Before the food was half ready, Melissa came into the kitchen.
“That was strange … really strange,” she said. “After I got through the usual pleasantries, I told our friend at Social Security we were in town on a mission for CORPS. That put a big stop to the conversation.” She plopped down on a kitchen counter bar stool. “Suddenly it was, ‘nice to hear from you, gotta go, goodbye.’ No ‘let’s get together while you’re in Washington’ or anything else.” She grabbed a slice of cheese from a sandwich-in-the-making. “God, and to think of all those times we’ve had him over to dinner when he was in the Bay Area.”
“There must be someone who can help us,” Kelli said.
“Hey, gang, let’s not give up yet,” Bill said. “Even if Congress takes Friday off, as usual, we still have a couple of days left in this week to dig into things.”
“Doesn’t Congress recess for the holidays sometime soon?” Ted said.
“Next Thursday, the fifteenth. They’ll be gone until the new session starts on January third.”
“So there’s going to be a mad dash to wrap up any pending legislation, particularly if it involves funding.”
“Exactly.” Bill leveled a finger at Ted. “Hey, you, you’re the fly in the ointment here. You’ve come to town representing CORPS and shut down most, if not all, of your insider contacts. Looks like no one wants to have anything to do with CORPS.”
“Yeah,” Ted said. “So what do you suggest?”
“Get on the horn to Sorkin. If the man has information, we need it. Now!”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’ damn it. The man asked for your help and then holds out on you? You can’t let him get away with that, not after what happened to Mel.”
Their eyes locked.
“Well?”
After a long moment, Ted said, “I haven’t wanted to push, what with Myra’s death, and the bombing of the CORPS offices.”
“Ted, I don’t think you have a choice,” Mel said. “You have to put more pressure on Nathan.”
“Okay! But he’s a stubborn old fart.”
“And he’s going to stay that way unless you start showing us some of that old Yost don’t-let-’em-off-the-hook interviewing technique.” Mel gave him a big, phony smile. “It’s either that or give up investigative journalism for all time and get serious about your golf game.”
Bill roared with laughter. “Better stick to the news, big guy. I’ve played golf with you and trust me, there’s no future for you there.”
Ted gave him the finger and picked up the phone.
* * *
“Nathan, it’s me, Ted.”
There was no response but he could hear strained breathing at the other end.
“Are you there, Nathan—”
“—I’m here.”
“I think you know why I’m calling. Either you give me the name of your Washington source or Mel and I are on the next available flight back to San Francisco. We’re running out of information sources here … and time.”
“I planned on calling later.”
Ted hated the heaviness in Nathan’s voice, the sound of a beaten man, but he couldn’t let Nathan off the hook. “Hey, old man, maybe it’s time you joined those rocking chair folks in some retirement home. You know, the ones who sit on their asses, never take a chance, hope someone else will do what has to be done.”
“Yop tvayu mat!”
“Don’t think I want to know what that means.”
“Okay, Mr. Big Shot newsman, you’ve let us down? You were supposed to dig out the information so I could protect my Washington source. That’s why we hired you in the first place. You were supposed to find it on your own.”
“Stop it, Nathan! We don’t have time for you-did-this, I-did-that nonsense. I need every goddam name you have, and I need them now.”
More heavy breathing.
“It all started out as just a rumor,” Sorkin said, almost in a whisper. “Came from someone inside the Feds. Just a stupid rumor about the healthcare people pushing for changes in end-of-life treatment.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t even believe it. The only reason I followed up was that I got the same information from my D.C. person. But I had to promise not to reveal where it came from. I was in a spot. Like I said, you were supposed to find it, Ted.”
“So give me the info now.”
“Someone, or some group—and it’s very high up—is pushing for legalized selective euthanasia. And I just found out a rider that will make that happen is being tagged onto a piece of shoo-in legislation that’s up for a vote sometime soon.”
“Like sometime before Congress adjourns on the fifteenth. That means we’ve got five working days, at best, Nathan!”
“I know. I know.”
“And you were planning to drop this little bomb on me when?”
“Believe or not, Ted, I was going to call you later tonight.”
“Pacific or Eastern time?”
The silence grew between the two men. Finally, Ted said, “This day is not finished, Mr. Sorkin. Stay right where you are! I’ll get back to you within the hour.”
Chapter 33
“Maria, I need the back story on this rider you mentioned. Does it have anything to do with Medicare?”
Silence.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but remember: you owe me … you owe me big time.”
“Yost, I have no time for this. I’ve got to get over to Bethesda for a big National Endowment for the Arts to-do. In fact, I’m standing here getting ready to get into my car. Besides, I thought we’d finished this conversation earlier in the day.”
“Not to my satisfaction. I’m up to my neck in alligators. I need you to toss me a lifeline.”
“This better be serious. And it’d better be quick, Yost.”
“My wife was kidnapped earlier this week. Is that serious enough?”
“I’m listening.”
He laid the whole package for her, explained what he was needed, and why.
After a long moment with no response, he said, “Don’t hold out on me, lady. I really need this information … a lot of people need it.”
“I can’t help you, Ted.”
“Don’t tell me that. Just give me this one and I’ll keep my mouth zipped forever about how you got that Guantanamo exclusive that landed you a spot on 60 Minutes. After that, we’ll be even.”
“You’re making this very tough.”
“I know, Maria, and I’m sorry. But I’ve run out of time. I’ve no place else to go.”
“What are you going to do with the information?”
“Whadda ya think, run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes? Damn it! Stop the rider, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Several seconds passed, then she said, “I’ll give you what little I know. But you have to swear that attribution never lands on my doorstep. This PBS gig is the best assignment I’ve ever latched onto. If I lose it, well, you know what the news world is like out there. There ain’t no jobs no more.”
“Not a peep.” Ted heard her sigh.
“There’s something floating around called the Desisto Project, which fits in with what you’ve dug up. We tripped over it while working on an in-depth medical feature about the elderly.”
“Go on.”
“It leaked during an interview I did with Maurice Seldon, Secretary of HHS.”
The hairs on Ted’s neck prickled. “Yeah, I know who he is. What happened?”
“I was grilling him about the financial picture for long-term care.”
“And Desisto?”
“It was literally a slip of the tongue; he screwed up. He’d referred to a rider and something called Desisto. When I pushed for more details, he told me to forget it. Said that if I ever mentioned any of this again, it would be worth my job, if not my head.”
“The asshole threatened you?”
“He wasn’t kidding.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?” Ted
said.
“Back off, Ted. I gave it my best shot.”
“No, Maria, now you’re giving it your best shot.”
* * *
Bill Tana stood at the window of his den. Snow covered everything in the back yard, including his favorite plant, a huge hydrangea. Under the clinging snow, there was nothing but a skeleton of dead sticks that needed to be lopped off at the ground. He was always impressed when in spring and summer it turned into this massive ball of beautiful, puffed-up pink clusters. This past spring he’d finally gotten around to putting a penny in the ground and it actually worked—the blossoms turned blue. Robin’s egg blue.
Pretty damn amazing.
He forced himself to turn from the window when he heard Ted winding up his phone conversation with Maria Weiskott at PBS.
Ted’s involvement with the advocacy group had seemed lame. Then he’d done a little research and discovered that the older generation was beginning to understand that its sheer numbers represented a lot of political clout. Politicians may have treated them like pushovers in the past, but that was changing.
And if someone like Ted was hooking up with CORPS, the name of the game was certainly going to change much more rapidly. Maybe something would finally be done to stop Social Security funds from being shoved into the general fund, borrowed to pay for other programs. .
Looking into the living room, he saw Kelli and Melissa going through a list of politicians and administration officials, then making an occasional call. As he watched, he was impressed with how lucky two reprobates like Ted and he were to have found such amazing women.
He walked over to his bookcase and absently read the titles on an eye-level shelf that held many of his favorite books, both fiction and non-fiction. He suddenly stuck out a finger and touched the spine of one particular novel, She, by H. Rider Haggard.
Something kept curling around in his head, a piece of conversation he’d overheard at his PR firm, about the same time he’d passed on the Medicare blurb to Ted. Had to do with a fast-moving piece of healthcare legislation. When he’d tried to find out the specifics, he was given the run-around. The only real thing he heard was that the junior Senator from Nevada was involved.
Oh yeah!
When Ted hung up the telephone, Bill said, “Don’t know what you found out, but I think you’re about to tell me I’m pretty damn smart. Not only that, but resourceful and even good looking.”
“And that you’re beautiful—a beautiful pain in the ass.”
Bill laughed and held up a restraining hand. “Don’t be so hasty with the criticism, Ted Yost. I just recalled a bit of office chit-chat that pointed to Senator Angelle Savage as being ready to pop with some action this coming week, possibly having to do with healthcare legislation.
“You’re kidding.”
“Cross my heart.”
“I take back all the bad things I ever said about you, although it would have been nice if you’d remembered this crucial information earlier.”
“Hey, no one’s perfect.”
“That’s for sure,” Mel and Kelli said in unison.
“Man, I need to get some shut-eye,” Bill said. “I feel hung over.”
“Sucking on beer bottles for hours will do that,” Ted said. “It’s getting late and I could use some food. Why don’t we lock it up for the day and get back to it in the morning.”
“Works for me, man.”
But Ted remained seated, doodling on a scrap of paper. “Damn! That Galen Hospital committee is meeting next Monday ,” he said.
“What about it?”
“The timing has to be more than coincidental.”
“Timing with what?” Bill said.
“Look at what we know, or think we know—efforts to introduce selective euthanasia, a possible healthcare rider tagged to must-pass legislation, Congress adjourning for the year.”
“Plus an undercover scheme involving Medicare, with the code name Desisto.”
“I just don’t understand how Weiskott could sit on this information.” Ted shoved a bunch of papers away from in front of him. “I mean, I get it that the PBS gig is a great career move, but there was a time when you couldn’t hold that woman back. If she had even the hint of a good story, she ran with it. She was one helluva reporter.”
Bill ran fingers through his hair with shaking hands. “Journalists gotta eat, too.”
“Yeah, but what happened to honesty? Truth?”
“If you’re talking about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, I may not be your guy. Probably not since day one of my getting into public relations. I’m making a very, very good living, my friend, by frequently avoiding the truth, making useless and obnoxious things sound useful and innocent.”
“You knew what you were getting into right from the start,” Ted said. “What’s changed?”
“Hell, it sounded exciting at the time. You know, hanging out with D.C. insiders, courting the power brokers, getting to know things the average citizen knows absolutely nothing about. It was good in the beginning.”
“The druggie kid scores big.”
“Something like that,” Bill said. “But maybe it’s time I got out of the PR game.”
“Be careful what you ask for, guy.”
Bill walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out another beer. “Get you anything?”
“How about a Coke?”
Bill filled a large glass with ice and poured the cola over it, gave it to Ted, and dropped back into his chair. He banged his beer bottle down, dry-washed his face with both hands, and shouted, “W. Wade Wilson!”
“The lobbyist?”
“Insurance industry, White House, Congress. I’d bet my last dollar that he’s the one behind this whole shebang—this Desisto thing. No one else could orchestrate this kind of project and keep it under wraps.” He picked up his beer and drank nearly half of it. “Dammit! I should have been on it when his name first came to mind.”
“I’m not following you.”
“This guy Wilson is a nightmare.”
He’s a lobbyist. What else do you expect? Don’t really know much about the guy—”
“You gotta be kidding! Blogging has not only hog-tied you to a desk, the brain circuits ain’t firing.”
“Awright, already. Spit it out.”
“W.W. is not only the most powerful healthcare industry lobbyist in Washington, he’s a slime bag. Doesn’t care what he’s pushing as long as there’s lots of money in the game. And he’s smart, stays out of the limelight so there’s no finger-pointing. But his connections lead everywhere, including the Oval Office.”
“So you think the President is behind this thing?”
“Damn straight!” Bill walked up to Ted, pinched and jiggled his cheek. “You’re turning into such a sweet old guy.”
“Do that again and this sweet old feller will have you sitting on your ass.”
“Well, get with it, think about it,” Bill said. “Who has the most to gain politically—say a year from now? Da-dum! Election time! Start eliminating some of those zeros for Medicare spending—cut back on hospital services, expenditures that deal with the elderly, and man, you’re in. And the good news just goes on and on.”
“But if this came out, it would sink Tyler,” Ted said. “The President would be out, along with anyone riding his coattails.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But either way, this just the kind of behind-closed-doors thing Wilson loves to handle. He’d have all of them right in his pocket.”
“This is even nastier than I thought,” Ted said.
“What really rips me is it’s a sneaky, heartless way to deal with old people who have no resources—people who are poor or dependent only on Medicare.” Bill finished off his beer. “It’s a simple equation—poor, sick; old, dead.”
“Deadly simple.”
“Hell, Ted, this is supposed to be the greatest country in the world. That’s no way to treat anyone.”
“At least they die
drugged up, pain free.” Ted held up his soda, and watched the ice swirl into a tiny eddy. “We all die. No way out of it. And there are worse ways to go.”
Bill stood and headed out of the room. He tossed over his shoulder, “Yeah, but who wants to die on somebody’s daily short list?”
* * *
After they finished dinner, Bill said, “Time to call Sorkin again.”
He and Ted were still sitting around the dining room table and Kelli and Mel were in the living room. No one wanted to be the first to give in and call it a day, like everything would fall apart without all of them present.
Before Ted could respond, the phone rang. Kelli picked it up, listened, and handed it to Ted. “It’s Nathan Sorkin.”
“I know you were going to call me back,” Nathan said, “but I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Lay it on me. What do you have?”
Nathan’s words spilled out, running together. “I hope this still helps. I’m sorry I haven’t been totally straight with you. I’ve been stalling, but—”
“Hey, slow down, man. Take a breath or two. I can barely understand what you’re saying.”
Mel walked a cup of coffee to Ted, carried away his empty dinner plate.. He started drinking it right away.
“I know I should have told you from the start … but I gave my word. I wanted to tell you, almost told you—”
“Nathan, just tell me now.”
“Senator Angelle Savage.”
“Yeah. The one from Nevada. We were just talking about her.”
“Then you know?”
“Know what?”
“She’s my Washington leak. And next week, she’ll be the one carrying the rider—”
“—that will be tagged on to an appropriations bill that’s expected to coast on through without a hitch,” Ted said. “And undoubtedly the President plans to sign it the next day before anyone’s had a chance to challenge it.”
“When did you find out she’s the one?”
“Does it matter? We’re involved in a fucking flood, too fast and too big to stop.”
“I’m sorry, Ted, I should have told you about Senator Savage. Maybe if you’d known sooner we could have stopped it.”
Ted snatched the last chocolate chip cookie from a dish that had been stacked high a couple of hours ago. He was agitated, angry. “Yes, it might have helped if you had trusted me sooner.”
The Killing Vote Page 19
