It wasnt quite like that with Matt Nylind and Rick Franklin. Franklin was not only a senator, but one who had made the political weather for the last, turbulent week. Still, Nylinds Thursday Session made him a genuine force in this town. In the business of political influence they were at least equals. Yet here was Nylind, touching the forelock.
I have quite a few items, Senator, if thats OK with you.
Fire away.
Banking bill. Coming up soon. Democrats are foaming at the mouth on that one. Reckon theyve got the numbers.
In the House?
Uh-huh.
To reach two hundred and eighteen?
So they say.
What about Delaney?
Yeah, even Delay Delaney.
But hes from Delaware.
Primary challenge.
Right, said Franklin, wondering if there was any question he could ask to which Nylind would not know the immediate answer. So this means-
-that we need to switch to the Senate.
You mean, wreck the bill there so that it voids whatever comes out of the House.
Wouldnt put it quite like that, sir. Prefer to say that a strong pro-growth Prosperity for America bill needs to come out of the body that looks to Americas long-term interests. Thats what the American people expect.
It was part of Nylinds genius, this. He never crafted so much as a tactic, let alone a policy, without framing the language in which it would be sold. Thanks to him, a Democratic proposal to levy the wealthiest Americans in order to fund expanded healthcare coverage became known as the sick tax and promptly fell to defeat. Define the terms, define the battlefield. Thats what Nylind had said then and since, with the rest of the Republican party and the wider conservative movement from the editorial board of the Weekly Standard to the production offices of Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck hanging on his every word.
I hear you, Franklin said. But, as I know you know, I am not the ranking Republican on the Senate banking committee. Shouldnt you be talking to Gerritsen?
How can I put this, Senator? Whatever the formal hierarchy might be, the movement regards you as the lead man on this. Our representative, if you like.
If Nylind was aiming to flatter, he had succeeded. Franklin couldnt dispute the premise: Ted Gerritsen was one of the last remaining liberal Republicans in the Senate if not the planet. An old Maine moderate, beloved by official Washington and the press corps, he was from the era when the Republican base was the country club, not the megachurch. He couldnt get enough of Stephen Baker who had carried Gerritsens state the previous November and there had been a rumour that he was in line for one of Bakers spirit of bipartisanship cabinet posts. Maybe Commerce or Trade Rep. Either way, it was no surprise that Nylind regarded him as utterly unreliable.
Id need some back-up, Franklin said after leaving the statutory two-second pause required in Washington in order to be deemed thoughtful, a crucial piece of reputational armour.
You got it.
Serious back-up. My staff have never led on a bill this size before.
We got it all. Economists, lawyers, number-crunchers. Heck, weve even got a bill drafted!
Oh, yeah? Whered that come from?
Well, as you know, sir, there are a lot of people in this town who have a direct interest in ensuring that Congress gets this issue right. They see the wisdom in sharing resources.
Translation, thought Franklin: banking industry lobbyists have drafted the bill. He remembered that man who spoke at the last Thursday Session.
OK. Well, lets fix a meeting. Cindy from my office and whoever you recommend from yours.
Good to know, Senator. Good to know. Next item: some of us feel we might be losing momentum on the impeachment project.
How do you mean?
We still dont have our Democrats on House Judiciary.
Thats not my fault! Franklin shot back, instantly regretting the defensiveness of his tone, as if he were a pupil summoned to the principals office to account for himself. In a bid to assert his authority, he took his voice down half an octave. That has to be a matter for the House leadership. That surely is their responsibility.
Agreed, sir. But for that to happen, they need more.
More? You saw the Post story today, he said, referring to an investigative piece on the Iranian Connection which had appeared on the front of the Washington Post that morning, setting out in wonderfully mind-numbing detail the chain of funds, offshore accounts and shell companies in the Caymans through which cash might, conceivably, have been funnelled from Tehran to the Baker for President campaign.
Franklin had immediately had Cindy email it to everyone who mattered, including Nylind. It was perfect. The abundance of numbers, dates and tedious minutiae made the charges look credible and serious, even if no one could be bothered to read the small print.
Sure, but Im not talking about that, said Nylind. I meant more on Forbes.
But we dont have any hard evidence on that, Matt. You and I would both dearly love to have something concrete implicating the President in Forbess death. But until we do, allegations about Forbes cannot be part of the case for impeachment. Right now the high crimes and misdemeanours referred to in the articles of impeachment relate only to the Iranian Connection. Thats all we got.
Technically, thats true, Senator. But only technically. Forbes is the mood music. Hes the soundtrack for the impeachment.
You mean, how he died?
And what beans he was about to spill. Both.
The trouble is, said Franklin, adopting the superior tone of the man in the know, it seems someone may be at work cleaning up all that mess. A dustbuster.
Thats what I hear too, Senator.
Thats what you hear?
Theres not much that goes on that I dont know about. And lets face it, sir, you wouldnt be talking to me now if that wasnt true.
Franklin felt uneasy. How was this possible? He had told no one, bar Cindy, about that Costello woman. He was holding on to that particular nugget, confidentially provided on a private and secure phone line by Governor Orville Tett, so that it could be deployed at the moment of maximum effectiveness. Yet here was Nylind hinting that he knew about it already.
Now Franklin felt an additional tremor of panic. Theres not much that goes on that I dont know about. Was this some kind of threat? Did Nylind know about him and Cindy? Did the movement know about every action, every dumb indiscretion, every sexual encounter, that occurred even within its own ranks? At this moment, hearing Nylinds even, unflappable breathing down the phone, he was terrified that the answer was yes.
So lets be candid with each other. What exactly is it youre hearing?
I have very few details.
Irritated now, resentful that this, this activist was as well informed as he was, if not better, Franklin did not so much raise his voice as enhance it, adding some heft as he demanded, Why dont you tell me what details you do have?
Im not playing games with you, sir. We really dont know much.
I understand that. Now, I repeat. What is the little you do know?
There seems to be some kind of lone, intelligence-gathering operation. By a woman formerly on the National Security team at the White House.
Shit. So he really did know.
Our worry is that she might be standing between us and our storyline.
Our storyline?
Yes, sir. On Forbes. If shes cleaning up all the mess, that hurts us with the impeachment push. We need that stuff, sir, and shes getting in our way.
The sir thing was needling Franklin more than ever now. He had a strong urge to get Cindy in here. Best way to drain off some of the aggression he was feeling. Like sugar into alcohol, he found his anger could turn seamlessly into lust and it certainly beat an hour of circuit-training in the Capitol Hill gym.
So what is it youre asking me to do, Matt? Matt. Put him in his place.
I suppose Im suggesting you keep on doing what youre doing but more so. Whatever resources you and other colleagues have deployed so far, we need to step it up a gear. We need to get ahead of this thing. Take radical action if necessary.
He should only know, Franklin thought to himself. But all he said was, OK. Was there something else?
Oh yes, some good news. Christian Coalition are planning a new push, ahead of the next fundraising cycle. Their theme is the True American Family. They want to highlight a few beacons of family values. Some from sport that great golf guy some from music, and one or two from politics. I suggested you and your wife and your three sons were a perfect example of the True American Family. They are very excited about this.
Wow, said Franklin, tepidly, thinking only of Cindy in her eyepatch underwear, bent over his desk. Thats great.
This will give you a major fundraising advantage, sir.
I know it.
You see, Senator, the Movement not only taketh. It giveth too.
I appreciate it, Matt. I really do.
Franklin hung up and rubbed at his temples. Everything about the phone call suggested progress. He was to be entrusted with a key ideological task on the banking bill; he was seen as the lead player in the Forbes business and now he was to be held up as a poster boy for family values. It all spelled career gold. Iowa and New Hampshire were not much more than three years away.
And yet, something nagged at him. It was not just Nylinds apparent omniscience, it was his manner as if he were the general and Franklin a subordinate, expected to take instruction. What else to make of the attempt at withholding information, the unstated hint that this was beyond Franklins level? Above his paygrade, as they said in these parts. Maybe that was how it always was between the operatives and the horseflesh, but Nylind was worse than most at disguising the fact.
Franklin gazed at his power wall, the collection of framed photographs to his right. A few showed visiting foreign leaders whose names he could barely remember, there to suggest a national security expertise he did not have. Another of him with the US commander in Iraq, included for the same reason and to underscore his patriotism. And, in the centre, a smiling handshake with the last Republican president. He loved that photograph.
Franklin gazed at his power wall, the collection of framed photographs to his right. A few showed visiting foreign leaders whose names he could barely remember, there to suggest a national security expertise he did not have. Another of him with the US commander in Iraq, included for the same reason and to underscore his patriotism. And, in the centre, a smiling handshake with the last Republican president. He loved that photograph.