”

“Ah, never take anything at face value. You're right.” He grinned. “The reasons we attribute to things without knowing the backstory are astounding.”

I agreed. “That's where the trouble usually begins.”

“Well, that's not something you have been guilty of, my love.”

He'd heard me too many times on that subject.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Fields.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About the woman?” I teased.

He shook his head and waited, so I got back on point.

“It was inevitable. They were probably waiting for Dalton to fall into line.”

“What's your next move?”

“Talk to Sherman or Harley Rogers. I'm inclined to believe there's a lot more behind the FDA's decision than just a suspicion of side effects. Michael Horne and Senator Dalton have provided me with very positive test results, but I'll need to see Rogers's results and get independent corroboration, if that's possible. Testers may all be under the pharmas' thumb.”

“My time is up here, my love. Looks like you are into another story you can sink your teeth into,” Jerry said in an overacted grimace.

“I don't know. These politicians and lobbyists are slicker than a greased watermelon.”

27

I
paced the long corridor outside the Senate chamber waiting for Senator Dalton. On my way here on Metro, Michael had called and asked if I could meet with the senator at 11:00. I was at the far end of the great hall in my pacing when Dalton emerged, coming out of the chamber or the Cloakroom, looking trim and well turned out as usual. “Senator,” I called, as I rushed toward her.

She turned as I made my way through a small group of men, half of whom had turned to look back at the former beauty queen, causing me to have to avoid their wayward paths. I was sure their minds were certainly as wayward.

“Good morning, Laura.” She extended her hand.

I took it. “Senator.”

“I apologize for my tardiness, I was waiting to see the leader. I wanted us to meet here because things are hectic in my office and we'd be interrupted every other minute.”

“This is fine,” I replied. She was always so gracious.

“Come,” she said, indicating the wide stairway. “We'll go down over here.” She asked about Tyler and how balancing being a mother and resuming my career was working out.

“I couldn't do it without Jerry, that's for sure.”

She changed subjects, pointing out the gorgeous Brumidi handrails and art.

Down on the next level, she ushered me into a small anteroom. “We'll go in here. The sergeant at arms was gracious to arrange it for our use. It's secluded.”

She closed the door. “Let's sit.” She indicated two leather, straight-back chairs in the sparsely furnished room, its walls made of stone. “As I mentioned, I met with the leader. I'm no longer held to my promise regarding Tutoxtamen.”

“Is that—”

“You may think that a little hasty, but I have my reasons. Senator Kelly certainly pointed out the pitfalls, but I need to be independent. I'll take whatever comes. This is too important to let slide.”

“From what little I know about the FDA, they've issued Tutox the death penalty.”

“It would seem that way, however . . .”

“I saw hundreds of people demonstrating on the west lawn of the Capitol as I walked here from Union Station.”

She sighed. “There are probably hundreds more in Rockville lined up at 5600 Fishers Lane in front of FDA. They'll make for nice pictures on the television newscasts, but as much as I wished otherwise, they won't change anything.”

I decided my fertile imagination might muddy up the waters, so I waited.

“But there are things we can do.”

I caught the we, but again waited.

“After today, meetings between us will have to be more discreet. I prefer you work with Michael. You'll find him very capable and more knowledgeable than I.”

“That's fine,” I said, happy with now having an official foot in the door.

“There are some things happening with Rogers . . . namely with the son Sherman. A letter Michael had received a few months back was unfortunately never opened, because he had put it in his briefcase that the mugger had stolen.

“It, or a copy—Michael remembered it as being identically addressed— recently showed up with no attribution as to the writer. Michael has friends all over . . . an interesting network. In fact, a friend of a friend of his works for Rogers Pharmaceuticals in New Jersey. Anyway, the letter hinted there were some hush-hush things going on at the Rogers processing plant.”

“Did Michael's friend say what sort—?”

“It had something to do with technicians. It may be nothing. We're—”

“Would Michael be available to take a trip to New Jersey?”

Her face brightened. “Yes.”