Kingfish

by Frank Perry

easy to work with and will take your call if you say it regards drug policy and you’re from California.”

  “Okay, sounds easy enough. I’ll call right now.”

  “Wait ‘til after ten. She takes the Metro to work and has to get her kids off to school.”

  “Got it.”

  It wasn’t too early to call Laura, who was already in her office on Independence Avenue.

  “Good Morning!” She sounded cheerful.

  “Hey, girl. You sound good today.”

  “I feel good, Hunter. So, d’you work out this morning?”

  “Yeah. It felt good. I made all my times.”

  “You know, you don’t have to jump out of airplanes or climb mountains in Afghanistan anymore.”

  “So, you saying you like the soft Washington types?”

  “Nope. I only like you – just the way you are.”

  “So, how ‘bout lunch today, I’m planning to be on the hill the afternoon.”

  “Sure.”

  They agreed on a place and time to meet then Hunter went on line to research Congressman Romanoff and his LD Michelle Hicks.

  He was surprised at the amount of unofficial information available on Aaron Romanoff. The tabloid hits alone were overwhelming. The themes were all the same. Romanoff was an arch-patriot who was retired as a young Air Force Pilot after injuries received when his A10 “Wart Hog” was shot down in 1992 over Iraq, while attacking Hussein’s Republican guard. He evaded capture for hours until rescued by helicopters under heavy fire. Romanoff was a freshman Congressman at the time, serving in the Air Force Reserves.

  He graduated from the Air Force Academy and remained in the reserves after completing his obligated service. He flew fighters and could have resigned from the reserves when elected to Congress but wanted to deploy with his unit during the Persian Gulf War.

  After returning to the States and recovering from his wounds, he was re-elected after serving almost no time in Washington during his first term when he promised never to fly again. He was enormously popular with his constituents and never faced serious competition in any electoral race. He was also enormously popular with women. Handsome and sincere, he had numerous high-profile romances, but never married. He was rumored to be the father of Michele Hicks’ oldest son, but neither would say anything about it. Michele was a professional single mother who claimed to have been artificially impregnated, and any resemblance of the boy to the Congressman was purely coincidental. Some articles speculated that Romanoff had simply been the donor. Romanoff and Hicks had been together in Washington for over twenty years and were seen together often.

  Hunter could only smile when calling the Congressman’s office for an appointment. He was transferred to Michele immediately, and she politely agreed to meet him at two o’clock, as he requested. After a pleasant lunch with Laura, he took the Metro to Capitol South, a short walk to the Cannon House Office Building. Like the Senate, there are three House office buildings. Cannon is the oldest, built in 1908, and the grandest. Like the Senate side of the hill, seniority determined the office priorities and Romanoff had one of the most spectacular. Entering the rotunda, Hunter smiled about the contrast compared to his visit with Stubbs in the Rayburn building. He stood momentarily admiring the marble columns supporting a coffered dome and foot-worn marble staircases. The ambiance was breathtaking.

  Romanoff’s office was a marvel of efficiency compared to Stubbs. The receptionist had his name entered in her computer and summoned Michelle the moment Hunter arrived. Michelle Hicks was not only strikingly beautiful, her tall lean figure, neatly clad in a man-style business suit complimented her professional reputation as a Washington insider. “Mr. Kohl, welcome to Congressman Romanoff’s office.”

  After shaking hands, she held the door for him, indicating a small private office immediately off the lobby. “Can I offer you a drink Mr. Hunter?”

  “No, I just had a large lunch, but thank you.”

  She smiled and sat down opposite him. “Can I call you Hunter? I’m Michelle to everyone around here.”

  “Ah, sure.”

  Before she could say anything more, the door opened and Aaron Romanoff stepped in. Hunter recognized him from all the articles he read on line.

  Romanoff extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Aaron Romanoff. Can I join you?”

  Hunter looked at Michelle. “Absolutely Congressman.”

  “Call me, Aaron. Everyone else around here does.”

  Hunter smiled at the easy demeanor of the senior Congressman. “Sure, Aaron. I appreciate the cordiality.”

  “Well, this is Michelle’s meeting so I’ll let her do most of the talking.”

  She gave a quick nod. “So, Hunter. You want to talk to us about changing U.S. drug policy, is that right?”

  “Yes. I’ve got some statistics...” Romanoff interrupted.

  “Don’t bother Hunter. I’m already aboard. I’ve been after my colleagues to get a new approach in place, and I gather the Senate guys have added something to the SAC (Senate Appropriations Committee) bill?”

  “Ah, yes, That’s right, sir.”

  Michele asked. “Hunter, can you get us the language to review?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got it with me, at least as it is in the bill as currently written by the Senate professional staff.”

  “That’s what we need.”

  He pulled the single page draft from a folder with three lines highlighted. Michelle took it and opened the side door, asking someone to copy it.

  Romanoff said, “Okay, Hunter. We might want to change it a little, but I’m sure it’s better than anything I’ve tried before. Now let’s talk about strategy. Who do you have on this side of the Hill (Congressmen) to support it?”

  “I think you’re the only one so far Congressman, I just started making contact after the SAC did their thing.”

  “Good. I want to drive this from our side. Michelle, I want you to take this to the HAC (House Appropriations Committee) staff and get something like it added.”

  She read it carefully, “I think we can improve on it Aaron. Hunter, will you work with me on this?” He shook his head in agreement, somewhat mystified about how quickly this was evolving.

  Romanoff asked, “Okay, Hunter. How about the California delegates? They need this as badly as we do in Ohio and there’s a lot of ‘em. Call me Aaron.”

  Hunter smiled. “Ah, well, Aaron. I’ve only talked to Congressman Stubbs office and didn’t get a warm feeling.”

  He looked at Michelle, “Who’s Stubbs?”

  She responded, “Aaron, he’s one of the freshmen from San Diego. He brought his staff mostly with him, and they don’t know how to do anything unless the Whip tells them.”

  Romanoff shook his head remembering. “Yeah. I know who you mean now. He’s a flyweight. We’ve got some good friends on the coast. Mia Percy from San Francisco is a real ball buster and she’s been looking for support. If we can keep the Senate on track, I think we can get the House votes on our side.”

  The meeting ended a few minutes later with an action plan for Michelle and Hunter to work together building support in the House. The House has four-hundred thirty-five members and the Senate has one hundred. In both chambers, a small majority can control the outcome, and Romanoff was king in Hunter’s mind. He’d owe Leigh another dinner.

  Rendezvous

  Safety precautions had to be taken. Neither Peña nor Al-Zeid trusted telephone communications any more than they trusted each other. You could never be totally secure. It always excited Peña to arrive at his private hangar at San Jose International. He owned his plane, which wasn’t used for drug smuggling. It was only for his personal executive status and ego. When his limousine drove onto the airport, people watched with envy as he boarded without any security delays and could be airborne in three minutes.

  His pilot had been instructed to fill the fuel tanks in case they had a long flight. He had no idea where M
ojo was taking them, but assumed he would stay within driving distance of his LA home. Mojo didn’t fly unless travelling back east. There were thousands of hidden airfields throughout Central and Southern California. The text message just said fly down the San Joaquin Valley and call near Bakersfield for destination coordinates.

  He had his regular pilot in the left seat and Ramon sitting in the co-pilot seat for protection. It was a clear day around eleven o’clock when his new Citation XLS took the runway and accelerated, taking to the air in only fifteen hundred feet. Its cabin was tall enough for Peña to stand, but Ramon had to stoop at the waste to move around. He could not sit in the front for long periods with his massive size. The XLS is a straight wing design, allowing for slow approaches on short fields when necessary, yet could still cruise near 0.9 mach.

  Ramon lay on the couch across from Peña, sleeping while in the air. The man had no interest in reading or talking, which was one of the reasons Peña trusted him. Literacy tended to create ambition, and Ramon had only one use in life. He watched the coastline disappear along the right side of the airplane as they reached twenty thousand feet crossing over the coastal mountains into the valley framed by the Sierras to the east. The central valley of California produces over ten percent of America’s agricultural products. The valley is emerald green as far as anyone can see from the sky, producing grapes (and their by-products), cotton, almonds, citrus, and all types of vegetables. Large groves of oranges, peaches, garlic, and