by Joseph Flynn
Ellie liked that. She usually scared guys off when she was honest.
“Sure. I’m not your patient. We’re just two people talking.”
He returned her check on the spot.
“We won’t give anyone anything to criticize,” he said.
Ellie led Amos down another path altogether. First, she got him a gig as an advice columnist for a men’s magazine. That was followed by a pop-psychology book deal and speaking appearances. Within a year, he was making enough money to sell his practice.
Lying in bed with Amos at the Park Hyatt, she asked him, “You know who’s making me really mad these days?”
Wondering if she had an edged metal tool under her pillow, he could only hope it wasn’t him. “Who?” he asked.
“The president.”
“Of the United States?”
“Her,” Ellie nodded. She told Amos how the woman had been thwarting her, unintentionally but so what?
“So she has Secret Service agents with machine guns protecting her,” Amos said.
Ellie smiled. “I’m not going to attack her, for Christ’s sake. Not physically. You’ve helped me get my impulse control reined in that much.”
“Good.”
He liked to think of Ellie as excitingly dangerous.
Not crazy dangerous.
He had an idea for her. “Would you like me to study the president for you?”
“What do you mean?” Ellie asked.
“Well, I could watch her television appearances, place her public affect in context with the issues she’s discussing. Give you an educated guess what she might do next. Can’t say I’d be accurate every time, but maybe I’d be close enough often enough to give you an edge in how you want to cover her.”
Ellie looked at him like he’d descended into the room on a cloud.
Riding in a chariot.
A laurel wreath on his head and lightning bolts in his hand.
She said, “That’s brilliant! Do it, do it, do it!”
She threw herself on him. The energy he felt pulsing through her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to ask her a question: Did the president remind Ellie of her mother? But he decided to wait until later.
The East Room, the White House
The president greeted the press corps with the smile that had once been found on magazine covers and movie screens. To call it winning would be an understatement. Beguiling was much closer to the mark. Seductive to those who liked to fantasize about being intimate with people beyond their reach. Calculated or even threatening to those whose natures were more suspicious.
“Good morning,” Patti said. “I’m speaking to you again today not because I’ve decided to rescind my decision to leave my former party but because the freedom of being unconstrained by institutional loyalties has allowed me to move forward with priorities I had previously tabled in the hope of finding an opportune moment.”
Seated off to one side of the gathered newsies, Putnam Shady began to feel nervous.
Sweetie had been the one that morning to pass the word that the president wanted to see him again. Patti had, in fact, requested that he be present at her news conference. Left to his own devices, Putnam would have found a way to duck out. He could think of no good reason — one that would play to his advantage — for the president to have extended such an invitation to him.
But Sweetie, sensing his reluctance, had assured him she would be nearby.
What was he going to say to that? Okay, but keep your car running.
Even a quick getaway had been precluded once they had arrived at the White House and were told by Galia Mindel that the president wanted to meet with Putnam privately after the newsies were sent off to file their stories. If Putnam hadn’t been born in the U.S., he’d have been worried he was going to be deported.
Of course, under Patti Grant’s predecessor in office, American citizenship hadn’t been sufficient protection to keep some people from being renditioned to countries that were less squeamish than the United States about using enhanced interrogation to make people squeal. And Putnam had admitted to the president he planned to seize control of the country.
The room was air-conditioned but Putnam began to sweat.
He wasn’t sure Sweetie could save him if Patti Grant decided to fry his ass.
The president continued, “Over the years I’ve been in politics, there have been many discussions about how to reform government, but all of us politicians have tiptoed around the one area that has to be reformed before any other reform can be made meaningful.
“What I’m here to discuss today is the need for immediate, substantive and lasting lobbying reform.”
Putnam kept his expression impassive.
But he thought: Oh, shit, here it comes.
“As long as corporations and other monied interests can buy the cooperation of members of Congress, we will not be a government of, by and for the people. We will remain a government of the people who can finance election campaigns.”
Majority leader Wexford and minority leader Berman squirmed in their seats.
“This is not to say that every senator and representative automatically does the bidding of every big contributor on every issue, but the natural instinct to look favorably upon those who advance one’s own career will incline office holders to treat kindly, perhaps much too kindly, those benefactors and their interests.
“There is, of course, a counterpoint to being helpful. If a senator or representative displays consistent independence from those who provide campaign funds, why, they’ll take their money elsewhere. It will go to primary election opponents. If that fails, it will go to general election opponents. If that fails, in the next election cycle, even more money will go to the independent-minded office holder’s new opposition.
“That’s to be expected. Money goes where it has purchasing power. Sooner or later, if allowed to do so, it will buy what it desires.”
The newsies with audio recorders paid rapt attention.
The pencil press were scribbling furiously to keep up.
“In a short-sighted, flawed and deeply cynical decision, a partisan majority of the Supreme Court has decided that corporations are equivalent to human beings and the money they use to fund election campaigns should be without limits. We can only hope that this wrong-headed decision will be reversed when new justices take their seats.
“In the meantime, however, we must not sit by idly. If flood tides of money are allowed to inundate our political process, we must eliminate its buying power. Doing that by passing strict conflict of interest legislation is imperative to restore the faith of the American people that their government is honest, open and working in their best interests.”
Patti glanced at and gestured toward Wexford and Berman.
“I invited the leaders of the senate and the house from both parties to join me here today. Senator Wexford and Representative Berman from the Democratic party accepted and I say thank you to them.”
Turning back to the press corps, Patti continued, “I also invited Speaker Geiger and Senate Minority Leader O’Donnell to attend, but as you see, their chairs are empty. It would be natural enough for people to think that’s because of my recent departure from the Republican party, and undoubtedly that’s part of the reason.”
Putnam felt a chill run down his spine.
He knew just what the president would say next.
“The other reason Speaker Geiger isn’t here is that he has concocted a plan called Super-K. In this case, the K stands for K Street where the big lobbying firms in town have their offices. Speaker Geiger’s plan is to consolidate these lobbying firms into a single vast influence machine, to funnel all their lobbying money and efforts through a front man working for him.”
Jaws dropped throughout the press corps.
Even the note-takers momentarily stilled.
“Some years ago a similar scheme was hatched. It resulted in members of Congress being convicted of crimes. You would think that
would be enough to deter any such future efforts. But in the absence of strict legislation that hasn’t been the case. The temptation to concentrate money and power in the hands of a few or even one individual is too great.
“That’s why I’m proposing today that legislation be introduced and passed which states that no senator or representative will be allowed to vote for or advocate that other members vote for any bill that favors the interests of any campaign donor. If an elected member of Congress — or the president — accepts campaign donations, there must be no quid pro quo attached or even implied.
“Any member of Congress or president who violates the legislation will be subject to expulsion or impeachment, as the case may be. In that way, we will restore the faith the American people must have in their government. I humbly ask members of both parties to draft detailed legislation, with no loopholes whatsoever, to remove any hint of a conflict of interest from any vote they may take.”
In short, Patti was asking Congress to turn its world upside down.
And why in the world would they do that?
Patti said, “I ask the American people to watch closely as their representatives and senators take up my challenge to them. Those who won’t advance and vote for strict conflict of interest legislation are clearly wedded to big money, will serve big money and cannot be trusted to advance either their constituents’ interests or the national interest.
“Every American voter has the right to expect the candidates they vote for to serve them first. I hope to see a conflict of interest bill on my desk before the end of this year. I will sign it with the whole country watching.”
Patti’s expression turned hard. “If Congress does not provide me with such a bill for my signature, if it attempts to equivocate and delay, it will go into an election year having to face the American people and explain to them why the present corrupt system is what they prefer.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak to you today.”
There was a moment of complete silence, and then the newsies jumped to their feet and shouted a torrent of questions.
But the president was already on her way out of the room.
And Galia Mindel had taken Putnam Shady by the arm.
The White House
Galia left Putnam with Edwina Byington just outside the Oval Office.
“The president will be with you in just a moment, Mr. Shady. Please have a seat.”
Putnam did as he was bade, wondering if this elderly woman with the kind demeanor was one of those characters out of a James Bond movie who would pull an enormous gun on you the minute your back was turned. Farfetched, to be sure, but Putnam’s fevered imagination was further stoked by Sweetie’s absence and Galia’s departure.
It was just him and the old lady.
If he got done in now, no one would ever believe she did it.
Galia would have laughed had she known of the melodrama that was being screened on Putnam’s personal Odeon. On the other hand she was about to take the lead in a bit of drama she and the president had rehearsed. It would serve to underscore the president’s seriousness about lobbying reform, and it would be both an affront and an outrage to the country’s most flagrant influence peddlers.
The chief of staff reentered the East Room, where Press Secretary Aggie Wu had asked the assembled reporters to remain for a moment until Chief of Staff Mindel could speak with them. Galia took the microphone from the president’s lectern, but did not address her audience from behind it, tempting though that idea was.
“Thank you for giving me a few more moments of your time. Prior to speaking with you this morning, the president had yet to decide whether to add a further point to her message on lobbying reform. Just now she decided that the additional point should be made, and she asked me to announce it to you.
“The president has decided that in the interest of the appearance of propriety no former member of the House or Senate should be allowed onto the floor of either chamber except on purely ceremonial occasions. Neither should they be allowed to lobby Congress for a period of ten years after they leave office. The president feels far too many former federal legislators have used their public offices as springboards to private wealth. This must come to an end as soon as possible.
“Thank you for waiting so patiently,” Galia said. “Oh, and one more thing, Attorney General Jaworsky will have an announcement this afternoon on a related matter. His office’s press secretary will provide details about the time and place of the announcement.”
She turned her back on the storm of questions shouted at her.
The chief of staff waited until she was out of sight of the assembled media mob before she allowed herself to smile. She had no idea of whether Patricia Darden Grant would be re-elected but, God, they were going to have fun with what was left of her present term of office.
Speaker Geiger, and the Republican Party, in general would be having conniptions about the revelation of the Super-K plan. How on earth could any of them hope to win a seat in next year’s election after the public had learned of their intent to sell the government and its policies to the highest bidders? The only hope was to utterly deny the whole scheme.
Of course, if they did that and actually won re-election it would be poison for them to so much as have a drink with a lobbyist. The Democrats would be able to pounce and say, “You see, it’s the same old business. Nothing’s changed.”
Of course, the Democrats played the same game. They hustled lobbying money as hard as they could. They would hate the ban on former members lobbying their successors as much as the Republicans did. But at least some of the Democrats would see where the road to lobbying reform would lead — to publicly financed elections.
The big question for the Democrats would be what should they do now?
If they were smart, they’d beg the president to head their party’s ticket. Waiting even a little while would create the possibility that Patti Grant might continue her history of revolutionizing American politics and form her own party. She would undoubtedly poach several members of the Democrat’s caucus, a handful of Republicans, and would recruit a raft of forward-thinking newcomers.
Hardly the party of political daring in recent years, the Democrats would have to act boldly soon or risk being left behind and falling into irrelevance.
Galia looked at her watch. Ten minutes until her meeting with James J. McGill.
She said a brief, silent prayer for the recovery of his son.
Then she took the seat behind her desk and simply savored the moment.
The Oval Office
The old lady didn’t gun Putnam down, and he doubted anyone would poison his drink while he talked with the president, but he declined the offer of refreshment anyway. He sat in an arm chair directly opposite Patricia Darden Grant. He’d come pretty far in life for a kid whose parents had abandoned him. If only old Charles and Mona could see him now.
The president was studying him, trying to see what he was made of. Putnam was used to such examinations by now, after having lived in the same building as Margaret Sweeney for three years. She was another great one for trying to plumb the depths of his soul.
Putnam decided to break the ice.
“So, Madam President, any state secrets you’d care to share with me?”
He was glad when she smiled. It made him realize how on edge he was. A president’s powers were far from absolute, but she carried one helluva lot of weight, and it really wouldn’t be a good idea to get her mad at you. Annual IRS audits might become the focal points of your life.
“Not a one, Mr. Shady,” Patti said. “What I do have for you is an apology.”
Putnam nodded. He knew right where she was going.
“For telling the world about Super-K, after I told you about it privately.”
“Yes. I’m sorry I had to do that.”
Putnam said, “You had to?”
The president was honest in her reply. “In an absolute sense, of course not.
As a matter of practical politics, it was a necessity.”
“To destroy Speaker Geiger’s plan, and if you’re lucky his career.”
“Exactly.”
“To give yourself a big leg up on the Republicans, and the Democrats, too, if you plan to go your own way — maybe with your own shiny new political party — when you run for reelection.”
Patti directed one of her brighter smiles at Putnam, and for the first time he began to appreciate the power of her personality. He thought it said a lot about James J. McGill that he didn’t follow along behind this woman like a puppy with his tongue hanging out. Having somewhat less intestinal fortitude, Putnam asked if he might have a bottle of sparkling water after all. Anything to redirect the force of the president’s personality.
The president relayed his request to her secretary and a bottle of Poland Spring appeared on the tray of a Navy mess specialist like he’d been waiting outside the Oval Office all along. Still, the appearance of a third party and the time it took to sip his drink gave Putnam the moment he needed to regain his balance.
“You’re a very perceptive fellow, Mr. Shady,” the president said.
Putnam nodded. “I’ll probably need to be, after Speaker Geiger gets done smearing me in the lobbying community. Of course, seeing as they shoot lobbyists these days, now might be a good time to consider a career change.”
“Jim told me about your townhouse being fired on. Do you think you’re still in danger?”
Putnam laughed. “Well, there will be millions of Republicans happy to dance on my grave once the word gets out that I spoiled the speaker’s grand plan. That’s in addition to whoever shot at me before.”
“You’re relying on Margaret Sweeney for protection?”
“I was. She brought me here, but I haven’t seen her lately.”
The president said, “She’s outside right now, no doubt chatting with Edwina.”
Putnam nodded. “So she’s in on whatever you have planned for me.”
“She’s here as a favor to me and my husband. But if you know Margaret at all, you know she would never do anything to harm you or any other innocent person.”