Capitol Grounds
Washington D.C.
June
The May temperatures were still in the mid-70’s as Pug and Rachel walked across the Capitol grounds toward Union Station, the central train depot in Washington D.C. A fixture in the capital since before the Civil War, it had been expanded into a retail shopping mall with stores on several levels, all extending down. In the central foyer, a restaurant had been built on a small mezzanine overlooking the main entrance. Pug asked the young woman at the entrance for a setting for two. They were escorted to the small table near the railing in the rear. As soon as the waiter came, he smiled as he held the chair for Rachel.
“How very nice to see you again, Senator McKenzie. A pleasure that you joined us for lunch.”
Pug shook his head as the man filled their water glasses and then departed.
“I’m with a celebrity, it seems,” he said.
“Everyone in the surrounding area who makes their living in service, food, or otherwise, quickly learns the elected representatives. I sometimes think they have a picture board in the kitchen or the employee lounge.” She chuckled.
Pug took a sip of water and spread his napkin on his lap. He looked-stared, actually-at Rachel for several moments before speaking. She did not rise to the bait and open the conversation. She just smiled in return.
“I was surprised,” Pug said, “pleasantly surprised, I might add, when you agreed to have lunch today. Is lunch safer than dinner?”
“I knew I’d be hungry after a long meeting with General Wainscott,” she replied. “Besides, I was curious whether you really do pick your teeth at the table.”
“Ouch! I’ll have to be careful what I reveal around you, it seems. But Wainscott was well prepared, wasn’t he?” Pug added.
“I expected nothing less. This is a big proposal, and an important departure from our personal liberty. I’m sure the general did not make the recommendation without long consideration. And it probably was hard for him and his colleagues to admit that the Army is not prepared for a domestic security role. They’ve been doing it for several years in Iraq, of course, but to have to patrol American cities, American streets, and to restrain American citizens-that would leave a bad taste in the military psyche, I would assume, and I can only imagine what it would do to the public image of our military. I have no reason to question his motives, nor his intent.”
Pug grew serious, his facial expression transparent. “Rachel, why are so many elected officials in support of these measures? What’s to be gained from clamping a lid on free movement of our citizens and subjecting them to search and seizure? The chances of actually preventing one of these random attacks is minimal at best.”
Rachel looked away for a long moment, watching the people transiting the lobby floor, about ten to twelve feet below their position. Just as she was about to speak, the waiter returned. “Will you have your usual, Senator?”
“Yes, Henri, a Caesar salad please, and water,” she replied.
“And you, sir?” the waiter asked.
“I’ll have the corn chowder soup, please. And iced tea.”
“Yes, sir, right away.”
Rachel returned to the question. “Pug, I don’t know if there is a simple answer. I agree with you that this program is questionable in its objectives. Perhaps not the objectives, but the projected results. Still, you’re not surprised to hear that across the nation, our constituents are writing, calling, e-mailing, and actually visiting our offices to ask what we intend to do about this internal threat. The government’s primary mission is to protect the American people. I’m not trying to teach civics to you, by any means, but most elected officials realize that we have to do something. We have to show the people that we’re sensitive to the problem and are seeking remedies. We have to be seen to be doing something, is perhaps a better way to state it.”
“Then it’s all for show.”
“Much of politics is for show, Pug,” she said, a bit terse. “If you don’t know that, you haven’t been watching the polls.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you, Rachel. I don’t mean to, but the answers to this thing have me puzzled. I have to admit that Trojan is no closer to finding resolution. Probably less, but we don’t care about the polls. For what it’s worth, I don’t think SI has the answer. Wainscott made it seem like they were the answer to a prayer.”
“You sound like an Old Testament prophet,” Rachel said.
Realizing that he had been preaching, Pug remained silent for several moments, then laughed softly. “Marines don’t have beards.”
Just as the waiter was returning with their lunch, Pug’s cell phone vibrated. He checked the Caller ID and flipped the phone open. “General Connor,” he answered.
“Please hold for the president,” the clear feminine voice said. In several seconds, President Snow came on the line.
“Are you still in the Senate hearings, Pug?”
“No, Mr. President. We finished about thirty minutes ago. I’m at Union Station with Senator McKenzie, having lunch.”
“I’ll have a car outside in five minutes, Pug. If Senator McKenzie is not otherwise engaged, please ask her to join us.”
“Sir, do I need to advise Trojan to assemble?”
“Not yet. We’ll discuss it when you arrive. This is not pleasant news, Pug. There was a car bombing in Brussels just a few moments ago. The Dutch Deputy Director of Security and General Austin were both in the car. I’m sorry, Pug, but both men, along with the driver and the security agent, are all dead. The report will be on the news momentarily. I’d like you to meet with us immediately. Defense Secretary Collins and the vice president will also be here.”
Pug was silent, but his face was once again transparent and he could see that Rachel was anxious to know the content of the call.
“One moment, Mr. President.” Pug redirected his comments at Rachel. “Can you join me for a meeting with the president? Right now?”
Rachel nodded.
“Mr. President, we’ll be there as quickly as your transport arrives. We’ll be outside the main entrance to Union Station.”
“I’m very sorry, Pug. I know how much you admired General Austin.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pug replied and closed his phone. Rachel looked at Pug, waiting.
“There was a car bombing in Brussels. General Austin is dead.”
Rachel reached across the table and quickly squeezed his hand. Then she removed two twenty-dollar bills from her purse, placed them on the table, and stood.
“Let’s go, Pug. I’ll call my office from the car.”