by Gen LaGreca
"I don't have much time, so let's try not to ask too many questions," Darcy said, adding, "if that's okay with you."
"Okay, Darcy. Shoot."
"Regarding the education bill making its way through the House, the president has decided to support it," droned Darcy.
"But wasn't he against it last week?" Sean asked.
"He changed his mind."
"Why?"
"Just tell the media he supports the bill now. I thought you weren't going to ask so many questions."
"But, Darcy, the reporters will call me on that. They'll want to know why the president said he would veto that bill last week and now—"
"Then refer them to the House leadership."
Am I simply supposed to repeat the talking points like a parrot? he asked himself. Darcy almost never explains. She never gives me reasons. Then a more troubling thought occurred to him. Maybe she . . . doesn't want to admit . . . why they do what they do. He shrugged off his fears. She's busy. She can't explain everything. My job is to make things easier, not harder, for her.
"Then there's Vita Simpson." Darcy's tone became contemptuous at the mention of Taninger News' intrepid reporter. "Try to limit her questions."
"She'll ask about the Federal Bureau of Building Safety's recent action against the DC Slammers' new stadium," said Sean. "She'll want to know if that was done to pressure Laura Taninger to stop criticizing the Bureau of Elections. Vita will say we're trying to shut down free speech. I thought I'd speak to the folks at Building Safety to learn exactly what they did and why."
"I'll tell you what they did. That's all you need to know." Darcy glanced impatiently at her watch. "The government has to regulate businesses for the public safety and well-being. Building Safety enforced its regulations. Those are economic regulations, which have nothing at all to do with free speech. Tell Vita that, then call on someone else."
"What about the protests against Kate Taninger at Collier University? Vita will pepper me about that. Laura Taninger claims they were staged by an outside group that's tight with the president."
Darcy laughed contemptuously. "Tell Vita that sounds like the plot of a conspiracy novel. In the real world, apart from her employer's fantasies, the Martin administration has nothing whatsoever to do with Collier University and the activities of their students. Got that?"
Darcy rose to end the meeting.
Sean looked up at her with a wry half-smile. "I guess so."
The sepia walls, old wood booths, and brownish lighting made Annie's Alehouse look like a dive. A glance at the drink prices elevated its status to a Washington, DC, bar. Covering the walls were an array of blown-up photographs of celebrities; their salutations to the owner and signatures splashed across their pictures suggested they had come there to be seen. Two people in a booth at the end of a long row talked with their heads down and voices low, hoping to remain unseen.
There was a kind of anonymity established between Laura Taninger and Senator Bret Taylor in the back booth of Annie's. The bar was packed four-deep with D.C. types unwinding from a long day. Those standing around the bar formed a patchwork quilt of business shirts sewn together at the shoulders, with heads facing the center. No one paid attention to outliers in the booths.
"I agreed to meet with you this one time, Ms. Taninger, on the condition that you're not to call me or send me any more emails about this matter," said the senator, a distinguished gray-haired man with a perpetually worried look wrinkling his brow.
"I understand, Senator."
Laura liked Bret Taylor's honest eyes, which looked directly at her. The senator liked Laura's trustworthy face, which disarmed him.
He stirred his drink nervously, then took a generous slug. "For all I know, my office could be wiretapped!"
Laura's curiosity piqued. "Do you think you're being wiretapped? By the Martin administration?"
"No, no!" the senator said, retracting. "I didn't mean to imply that. I just want you to stop communicating with me about a sensitive issue that could potentially derail the president's—and my own—reelection campaign."
"Of course, Senator. I'll respect your wishes."
"When I gave Sean Browne permission to pass my lead to you, I didn't think you and I would have any direct contact."
"As I told you, Senator, Sean never revealed you as his source. I surmised you were the source, so I contacted you on my own hunch. You're the head of the Senate committee that oversees the Bureau of Elections, and you're the only senator in the president's party who has voiced misgivings about the new SafeVote program. So it wasn't hard to infer that James Spenser would've come to you with his concerns when he learned that Elections was bringing in a company to make additional, uncertified modifications, after the SafeVote programming had already been completed and certified."
"Okay," he said, acknowledging that her deduction was correct. "So how can I help you?"
"What else did Spenser tell you?"
"Only what you just said, that a new company was being brought in, under the radar, so to speak."
"He spoke to his boss, Sandra Frank, about that, didn't he?"
"He questioned Sandra."
"And she was evasive. She put him off, didn't she?"
"She told him not to worry, but he was suspicious. It was the only company whose name was being withheld from him, and no further programming was permitted to be done after certification. So he came to me with his concerns, and I passed him on to Sean and you."
"Did he ever find out the name of this company?"
"I don't know. I never spoke to him again after I passed on the lead."
"Did he mention anything at all about this company?"
"No."
"After he was shot, he could hardly talk, but he managed to whisper a word to me . . . he repeated it . . . it was somehow important that he tell me. It sounded like Fox. Do you know what he meant by that?"
"Fox? Why, no. I have no idea."
"Have you ever heard that word used in any of your dealings with Elections and the SafeVote program?"
"No, I haven't. I'm afraid I can't help you."
Laura sipped her wine, looking thoughtful. "Senator, could you inquire about this? Could you ask Sandra Frank at Elections some questions? Could you find out why her assistant director would've set up a meeting with me and uttered that word just before his death?"
The senator shook his head vigorously. "I can't get involved with this!"
"Why not? You head the oversight committee. Can't you get information from Elections? Can't you subpoena it, if necessary?"
"No, absolutely not!" He seemed to panic at Laura's suggestion. He said, "Forget it."
"But Senator, with all due respect, there are questions here. Someone was killed. It's your job to inquire!"
"Now's not the time. If I made waves for the president just before his reelection, the party would cut me off. They'd create some kind of scandal to get me off the ticket and bring in a new candidate—and they'd ruin my career in the process."
"But it's the right thing to do!"
"But it's the wrong thing to do politically."
"Surely your constituents won't desert you for pursuing this matter, for not wanting to brush this under the rug, for doing what's right and not what's expedient."
He shook his head regretfully. "Today, if you're on the right side of an issue, and you want to fight for it, you might be able to prove your case, but that doesn't really matter anymore outside of a courtroom." He bitterly looked away, as if there were disillusionments beyond the current issue that weighed on his conscience and compromised his standards long ago. "If you lose your case in the court of public opinion, you're doomed. Too often the public just hears snippets and half-truths, put out by partisans to advance their own causes. The media feeds off that, spins that stuff out, and the public sides with them."
"But, Senator, the truth needs to come out. It needs all hands on deck to battle the broadside attacks it gets from its enemies. It needs you.
One sailor like me firing a single cannon isn't going to be enough."
"What good would I do, if I lost my seat? I can do more good in the long run by keeping my Senate seat and not being ousted. I can do more good by cooperating with my party."
"And losing your integrity? What good will that do?"
The senator sighed. "I have a different way of looking at things than you do."
Laura leaned back, studying the man across the table. She had to accept that Senator Bret Taylor had limitations.
"Okay, Senator, I won't take up any more of your time. If you think of anything else, you know how to reach me."
She finished her wine, pushed the glass aside, and signaled to the waiter for the bill.
"There is something else, Laura."
She looked at him curiously as he dropped formality to use her first name.
He emptied his drink, then he reached across the table to grab her by the arms, pulling her closer to him.
"I didn't just meet with you to say I'd be of no use to you."
"Oh?"
She could feel his fingers digging into her arms, pulling her even closer, until their faces almost touched. From a distance, he might have looked as if he were ready to kiss her, but Laura could see fear on his face and hear urgency in his voice. "Don't let this go! There's something wrong here. You have to keep at it, Laura. Everything rests on you."
"What rests on me?"
"The country."
They were unaware of someone breaking ranks with the line of bodies at the bar, turning toward them, aiming a phone in their direction, and taking their picture.
Sean Browne was double-parked outside Annie's Alehouse, waiting for Laura. He wondered why she had called him earlier that day and asked him to meet her for dinner.
"I'll pick you up at work," he had offered.
"I'm meeting someone at Annie's for a drink first. After that, I can meet you at the restaurant," she had replied.
Being ever the gentleman, doting on her, subliminally reaching for something romantic in their interactions, he'd insisted, "No, Laura, I'll pick you up at Annie's and take you to the restaurant."
As he waited, he saw Senator Bret Taylor leave the bar and get into a chauffeured car. Soon after, he saw Laura leave, find his car, wave at him, and approach. He got out to open the door for her, his broad smile a testament of how much he had missed her in the few weeks since their last meeting.
"This is our first time out together since you started your new job," she commented as she entered the car.
"Yes."
"I'm the big enemy of your bosses. Is it all right for you to be seen with me?"
"I don't know. I didn't think of that. Only that I miss you," he confessed.
"Tonight on my show, I'm airing an interview I conducted earlier today with the secretary of state about a few international hot spots, so I don't have to rush back for a live broadcast. I have the night off."
"Great!"
He drove to The Waves, and once they were seated at their usual table, he asked her about something that was bothering him. The mild annoyance in his voice was the closest he ever came to being angry with her. "I saw Senator Taylor leave the bar just before you did. You were meeting with him, weren't you?"
"I was."
"Why did you meet with him? Over James Spenser and the Bureau of Elections, right?"
"Right, Sean."
"Laura, I never gave you permission to meet with my source. I never revealed his name to you! Does he think I did?"
"No, he doesn't. I was perfectly clear that I guessed who the source was, and that you never revealed him. I wanted to ask him a few questions."
"And?"
"And he didn't have any answers for me."
"Surely, you don't expect me, in my new position, to have any more information for you."
"I don't expect that."
"So you asked me out tonight because you miss me?" he asked hopefully.
"No," she said curtly. "Because I saw your press briefing today."
"That's just an act, Laura. A dog-and-pony we do every day for the D.C. press corp."
"And for the public," added Laura.
"The public doesn't pay any attention to the briefing." Sean waved his hand dismissively.
"Oh, no? Your talking points—or rather your smears against my family—were repeated all over the TV news broadcasts, the talk shows, the radio, and the internet."
She looked at him with disappointment and anger, adding, "Vita confronted you with facts, and you dismissed them with lies. Why did Building Safety shut down our new stadium for faulty seating, when another sports arena that Vita cited has just installed the same seating, which Building Safety has allowed?"
"It's not my job to investigate federal agencies. I'm not a reporter."
I should have known this was coming, Sean thought. The worst part about it is that I wanted to investigate further, but Darcy ordered me not to. I had to back off and not jeopardize my job, but if I told Laura that, she'd think I was a coward.
"You didn't respond to Vita's question. You just said that Building Safety is enforcing its regulations. Yeah, they're enforcing them selectively to target my family and shut down my free speech."
"But those are just economic regulations. They have nothing at all to do with free speech. We're still an absolutely free country. There are no threats to that at all. Building Safety is a force for good; it regulates the private sector."
"Does that mean the private sector, which includes Taninger Enterprises, is a force for bad?" Laura asked.
"Now, I didn't say that, did I?"
"And Vita brought up facts about the demonstrations against my sister at Collier. It's a fact that they were started by the Foundation to Enrich Student Life. The head of it, Jack Anders, has been all over TV bragging about what he did. And it's a fact that that the Martin administration has given that group more funding from the government than it could have ever dreamed of raising on its own. It's a fact that the Foundation openly supports the president, even though it's supposed to be nonpartisan. When you ignore these facts and describe what Vita is saying as a plot in a conspiracy novel—are you proud of yourself? When you help vicious people eviscerate a kid in college for having an opinion on an issue—are you proud?"
"No one's trying to hurt Kate, or anyone else in your family. Laura, listen to yourself. You're wildly exaggerating."
Sean spoke loudly, as if the volume of his assertion could drown out any doubt that might be forming. He reached across the table to hold her hand, to console her, to soften her reaction. She pulled her hand away. Moved by her passion, he couldn't help but look at her affectionately. Even though he was the object of her wrath, she was so alive, so strong, so beautiful when she was fighting for what she believed. But like a viewer watching a stage play in which something heroic and important is happening, he felt distant from it. He saw someone who fascinated him, who was confident in her judgments and unhampered in expressing them, but who was also impractical, hyperbolic, far afield from what the world that he knew would accept. She belonged on the stage or on a pedestal.
"Sean, what's happening to you?" Her voice was softer. She sounded sadder and a bit hurt. "You used to care about accountability and the truth, even if you pursued them through me by giving me leads, and not through yourself. But now . . . "
"Laura, you're taking this to such an extreme. I'm still the same person. I sometimes have to say things for the president that I don't always agree with."
"You're working for people who want to destroy me and my family for the sake of their power."
"Now, really, Laura, you make them out to be monsters. They have good intentions. They're trying hard to accomplish worthy things in the long run, even if they sometimes have to . . . compromise . . . in the short term. There's an election coming up. They're doing what they need to do—what everybody does—to win."
"You mean, in order to win an election, they have to destroy my family?"
"Want me to tamp it down? To talk more like you and your bosses do? Let's see . . . " She straightened her shoulders, assumed a pompous air, and spoke affectedly. "Perhaps there might be a slight item omitted from the SafeVote accounting, a slight oversight of $400 million from the most well-meaning, well-intentioned, fine staff that run the Bureau of Elections and that do so much to uphold our democracy. Who are we to question them? But if it's not too much trouble, maybe they can spare a moment to reply to a humble reporter—"
Sean wasn't amused by her sarcasm. "You know full well that wouldn't be you anymore. You'd lose your fire. You'd lose those wild eyes that stare right through people. You'd lose your soul!"
Laura looked at him bewildered. "If you like what I am, then why don't you want to be this way, too? Where's your soul?"
The remark seemed to surprise—and hurt—him.
Sure, I've made some compromises. We all have to, everyone except you, that is. But look what it got me. My career is on fire, even if my . . . soul . . . isn't, he thought.
"I can give you a job at Taninger News if you're willing to quit a corrupt administration and fight this with me."
"Quit? Are you crazy? I mean, I'm delighted by your offer, but I can't do what you do, pick fights with everybody and open yourself up to constant attacks. Besides, I've got a job that everybody in the country would kill for."
"Who's everybody?"
"Every media person in the country, except you. My office is within spitting distance of his office—the most powerful man in the world! I'd love to work at Taninger News so I could see you every day, but any other job would be a big step down."
"You know, you sound more and more like them. They've got a hold on you—and it's tightening."
Hurt, but unwilling to continue the fight, Sean smiled wistfully at her and opened the menu.
Later, he drove her home. They walked past the gate at the entrance to her row house and up to the door.
"Goodnight, Sean," she said, as she opened the door and vanished into her home. There would be no small hug or kiss that night.
