BENNINGTON P.I. “BONITA” (16 page)

“Hello Mr. Bennington. My name is Dedra.  I work with Congresswoman Mears.”

I instantly recognized her voice as being the same one that had called me earlier that day, warning me to get out of the hotel.  My left hand shook hers briefly, and I noted the strength and confidence she returned that shake with.

Despite just meeting her, I found myself already intrigued by Dedra.

“Tell you what Dedra, I’ve already had myself one hell of a day.  Can you promise not to make me have to go running for my life anymore?”

Dedra smiled, though the right side of her mouth barely moved.  The warm, welcoming humor in her eyes more than made up for her face’s inability to present fully formed expressions.

“I’ll do my best Mr. Bennington.  Now if you’ll please follow me this way.”

“The congresswoman still on the second floor in that little office at the end of the hall?”

Dedra glanced to her left and nodded.  She was nearly as tall as me, and gave every indication she could most likely kick my ass with just her one good hand.

“Yes she is.  I was told you two met last year.”

I nodded while at the same time making sure I moved my feet just a bit faster to keep up with Dedra’s quick paced walk.

“That’s right.  She seems like a very capable member of Congress.”

“That she is Mr. Bennington.  That she is.”

We were now well inside the Capitol Building structure, making our way up a large, marble tiled set of steps that were all too familiar to me.

“You mind if I ask what happened to you Dedra?  How you came by those injuries?”

Dedra shook her head as her well muscled legs moved up the stairs effortlessly.

“Not at all.  Roadside bomb – Iraq.  July of 2005.  Lost my arm, half my face, but not my life, and most importantly, not my faith.  Born and raised in Pensacola, Florida, which is Congresswoman Mears’ district.  She already knew my family, we’re all kind of one big family down there. She visited me in the hospital several times after I was back stateside, helped set up my rehabilitation, and eventually, made me part of her staff.”

I paused, my heart rate having quickened just beyond what I felt to be comfortable.

“What was a beautiful woman like you doing in Iraq Dedra?”

Dedra stopped next to me and gave her half smile again, though this time her eyes were devoid of warmth or kindness.

“Killing the enemy.”

23.

The reception area of Congresswoman Mears’s office was tastefully furnished with a single dark oak coffee table and two matching chairs on one side of the room, and on the opposite side, a matching work area desk behind which sat a broad shouldered Hispanic man in his mid 30’s who I soon realized, was also in a wheelchair.  Both of his legs had been cut off well above the knee.  I assumed he was similar to Dedra, having been injured during military combat and now given a place on the congresswoman’s staff.

“Hello Dedra.  Go right in, the congresswoman is expecting you.”

It had been my experience over the years that every congressional office had some kind of sign in form for record keeping.  As I paused to look for such a form in Congresswoman Mears’s office, Dedra turned and motioned toward the hallway.

“This is not an official visit Mr. Bennington.  Just follow me.”

At the very end of the short hallway was a door to the left with a simple bronze plaque that indicated it was the congresswoman’s office.  Dedra knocked twice and then pushed the door open.  I could hear another woman’s voice from inside the room.

“Yes, have him come in and then close the door Dedra.  I’ll call you if I have any further questions.  Thank you.”

The congresswoman’s office was furnished with the same, simple lack of pretense as the reception area.  She looked the same as I remembered her from our brief meetings last year.  A shortish woman, who had recently become a grandmother for the third time, with short, softly curled grey and brown hair, slightly chubby face, and narrow, cheerful eyes that hinted at the degree of toughness that lurked underneath her kindly exterior.

I spotted the large family Bible she had in the same place on her desk when I was in this same office last year.  The very Bible that had contributed to the now deceased Congressman Latner’s disgust toward the congresswoman, dismissing her then as a “backwoods cunt”.  Class and respect toward women were never priorities for the congressman, and I had some time ago admitted to myself the world was a far better place without him in it.

“Nice to see you again Mr. Bennington.  Is it ok if I call you Frank?  You can call me Betty if you like.”

I knew I looked nervous as hell, because I
was
nervous as hell, and the prominently displayed biblical quote on the wall behind the congresswoman’s desk did little to set me at ease.

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.
  – Romans 8:28

“That’s fine by me Congresswoman.  I’m just happy to be standing here at all.  Been one shitty morning, though I’m guessing you already know about some of that.”

Congresswoman Mears smiled as she motioned for me to take one of the two wood framed and cushioned seats in front of her desk.

“Yes I do Frank.  I’m probably almost as happy to see you here in my office this morning as you are.  Those people who were following you…not the kind of men anyone would wish to have to deal with.”

I sensed I was being tested here.  She wanted to see how I handled myself now.  Why that was, I didn’t know.  Once again, I found myself swimming in dark waters of questions with few answers floating by to grab onto.

So just dive the hell in Frank, and be done with it. 

Perhaps my own advice to myself had merit.  I’d been running long enough now, and was in no condition to keep doing so.  Time to fish or cut bait.

“I have Walt’s file.  The one he wanted me to find.”

The congresswoman lifted her head slightly while folding her hands together on top of her desk.  The atmosphere inside the office grew noticeably heavier – more serious.

“That’s good Frank, because handing that information over to me is what will save your life.  It’s how we do things.”

She was speaking in half circles, talking just enough to allow her to say nothing, while gently urging me to take another step forward.  Whether that was a step toward safety, or into the abyss, I had no idea.

“I want answers congresswoman.  If I hand this file over to you, will you give them to me?”

Her eyes narrowed even further as she studied me intently for several more seconds.

“With this kind of information comes serious obligation Frank.  I would like you to join my team, but that is not a decision you should take lightly.  It is a life choice Mr. Bennington, and if you make this choice, your life will never be the same.”

The congresswoman was doing it again – speaking in near riddles, increasing my interest in whatever the hell she was talking about.  After so many years of working in Washington D.C., I recognized political talent in someone almost immediately, and she had that kind of talent tenfold.

I removed the manila envelope, its edges now bent and frayed by its having been kept inside my coat during the morning’s near deadly altercation.

“You say if I give you this, it will save my life.  I’d like to hear the how and why behind that statement.”

Congresswoman Mears offered the slightest of smiles as her voice lowered to an almost whisper.

“Before this morning, had you ever heard of the T3 Group Frank?”

I shook my head.

“No, I first saw it written down in this file here.  Walt put it there, so I’m guessing he knew something of it.”

The congresswoman’s eyes softened, determination replaced by sadness.

“He’d likely still be alive if he had not been so untrusting of us Frank.  We tried to contact him, tried to make ourselves available to unburden the information you have now in your possession, but he was too fearful.  I understand that fear of course, he wasn’t as experienced as you with this world up here.  How the system works, how things are done.  The potential for…secrets.”

“How about you tell me how my giving you this folder saves my life?  Let’s start there.”

Betty Mears gave a short nod, seemingly relieved that I was willing to proceed.

“Absolutely Frank.  That folder represents a piece of a much larger puzzle.  It points to a conspiracy involving some very important people.  I assume you’ve already looked through it, correct?”

I nodded as the congresswoman continued.

“This conspiracy involves the selling of a lie Frank.  In this case, and it is just one of far too many examples of this, the lie centers around what used to be called global warming, but was then altered to the more generalized “climate change” crisis.  There is no crisis of course.  Never has been.  What I believe Walt was able to put together in his own haphazard way, were some of the direct financial links of this conspiracy.  Even then, he only scratched the proverbial surface, bit it’s enough that the people and organizations he focused in on would be more than willing to kill to have that information silenced.

Having said that, I would like to have that file Frank, but if you hand it over to me, then you are left with obligations to our group.  Obligations, as I’ve already told you, would alter your life forever.”

I knew my face openly indicated my growing fatigue over the less than direct conversation going on between myself and the congresswoman.  I also knew that my frustration could very well be the intended outcome she wanted.

C’mon lady – just get to the damn point.

“What do you mean by obligation?  As in, I will owe you – but owe you what?”

Congresswoman Mears lowered her head slightly and gave a half smile.

“Something like that Frank.  You will be a new member of our organization, and as such, obligated to allow us to call on you for assistance at any time.  That’s part of the deal with knowing truth, but despite that obligation, I would also add that the truth truly can set you free.”

My patience had finally run out. There were good manners and all, which generally I tried for the most part to conduct myself with, but man, enough with all the
Da Vinci Code
sounding bullshit.  That story sucked about as much as this conversation with the congresswoman.

“All due respect Congresswoman, but can you please just say it without all dark shadow, super spy descriptions?  Are you talking about the T3 Group?  That’s your organization, right?  So I give you Walt’s information, the information that you already admitted got him killed, and that means I’m now part of this organization too?  So what if I just keep this file and walk out of here?”

For the first time since our meeting began, Betty Mears betrayed a hint of panic.

“Then you’ll likely be killed Frank.  By those two men from this morning, or others, and it will be sooner not later that it happens.”

I rested my right hand atop the manila folder, which in turn sat on the congresswoman’s desk.

“But I give you this envelope, and that threat goes away?  Why?”

Congresswoman’s Mears’s panic retreated, replaced by her usual calm, focused, self assurance.

“We have access to those who will get the information out to the public in such a way that you will be protected.  It’s how it’s been done for…for far longer than even you have worked here in D.C. Frank.  It’s the primary purpose of the T3 Group, and with the rise of the alternative media, it has made the process that much quicker, safer, and more effective.”