Patriot's Farewell: A Political Thriller Fiction Series (Boston Brahmin Political Thrillers Book 7)

by Bobby Akart

  “Never mind, not here.” Gardner gestured for the man to follow and led him down a darkened hallway to an opulent sitting room. A myriad of original paintings adorned the walls and a fire in the fireplace warded off the chill from the start of a cold Wisconsin winter. In addition to his study, this was the one room of the Lowell retreat that wasn’t bugged.

  Mr. West stood in the center of the room, awaiting an offer to sit, but Gardner ignored him and poured himself a drink. He walked toward the fireplace and motioned for Mr. West to help himself to the bar.

  “Well, what do you have for me?” asked Gardner.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Nothing yet with respect to the congressman from Indiana.”

  “What do you mean nothing yet?” Gardner bristled. He didn’t like loose ends, especially now. Too much was at stake. “This has been going on for weeks. Perhaps, Mr. West, I didn’t make myself perfectly clear. I tasked you with this and not an underling because failure is not an option.”

  “Sir, I am assured that the information we seek will be delivered to me in Washington early tomorrow morning. It’s only a matter of time, don’t worry.”

  Gardner threw back the rest of his drink and approached the bar for another. “May I assume, or rest assured, that the gentlelady from Iowa is on board?”

  “Yes, sir. It required an additional contribution to her campaign war chest, but it was not unreasonable.”

  “Please, sit down,” Gardner finally instructed, and the two men sat across from each other. “I don’t doubt you, old friend. You’ve been loyal to my father and now the Lowell family for many years. Do you still enjoy your job with us?”

  “Of course, I—”

  “After Father died, I could have restructured our business affairs and taken anyone under my wing, but I took you.”

  “Naturally, sir, I’m grateful for that. I hope I’ve done my job well for your father and his associates in Boston. Now, you should know where my loyalty lies.”

  Gardner took another sip of his whiskey and looked at his watch. He wondered if he’d have time for another encounter with the good senator from Colorado. “I have to believe you because I have another job that requires getting your hands dirty.”

  “No job too big, as they say.”

  “Good. I’ve made a promise to an up-and-coming congressman from Georgia who stands to be a vital ally for years to come. There is an obstacle in Washington that needs to be removed.”

  “Sir, your influence in Washington has grown significantly.”

  “You bet it has, but I’m just getting started. I want to own every historic tree, every blade of glass, and every rock under which the secrets lie. It’s my turn now, and the steps we are taking this week are an integral part of the plan.”

  Mr. West finished his drink and set it on the table. “What would you like me to do?”

  Gardner began to lay out the plan. “After the vote, Congress will adjourn until the new Congress is brought into session in January. In the interim, the House Democrats will meet for the purposes of electing a new Majority Leader, Minority Whip and Speaker of the House.”

  “I assumed they would elevate their existing team from minority to majority status.”

  “Ordinarily, yes,” started Gardner. “Only, this time, there will be a vacancy in the majority leader slot. I want you to create that vacancy between now and December 11 when the House Democratic Caucus convenes.”

  “I understand, sir,” said Mr. West without showing any emotion.

  Gardner stood and walked to a painting of teams competing in the Head of the Charles Regatta event in Boston. “That’s good. I want us all in the boat, but most importantly, rowing in the same direction. We just have to take care not to tip it over.”

  Chapter 15

  3:15 p.m. ET

  Chief of Staff’s Office

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  The legislative process was like sausage making, as the saying goes. The famous German Otto von Bismarck believed that while most people would find the making of sausage repulsive, they’d enjoy the end result.

  Prior to the collapse, the process lawmakers followed in Congress was like sausage making, particularly as it related to doling out the pork. Lawmakers’ votes and loyalties were bought by assigning federal funds to their districts or pet projects or lobbyist interests.

  For example, a transportation bill to repair aging bridges might include millions of dollars to the World Wildlife Federation to study the ecological habitat of the snail darter in the Tellico River. Or, in Nebraska, a retiring senator secured a hundred million dollars for his state’s Medicaid program.

  At Sarge’s first State of the Union address following the reconvening of Congress, he called upon both chambers to adopt the concept of single-subject bills, something states like Minnesota and Colorado had adopted many years ago. The rule is simple—any proposed legislation may deal with only one main issue.

  In the case of the vote, it was only the granting of statehood to the four states that seceded during the chaos following the collapse. For weeks, the House argued over the ancillary issues raised by the western states, which dealt with gay rights, immigration, legalizing marijuana, and single-payer health care. Many claimed inclusion of their demands on these points violated the spirit and intent of the single-subject concept.

  Sarge was one of those. When the House included these specific issues in the final legislation, Sarge undertook a series of legal maneuvers against the bill by seeking an opinion from the attorney general and later a ruling from the DC federal district court. Through appeals and delays, he was able to postpone a vote until after the election, a move that was widely credited in the victory of president-elect Rawlins.

  Now, the delay tactics were over. Sarge needed the vote to take place before the new Congress convened. Once the bill was voted down, he’d move quickly to announce a push for a Constitutional Convention. He’d address the nation, create a ground swell of support for the convention, and preempt the new Congress from taking up the matter in January.

  Donald studied the charts in his office. The first board showed the balance of power.

  While Donald and Sarge applauded the slight evaporation of two-party rule in Washington, the libertarians and socialists had become wildcards in their voting. Especially the libertarians, who tended to vote conservatively on matters of national security and economics, but with the democrats on social issues.

  The Pacific Statehood Act provided incentive for the libertarians to vote on either side of the issue. The social issues regarding gay rights and marijuana legalization had some of these congressmen leaning toward a yea vote. However, they firmly opposed the bill due to the open borders immigration stance and single-payer health care issues. Tactically, proponents of the bill should have left these latter two issues out of the mix, which might have ensured its passage. Instead, they decided to go for the whole enchilada, a level of confidence that concerned Donald.

  The Gatekeeper announced to Donald that the House Majority Whip, Congressman Trent, had arrived to discuss the current status of the votes. Sarge had asked Donald to run point on this, and he probably wouldn’t sleep until after the House voted against it.

  “Good afternoon, Donald,” Congressman Trent greeted in his Southern drawl. “I wanted to let you know the final version of the bill has just come out of committee and there are no changes. The vote was dead-locked on removing the four provisions objected to by the president, so it goes to a floor vote as is.”

  “No surprise there, I guess. Were there any modifications at all?”

  “Only a few wording issues as it pertains to effective date. Those in favor of the bill were pushing for immediate enactment upon its being signed by the president. Others insisted on a January 1 effective date so that it made it cleaner for the Treasury Department to identify who was a citizen and who wasn’t for tax purposes.”

  “Why would they insist upon an immediate effective date?” asked
Donald.

  “I suspect they want a say in the conference leadership and committee appointments next month.”

  Donald nodded and turned his attention back to the flip charts. “Well, it shouldn’t matter, right? What’s the latest count?”

  The congressman set his briefcase on a chair and retrieved a yellow legal pad with several tattered and torn pages. He approached Donald’s flip chart and picked up a permanent marker.

  “May I?”

  “Sure, but I noticed you picked up the Sharpie. Does that mean the changes you are about to make are irreversible?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” replied Congressman Trent. He made a few changes, including the two defections they’d discussed this morning. Another libertarian had jumped ship, and he placed all of the socialists into the yea column.

  “Whoa,” started Donald. “Where does that leave us?”

  The congressman didn’t reply and traded the marker for a pencil. In an open space, he scribbled Nay – 222, Yea – 211, Undecided – 2.

  “Still manageable,” muttered Donald. He looked to his charts to see if he had the two undecideds identified. One was a republican congressman from Montana and the other was a libertarian from Utah. Donald tapped the flip pad, causing the easel to shake. “I don’t understand her indecisiveness at all. Is it because of her daughter?”

  “I’ll be speaking with her after our meeting, but I am operating under that assumption,” replied Congressman Trent. “She was endorsed in her re-election by several LGBT rights organizations because her daughter came out as a lesbian during the campaign and the congresswoman publicly embraced her decision. She feels a debt of gratitude to them and therefore is considering voting for the bill.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” exclaimed a frustrated Donald. “This statehood vote is much bigger than a single issue. I applaud her for being principled, but you can’t admit four states into the Union as a way of saying thanks for your support!”

  “Donald, I know this and I’ll speak to her about it.”

  “Is there anything we can promise her?” asked Donald.

  “We’ll be in the minority, so committee positions may not carry as much luster as normal. I could offer her a high-ranking position on the rumored House Global Equality committee. The leadership is already having difficulty finding republicans to sit on the committee. We can make her the ranking member.”

  “Fine, who cares? Just get her vote. Either way, we’re still plus six in the nay column. I don’t like playing defense, but it’s all we got.”

  “I agree,” said Congressman Trent, studying the chart. “We’ll hold the line, Donald. At least we can count on our typically solid votes, right?”

  Chapter 16

  3:30 p.m.

  The State Dining Room

  The White House Residence

  Washington, DC

  “Okay, kids. I want you to be on your best behavior, and don’t get in the way of anybody,” admonished Julia as she led her three charges down the staircase toward the State Dining Room. The White House staff was busy making preparations for tonight’s Governor’s Ball, a perfectly timed event to host the state’s executives during the holiday season and to encourage their participation in a Constitutional Convention.

  Forty-six governors would be attending, and symbolically, Sarge insisted upon a table in the center of the room be set up with four chairs, one for each of the governors of the Pacific states who would not be in attendance. Traditionally, the ball was hosted by the First Lady, and Julia had received accolades from across the political spectrum for her prior soirées.

  This year, the event was postponed until after the election, which was part of Sarge’s overall approach to convince the governors to move forward with the convention regarding statehood.

  The flower arrangements had just been delivered, a beautiful arrangement of seasonal flowers, including burgundy lilies, orange roses, and orange daisies in fall colors.

  Only the table dedicated to the Pacific states was different. Their table included a Thanksgiving-themed cornucopia consisting of festive fruits and vegetables native to each of the four states. The cornucopia, or horn of plenty, was a symbol of abundance and nourishment. Julia wanted to drive the point home that the four states brought something to the table that would enrich the nation.

  Julia carried Frank on her hip, and Win held Rose’s hand as they wound their way through the State Dining Room to admire the perfectly appointed table settings. Rose, whose curiosity was in high gear, attempted to touch every flower and piece of crystal as they meandered through the tables.

  “Where will we sit, Mom?” asked Win.

  “Actually, you three won’t be joining us this evening,” replied Julia with a smile. She patted her son on the head and looked past him and waved to a familiar face. “This is a pretty big event for your dad. However, I do have a surprise I think you’ll enjoy. Look who’s here.”

  “Hey,” exclaimed Win as he yoked his little sister’s arm and began to drag her towards the double doors. “It’s Penny and Becca!”

  “Yippee!” shouted Rose, who wrenched her hand out of Win’s grip and ran through two smiling staff members holding flower arrangements over their heads.

  “Princess Rose, it is such a pleasure to see you again,” said Becca, using her best Alice in Wonderland imitation. The Quinns’ youngest daughter was now fifteen years old. She adored little Rose and jumped at the opportunity to visit the White House and play with her.

  “Hi, Susan,” greeted Julia, who gave her dear friend a half-hug and a kiss on the cheek. She set her heavy toddler on the floor so he could receive proper hugs and kisses from nineteen-year-old Penny, who was home for Thanksgiving break.

  She was attending college back in Boston at Wellesley. Donald had encouraged her to go to school anywhere but Wellesley, which continued to be a bastion of liberal thought, but Penny insisted she was strong enough to withstand the peer pressure. Besides, she quipped, what better way to learn how Martians think than live with them for four years?

  “Julia, this is absolutely beautiful once again,” started Susan. “I think it was a great idea to reschedule the Governor’s Ball for this week if for no other reason than to give the event a new look.”

  “This is why I love you, Susan. These things have a tendency to wreck my nerves. You gotta be nice to people who’ve said nasty things about your husband. You have to make small talk with people who look forward to the day you’re out of Washington. You know, blah-blah-blah.”

  “Honey, you’ll handle it with grace as always. Besides, no one puts on a party better than you do. The White House will miss you, I’m sure.”

  “Mom,” said Win, tugging on her arm, “can I show Penny and Becca my new PS6?”

  “PS6?” asked Penny. “When did that come out?”

  “It’s not yet,” replied Win. “Uncle Brad brought it to me. It is so cool! You’ll never believe the graphics. They’re in 8K!”

  All of the kids looked to Julia for approval, even little Frank, who’d never be allowed near the console as long as Win was running things.

  “Well, this is the perfect opportunity for me to bring something up,” Julia began to reply. “Susan, how would you and Donald, together with the girls, like to stay with us Wednesday and Thursday nights? These five could have a slumber party on the third floor while you and Donald can take the Lincoln Bedroom. After this week’s activities, and the last eight years for that matter, it might be nice for the four of us to have a little time together to look back on things. Whadya think?”

  “Absolutely. I know Donald will be ready for a few adult beverages,” replied Susan as she turned her attention to her daughters. “Girls, would you like to have a couple of nights upstairs?”

  “Heck yeah,” replied Becca without hesitation. “Penny will too, right?”

  “How can I refuse?”

  Win gave Penny a high five and Rose hugged Becca.

  “There you have it,” sai
d Susan as she bent down to give Frank a kiss on his rosy red cheek. “It appears to be unanimous, right, Francis?”

  “Frank says yes.”

  Julia and Susan began to laugh. “He doesn’t like to be called Francis. So he’s picked up speaking in third person by referring to himself as Frank.”

  “I’ll stick with Frank. Is that okay, buddy?” asked Susan as she gave him another squeeze. “He’s so adorable.”

  “A-okay,” the three-year-old replied.

  Julia waved over their nanny and asked her to escort the kids upstairs. When they were on their way, she turned to Susan. “Do you want to help me with the seating arrangements? I’m sure Donald will make some last minute adjustments. He will probably seat certain governors alongside any who might be on the fence.”

  “Everything has a political angle, doesn’t it?” Susan quipped.

  “No doubt about it. From the receiving line in the Blue Room during the reception to the seating of the guests, and especially Sarge’s toast, it’s a complex, orchestrated event to gain a political advantage in some way.”

  “All of this makes my head hurt,” Susan said with a laugh. “How many days until we go back to Boston and slip off into relative obscurity?”

  “I wish! Sarge says we’ll continue to have a role in national politics after he leaves office. We may always be in the public eye.”

  “Donald said the same thing. He’s already cautioned me that our relationship to the Boston Brahmin will continue to be complicated for years. We’ve been lucky to avoid the connection so far.”

  “No kidding. Could you imagine if that got in the media? Fortunately, the only people who know have just as much to lose as we do if it were made public.”

  Julia’s chief of staff arrived with a silver tray of place-card holders, which held the names of their guests. She provided Julia her iPad with her staff’s initial seating chart suggestions based upon prior events and political affiliations.