Mr. Boyfriend quietly shrugged and said that would be fine by him, without even a hint of concern. He’s even younger than me, just a bit taller, but didn’t look like anything too badass, so I stupidly accepted the challenge. By then half the bar was watching the potential altercation, and I was worried, like most who are more child than man are, about losing face. You get a little older you don’t worry about that kind of crap so much, but I hadn’t arrived at that refuge of self-realization just yet.
So we head outside and he gives me another opportunity to declare a truce.
“Look buddy, we don’t need to do this. I wasn’t around, she’s a looker, and you wanted some company, I get it. No harm, no foul.”
Well, there’s about twenty or so people from inside the bar watching us have our pre-fight conversation outside, and so I’m getting myself even more worked up to take this to the next level. Like I said, I’m young, stupid, worrying about my rep – all that nonsense. So I puff my chest out and glare back at the guy.
“Do you know who I am asshole? I worked in the White House! I’m a somebody, and you’re a damn nobody!”
Well, that didn’t impress anyone, not even me. I could hear a few groans from some of the people watching, and Mr. Boyfriend kinda gave me this pitying little shake of his head and chuckled.
“Ok then, how about I buy you a drink and we call it good, Mr. White House?”
For some reason that I’ll never understand, that comment raged me up to the point of near temporary insanity. There wasn’t anything I wanted more in the world at that moment than to plant that guy right on his “buy you a drink” ass. So I came at him swinging - one big windmill after the next.
Then he hit me right in the center of my chest. It was one punch, happened so fast I didn’t even see it coming. I sure as hell felt it though. BAM! And down I went, the air whooshing out of me, my legs two rubbery pegs collapsing in on themselves, and my vision threatening to fade to black.
A few seconds later and Mr. Boyfriend was leaning over me, asking if I was all right, telling me to sit up and take a few slow, deep breaths. The guy sounded so damned concerned about my well being, I actually felt guilty for trying to punch his lights out, even as my chest felt like it had just been pummeled by a sledgehammer.
He lifted me back onto my feet, looked me over, and then gently clapped me on the back.
“You’re gonna be fine. Probably be sore for a few days, but nothing permanent. So you worked in the White House, huh? What’s your name?”
My mouth seemed to be moving without my mind telling it to do so. I felt like some nerd getting a chance to be friends with the most popular guy in school. He just oozed the kind of cool confidence you thought only existed in the movies.
“I’m Frank Bennington, and I’d like to know the name of the guy who can throw a punch like that.”
Mr. Boyfriend gave this slanted little half smile and clapped me on my back again.
“I went easy on you, Frank. You seem like an all right guy. A little drunk, a little too willing to throw down, but I’ve met worse than you, a lot worse. My name’s Mac – Mac Walker.”
So as I found myself looking across at this Magnus Tork trying to act tough behind his taxpayer funded desk inside of this monstrosity of a government building, I was reminded of that altercation all those years ago with my thankfully brief encounter with real - deal tough.
Magnus Tork was no Mac Walker.
In fact, if need be, I was pretty confident I could take him.
11.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Bennington – what do you want?”
I smiled back at Tork, and then pointed to his wall of self importance.
“You’ve met a few high and mighty in your time, huh?”
The FDA compliance official puffed his chest out as he folded his hands atop his desk and nodded, his eyes glancing to the wall of photographs.
“I am a servant of the people, Mr. Bennington. Now I’ll ask you again, why are you here?”
The smile remained on my face as I casually scratched the back of my head.
“See, the thing is Mr. Tork, I’m just wondering, call it speculation, call it wanting to learn the truth, I’m just wondering why it is you and Mr. Morehouse were making your way into the offices of some particularly powerful members of Congress lately. Some people, and I’m not saying it would be me, but some people around here might have a little problem with that, seeing how Morehouse is doing consulting work for one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, and you’re a high ranking compliance official with the Food and Drug Administration. Some might even call that uh, what’s the term they use – a conflict of interest!”
Magnus Tork’s eyes narrowed as the fingers of his still folded hands dug into flesh.
“Is that it, Mr. Bennington? You’re wasting my time with some silly conspiracy involving myself and…a drug company?”
I nodded my head a few times and held up both hands in an attempt to communicate I meant no harm, even though Tork’s body language had already confirmed he was in deep with Morehouse, and I was eager to press him further on that relationship.
“Well now Mr. Tork, the thing is, people saw you and Morehouse together. They saw you together walking the halls of Congress. So, you know, let’s say some of those people decided they wanted to investigate that relationship, right? They might come in here and take the hard-drive from your computer. I mean, I hear that kind of thing is pretty simple to do. And let’s say they see communications between yourself and this Mr. Morehouse, and then they get your phone records, banking statements, I mean this whole thing could get real ugly real fast, right? That is, if in fact you have some kind of relationship with a drug company lobbyist.”
“Mr. Morehouse is not a lobbyist, he’s a consultant.”
I tilted my head to the right, my eyebrows rising slightly as I looked back at Tork.
“How do you know that, Mr. Tork? Seems like you just tried to insinuate you didn’t know who Mr. Morehouse was. Did I misunderstand you there? If I did, I apologize. It happens you know, my mind can wander a bit, get things wrong. I’m not a young guy anymore so, kind of comes with the territory.”
The right corner of Tork’s mouth twitched as he looked back at me, his eyes clearly conveying his desire to see me hurt.
“I have all kinds of meetings with all kinds of people, Mr. Bennington. Have you checked the actual sign-in records?”
My face indicated confusion, though I knew exactly what Tork was referring to. Each congressional office kept records of every “official” meeting inside their offices. The thing is, there were a hell of a lot of meetings that went unrecorded, and the fact Tork was suggesting I pull the meeting records told me there would be no official record of him and Morehouse arriving at the office of Congressman Mills.
“Sign in records, Mr. Tork? What sign in records?”
“Cut the shit, Bennington! You know what I’m talking about! You don’t think I pulled your name up already before you came in here? You were a congressional staffer for years. Worked with that congressman who died recently. A suicide, right? At least, that’s what the investigation concluded, though I’m sure plenty of people are wondering otherwise.”
Ah, Tork was attempting some push back, which meant he was even more afraid of the scenario I had laid out to him.
“That’s right, Mr. Tork, I did work in Congress, and the White House too at one time, many years ago. So I also know that the official records don’t always indicate a true record of who was coming and going inside of Congress. D.C. has long run on an attitude of, if it isn’t recorded, it didn’t happen, am I right?”
Tork leaned forward slightly in his chair as his lids lowered halfway over his eyes.
“Are you accusing the sitting chair of the House Appropriations Committee of wrongdoing as well, Mr. Bennington? If you want to make enemies of him, well God help you.”
I waved my hands in front of me and shook my head.
“
Oh no, Mr. Tork, I see your point there. I’m not about making enemies, I just had some questions, that’s all. Please, you’ve made it clear to me you’re just a public servant who meets with a lot of people and so can’t be expected to recall every one of those meetings. Hey, I get that. You know, there are days I can’t even remember what I ate the night before!”
Predictably, the self-important bureaucrat instantly relaxed following my words of support for his work, and understanding of how busy he was, not picking up on the subtle sarcasm that propped each of those words up. Though more relaxed, a hint of guarded suspicion of my motives remained.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennington. As you said, I’m a very busy man, so if you don’t mind seeing yourself out, I have a phone conference scheduled to begin soon.”
I rose from my chair and extended my hand, glad to see Tork reach across his desk and take my hand into his own where I then squeezed it firmly and leaned toward him.
“One thing though, Mr. Tork, uh, I never mentioned Congressman Mills to you, yet despite that, you already knew I was focusing in on your recent meeting at his office. Now tell me, if you have no memory of such a meeting taking place, how did you know I was referring to that particular member of Congress?”
Tork attempted to withdraw his hand, but I continued to squeeze it tightly.
“I mentioned Congressman Mills? I don’t recall that.”
I leaned even further across Tork’s desk, staring directly into his eyes.
“Oh, yes you did Mr. Tork, yes you did. You said God help me if I was making an enemy of the head of the Appropriations Committee. So I have to assume you were speaking of Congressman Walter Mills, who is of course chairs the Congressional Appropriations Committee. That would make sense, right? And then I have to assume, that maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with HR-4221.”
The flesh around Magnus Tork’s cheeks turned a reddish purple as the twitch in the upper right corner of his mouth became more pronounced. The mention of the pending fast track legislation had struck a very deep nerve with the now nervous bureaucrat. I released my grip on his hand just as he pulled back violently from the handshake, causing his entire right arm to flail behind him.
“Get out, Mr. Bennington. Security will escort you from the premises. You would think someone who has worked in this town for as long as you would know better than to poke certain things with a stick. You might wake it up, and have to suffer the consequences of your foolish and ill timed curiosity.”
True to his word, Tork had a tall, powerfully built, albeit bored looking security guard escort me outside of the FDA complex where my cab remained waiting for my return.
Before I re-entered the taxi’s backseat, I turned to look back at the FDA building now looming over me from which Magnus Tork had just thrown me out of. I was certain my meeting with him would, just as he had warned, poke whatever beast was behind this troubling and dangerous collusion between drug companies and the federal government. If I was to find shareable evidence of such a relationship, that beast had to be awoken, even if it meant its eyes would come to rest on me.
Dedra’s condition deserved my determination to do so.
12.
No more than ten minutes into my drive back to Washington D.C. from Silver Spring my T3 cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, meaning it was likely not Dedra who called.
“Yeah – Bennington.”
The voice I heard was quite unexpected. It was Congresswoman Mears herself. I thought that somehow Magnus Tork had already connected me to Congresswoman Mears and had issued a complaint regarding my visit and allegations.
The congresswoman’s call had nothing to do with Magnus Tork though.
“Mr. Bennington, Frank, this is Congresswoman Mears. I am sorry to bother you, I know you’re working an assignment for us at the moment, but I thought it best to inform you Dedra is…”
The congresswoman’s voice trailed off, and I could sense her fighting to compose herself.
“Dedra is what?”
My internal alarm bells were sounding, as I felt my stomach tighten with worry.
Christ, I knew she was sick but, God please, don’t have the congresswoman tell me she’s---
My thoughts were interrupted by Congresswoman Mears continuing.
“Dedra is taking a temporary leave of absence, Mr. Bennington. She already informed me you were recently made aware of her condition. There was an issue today, she is receiving treatment now. It is my understanding her condition, at least short term, has stabilized.”
I shut my eyes tight, blocking out the quickly passing world outside of the taxi.
She’s alive. Thank God, she’s still alive.
“Where is she? What hospital?”
“I don’t think she should be seeing visitors, Frank.”
My jaw clenched as I held the phone tightly in my hand, wanting to crush it to a pulp.
“You will be contacted by Dedra’s replacement later tonight. Please make certain you are available to take the call. Goodbye.”
And that was it. The Congresswoman, as always, was succinct in her instructions. She could take her “no visitor” recommendation and shove it up her ass though.
Call the priest. He’ll know where Dedra is being treated.
I dialed the priest’s number.
“Mr. Bennington?”
“Yes Father, it’s me. I was just informed that Dedra had some kind of medical issue today. She’s receiving treatment but I don’t know where it is, you know, what hospital she’s at, and I would really like to see her.”
The priest paused for a few seconds before his low, growling voice replied.
“She would be at George Washington University. There’s a doctor there I was collaborating with in her treatment. She’s an excellent physician. I can be there in thirty minutes Mr. Bennington, and acting as Dedra’s priest, can get you in to see her.”
“Thank you, Father, thirty minutes – see you then.”
I arrived at the large, glass covered entrance of the university hospital just twenty minutes after speaking with Father Barnes, and was surprised to see the priest already there, waiting for me. He wore the traditional white collared black suit of the priesthood, his naturally serious and scowling face attempting a weak smile of greeting as he saw me emerge from the back of the taxi.
“It appears we both intended to arrive a bit early, Mr. Bennington. Can you tell me if there were any specifics provided you regarding Dedra’s condition?”
I shook my head, but then recalled the congresswoman stating she thought Dedra had been stabilized.
“I was told that, at least short term, she had been stabilized. What would have caused her to have to be admitted into the hospital?”
The priest shrugged.
“I’m guessing she restarted her chemo treatments recently. I haven’t spoken with her in nearly a month, but if she was dealing with another round of chemotherapy, it was likely a very aggressive round. I just hope to God they haven’t removed her lymph nodes already. C’mon Mr. Bennington, let’s go see Dedra, otherwise we’re simply wasting time on speculation.”
Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series... Page 40
