Capitol Submission

by Skylar Cross

  “Just want to give you a heads-up,” he says. “Something is brewing. Judith is all abuzz. Look sharp.”

  “Thanks,” I say as he ducks back out.

  Then I see Carmen walking past, carrying a tray of coffee cups. I leap up and open the door.

  “Carmen!” I whisper-shout as she passes my office. “Carmen!”

  “Heyyy,” she says in a sparkly voice. She’s all glowing and bright. No dark circles. No hint that she was out drinking all night. How does she do that?

  “Carmen, I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay, let me just put this down.”

  She disappears around the corner into the conference room. I fold my arms, bite my lip, and tap my foot. Then I walk back to my desk facing away from the door.

  When I hear somebody come in, I’m about to start speaking until I turn and see it’s not Carmen. I gasp.

  “Judith!” I say.

  My statuesque boss looks around suspiciously. “Who were you expecting?” she says with narrowed eyes with that tone that could sink a battleship. God, I’d hate to be on her bad side.

  “Um… Carmen,” I say. “She was bringing coffee.”

  Judith shakes her head. “Whatever. Terissa, I want to see you in my office in ten minutes. We have a new client and he’s requesting you personally.”

  My heart skips a beat.

  “Me? Personally?”

  “Yes, he specifically mentioned your name. Be ready and on your game.”

  “Right.”

  Judith and the electric intensity of her presence both swish out and around the corner.

  I take a deep breath, my heart going into overdrive.

  Shit.

  I’ve never been requested personally by a client before. This is amazing. This could be a huge moment for me. I turn back to my desk, collecting my pen and notepad. Should I bring my laptop? No, I’ll just tuck my iPad-Mini under the notepad. If I need to look something up, it will be less intrusive than the laptop.

  “You okay?” says Carmen as she walks in and places a large Saxbys coffee, black, on my desk.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I need to talk to you about last night, but right now I have to go into a meeting with Judith. Shit. I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m still in a fog.”

  “Meeting with Judith? Uh-oh. That’s never good.”

  “A client requested me. Me!”

  Carmen looks like she’s having a hard time processing that. She quickly gives up, then a big smile washes over her face.

  “Terissa,” she says in a whisper voice. “I have to tell you something. That strapping English fellow Ian…the one with those deep blue eyes and the dimple on his chin…”

  “Yeah?”

  She makes a wide motion with her fingers. “Biggest I’ve ever had.”

  I smack her arm with a manila file. “No way!”

  “Nine… maybe ten inches. I’m having trouble walking. I never thought I’d say these words, but it was too big. I was in a little pain...but good pain.”

  “Carmen, you have a problem. I may have to declare an intervention.”

  “Whaaaat?! I like men. Lots of men. I’m proud of it. Women need to grow up, you included. Come to think of it, where were you for so long in the club while I was talking to Ian?”

  “Carmen, not now. I need to get my head together for Judith.”

  I’m organizing papers on my desk, trying to breathe normally.

  “You were gone for a good long time,” she says with that squint of prosecutorial inquiry. “You didn’t go into one of the private rooms with someone, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” says Carmen. “I always know when someone is lying to me.”

  “Carmen,” I say, “not now.”

  “You had sex.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Hm, maybe not the full deal…but you came into contact with something long and hard, didn’t you?”

  I look out the window while leaning on the desk.

  “Carmen, do you have any idea what kind of club that really was?”

  “What ever are you talking about, my dear?”

  “That was a fetish club! You didn’t tell me we were going to a fetish club!”

  “Of course I didn’t. If I told you, you never would have come with me.” She leans down, placing her hands on my desk so she’s nose to nose with me. “So who was it?”

  I look her square in the eye, trying to speak.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “You don’t know?” She laughs. “You screwed a man and you don’t even know who he is?”

  I stand up tall. “There was no screwing.”

  She smiles with a chuckle. “I can find out, you know.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. “Find out? How?”

  “I’m a…uh…regular there. I know the uh…manager. Nobody gets in without her knowing who they are.”

  “Nobody knows I was there.”

  “Um…actually…yes, they do. I had to give them your real name. They do background checks…unofficial.”

  “Carmen, no! Please tell me you didn’t! My name can’t ever be listed in some fetish club madam’s little black book.”

  “It’s lavender, not black. And it’s okay. This is Washington. Everybody is in somebody’s little book.”

  “Not me!”

  “Terissa!” booms Judith’s voice from behind Carmen, who stands at attention. “My office. Now!”

  Carmen’s eyes go wide and she runs out. Trembling, I grab my notepad, pen, and iPad-Mini and scurry into Judith’s office.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Terissa

  As I cross the threshold into Judith’s office, she locks the door behind me. Then she draws the blinds.

  Uh-oh.

  She moves to the rear door that leads into the back stairwell of the ancient building. She unlocks it, swinging it open to reveal one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. Wearing an expensive suit and an earbud, he moves like a machine as he swiftly darts into the office looking around at everything, taking it in like he’s visually recording it.

  Behind him comes a second incredibly handsome black man, also with an earbud, who moves to the other side of the office performing similar movements.

  I get a flash of both men naked¸ pressing their rock hard bodies into me from both sides.

  I shake my head. Shit, last night is propelling a sinful thought-train that’s speeding down dirty tracks. An hour with my purple vibrator after I got home last night apparently wasn’t enough.

  All such thoughts vanish when the next man walks through the door into Judith’s office.

  A face anyone in the United States would immediately recognize.

  “Senator Fremont,” says Judith with a big pleasing smile, “a pleasure to have you at Brand & Associates.”

  Seventy-six-year old James Henry Fremont gives Judith a quick hug and peck on the cheek.

  “Judith,” he says in that soft genteel tone that I remember from the TV debates.

  “Senator Fremont,” says Judith, “may I introduce Terissa Ivers? Terissa is our rising star.”

  Warm eyes full of kindness sparkle as the gentle old man moves toward me. He grasps both my arms and leans in for a light kiss.

  Fuck, I hate that.

  But I do respect Senator James Henry Fremont. Vietnam War hero. Senate Intelligence Committee Chair. Three-time Presidential candidate who two years ago lost to the late President Davis Mitchell by about three thousand votes.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Senator,” I say, hoping my voice is firm and worthy of my position.

  He stares into my eyes. He has an amazing way of smiling with his eyes, casting a warm glow that makes you just want to hug him to death. Many more wrinkles in person. I guess television makeup covers a lot. Not to mention all those years in the Nevada sunshine.

  “I’m so glad you could meet with me, Terissa” he says with a choking voice. “I must admit,
I’m a little taken aback. It’s like I’m looking at your mother.”

  I gasp.

  “You knew my mother?” I say, placing my right hand gently under his left elbow.

  “No, but I saw her picture every day. It belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Wilson Ivers III.” He stands upright as he says the name.

  “My granddad?”

  “Young lady, I more than knew your granddad. He saved my life at the Hanoi Hilton. Sacrificed his own so that I could bring important information back to the CIA. Lots of people say I’m a hero, but your grandfather was the true American hero. A patriot, through and through. He had a picture of himself with your mom and aunt, both teenagers. He’d take it out every morning and touch it. Until the day the Viet Cong came and burned it right in front of him.”

  Tears well up in my eyes. I never knew my grandfather, but I’ve seen a million pictures of him, mostly wearing his Marine uniform. Young and proud.

  “I only wish I could have returned the favor and saved his life,” says Senator Fremont.

  I can’t help it. I wrap my arms around the old man I’ve never met. He’s no longer just a man in a debate on the television. He’s a flesh-and-blood human who suffered alongside my granddad.

  I catch the eye of one of the bodyguards. This snaps me back to the present and I pull away from the Senator.

  “Sorry,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes.

  “Don’t say sorry,” he says. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve cried over what happened to my good friend Tommy Ivers. He was the first person I thought of when my plane landed in Honolulu. I threw a salute toward Vietnam and then kissed the ground. It was on the news. What nobody knows is that the salute was specifically to Tommy. I’m also sorry to hear about the passing of your mother. If she was anything like your grandfather, she must have been an amazing woman.”

  “Thank you. Yes… she was.”

  He straightens up and forcibly wipes the pain off his face. The smile returns.

  “But we have a pressing matter,” he says as he turns to include Judith in our circle. Judith is her usual stoic self. “Please sit.”

  He moves around Judith’s desk to a chair she placed next to hers. I get the feeling he’s been here before. He stands behind it and motions for me to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk, which I do. She sits down, then he does.

  If you told me two years ago that I would be working for the famous Judith Brand in her law firm sitting across from her and Senator James Henry Fremont, I wouldn’t have believed it.

  “Terissa,” says Judith. “What we discuss here must remain behind that door.”

  “Yes, of course,” I say.

  “And when I say behind that door, I mean the rest of the firm. Nobody knows the Senator is here. He came in through a side entrance and he will leave the same way. If anyone asks, I called you in here to discuss a personal matter.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Judith steals a sideways glance at the smiling Senator, who nods. Then she reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a red file with gold embossing around the edges.

  Feeling like I’m in a movie, I stare at the word CLASSIFIED stamped on its cover.

  Really?

  Now I’m getting a little nervous. Or maybe just excited.

  Judith flips open the file. In front of me is a photograph of a man. Caucasian. Thirty-five, maybe forty. Black hair in a crewcut. Widow’s peaks. Beady blue eyes. Long pointy nose. Soft chin with thin lips.

  “Terissa,” says Judith. “This is Edouard Dreynauld. He is a naturalized American citizen originally from Montreal now employed by the CIA. He works at Langley in the Cyber Warfare Research Division. Graduated top of his class at MIT. Worked at IBM, Hewlett-Packard, Apple, and Samsung all before getting hired by the United States Government.”

  “Quite a resume,” I say.

  “The reason he was hired by the government was to create a program. Not just any program, but one that could hack into any computer, tablet, or cell phone on the planet. He was successful.”

  “Sounds like Edward Snowden all over again,” I say.

  “Not quite,” says Senator Fremont. “We needed the program to counter-attack the one started by the previous administration. But let’s not talk about them.”

  “Agreed,” I say with a smile.

  “Our dear late leader, President Davis Mitchell, God rest his soul, was completely against everything related to spying on Americans, and for that I applaud him.”

  Judith meets my eyes as we nod together. The nation is still reeling from the death of the new President and First Lady six months ago. The appalling incident hangs in the air in a moment of silence.

  “Back to Mr. Dreynauld,” says Judith. “Last week he vanished.”

  I gulp. “Vanished?”

  “Yes,” says Fremont. “With a flash drive full of classified data. All agencies have been on full alert looking for him. But late last night, he called me personally.” I inhale sharply. “When he explained why he disappeared, I decided that it is my duty as a representative of the People to help him. I believe he is a man who has been wronged by the system. He came to me because of my record as a patriot. I enlisted Judith because of our longstanding professional relationship and I know this firm will do the best to represent him. He’s afraid for his life.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand.”

  “Dreynauld left his post at the CIA because, while he was creating his program, he uncovered some very sensitive information...information that he says is detrimental to the security of the United States.”

  “What kind of sensitive information?”

  “We’re not sure. That’s what we want you to find out.”

  A lump forms in my throat, accompanied by a tightness in my chest. I close my eyes and shake my head again.

  “Me?” I say.

  “Yes, Terissa,” says Judith. “Dreynauld is waiting to be interviewed. He’s holed up at The Jefferson Hotel.”

  My eyes go wide as I ask a silent question to Judith…a question which is answered by Fremont.

  “We want you to be the one who speaks with him,” says Senator Fremont.

  “Why me?” I say.

  Senator Fremont leans forward, steepling his hands in front of him. His expression is pained.

  The room seems to spin, although I know it isn’t.

  “I personally requested you, Miss Ivers,” says Fremont. “When I discovered that you are Tommy’s granddaughter, I knew in my heart there is nobody better to handle this interview.”

  “Plus,” says Judith, “my profile is too high to meet with him, no offense. I would be recognized and the press would be out in droves.”

  I’m about to speak but I don’t know what to say.

  All the years I’ve been working toward this. Law school. Clerking for Supreme Court Justice Vandaya. Interning with Spratt and Associates. Getting the job with Judith Brand.

  And now this.

  I dreamed of this back in college. I saw myself in the corridors of power. I knew I had the knack, the confidence, and the drive.

  Now here I am being exposed to Federal secrets at the highest level.

  “Please, Miss Ivers,” says Senator Fremont. “You would be serving your country while commemorating the memory of your granddad.”

  Judith’s icy stare pummels into me.

  But it isn’t as powerful as the flash I get of my mom sitting on our porch telling me about Granddad and what a wonderful man he was with a tear in her eye, and showing me the pictures of the proud young uniformed Marine.

  “Of course,” I say. “I’ll do it.”

  Senator Fremont winks at me.

  I’ve always wanted to get to the bigtime in D.C., haven’t I?

  Looks like my ticket has been stamped.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Harrison

  “Thank you, Charles,” I say as my butler places my morning breakfast down on the table next to the Daily Briefing.

&
nbsp; “My pleasure, Mr. President,” says Charles.

  “Charles, how many times have I told you? Please call me Harry.”

  “Yes…Harry.”

  Charles closes the door behind him.

  I’m still not used to all this formality. I’m either Harry or Commander Pierce. Mr. President doesn’t feel right because I wasn’t elected.

  Still have trouble wrapping my head around that. Even I’m not sure how I got here so quickly, and so young. A year after recovering from being shot in Afghanistan, I wrote one piece on Facebook in support of our troops still stationed over there.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  The Washington Post reprinted what I wrote and I became an instant celebrity.

  Almost overnight, I found myself a frequent guest on talk radio and network news shows. Then came speaking engagements all over the country to throngs of people...the “Hero Sniper.” I’m not even a polished speaker. I just told it the way I see it; the way it is.

  Apparently a lot of people liked what I had to say.

  Then they made a movie about my exploits in Iraq and Afghanistan. Box office records broken. Almost overnight, I was a nationally recognized public figure.

  So I figured I had to give back to my country, to my people. I couldn’t let all this sudden fame go to waste. It was my duty to use it for good. I ran for Governor of my home state of Wyoming.

  And won.

  Surprised the hell out of me, that’s for sure. At thirty-three, I was the youngest Governor in the country.

  Then, two years into my first term came the call from Senator Davis Mitchell, asking me to be his pick for Vice-President.

  How could I refuse?

  I could get so much more done for active duty service members and veterans in Washington. And that’s all I ever wanted to do…help my brothers and sisters stationed around the world or those returned to civilian society here.

  Hard to believe that a U.S. Navy officer, Seal Unit Five sniper with no political background, a man whose entire career was based on his ability to shoot people from a very far distance away, became the choice of Governor Mitchell as his VP.