Читать книгу Capitol Crimes - H.L. Katz - Страница 6

One

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The FBI sniper peered through the scope affixed to the top of his government-issued McMillan TAC-338 sniper rifle. He pulled his jacket lapel closer to his mouth and steadied the weapon on his right shoulder. His index finger tapped the trigger, softly, every few seconds. He pressed the Talk button of the black Motorola walkie-talkie strapped to his uniform.

“Not sure I can get a clean look even if there is somebody out there, Captain,” the sniper said. He never removed his eye from the scope. “Can we do anything about this crowd? This is nuts.”

The crowd he was referring to began lining up as soon as word spread of the hearing which would begin within the hour. Traffic on the street was at a standstill due to a combination of pedestrian gridlock surrounding the Hart Senate Office Building and the usual D.C. morning commute. From the few who had slept on the sidewalk to the thousands who had arrived on the streets of the Capitol before the crack of dawn, each of them hoped to secure one of the precious few seats inside the hearing room. Their goal on this humid summer morning was to be present at what USA Today called “the most important twenty-four-hours since the Tea Party at Boston Harbor.” The morning editorial of the Washington Post wrote that the events in the Senate today were, “as crucial for the country as any testimony since Watergate,” while the New York Times labeled the witness at the center of the firestorm, “the most controversial private sector figure in American history.”

On the steps of the east entrance of the Senate Building all of the major news networks jockeyed for position while bloggers, sprinkled amongst the crowd tapped their laptop keys with real-time updates for their websites. Everyone was live from the eye of the storm. Meanwhile, a few hundred feet above the ground, FBI snipers scattered along the rooftops surveyed both Constitution Avenue and 2nd Street for any suspicious activity.

Mixed-in among the mass of people were two Middle-Eastern looking men, one dressed in faded blue jeans and a Kansas City Royals tee-shirt, the other in black Dockers and a blue Nike golf shirt. They searched the crowd in vain for the witness they were hired to silence. They soon realized, along with the rest of the gawkers in the crowd, that she was nowhere to be found.

When Callie Wheeler arrived at the Central Hearing Room through an underground walkway that connected the two Senate office buildings, she was very much aware she was national gossip fodder. Dressed in all white, including her Jimmy Choo heels, Callie was an image of tranquility at the witness table next to her attorney, Miles Goodman. A veteran jurist of more than thirty years, Goodman came straight out of central casting complete with the sandy brown hair and young features that made him look twenty years more youthful than he was. On the tablecloth in front of them were two microphones, four drinking glasses and two pitchers of water. To Callie’s left, a bay of television cameras were poised to record her every move, while behind her, the room slowly began to fill. The retractable brown walls had been moved and extra chairs were set to accommodate the overwhelming press requests and public demand.

On a normal day, the hearing room hosted over 300 people but as of twenty-four hours ago, everyone involved with the United States Congress knew this would not be anything close to a normal day.

“Did you want me to tell them that you’re planning on making an opening statement?” Miles Goodman whispered into Callie’s ear.

“I’d rather keep the bastards guessing.”

“You’re the client,” Goodman said. “But you know they’re not gonna be happy.”

“Like I give a shit. Fuck ‘em.”

Seated on the “U” shaped dais at the front of the room were twenty-six United States Senators, twenty-one men and five women. The Committee on Lobbying Affairs had broken down along party lines. There were thirteen democrats seated on the left and thirteen republicans on the right. Of all the committees in Congress, none could be considered less appealing than COLA, but the substantial perks kept the committee’s membership packed with leaders from each party. The majority of the Senators that were present had made the rounds on early morning television, strategically placing themselves in interviews that were sure to be watched by their constituents on a day when Congress would be the focus of the national news cycle. A few of the more prominent among them were huddled together behind the platform, occasionally peeking at Callie and her attorney. Shortly after their strategy session had broken up, Chairman Lester Rice, a thirty-two year veteran of the Senate, gaveled the morning hearing to order.

“Ms. Wheeler, on behalf of this committee, I want to welcome you and thank you for appearing before us today. We understand that agreeing to testify could not have been an easy decision for you to make, but we appreciate your choosing to help our committee, especially on such short notice.”

Callie, as always, looked as if she was better suited for an advertising campaign than a Senatorial proceeding. She always had. Having just turned twenty-nine years old, she knew she would only get one shot at this regardless of how messy it got. She would take full advantage of the opportunity.

Maintain eye contact, Callie reminded herself as Rice continued with his instructions.

“Ms. Wheeler, each Senator will ask you questions for a period of five minutes and it will continue that way until such time as we determine your testimony has concluded,” Rice said. “Do you have any questions?”

With a calm, controlled elegance, Callie reached for the microphone in front of Goodman and moved it closer to speak.

“Mr. Chairman and members of the committee, I want to thank you for the opportunity to testify before you today. As you know, my testimony here is not without controversy. Nevertheless, I feel it is my duty to address this Body and I do so against the advice of counsel.”

Callie nodded to her attorney.

The room fell eerily silent as everyone focused their attention on Callie Wheeler. She paused to purposely milk the moment. The crackle of the court reporter’s stenograph was the only noise that could be heard throughout the venue.

“My experiences on Capitol Hill have taught me that things are never quite what they seem. When I think back on my almost six years in Washington, I recognize that my only desire was to help those less fortunate. Instead, I became an obscenely wealthy and powerful woman, while those I tried to help are no better off today than they were before I began.”

Miles Goodman placed his hand on top of Callie’s microphone and carefully spoke in her ear.

“Callie, I’ve got to tell you again, that this is not a good idea. I think if you invoke your Fifth Amendment privilege, you’ll be protected, and as your attorney, I strongly advise you to do so before saying another word. Please. Shut. Up.”

Callie stared at Goodman’s hand, which was still on the mic, before looking back at him.

“Miles, you’ve got to trust me…now please...”

Goodman removed his hand.

“Callie you’re making a huge mistake. Be very careful,” he said louder but still too low for the digital recording devices in the room to pick up. Goodman pulled back from the microphone. He shook his head. Callie smiled as she tried her best to assure him it would all work out okay.

From the left side of the dais, Senator Wilbur Lank, a seven-term Democrat from Tennessee, interrupted the proceedings.

“Mr. Chairman, I was not informed that the witness would be making any opening remarks. It is our usual protocol, is it not, for a witness to make us aware of any opening statements and provide us with those statements beforehand, along with a copy of their remarks?”

“Nor was I informed, Mr. Chairman.” Charles Shulman, a four-term Democratic Senator from New Jersey, screamed. He echoed Lank’s sentiments with his usual dramatic flare. Shulman was someone who could most appropriately be described as ornery on his best day and this particular day was not shaping up to be all that good. His mood reflected that.

“To be quite honest with you, it is a massive breach of committee protocol and I believe sanctions against this witness may be in order,” he said.

Callie continued on in spite of the great tumult in front of her. She derived great pleasure from the obvious discomfort she was causing. “The things I have done on Capitol Hill and elsewhere are beyond my own description. It hurts just to think about them.” Callie smoothed her shoulders, as if there were wrinkles but there were none. “I am not proud of what I’ve done, but I do take full responsibility for my actions.”

She lifted her head and gazed intently at the lawmakers in front of her. “However, I believe I may be the only one in this room to do so.”

Chairman Rice interrupted her and peered down at Callie from over his bifocals.

“Ms. Wheeler, we were led to believe you would not be making any opening remarks.”

Callie looked in control and seemed to gain strength from the simmering tension in the room. She leaned in closer to the microphone. The photographers clicked away while the television cameras zoomed in on her face.

“Well, I changed my mind.”

Callie confidently pushed back from the microphone and smiled, letting her last comment sink in. The chamber erupted, most of the noise coming from the Senators.

Chairman Rice gaveled the room quiet before the hearing spun out of control. Senator Mike Gorman, a Democrat from Colorado, had already served four terms in the Senate after being elected to Congress at a mere thirty years old. His perfect hair, flawless teeth and well-cut suits were his trademark. Gorman was using this hearing as well as any other occasion to bump his sagging poll numbers in an upcoming race no one thought would be close. His campaign was in trouble and everyone knew it.

“In light of these events, Mr. Chairman, I reiterate...I think this session needs to be held in private. As you know, I’ve been against this entire exercise and am on record with that opinion. However, if we are going to move ahead with this, the least we can do is clear the room and save the public the embarrassment?”

Senator Gerald Macklin, a six-term Republican from Illinois, was also unhappy. Senator Macklin had watched his years in office expand along with his waistline. He tipped the scales during his most recent physical at close to four-hundred pounds. “I would agree, Mr. Chairman,” he said. “I think it is best we clear the entire chamber at this time…”

“I am not sure what good an open hearing does for the people of this great country,” Senator Lank said, interrupting.

The noise in the hearing room grew louder. The onlookers in the gallery began talking amongst themselves while a number of Senators continued to interrupt.

Senator Shulman, speaking loudly into his microphone, addressed the hearing once again. “Mr. Chairman, I would like to raise an objection to the presence of this witness before our committee and I would also like the official record to reflect my opinion as to how ridiculous I feel her testimony is and will be.”

Chairman Rice pounded the gavel on his podium. “Quiet, please.”

Callie watched intently. Senator Shulman covered his mic and leaned in to whisper something to Chairman Rice. Before he could say a word, Callie rattled their cages one more time.

“Mr. Chairman, I would like to continue...”

The gallery once again buzzed with chatter. Chairman Rice pounded the gavel loudly. “Quiet. We cannot proceed like this. We need quiet.”

Senator Shulman took advantage of the ruckus. He leaned over to whisper in the chairman’s ear. “Lester, you need to postpone this. I am telling you, this bitch is hell on wheels. We need to get control of this situation and I mean right now.”

Chairman Rice nodded as Shulman talked in his ear. Before he could finish, Rice was already on it. “Ms. Wheeler, would you be willing to postpone your testimony a day or two so we can sort out a few procedural details?”

Goodman quickly placed his hand on Callie’s microphone. He offered her some advice drawn from his three decades of work. “Callie, listen to me. Take him up on his offer and play ball with these guys. They do not fuck around. As your attorney, I am advising you in the strongest possible terms to say ‘yes’. These people will make your life a living hell. Just do as they say.”

Callie let her lustrous brown hair fall over her left shoulder. She smiled and slowly moved Goodman’s hand off the microphone.

“No sir, Mr. Chairman, I would not. I will testify today and no other day. If you like, feel free to subpoena me, but I am quite confident that I’m the last person Congress wants to hear from.”

In the back right corner of the chamber, Mike Ferguson sat quietly. More than any other person in attendance, he knew all too well about Callie Wheeler. The seasoned litigators who sat on the committee had media pundits wondering aloud how Callie would hold up against their intense rounds of questioning. Mike Ferguson knew better and couldn’t help but feel bad for the Senators sitting in front of her. As he thought about the long day they had ahead of them, the trace of a smile began to form on his face.