“We thought they were,” he said. “Seems we were mistaken. Some old tapes containing FEC reports on campaign funding apparently got out. There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing illegal about any of it. She just shows up as the campaign finance chair on two of your early reports, that’s all. That’s it.”
Grimes put a finger to her lips, as if to seal them as she thought and looked away from him off into the distance. Those records placed them in the same universe, the circle of hell that led Serna to Maya Grimes’s life of sin. If she found it, so could others.
“It’s not important,” he told her.
“That means they know we had financial dealings,” said Grimes. “If they start poking around and somebody finds out we had a falling-out, they’ll want to know why. One thing leads to another.”
“Relax! We’re confident they don’t know anything.”
“Where did these tapes go?” she asked.
“Purchased by some Internet news group.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “It happened more than a year ago. I’m sure it’s nothing. For all we know, they have probably thrown them out by now.”
“You’re telling me everything, right?”
He raised two fingers. “Honest injun,” he said.
“I’m not sure I believe you,” said Grimes.
He looked at her, arching an eyebrow as if to say, “What else is new?”
“I’m just trying to give you a heads-up. I’m not saying they will call. Just that they might, ask you a few questions.”
“And what do I say if they do?”
“Don’t deny it, the fact that she worked on your early campaigns, that’s all. Just tell them that you and Serna were friends way back in the early part of your career. Ancient history,” he told her. “She helped you run a couple of your campaigns and that’s it. But don’t bring it up unless they do. If they are doing an obituary on her, it’s only natural that they might contact you. I didn’t want you to panic if they should mention the campaign stuff. That’s all.”
“Still, I don’t understand why they would call me,” she said. “There are plenty of others who were closer to her. It’s not like we were friends. What if they know we had a fight?”
“They won’t.”
“What if they know about Ginger and Spice?”
“They don’t. Trust me, how could they know?”
“You found out.” Grimes almost spit the words at him.
“Yes, but we had the means.”
“So did Serna.”
“That was your fault,” he said. “You were careless. Now stop worrying. They know absolutely nothing. Of that we are certain.”
“How can you be sure?”
“If they contact you, just give them a few happy remembrances, how much she’ll be missed, what a great person she was, and hang up. That’s all you have to do. It shouldn’t be difficult. Just a little white lie. Think of it as campaigning,” he said.
“You said there was still a problem. Some loose ends. Plural,” said Grimes.
“Yes, well, leave that to me. Forget I mentioned it.” He didn’t want to load her up with too many worries at one time. There was no purpose in telling her they had failed to bag Alex Ives, or that Ives and his boss were the ones digging for dirt, and that she might be hiding in the hole where they were shoveling.
The Washington Gravesite was stepped around gingerly like a poisonous serpent by any shrewd politician in the Capitol. It had a bite that was toxic and it seemed to be growing another rattle every year. Grimes didn’t need to know about Ives or the story he was working on. If she had known, she would have panicked. That and the girl. Ives, no doubt, would by now have told his lawyers about the little Asian beauty. They definitely had some mopping up to do.
“How serious is it?” she asked.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. You just take care of the items on your agenda. You have two up this week. Make sure the votes go the right way.”
A pained expression crossed Grimes’s face.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.
“There’s a problem with the appropriation on the Siderail Software deal,” she said.
“What kind of problem?”
“I need one more vote. I was counting on Mendez. Senator from Arizona.”
“I know who Mendez is.”
“He won’t return my calls,” she said. “He’s avoiding me. His assistant says he has problems with the item, something about a manufacturer back in his state who wants a piece of the contract. Mendez won’t vote for it unless he gets a guarantee.”
“It’s too late for that,” said the man. “We need that bill.”
“Without Mendez I can’t get the item out of committee.”
“Don’t worry about Mendez. When the vote comes up he’ll be on board. But you should have called me. I can’t help you unless I know,” he said.
“How are you going to do that?”
“Leave it to me.”
Before he could say anything more, a man came into view walking quickly toward them. He was carrying a brown bag in one hand and a plastic bottle of Coke in the other. In his twenties, he had on a dark pair of slacks, a white shirt, and a tie. His collar was open. He had that hurried look, one of the sea of civil servants punching the clock for lunch. He plunked himself down on the other end of the bench and started opening the brown bag.
The man in the three-piece looked over at him and said, “Do you mind? This is a private conversation.”
The younger man was good-sized. He appeared fit. And apparently this was not his day to take shit. “You want privacy, find an office!” he said.
“I’d prefer you find another bench.” The man in the suit twisted the handle on his cane just enough to release the bayonet thread so that the razor-sharp blade slid a few inches out from the cane. He could have shown him the SIG Sauer nine-millimeter under his coat, but why go nuclear in a quiet park?
The man with the brown bag looked at the glint on the blade and swallowed. “No problem.” He didn’t even look up at Grimes. Instead he got up, grabbed his Coke, and walked quickly down the path away from them.
“Does that make you feel big?” she asked.
“I don’t have a problem with it. Oh, I forgot. That’s right, you don’t like weapons. I apologize,” he said. He gave her a sinister grin. “I forgot your crusade. That you authored all those bills to outlaw, what was it, assault rifles and large clips? And you worked behind the scenes so quietly to sell all that used US military brass to the Chinese, mountains of it, just so that crazy gun loaders in America couldn’t get their hands on any of it. That was a stroke of genius,” he said. “Must have really put the press on the gangbangers in South Chicago. Only being able to kill a hundred people or so a night now. All those years pushing the ATF button to push them in the face of the gun dealers. Put as many of them as possible out of business, along with the manufacturers. You’re just up to your little honkers in good works, aren’t you?”
He stopped for a moment and looked at her, the smile gone from his face. “But then, of course, you have a permit to carry, don’t you?” He knew she did. He sometimes wondered if she might bring her pistol, a snub-nosed.38, to one of their meetings and try to put an end to it. But it wouldn’t do her any good unless she turned it on herself. “Where exactly do you hide it?” he asked. He looked her up and down with a kind of lustful leer as if the next thing he might do was strip-search her.
A good number of the political class constantly railed against guns and gun owners and then used their influence to obtain permits so that they could carry concealed weapons themselves. This was done mostly when they were back in their districts. Firearms were frowned upon in the highly sanitized atmosphere of the Capitol, where security was now so tight that members of the public had to make appointments, sometimes weeks in advance, and get ten-printed just to do the public tour of the hallowed halls that for more than thirty years had been the scene of the collective crime.
“I got that permit years ago when I was being stalked!” She said it with a tone of defiance. The instant the words left her lips she knew it was a mistake.