Coryn slowly fell silent, but remained standing and Carimendi repeated his statement.
“The Cloture Motion has been presented in accordance with rule XXII. The chair directs the Clerk to read the motion,” the Presiding Officer stated.
The legislative clerk stood and proceeded as ordered. “We, the undersigned Senators, in accordance with the provisions of rule XXII of the Standing Rules of the Senate, hereby move to bring to a close debate on Senate Bill 1190. Signatories are as follows: Senators, Carimendi, Portman, Batt, Morgan, Ampara, Roberts, Liu, Frontieri, Davis, Landry, Schlageter, Morales, West, Dumas, Hays, Lewis and Flynn.”
Coryn sat down and glanced at his watch. It was well past midnight. He knew the Cloture Motion had to sit in layover for two days, so his work here was completed. Carl Carimendi stood to be recognized again.
“The Chair recognizes the good Senator from California.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. While we are all still here I would like to say a few words in regards to SB 1190 and the filibuster procedure in general. The urgency of reforming the Senate rules is evident from the increased usage of the filibuster in recent years. The filibuster again and again is being used as a de facto veto by the minority party. This is an abuse of power. And this bill, which I’ve studied in great detail, offers a blueprint for the future, the likes of which …”
With those words Coryn, Graham and two dozen other Senators stood and made their way towards the exits.
Carimendi continued as he watched them leave. “This document offers not only a new revenue stream which doesn’t hurt the common man, but …”
A few minutes later Carimendi stopped and said softly, “Mr. Chairman, I would like to suggest the absence of a quorum.”
“Good work,” Elliott whispered as his hands began to sweat. He stood and began pacing as best he could without turning his back to the screen.
Puzzled, the Chairman Pro Tem Will Campbell shrugged and said, “The Clerk shall call the roll.”
It took fifteen minutes but the clerk determined that a quorum, a majority of the senators, was present. Elliott knew most of the remaining senators in the room and all were, in varying degrees, in support of the bill.
“The Chair represents a quorum is present.”
Senator Portman stood to be recognized.
“The Chair recognizes the good Senator.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. May I ask my good friend from California to yield two minutes of his time?”
“I yield the two minutes,” Senator Carimendi agreed.
“Thank you, Senator. Mr. Chairman, I hereby lay the Motion for Cloture on the table.”
“You’re withdrawing the motion?” Chairman Campbell asked, surprise written across his face.
“Yes, Mr. Chairman.”
Chairman Campbell waved the Senate Parliamentarian to come over. The two consulted briefly. The Senate Parliamentarian is the resident expert on Senate rules and procedure. They whispered back and forth for a short while longer and then turned to the Clerk and said, “It is so ordered. The Motion for Cloture on SB 1190 is hereby tabled.”
“I yield the balance of my time back to Mr. Carimendi.”
“C’mon guys, you can do this,” Elliott whispered with his heart pounding.
Senator Carimendi spoke. “I move for the previous question before the body.”
“What is before the body?” Chairman Campbell asked momentarily confused.
“SB 1190, that’s what I was addressing before the honorable Senator Portman asked me to yield two minutes.”
It was well past midnight. Chairman Campbell was growing tired, but his attention was suddenly sparked. ‘They’re executing a sort of modified nuclear option,’ he thought, and sat straighter in his chair attempting to remember the next step required of him.
“C’mon Will, you’ve been around long enough,” Elliott whispered. “You know what to do.”
“I hereby make a parliamentary ruling citing the argument that the constitution requires that the will of the majority be effective on Senate rules and procedures. A quorum is present. A vote on the previous question is so ordered. The Clerk will conduct a roll call vote regarding SB 1190.”
The Clerk, as duly ordered, began calling the roll where each senator was required to stand and state their yea or nay and their vote was then recorded by the Clerk. The vote seemed to take forever in Elliott’s eyes. As each Senator stood and voted yea his anxiety grew. When the final vote was tallied by the Clerk a few minutes later, it was sixty-one yeas and seven nays.
“The yeas have it,” the chairman said in a solemn tone.
“Mr. Chairman, I move to adjourn,” Carimendi said.
Senator Portman stood and said, “I second the motion.”
Campbell brought the gavel down. “Meeting adjourned.”
Elliott stood stock still for a moment not sure he could believe his eyes. As he watched the senators shaking hands and congratulating each other the truth sunk in. It was a majority vote in the affirmative. The bill had been passed. As soon as the president signed it SB 1190 was law!
He wondered who he might call at one in the morning, but he didn’t want to bother anyone this late.
“It’s another tequila moment, Greer.”
With that he called room service and ordered two tequilas on the rocks; one for Greer and one for himself.
Chapter Fifty-One
The President received notice of the passage of SB 1190 at two in the morning. Around 5:00 a.m. Archie woke Goldie with a nudge when he got a call from one of the operatives that it had passed. Goldie gave a whoop and hopped out of bed, made coffee and began texting her girlfriends.
Elliott’s phone was in the charging station and he missed the calls from the President and Archie. He was sitting up in bed in what was in his opinion a far too revealing hospital gown waiting for the last of the radiation team to arrive watching CNN and Headline News. He’d requested copies of the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times and the Washington Post be brought to him. They had been delivered a short while ago. Each of the papers had the story buried back in the last few pages of the front section, primarily because most of the reporters had gone home by the time the vote had gone down. Each newspaper hailed it as a major achievement. CNN was discussing the impact of the million strong crowd on the mall. Headline News was suggesting the people had carried the day and was asking if a new third party had been created, calling it the ‘We the People’ party. And party it was. When news of the passage of SB 1190 reached the masses on the Capitol Mall the music and love fest began in earnest.
Elliott was wheeled into the radiation room, but never the less he had a smile on his face.
“You seem awfully pleased for a fellow getting prepped for a rather strong dose of radiation,” Doctor Glynn commented.
“It’s a good day Doc. A very good day,” was all Elliott said as they helped him into the radiation chamber.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“The bastards! The rotten stinking bastards. If I ever find out who these two are I’ll have them strung up by their heels.”
Even through the fog of recovering from the radiation treatment and feeling weak as a kitten Elliott understood something was very, very wrong and interrupted the President’s rant asking, “What’s happened?”
“While the approved bill was being typed at the Government Printing Office, someone in the Senate put a secret hold on it. It may never be released for my signature.”
“Damn,” Elliott whispered, feeling the nausea crawling up his throat.
“It’s the same thing they did with the Whistle Blowers Act. The public and congressional proponents thought the bill had passed, but the secret hold killed it. How can they call this a democracy if one or two people can hold up or kill important legislation?”
“Don’t lose hope. We can find out.”
“Find out what?” Paul asked.
“We can guess who they are. Who were the most vociferous voices agai
nst the bill?”
“Obviously Coryn and Graham.”
“Agreed, but we must be absolutely certain they were the ones who put the secret hold on the bill. What we need to do is ask the public to contact their senators and ask each of them if they were the Senator who put the hold on the bill. In fact, I’d like to see each senator sign a pledge swearing they are not the ones placing the hold. We need to be absolutely certain who put the hold on the bill before we can act. This is a process of elimination. We must have people call each of their individual senators and ask them point blank if they’re the ones who have put the hold on. Once we know who it is, we’ll plaster their names across the heavens. The public wants this bill passed, and if we can prove we know who is holding it up without a shadow of a doubt we can put an incredible amount of pressure on them to remove the hold. I’ll contact some people I know and start the wheels in motion.”
“I like it.”
“I’ll get the word out.”
“How?”
“Paul, please trust me. I’ll get it done, but I have to go now.”
The President was about to say something but Elliott tossed the phone on the bed, threw the covers off of his legs and painfully made his way to the bathroom where he threw up. He threw up until his stomach was empty and then experienced dry heaves for another ten minutes. When he was done, his eyes were watering to the point he could barely see and the stomach acid had burned his throat raw. He crawled on all fours back to his bed and pulled himself up to a point where he could collapse face down on the mattress. As he fell asleep again, with a pounding headache the likes of which he’d never experienced before, he kept thinking he had a bone marrow transplant scheduled twelve hours from now.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Soro met with Senator Graham at about eight in the evening in the latter’s home office. He’d parked down the street and walked up a side path to the Tudor mansion so no one would see him enter. He knocked softly on the side door and Graham let him in.
“Do you want a drink, Rick?” Graham asked.
“Sure, a gin and tonic sounds nice.”
As Graham poured the drink he eyed Soros. The big man had a smug look on his face, so Graham knew he had some information for him.
“So what did you find out?”
“It took some digging, but I know a lot of people who know other people and …”
“Get on with it Soro. I don’t care who you know,” Graham growled, handing the drink to his hired gun.
Momentarily taken aback, Soro continued with an abbreviated narration. “Their names are Edward Kelley and James Lally. They are both former Army Rangers who served in Iraq and re-upped on multiple occasions. And get this. Guess who their immediate superior was over there in Iraq?”
“Ike Eisenhower, how am I supposed to know?”
“The famed Master Sergeant, Elliott Eastman.”
“Eastman?”
“Yep, and we have some satellite photos taken a couple of months ago when a pretty large gathering of men was at Mr. Eastman’s ranch. Guess who was there?”
“Kelley and Lally?” Graham replied.
“Bingo.”
Glancing away Graham said softly, “And that was a few weeks before the ‘War on the Deficit’ bill was brought to life.”
“And we have confirmation that Eastman was in a meeting with the President and General Robert Gates at the White House a few days after that,” Soro added.
“And both Gates and the President are strong backers of the bill. Of course, now it all makes sense,” Graham breathed. “They needed strong financial backing and someone who knew his way around the Hill.”
Soro stared at Graham as the Senator’s face grew red. He pounded his fist on his desk.
“Eastman, you bastard!” Graham shouted so loud that dogs started barking nearby. “You’ve ruined me!”
“Ruined?”
“Yes, he’s made the whole nation aware of his damn bill and they know I’ve opposed it. I’ll never get reelected.”
Soro watched the man across the desk from him with a measure of apprehension.
“I want him dead,” Graham declared with a savage snarl.
Soro was getting a little uncomfortable at the man’s demeanor.
“I don’t do dead,” he said in a hesitant manner.
“You do now,” Graham said glaring at him.
“No, no I don’t. I’ll do drops for you and maybe crack a few heads, but killing is a different ball game. That can get me the chair.”
“Do you know someone who does that kind of work?”
Soro thought for a second. “I can locate two or three.”
Graham turned and pushed a picture aside and began turning a dial on a small safe built into the wall saying, “I want all three.”
“It ain’t gonna be cheap. They want $5000 up front and $5000 more when the job is done, plus expenses.”
Graham closed the safe and handed Soro three bundles of bills. “Here is fifteen thousand and two grand more for tickets to Colorado. I’ll cover any additional expenses and another fifteen thousand when the job is done. My name is not to be mentioned.”
Rick glanced at the money in his hands and said, “Colorado? I think Eastman is in D.C.”
“I want the job done in Colorado. There it will just be some old man who died in a failed robbery attempt,” Graham explained coldly.
“He’s a war hero. You don’t think the news will get out?”
“Better there than here. He’s a damn legend around here. Get going.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Elliott was sitting up in bed and as usual had multiple newspapers in his lap and the television locked on C-SPAN. He muted the channel and placed a call to Archie.
He got Archie’s voicemail and left a message. “Do me a favor Archie. I can’t speak very well; I think I’m losing my voice. Please call Stephanie Wells and tell her to mobilize everyone. And get a video out on YouTube about the need for people to contact their senators. And put a full page exposé on the back page of the Wall Street Journal, wait, no scratch that; make it both the Wall Street Journal and the USA Today. I want it to read ‘Two senators have put a Secret Hold on ‘The War against the Deficit’ bill. If two men can control a bill how can we call this a democracy? Contact your senator and find out if he or she put the hold on SB 1190.’ And see if you can find some sort of written pledge we can include as a tear out. I want the senators to sign a pledge swearing they are not the ones placing the hold.”
Elliott paused for a moment. “And then report it to Politico.com who will publish it on their website. Maybe Citizens Against Government Waste and any others you can think of too. Thanks Arch. Talk to you soon.”
After he concluded his message Elliott shut off his phone, leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes. He was tired of hotel rooms, lying on his backside in some bed, cell phones and most of all radiation treatments that left him sick and weak. He longed for the grand expanse of his Colorado ranch. Was he doing the right thing with his last few weeks of life? Maybe a trip down the Amazon River was in order, or a visit to the Pyramids of Egypt. One last long goodbye to this amazing planet might be in order. Or maybe he could do both; get this damn bill passed and then take a trip. He was planning these implausible possibilities when a polite knock sounded at his door.
“Come in,” he said.
Doctor Glynn entered and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“I feel like I’m spending my entire life in bed. I’ve felt better, but I’m okay. I’m having a little trouble talking.”
“You probably have acute mucositis which is very common after an intense exposure to radiation. It’s inflammation of the mouth and the GI tract. But I must say you are remarkably strong for your age. The radiation treatment you received is called an ablative procedure, meaning it was very strong which usually leaves most recipients down for a day or two.”
“Thanks Doctor Glynn.”
<
br /> “We’re approaching zero hour. I’ve got the bone marrow procedure scheduled to begin in a few hours. I’ve brought in an expert transplant team. I won’t be doing the procedure myself, but I’ll be standing by.”
“Thank you Doctor. I appreciate your efforts.”
“Now, the marrow donor is here. He’s been thoroughly tested and the match is perfect. If you would like to meet him you’re welcome to do so. He’s in the waiting room.”
“Yes, that would be a pleasure. I’d like to personally thank him,” Elliott said. “Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll be out in a minute.”
Dr. Glynn smiled. “I wouldn’t recommend that. You need every ounce of strength you can muster. I’ll contact the nurses’ station and ask them to send him in.”
“Okay,” Elliott agreed, gratefully easing back against the pillows and closing his eyes. He had no wish to be walking anywhere today.
A few minutes later Eddie Kelley silently opened the door and stepped into the room. Instantly he was taken aback by Elliott’s appearance. He stopped in his tracks and then turning quietly, closed the door. Elliott was leaning back on his pillows and his eyes were closed. Eddie studied him for a moment and the big man suddenly found his eyes watering. For a moment he thought Elliott was dead. He’d lost much of his hair. His cheeks were hollow and deep dark circles ran under his eyes. He’d lost so much weight there was barely a bulge beneath the blankets. Wiping at his eyes, Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed and Elliott stirred.
“How you doing, boss?” Eddie said in soft tones.
Elliott opened his eyes and sat up in bed. Eddie noted the yellow evidence of jaundice in the former senator’s eyes.
“Eddie, what are you doing here?” Elliott croaked.
“I’m your donor.”
“You? But how did you know?”
Eddie smiled. “Elliott, you forget we’ve known you for thirty-five years. Archie was the first one to make the call. He sensed something was wrong and called several of us. He then hacked your phone and that of Doctor Yates.”
The Return of Elliott Eastman Page 20
