The Prodigal Daughter

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The Prodigal Daughter Page 40

by Jeffrey Archer


  Both William and Edward traveled regularly to Washington in an effort to stop her from thinking about Richard and bring her back to taking an interest in her work. Neither of them succeeded.

  Florentyna spent a quiet Christmas at the Red House in Boston. William and Joanna found it difficult to adapt to the change that had taken place in so short a time. The once elegant and incisive lady had become listless and dull. It was an unhappy Christmas for everyone except that the ten-month-old Richard was learning to pull himself up. When Florentyna returned to Washington in the New Year, matters did not improve, and even Edward began to despair.

  Janet Brown waited nearly a year before she told Florentyna that she had been offered the job of administrative assistant in Senator Hart’s office.

  “You must accept the offer, my dear. There is nothing left for you here. I shall serve out my term and then retire.”

  Janet too pleaded with Florentyna, but it had no effect.

  Florentyna glanced through her mail, barely noticing a letter from Bella chiding her about not turning up for their daughter’s wedding, and signed some more letters that she hadn’t written or even bothered to read. When she checked her watch, it was six o’clock. An invitation from Senator Pryor to a small reception lay on the desk in front of her. Florentyna dropped the smartly embossed card into the wastepaper basket, picked up a copy of the Washington Post and decided to walk home alone. She had never once felt alone when Richard had been alive.

  She came out of the Russell Building, crossed Delaware Avenue and cut over the grass of Union Station Plaza. Soon Washington would be a blaze of colors. The fountain splashed as she came to the paved walkway. She reached the steps leading down to New Jersey Avenue and decided to rest for a moment on the park bench. There was nothing to rush home for. She began to remember the look on Richard’s face as Jake Thomas welcomed him as chairman of Lester’s. He did look a fool standing there with a large red London bus under his arm. Reminiscing about such incidents in their life together brought her as near to happiness now as she ever expected to achieve.

  “You’re on my bench.”

  Florentyna blinked and looked to her side. A man wearing dirty jeans and an open brown shirt with holes in the sleeves sat on the other end of the bench staring at her suspiciously. He had not shaved for several days, which made it hard for Florentyna to determine his age.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your bench.”

  “Been my bench, Danny’s bench, these last thirteen years,” said the grimy face. “Before that it was Ted’s and when I go Matt inherits it.”

  “Matt?” repeated Florentyna uncomprehendingly.

  “Yeah, Matt the Grain. He’s asleep behind parking lot sixteen waiting for me to die.” The tramp chuckled. “But I tell you the way he goes through that grain alcohol, Matt will never take over this bench. You not thinking of staying long, are you, lady?”

  “No, I hadn’t planned to,” said Florentyna.

  “Good,” said Danny.

  “What do you do during the day?”

  “Oh, this and that. Always know where we can get soup from church kitchens, and some of that stuff they throw out from the swanky restaurants can keep me going for days. I had the best part of a steak at the Monocle yesterday. I think I’ll try the Baron tonight.”

  Florentyna tried not to show her feelings. “You don’t work?”

  “Who’d give Danny work? I haven’t had a job in fifteen years—since I left the Army back in ’seventy. Nobody wanted this old vet. Should have died for my country in Nam—would have made things easier for everyone.”

  “How many are there like you?”

  “In Washington?”

  “Yes, in Washington.”

  “Hundreds.”

  “Hundreds?” Florentyna repeated in disbelief.

  “Not as bad as some cities. New York they throw you in jail as quick as look at you. When are you thinking of going, lady?” he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Soon. May I ask—”

  “You ask too many questions, so it’s my turn. Okay if I have the paper when you leave?”

  “The Washington Post?”

  “Good quality, that,” said Danny.

  “You read it?”

  “No.” He laughed. “I wrap myself up in it. Keeps me warm as a hamburger if I stay very still.”

  She passed him the paper. She stood up and smiled at Danny, noticing for the first time that he had only one leg.

  “Wouldn’t have a quarter to spare an old soldier?”

  Florentyna rummaged through her bag. She had only a ten-dollar bill and thirty-seven cents in change. She handed the money to Danny.

  He stared at her offering in disbelief. “There’s enough here for both Matt and me to have some real food,” he exclaimed. The tramp paused and looked at her more closely. “I know you, lady,” Danny said suspiciously. “You’re that senator lady. Matt always says he’s going to get an appointment with you and explain a thing or two about how you spend government money. But I told him what those little receptionists do when they see the likes of us walk in—they call the cops and grab the Lysol. Don’t even ask us to sign the guest book. I told Matt not to waste his valuable time.”

  Florentyna watched Danny as he began to make himself comfortable on his bench, covering himself very expertly with the Washington Post. “Any case, I told him you would be much too busy to bother with him and so would the other ninety-nine.” He turned his back on the distinguished senator from Illinois and lay very still. Florentyna said good night before walking down the steps to the street where she was met by a policeman outside the entrance to the underground parking lot.

  “The man on that bench?”

  “Yes, Senator,” said the officer. “Danny, Danny One-Leg; he didn’t cause you any trouble, I hope?”

  “No, not at all,” said Florentyna. “Does he sleep there every night?”

  “Has for the past ten years, which is how long I’ve been on the force. Cold nights, he moves to a grate behind the Capitol. He’s harmless enough, not like some of those at the back of lot sixteen.”

  Florentyna lay awake the rest of the night only nodding off occasionally as she thought about Danny One-Leg and the hundreds suffering from the same plight as his. At seven-thirty the next morning she was back in her office on Capitol Hill. The first person to arrive, at eight-thirty, was Janet and she was shocked to find Florentyna’s head buried in The Modern Welfare Society by Arthur Quern. Florentyna looked up.

  “Janet, I want all the current unemployment figures, broken down into states, and then into ethnic groups. I also need to know, with the same breakdowns, how many people are on social security and what percentage have not worked for over two years. Then I want you to find out how many of them have served in the armed forces. Compile a list of every leading authority—You’re crying, Janet.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said.

  Florentyna came from behind her desk and put her arms around her. “It’s over, my dear. Let’s forget the past and get this show back on the road.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-Three

  It took everyone in Congress only a month to discover that Senator Kane was back with a vengeance. And when the President phoned her personally, she knew that her attacks on his Fresh Approach were coming home to the one house where things could be changed.

  “Florentyna, I’m eighteen months away from Election Day and you’re taking my Fresh Approach campaign apart. Do you want the Republicans to win the next election?”

  “No, of course not, but with your Fresh Approach we only spent in one year on welfare what we spent on defense in six weeks. Do you realize how many people in this country don’t even eat one square meal a day?”

  “Yes, Florentyna, I do—”

  “Do you also know what the figures are for people who sleep on the streets each night in America? Not India, not Africa, not Asia. I’m talking about America. And how many of those people haven’t had
a job in ten years—not ten weeks or ten months but ten years, Mr. President?”

  “Florentyna, whenever you call me Mr. President I know I’m in trouble. What do you of all people expect me to do? You have always been among those Democrats who advocate a strong defense program.”

  “And I still do, but there are millions of people across America who wouldn’t give a damn if the Russians came marching down Pennsylvania Avenue right now, because they don’t believe they could be any worse off.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but you’ve become a hawk in dove’s clothing, and statements like the one you just made may make wonderful headlines for you, but what do you expect me to do about it?”

  “Set up a Presidential commission to look into how our welfare money is spent. I already have three of my staff working on it and I intend to present some of the horrors they are unearthing about misuse of funds before a hearing at the earliest date. I can promise you, Mr. President, the figures will make your hair curl.”

  “Have you forgotten I’m nearly bald, Florentyna?” She laughed. “I like the idea of a commission.” The President paused. “I could even float the concept at my next press conference.”

  “Why don’t you do that, Mr. President. And tell them about the man who’s been sleeping on a bench for thirteen years little more than a stone’s throw from the White House while you slumbered in the Lincoln bedroom. A man who lost a leg in Vietnam and doesn’t even know he is entitled to sixty-three dollars a week compensation from the Veterans Administration. And if he did, he wouldn’t know how to collect it, because his local VA office is in Texas, and if in an inspired moment they decided to send a check to him where would they address it? A park bench, near the Capitol?”

  “Danny One-Leg,” said the President.

  “So you know about Danny?”

  “Who doesn’t? He’s had more good publicity in two weeks than I’ve had in two years. I’m even considering an amputation. I fought for my country in Vietnam, you know.”

  “And you’ve managed to take care of yourself ever since.”

  “Florentyna, if I set up a Presidential commission on welfare, will you give it your support?”

  “I certainly will, Mr. President.”

  “And will you stop attacking Texas?”

  “That was unfortunate. A junior researcher of mine discovered Danny had come from Texas, but do you realize that in spite of the illegal immigrant problem, over twenty percent of the people of Texas have an annual income of less than—?”

  “I know, I know, Florentyna, but you seem to forget that my Vice President comes from Houston and he hasn’t had a day’s rest since Danny One-Leg hit the front pages.”

  “Poor old Pete,” said Florentyna. “He will be the first Vice President who has had something to worry about other than where his next meal is coming from.”

  “And you mustn’t be hard on Pete, he plays his role.”

  “You mean balances the ticket so that you can stay in the White House.”

  “Florentyna, you’re a wicked lady and I warn you that I intend to open my press conference next Thursday by saying I have come up with a brilliant idea.”

  “You’ve come up with the idea?”

  “Yes,” said the President. “There must be some compensation for taking the heat all the time. I repeat that I have come up with this brilliant idea of a Presidential commission on Waste in Welfare and”—the President hesitated for a minute—“that Senator Kane has agreed to be the chairman. Now will that keep you quiet for a few days?”

  “Yes,” said Florentyna, “and I’ll try to report within one year so that you have time before the election to describe to the voters your bold new plans to sweep away the cobwebs of the past and usher in the Fresh Approach.”

  “Florentyna.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I just couldn’t resist that.”

  Janet didn’t know where Florentyna was going to find the time to chair such an important commission. Her appointment books already needed the staffer with the smallest handwriting to complete each page.

  “I need three hours clear every day for the next six months,” said Florentyna.

  “Sure thing,” said Janet. “How do you feel about two o’clock to five o’clock every morning?”

  “Suits me,” said Florentyna, “but I’m not sure we could get anyone else to sit on a commission under those conditions.” Florentyna smiled. “And we’re going to need more staffers.”

  Janet had already filled all the vacancies that had been created from resignations during the past few months. She had appointed a new press secretary, a new speech writer, and four more legislative researchers from some of the outstanding young college graduates who were now banging on Florentyna’s door. “Let’s be thankful that the Baron Group can afford the extra cost,” Janet added.

  Once the President had made his announcement, Florentyna set to work. Her commission consisted of twenty members plus a professional support staff of eleven. She divided the commission itself so that half were professional people who had never needed welfare in their lives or given the subject much thought until asked to do so by Florentyna, while the other half were currently on welfare or unemployed.

  A clean-shaven Danny, wearing his first suit, joined Florentyna’s staff as a full-time advisor. The originality of the idea took Washington by surprise. Article after article was written on Senator Kane’s “Park Bench Commissioners.” Danny One-Leg told stories that made the other half of the committee realize how deep-seated the problem was and how many abuses still needed to be corrected, so that those in genuine need received fair recompense.

  Among those who were questioned by the committee were Matt the Grain, who now slept on the bench Danny had vacated, and “Tom Guinzburg,” an ingenious convict from Leavenworth who, for a parole deal arranged by Florentyna, told the committee how he had been able to milk a thousand dollars a week out of welfare before the police caught up with him. The man had so many aliases he was no longer sure of his own name; at one point he had supported seventeen wives, forty-one dependent children and nineteen dependent parents, all of whom were nonexistent except on the national welfare computer. Florentyna thought he might be exaggerating until he showed the commission how to get the President of the United States onto the computer as unemployed, with two dependent children, living with his aging mother at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C. Guinzburg also went on to confirm something she had already feared—that he was small fry compared with the professional crime syndicates who thought nothing of raking in fifty thousand dollars a week through phony welfare recipients.

  She later discovered that Danny One-Leg’s real name was on the computer and that someone else had been collecting his money for the past thirteen years. It didn’t take a lot longer to discover that Matt the Grain and several of his friends from parking lot sixteen were also on the computer although they had never received a penny themselves.

  Florentyna went on to prove that there were over a million people entitled to aid who were not receiving it, while, at the same time, the money was going elsewhere. She became convinced that there was no need to ask Congress for more money, just for safeguards designed to ensure that the annual pay-out of over ten billion dollars was reaching the right people. Many of those who needed help just simply couldn’t read or write and so never returned to the government office once they had been presented with long forms to complete. Their names became an easy source of income for even a small-time crook. When Florentyna presented her report to the President ten months later, he sent a series of new safeguards to Congress for its immediate consideration. He also announced that he would be drawing up a Welfare Reform Program before the election. The press was fascinated by the way Florentyna had got the President’s name and address onto the unemployment computer; from MacNelly to Peters, the cartoonists had a field day, while the FBI made a series of welfare fraud arrests right across the country.

  The press praised the Preside
nt for his initiative and the Washington Post declared that Senator Kane had done more in one year for those in genuine need than the New Deal and the Great Society put together. This was indeed a “fresh approach” Florentyna had to smile. Rumors began to circulate that she would replace Pete Parkin as Vice President when the next election came around. On Monday she was on the cover of Newsweek for the first time and across the bottom ran the words: “America’s First Woman Vice President?” Florentyna was far too shrewd a politician to be fooled by press speculation. She knew that when the time came, the President would stick with Parkin, balance the ticket and be sure of the South. Much as he admired Florentyna, the President wanted another four years in the White House.

  Once again, Florentyna’s biggest problem in life was in determining priorities among the many issues and people that competed for her attention. Among the requests from senators to help them with their campaigns was one from Ralph Brooks. Brooks, who never lost the opportunity to describe himself as the state’s senior senator, had recently been appointed chairman of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, which kept him in the public eye. He had received considerable praise for his handling of the oil tycoons and leaders of big business. Florentyna was aware that he never spoke well of her in private, but when proof of this came back to her, she dismissed it as unimportant. She was surprised, however, when he asked her to share a TV commercial spot with him, saying how well they worked together and stressing how important it was that both Illinois senators be Democratic. After she had been urged to cooperate by the party chairman in Chicago, Florentyna agreed, although she had not spoken to her Senate colleague more than two or three times a month during her entire term in Congress. She hoped her endorsement might patch up their differences. It didn’t. Two years later when she came up for re-election, his support for her was rarely more than a whisper.

 

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