Senate Cloakroom Cabal (14 page)
He looked put out. “I could have helped with that.”
“I know, but I'm used to nosing around, ferreting out my own information. Plus I wanted to browse.”
“Not much to see,” he said flatly.
“For you, but for me the meeting rooms like SD430â”
“That's in Dirksen, our building.”
“I know. I walked past your office. I discovered that different committees include Health, but it was in the committee office of Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions that I got my first good lead.”
“Senator Pembroke's committee.”
“They sent me over to Hartâ”
“Health Policy.”
“Right. A pleasant woman thereâ”
“Nancy Morris.”
“Mid-thirties, long, light-brown hair?”
“That's her. We're good friends.”
I must have blanched at his remark.
“What, I can't have women friends?”
“Of course not.” Then realizing he might not catch on to my wry sense of humor. “What do you take me for? Of course.”
Nancy Morris. I had recognized her as the same woman I'd seen in the Clarendon restaurant with Kelly. That put her in both camps.
“Where is Pembroke on the Tutoxtamen thing?”
“Right in the middle. Being chairman of HELP, he's been Kelly's point man on locking down FDA's
not approvable
of the drug.”
“And Nancy?” I wanted to learn more about this woman.
“She's the top aide to the committee's chief of staff.”
“Should I know him?”
“You wouldn't want to. He's a real asshole.”
His frankness startled me. “Will Senator Pembroke chair meetings concerning Rogers Pharmaceuticals?”
“No, that's all FDA. That reminds me, I need to call in.”
His abruptness puzzled me. I shrugged it off and began looking at my Rogers notes. Michael stayed in his seat talking quietly on the phone. The train slowed for north Philadelphia. I wondered about Nancy's role in all of this.
Michael finished his calls.
“Michael, how good a friend is Nancy?”
“A good one. We get together after work a couple of times a week. She also uses my shoulder to cry on after one of her romances goes sour.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Only a couple of times a year,” he said with a wry smile.
I chuckled. “That doesn't sound very stable.”
“That's not unusual on the Hill. It's like we want it, but after a while it becomes a drag. Some become partners, but most move on. Also people come and go a lot.”
I looked at him questioningly without asking.
He read my look. “I'm between right now. He wasn't from the Hill and I'm not looking. Being an AA is a lot of work. A new relationship would be too much of a distraction.”
“I hear you. I had a couple of serious relationships. Both ended poorly. One guy wanted me to quit reporting and get an office job.”
He laughed. “I bet that slammed the door.”
“In his face. Tell me about Nancy. By the way, she doesn't know I'm a reporter, just a writer doing research on Senate oversight committees. She referred me to their press office.”
“Right. Because her office does investigations, she's not permitted to talk with writers.”
“The guy there was busy and must stay busy. The woman I talked with suggested I leave him a voice mail and gave me his direct dial. He never called back. The next day I sent him an email with four questions on it.”
“You'll get used to
busy
on the Hill. I think people are more intent on out-busying each other than doing a good job. I can talk to Nancy . . .”
“No. I think it best she not know that you and I know each other. Besides, I got a very nice reply, each question answered.”
He grunted. “You did better than most.”
We sat quietly as the train rolled on toward Washington.
“Did the senator tell you about Senator Crawford?” Michael asked, breaking the momentary silence.
“About him giving her advice?”
“Yeah, but what we needed to know was if it is safe to confide in him, so I asked Nancy to help. She's currently between loves. A year ago, Gordon, who is Senator Crawford's AA, showed some interest in her, but she was otherwise involved. Anyway, she sounded Gordon out about his senator, making it appear as if she was asking for Senator Pembroke.” He leaned back, looking very self-satisfied.
“And . . . ?”
“Yeah. First, Crawford and Pembroke are friendly. They both have homes in McLean, and their wives socialize. Pembroke's kids are out of high school. Crawford's five are preschool into high school.”
This concerned me. “Doesn't that preclude any help for Senator Dalton?”
“You would think so, but things on the Hill are never as they appear. Nancy is committee staff, so it's not her senator against mine.”
I laid my head back on the comfortable seat's headrest. “I think it best she not run into us together.”
“That is a good idea. Nancy remembers everybody. She'd most likely ask you how you were coming on your research of Senate oversight committees.”
“That kind of memory makes her a good spy.” I suddenly felt a wave of fatigue. “I'm going to catch a few winks. I enjoyed the conversation.”
“Me too.”
I
awoke from my nap as the train was slowing. I stared out the window, thinking of Harley Rogers. I felt at a lossâno smoking gun. That made me think of Max. I called him.
“To what do I owe this honor,” Max said in his mellifluous bass-baritone.
“How are you?”
“Better now. How is my godson?”
“Growing, well, and happy. Do you have a minute?”
“Where are you? I hear train sounds. Are you on Metro?”
“Amtrak's Metroliner. We're pulling into Wilmington.”
Michael tapped my arm. “Baltimore. You slept through Wilmington.”
“I was just corrected. Baltimore. I've been on an out-of-town assignment.”
“What time do you get in?”
“Eh, 6:09, then I'm hopping Metro for home. Senator Dalton's AA, Michael Horne, and I were in New Jersey visiting Rogers Pharmaceuticals, the manufacturer of Tutoxtamen, the cancer drug that the FDA has rejected. I'm an undercover aide to the senator.”
“You've been covert before, if I remember.”
“I'd love for this one to prove as fruitful,” I said, remembering again last year's story. “Can we get together? I need a good speculation session.”
“Why don't I pick you up in front of the station?”
“You sure? I mean, I'd love to seeâ”
“My day is over here. I should be there before you arrive. I'll call if I'm running late.”
“Fine, see you then,” I said, clicking off, and then punching in Jerry's number. I looked at Michael. “Excuse me again, Michael, I need to call my husband.”
“This is Jerry.”
“Hi there.”
“Hey. Where are you?”
I gave him my location and told him about Max meeting me at the station.
“I can pick up some Chinese food. That's a sure bet with Max.”
His thoughtfulness gave me a tender feeling. “That's perfect.”
“I'll make sure we have some cold ones. Oops, gotta go. Sophie needs me.”
I turned in my seat to Michael. “There's something I'd like you to do.”
He perked up. “Sure.”
“Your friend at Rogers, can he snoop around . . . look for any unusual goings on?”
“He's cool. He'll be glad to help.”
“At no cost to you, I hope,” I said concerned.
“None whatsoever,” Michael said confidently.
M
ichael and I parted company in front of Union Station. He headed for 1st Street NW and the Dirksen Senate Office Building. I spotted Max leaning against his unmarked Crown Victoria chatting with one of MPD's uniformed cops. It was muggy, but not as insufferable as Washington can get in the summer.
When I got close enough not to have to shout, I said, “Anyplace a gal can get a ride around here?” The cop that Max was talking with gave me a sharp look.
Max pushed off his car and turned to me. I put my arms out and gave him a big hug. He returned it and then held me out at arm's length.
“I do believe you are taking care of yourself.” He chuckled. “Laura, this is Officer Travolta.”
“No relation to the famous one,” the officer said shyly. He touched the brim of his hat with his index finger in a casual salute.
“This little lady solves the tough cases we can't,” Max said with one arm still around me.
“Me, MPD, and the FBI.” I gave Max a friendly nudge.
The officer smiled uneasily at my familiarity. “Well, I better get back to my rounds.”
Max turned to me. “You'd best get in the car before you melt.”
We buckled up, and Max maneuvered his unmarked cruiser through the maze in front of Union Station and headed for Constitution Avenue. I took a drink from a cold bottle of water I'd picked up in the station.
It felt so natural, driving in Max's comfortable car. We passed the National Gallery of Art's two buildings and passed other museums on the left and government buildings on the right. As we crossed 15th Street, everything opened up with the Mall grounds and the Washington Monument on our left and the grassy expanse of the Ellipse and the White House to the right.
There was a softball game on the Ellipse where the White House
Execs
played their games. They would largely be a new team of players this year. Janet Rausch, the murdered intern, had played on last year's team along with Kat Turner.
“Conjure up old memories?” Max asked, looking past me at the field.
I nodded, my lips pressed hard together.
“A lot of people got hurt because of one man's lust,” he said disgustedly. “But enough of old, ugly thoughts. What new ones would you like to discuss?”
“One that may kill hundreds of thousands of innocent people.” I stared straight ahead, as Max drove west on a heavily wooded avenue. “I honestly don't have a clue how to stop it.”
“You feel as though you're backed up against a wall with a bright light in your eyes?”
I nodded. “There's no hard evidence to chew on, Max. The Senate's a never-never land. Tutoxtamen may never be approved. Yet the man most affected by this acts like they called off his fox hunt, rather than being angry that his miracle drug was given a death sentence.”
“A little thing you've picked up from your observation of him?”
“Truthfully, if Michael hadn't explained the value of the little things, I might not have had the same concentration.”
“I highly doubt that. Little things are ingrained in your soul. You don't have to work to remember them. You can't help but absorb them.”
I smiled. “That's part of why I called you. Oh, Jerry's getting Chinese. Please stay.”
“You sure, after your long day?âForget I asked. I want to see my godson.”
“Jerry and Tyler are either at or returning from the restaurant right this minute.”
We were passing the Lincoln Memorial where Constitution became a ramp to the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. “Jerry's in charge of the food, and you'll be in charge of Tyler. I have it by good authority that some brews are cooling in the fridge. You two will have time to talk and play with our little one while I shower and change.”
He half grunted, half laughed. “You give me the tough stuff.”
“You won't be able to get your godson into any bad habits in that amount of time,” I teased.
“Prepare me. What is he into these days?”
“People's undivided attention. He is very curious.”
“Gets that from his mother. I have forgotten what that age is like. Are you and Jer spending any time on
Scalawag
?”
“We are. In fact, he went down last Saturday and gave her a once over.”
We drove in silence as we crossed the Potomac and exited onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. I looked upriver at Georgetown and the hills beyond.
“Back to my serious problem, I'm having a tough time with this one,” I said quietly.
“What about your lists? You always make lists. What do you know?
What do you suspect? Is there a suspect orâ?”
“Only the politicians, but that's pure speculation.”
“Ah yes, those lovely, loosely gathered thoughts.”
“Which usually connect to make up a story,” I said grandiosely.
“Right, while we poor cops have to struggle for clues and evidence.”
“That's what I'm missing. No crime site. No trace evidence. Only the act itself.”
“That's about where we were last year when we found an unidentifiable body, and then you showed up and identified her.”
“Sheer luck, which I could use right now. If there's a trail, I haven't found it.”
“You're too used to being a beat reporter, collecting hard facts. You're dealing with senators who have fought to get where they are. Many may have even been involved in a shady deal or two, done things hidden from the public. It may have been when they first ran for an office, be it dogcatcher, council, state, or whatever. They've had their share of mixing it up. They have strong egos, and their clashes over the years have hardened them. There is not a weak sister in the bunch. They've had their fights, and they've learned the art of compromise.”
He stopped as though overtaken by other thoughts. I mulled over his words.
“That's why they have all that sweet talk like:
honorable
,
gentleman
,
gentlelady
,
esteemed colleague
,
my good friend
, you name it. On the Senate floor, they act like the
Stepford Wives,
and behind the scenes, like
Jack
the Ripper.
They're a bunch of actors who know how to put on a show for C-SPAN.” His voice had hardened.