“Jack, you ought to ask for another appearance. You’re in no shape to testify.” Greene’s voice was barely above a whisper, but several people in the straight-backed chairs looked toward them.
“Steve, it took too damned much to get here. We cancel and I get all the flak—and no publicity. Nothing.”
“Jack…”
“No.” He shivered once, took another deep breath. He should have thought about it … but someone attack him? Especially after realizing he’d been too paranoid over Larry’s godson? He’d never really threatened anyone, not physically. He took another deep breath.
The small room was packed, mainly with industry lobbyists, but also with a scattering of interns and junior staff. Finally, he began to walk toward the press table. Perhaps ten reporters lounged around a table that could have seated more than a dozen. Still, he could remember hearings where only one or two had showed up.
“Must be a slow news day,” the consultant muttered to himself. As he neared the press table, he stopped and, balancing his briefcase, extracted the press packages he had prepared—summary sheet on the cover, his prepared statement that would never be read, and the attachments.
“Is that McDarvid?” The sotto voce question drifted down from the raised committee dais.
McDarvid quickly dropped the press packets into the center of the table, aware of Greene just behind his shoulder.
“Anything interesting, Jack?” asked a woman with short salt-and-pepper hair.
“Only if you believe that U.S. industry is important,” he quipped, wishing he could remember who the woman worked for.
“That’s not likely to make you very popular.”
“What else is new?”
“Would the witness please come to the table? Is Mr. McDarvid here?”
McDarvid nodded to the reporter and walked the ten feet in front of the spectator chairs to the small square table with the microphone. A junior staffer waited, a young black-haired woman McDarvid had not met.
“Mr. McDarvid?”
McDarvid nodded. “I have thirty copies of my statement here.” He handed her the folder. “Mr. Greene is my attorney.”
McDarvid sat down, pulling the microphone directly before his chair. Steve laid his briefcase on the table and opened it, extracting a folder, then seated himself beside McDarvid.
The lights came on, and the red lights blinked on the television cameras.
“Mr. McDarvid? I understand that there was some unpleasantness involved with your arrival here. While we are most interested in your testimony, I would like to ask if you are comfortable in continuing, or if you would rather return at a later date.”
McDarvid ignored Steve Greene. “Thank you, Mr. Chairman, for your concern, but, with the committee’s permission, I would prefer to continue as scheduled.”
“Very well.”
The Chairman was clearly uninterested in the metals initiative. After insisting that McDarvid be sworn in, he began.
“… remind the witness that you are under oath, and that anything which you say is admissible in a court of law …
“Do you have a statement?… in the interests of time, let the statement be included in the record as if read … we will begin with questions from the chair …
“Mr. McDarvid, you once worked at the Environmental Protection Agency, before it was elevated to departmental status…”
“I served as the Director of the Office of Policy Analysis…”
“… did not your submission to the Ethics Committee omit key facts?”
“Not to my knowledge, Mr. Chairman.”
“… would you not characterize that submission as a misrepresentation designed to punish staff for failing to recommend a hearing?”
“The submission was designed to prod the Congress into action, but, as the record shows, Mr. Chairman, that submission was factual.” The consultant wanted to wipe his forehead, but did not.
“… might I remind you that you are under oath…”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman…”
“… what do you have to say…”
To the long list of ethics-related questions, McDarvid continued to answer truthfully, if briefly, watching Renni Fowler, sitting beside the Chairman. He recognized that the Chairman was not going to raise the metals issue. Renni’s face told him that the last question had not been scripted, had been only a relic of courtesy that might be his only chance.
“Yes, Mr. Chairman. I do have a few things to add. First, my subpoena cited the metals issue, not an ethics question, which would be more properly under that committee’s jurisdiction. Second, and more important, those issues which I freely admit that I raised to the Ethics Committee tie directly to the metals initiative in one particular. In both cases, the committee, although charged with the oversight of research and science, has failed in its duties. Failing to investigate the use of exposure models and risk assessments which choke off scientific research and U.S. technology and allowing staff to employ the committee’s powers to secretly favor one contractor over another are an abuse of power. By failing to curb improper risk assessments, in effect, the committee has handed the future of U.S. high-technology industry over to Europe, Japan, and the multinational corporations.
“By failing to ensure the awarding of space procurements to the best-qualified contractors, the committee may also have turned our future in space over to others as well.”
“Mr. McDarvid, the committee has limited time, and is not interested in speculations. Do you have any factual support for such wild allegations?”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman. I do.”
Renni Fowler’s mouth opened, then shut.
McDarvid could feel the closed-circuit cameras focusing on him.
“Item one is another government document. It is a NASA evaluation of the inertial systems provided by Hesterton Engineering and by TRICOM. There is a cover letter to the subcommittee counsel, Ms. Fowler, dated nearly two months before the committee report on the authorizing legislation. The evaluation states, and I quote, ‘Although the Hesterton system appears equivalent to the TRICOM system, the quoted price is twenty percent higher. In addition, Hesterton has not ever delivered a system of this complexity, and in the case of their current NASA contract, is running three months behind schedule.’” McDarvid wiped his forehead from the glare of the lights, wondering if he would be allowed to continue. When the Chairman did not immediately jump in, he plunged ahead.
“Item two consists of a series of internal DEP memoranda on risk assessments critiquing an analysis of risk modeling which we had presented to the department. You can read the memoranda in detail, but the bottom line is that DEP admits that the guidelines and methodology employed are flawed and that the models which we suggested are technically far more accurate. Yet the authors recommend that the department retain the present methods, noting that the Congress would be displeased.” McDarvid paused. “I do find it interesting, Mr. Chairman, that department staff would rather use incorrect, inaccurate, and damaging methods, rather than displease elected officials and their staff.
“Item three…”
McDarvid finished his listing of exhibits, all of which were included in summary form in the press packet, and turned them over to the committee staffer.
“Congressman Quasie? Do you have any questions for the witness?”
“I have a few, Mr. Chairman.” The thin-faced natural-food Representative from Oregon adjusted the microphone before him.
McDarvid took a deep breath, waiting for the next barrage.
“Mr. McDarvid, your statement seems to indicate that health and environmental risks must be balanced against economic and technological progress. Wouldn’t the risk assessment methodology you recommend reduce the margin of safety in protecting human health?
“Can you support the contention that a threshold level exists?
“Weren’t the models you recommended developed by industry specialists and not impartial scientists?
“Do you honest
ly believe in the discounting approach to the value of human life and health?
“I have no further questions, Mr. Chairman.”
McDarvid swallowed, hoping his answers were as accurate as he thought.
“Congressman Stayd?”
The Representative from Ohio nodded, then turned to McDarvid. “Mr. McDarvid, you seem to have engendered a great deal of emotion. According to the Capitol police, you were assaulted on your way into the hearing, and I understand you were subpoenaed to appear. Was the subpoena necessary?”
“No, Congressman. I was never asked.”
“I see. Could you explain the importance of these risk assessments to the future of U.S. science and technology?
“Is it possible that your characterizations of the DEP reaction were excessive?
“What are the practical differences in health impacts between the two methodologies?
“Can you explain why the more conservative methodology should not be used?
“I have no further questions, Mr. Chairman.”
McDarvid wiped his forehead, looking at the clock. Only eleven o’clock, and it seemed as though he had been under the lights for hours. And there were at least five other members waiting to question him. And that was only the first round. It was going to be a long, long day.
88
AS McDARVID WALKED BACK UP THE SIDEWALK TO THE HOUSE, his breath steaming in the chill air, his muscles protesting from the extra sit-ups, he glanced at the front stoop.
The paper was sitting there, waiting like a time bomb. Forcing himself not to look at the headlines, he tucked it under his arm, then walked around to the side door by the kitchen. As he stepped inside, he finally glanced at the black and white of the Post. The story was below the fold at least—“Assault and Congressional Favors.”
Washington. A hard-punching environmental attorney, a conflict-of-interest charge that provoked a hearing, and a regulatory consultant exploded into a soap-opera-like drama on Capitol Hill …
McDarvid put down the Post. Dodging the cameras had been bad enough. Then, after the hearing had ended at three o’clock, he’d had to make a statement to the Capitol police about the attack. He’d gone straight home. That hadn’t helped. He winced when he thought about Bill Heidlinger’s call not twenty minutes after he’d walked in the front door. To have his name on the front page of every newspaper in the country was not exactly what he’d had in mind.
He set the paper on the buffet in the dining room, then stepped back into the kitchen, where he put on the kettle for tea and hot chocolate. He emptied the dishwasher, set out the mugs and the plates, and began preparing for all the breakfasts. The routine hadn’t changed, hearing and newspapers or not.
“Breakfast is almost ready!”
“Not yet.”
“I will be arriving presently.”
“David’s yelling at his dresser.”
“Where…” began Elizabeth as she stepped into the kitchen.
“In front of your stool.”
He looked up toward Allyson, in her heavy green robe and damp hair. There were circles under her eyes.
“Morning.” She slumped onto the stool and grasped for the coffee.
He set the cereal bowl and milk pitcher in front of her. Retrieving an ice cube from the freezer, he dropped it into his own cup. Tea slopped on the counter. Tiredly, he reached for the sponge.
“Can I have the milk, Mom?” David asked sullenly.
McDarvid, still standing behind the breakfast bar, finished the orange slices, then took another sip of tea.
“Did he really jump you?” asked David.
“Yes,” McDarvid answered tiredly.
“He really did?” blurted his son. “Really? Wait until I tell Jimmie.”
“I told you that last night. It was very unsettling, and I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Poor Daddy,” crooned Kirsten.
McDarvid winced, and Allyson grinned—briefly.
“Just eat your breakfast.” McDarvid swallowed the second English muffin, nearly whole, then gulped the tea, nearly choking in an effort to keep the edges of the muffin from scraping his esophagus all the way down.
“You always tell us to chew our food thoroughly,” admonished Elizabeth.
“All right, all right,” he mumbled.
Allyson sipped her coffee and waited until the front door had slammed for the third and final time. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”
“Don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to talk about it,” he answered, seating himself on the stool next to hers.
Allyson waited.
“I never wanted to create this sort of mess. I just wanted to get to the bottom of things. But no one would say anything. No one would do anything. They all acted as if I were crazy. ‘Sure, Jack, we’ll send a nice letter.’” McDarvid got up, found a tea bag, and poured another cup of water from the kettle. Then he refilled Allyson’s coffee.
“‘Right, Jack,’” he continued, “‘the Russians are using the environment to destroy U.S. industry.’ But then, when I’d talk to Eric, he’d just chide me and tell me not to be an amateur, and that was scary.”
“Because he didn’t say you were crazy?” Allyson sipped her coffee.
“Right. Eric’s never hesitated to tell me I’m nuts.” McDarvid pulled the tea bag from his cup and dumped it into the trash. He shoveled three teaspoons of sugar into the cup. “Then Killorin disappears, and that’s even scarier, because he’s just gone. Poof!”
“Is it connected to what you’re doing?”
“Hell, he could have run off with a woman or had amnesia. But I don’t think so. His disappearance was just too convenient, and, in a way, it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Jerry never ran from anything, just sat and took it. If this is enough for him to run … or if it’s enough for him to get killed—what’s the difference?”
Allyson nodded. “Why did that attorney go after you?”
“I don’t know. Except that he mumbled something about Killorin. He’d called me a couple days ago. He’s convinced that Killorin’s disappearance is all my fault.”
“Is it?”
“Probably. I just kept pushing the poor bastard.” McDarvid paused. “But no one would do anything. No one would even look at the issue. Christ! They all think I’m either crazy or to blame.”
“Is that anything new?” Allyson flushed, then added quickly, “Will they press charges?”
“Against me? I don’t think so. He attacked me. There were enough witnesses to show I acted in self-defense.”
“I meant against him.”
“I really don’t care. I just wish it hadn’t happened.”
Allyson sipped her coffee, and McDarvid caught the look in her eye.
“All right. I wish that part hadn’t happened.”
She set down the coffee cup and stood up, extending a hand.
McDarvid set his cup on the counter. Then he took her extended hand and reached for the other one. They held each other until the cuckoo clock blurted out the half hour.
89
JONNIE LOOKED AT THE COPY of Inside the Environment draped loosely on the stacked papers. The newsletter/scandal sheet lay folded back to the third-page story suggesting that the bizarre and irrelevant disclosures of one J. B. McDarvid, III, might stampede environmentally conscious Representatives into insisting that the metals initiative be withdrawn. An unnamed source stated, “McDarvid’s respectable enough that a lot of people are running for cover.”
Jonnie shook his head. Jack was thoroughly respectable—that was the problem. But why had Jack done it? Snapping off the computer, he stood up.
McDarvid’s door was open.
Jonnie stepped inside and closed it.
McDarvid leaned back in his chair. “Hell of a way to make a living.”
“Jack, we need to talk.”
“About what?” McDarvid answered. “About how we start a business when the roof
falls in here—which it has? Or about the strange and wonderful workings of the media?”
Jonnie took off the silver rimless glasses and laid them on the desk. McDarvid’s desk was always clean. So were his bookcase and the credenza. “Let’s start with you. What in the hell have you been doing? That I don’t already know about? George Ames, our good fussy senior partner, has never bothered to notice my existence. Today, I’m hanging up my coat. He glares at me, sniffs, and walks away. Heidlinger turned around in the corridor and went back into his office.
“Last month, the Lao Systems rep comes barging in with all that crap about the Lao Foundation. You tell me that it all fits, but there’s no way to prove it, and you really don’t want to speculate until you know more.”
McDarvid nodded slowly. “I’ve never liked speculating. My dad was a lawyer. Used to chop me up for making statements I couldn’t prove. Maybe that’s why I always try to prove everything—even when I know the answers.”
“Jack, I’ve heard that before. You always get folksy and personal when someone asks you a question you don’t want to answer.”
“I don’t know if I can come up with answers.”
“Then what do you think? I’m not asking for facts proven in blood. I want to know why the law firm and half the environmental community are running scared of good old respectable Jack McDarvid.”
McDarvid smiled. “Scared of poor old insecure…”
“Jack…” Jonnie’s voice was low.
“All right. But there’s no proof.” McDarvid sat up straight. “It’s simple enough, even if … Maybe it’s not that simple.” He paused. “I’m not really sure I believe it.” There was another pause. “Let’s start with the Lao Foundation. They give scholarships to bright kids who are almost uniformly the children of federal civil servants. I’d bet that almost all of the parents are involved in such jobs as risk assessments for regulations, setting critical dosages for toxics, all the sort of baseline assumptions that determine the regs.”
Jonnie shrugged. “That’s what Lao does with their procurement. They work on the people who set the specs, usually not as honestly.”
“Fine. So the assumptions ensure that critical industrial processes can’t economically continue in the U.S.” McDarvid frowned. “Then we have Jerry Killorin living well beyond his means, and Jerry was one of those spec-setters before he got control of Standards and Regs. He had the procedural choke hold on the processing for regulations—before they did him in.”
The Green Progression Page 30