Displaced (18 page)

She and David had been scheduled to meet with
the Senator that day to discuss the inclusion of the language from
the mining association in the committee report. Jen had done her
homework and prepared her arguments but the press of business had
intervened. The Senator was called away, a meeting went long and
the schedule had to be rearranged. The lobbyist for the mining
association had contacted her with increased frequency over the
last several days. He understood that the session was coming to an
end and this would be the last chance to secure a benefit for his
client. Jennifer resented the intrusions, she had better things to
do and didn’t like having to field and respond to calls from
lobbyists generally, and this lobbyist in particular. He was always
so glad to hear from her as if her call was spontaneous and not a
response to his multiple messages. “Jennifer, how are you it’s so
nice to hear from you,” he would say. She wondered if it was just
out of habit or the patronage of a man of a certain age to young
women.

The Senator had not responded to her memo,
but she assured Edward that the issue was before the Senator and
his point would be heard. She would get back to them with a final
answer, which would come soon she promised. She also knew that the
issue was being pressed with the Senator directly and that money
was part of the conversation. The association was persistent in
pushing its argument and taking advantage of timing. She hated to
think that the decision had already been made between the Senator
and the Chief of Staff, and that the meeting scheduled for tomorrow
was simply for appearances, to make her think she had been part of
the process.

She sighed in annoyance at the thought of
having to make this compromise. What could she do? What was she
prepared to do? She didn’t know if it was the thought of a
political hack getting his way or the manipulation of the law that
bothered her more. In the end what bothered her was her own
involvement. She determined to think of other things.

She stepped over a hump and cracked cement
where the sidewalk had been upended, leveraged by the root of a
tree growing underneath. At Third Street she crossed against the
light there being little traffic on Tuesday night. Her shoes made a
hollow sound on the brick sidewalk that lined the street leading to
her apartment. The lights were on in the row houses and the windows
were open to the cool evening air, through one came the electrical
garble of a television sounding onto the street. Her house was
halfway down the block and she opened the latch to the low wrought
iron gate that surrounded the front yard. A large oak tree fronted
the three story brick town home and helped hide its worn paint.
Inside, she walked up the two flights of stairs to her apartment,
which ran the length of the third floor from front to back. Her cat
was waiting for her as she opened the door meowing in neglect. She
shooed him aside which made him hyper and dart across the room and
attack the drapes before settling under an ottoman. Jennifer sat
down on her couch for just a moment and then dozed before getting
up and going to bed.

****

Jennifer looked at her watch as she listened
to David address the agenda items for the legislative staff
meeting. The staff sat together in the upstairs conference room,
the large one surrounded by glass they called the bullpen because
it looked out on the rest of the second floor office. Steve, a
legislative aide, attempted to describe the end of session
procedure. A procedure so clouded that it was understood by only a
handful of people.

“They’re anticipating,” Steve was saying,
“that the House members will already be out of town by the time the
omnibus bill is passed by the Senate and reaches the House floor.
The House has already passed an omnibus bill which is essentially
an empty vessel,” he continued. “When the Senate finishes its work
and finishes voting, the House will in effect, fill up the vessel
and pass it on the House floor by unanimous consent after everyone
has already gone home. It’s basically a handshake agreement,” he
concluded.

Having waited until the very end of the
session, Congress had combined the constituent appropriation bills
into one giant piece of legislation. Hardly an ideal of democratic
function, passage of the bill presented legislators with a one time
take it or leave it choice. Rejecting the legislation would
essentially mean shutting down the government. Although omnibus
bills themselves were not extraordinary, no one could remember
another time when the House had agreed to pass a bill in advance
before knowing what was in it.

“To be honest,” Steve was still talking. “I
don’t exactly understand how this procedure works and for that
matter, I think only a few people do. I think there is an agreement
in place and it ought to work,” he paused to finish but all eyes
were still on him. “And that’s pretty much it,” he said by way of
conclusion.

“Thanks Steve,” David said in response.
“There is one last issue and then I’ll let you go and that is
correspondence.”

“Oh God,” Karen muttered and there was a
muted groan.

“Can’t this wait till recess?” Steve
protested.

“I just want to remind each of you that the
correspondence has been backing up and its up to you to get drafts
back as soon as possible. The mail is important.” He paused and,
anxious to leave, nobody interrupted or encouraged him to keep
talking.

After a moment, Karen ventured a remark, “is
that it?” she said with characteristic candor.

“Yes that’s it,” David sighed.

“Okay ready,” said Karen. “One, two, three
break,” they said together and then clapped hands to end the
meeting in an office tradition.

“Hey Jen, could you hang on a minute,” David
said, “I need to talk with you.”

“Should’ve done your letters Jen,” Karen said
in parting.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“The Senator wants to meet with us now.”

“Okay, okay, just let me get my stuff
together,” she said.

****

David and Jennifer sat in the two leather
chairs to one side of the Senator’s desk. The office was large with
high ceilings and three tall windows along the wall, the center one
opened to a rarely used balcony. A blue carpet covered the floor
and behind the Senator’s desk a door opened into his private
bathroom. At the other end of the room sat a couch and two arm
chairs. Like all political offices, the walls were adorned with
pictures of the Senator together with powerful and famous people.
On one credenza were green and red combines, symbolizing the
state’s main industry and a statuette from the 4-H club recognizing
the Senator’s support. Similar tokens littered the rest of the
office.

They had been interrupted before they had
begun. The Senator sat not facing them, leaning back in his chair
talking on the phone. He was gregarious and familiar with whomever
was on the other end of the line in a slap you on the back kind of
way. A few more moments and he hung up the phone.

“Okay, where were we,” he said, then
remembering himself, “I read your memo Jennifer, you don’t think we
ought to do this, I take it.”

“No Senator, I think it’s a mistake,” she
said resolutely. She had steeled herself in advance and was
determined to remain calm no matter what happened. “It’s bad
politics and it’s bad policy.”

Chris Daniels, the Senator’s Chief of Staff,
came into the office and took up a position along the side wall
leaning against a bookcase. Since the Senator had been picked to
head up the party’s senatorial campaign committee, Chris had left
much of the day to day running of the office to Dave. He spent the
bulk of his time outside of the office, working the phones,
encouraging donors and trying to persuade potential candidates to
run for the Senate.

“Well now Jennifer, what’s the harm?” the
Senator was saying. “I read the language the mining association
wants included in the report and it seems pretty harmless to
me.”

“The point of that language is to expand the
interpretation of the Act beyond its original intent and beyond
recognition. The law was intended to protect military folks, not
corporations.”

“Well, it would still be protecting soldiers,
but American corporations would receive some protection as well
against a court whose jurisdiction our government has never fully
recognized.”

“Well,” Jennifer paused concerned “it would
provide corporations with protection, protection against
embarrassment. It would really protect war criminals whom
corporations do business with. That’s what this is really about.
Companies, like Saxon Mineral, have been doing business with bad
people in the Congo. One of these bad people, a guy named Bembe, is
now being prosecuted by the ICC. Saxon doesn’t want to provide
information, doesn’t want to be involved in the case, it would be
an embarrassment, or maybe worse, maybe prosecution under the
Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. They’re exposed, they want the whole
case to just go away and they want us to provide the cover,”
Jennifer said trying to remain calm but having to remind herself to
breathe.

“Sounds pretty extraordinary, sounds a bit
conspiratorial,” said the Senator looking up at her.

“What’s extraordinary,” responded Jennifer
too quickly, “is the mining association’s sudden interest in the
ICC. The Interior Department, I can understand, the EPA sure, or
any number of other agencies. But the International Criminal Court?
That’s a new one altogether.” She told herself to slow down and
caught her breath.

“All this about Saxon mineral,” Chris asking
the question, “how do we know about this? – sounds like guess
work.”

“I spoke with someone at the ICC, a lawyer,
he told me that Saxon mineral is involved in a case before the
court,” she said.

“Your confidential source on the inside no
doubt,” Chris said. “Doing a bit of sleuthing, eah, Jennifer?”

“I’d call it research,” she said flat and
quickly.

“Even if what you’re saying is true,” sad
Chris, “the ICC’s not a democratic institution and the Congo is a
sovereign state entitled to conduct business. Think about who voted
for the ICC, countries like Iran and Sudan, governments hardly
representing the will of the people. I don’t know that we need to
be defending the ICC.”

“It’s not about defending the ICC, the ICC is
imperfect, it’s about not providing protection to war
criminals.”

“Alleged war criminals,” Chris corrected.

“All right, all right,” the Senator
interrupted. “I don’t want to get into the politics of the UN.
David you’ve been quiet, your thoughts.”

“I agree with Jennifer,” he said. “I think
it’s crass and it looks crass. I think this is a potential
embarrassment that if made public comes back to bite us later. The
military and military personnel in particular are sacrosanct and
this seems, well, just too opportunistic.”

“Okay, let me think this over, I don’t have
to tell you it would be good to have the support of the mining
industry, but I’ll think it over and get back to you. Okay thanks
guys, thanks Jennifer,” he said in a tone she interpreted for
consolation. They thanked the Senator and then stood to leave,
leaving Chris behind in the office. The Association’s interests,
she feared, continued to be represented after their departure.

“Jennifer you gave it your best shot, we’ll
see what happens,” David said in the hall anticipating that she
felt her argument had lost and she’d have to swallow hard.

In her office seeing Jay typing on his
laptop, she remembered her own exuberance and naiveté as an intern
in college. She thought back to law school and couldn’t help
feeling the sap. All those hours spent in the human rights law
clinic. In the end, why should it have surprised her that nobody
really gave a damn about her client, after all he didn’t have any
money. The law had long since been commoditized, securitized into
billable hours, of which her client afforded the lowest common
stock. She was too deflated to admonish Jay or engage in their
usual back and forth. She stood in the doorway until he turned
around and noticed her.

“Hey Jennifer,” he said, “sorry about this.
I’ll be out of your way, I just need to finish this up. Help me out
Jennifer, I need a phrase, ‘the proceedings of the Navy were little
more than, blank,’ a sham, but I don’t want use ‘sham.’ Do you have
another phrase?”

‘The proceedings of the Navy were little more
than,” she repeated, “smoke and mirrors.”

“No”

“A dog and pony show”

“Maybe”

“A goat rodeo”

“Goat rodeo? What’s a goat rodeo?”

“Kabuki theatre,” she had her clichés down
cold.

“Kabuki theatre, that sounds right. What is
kabuki theatre?”

“Look it up. What are you doing anyway?”

“I’m working on a press release for Pat.”

“I thought you were my intern.”

“I am, this is just something I’m helping out
with,” he said defensively.

The phone on the edge of the desk rang.

“Do you mind if I get that,” she said.

“No of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Hello”

“Hi Jennifer,” it was David calling.

“The jury wasn’t out very long,” she
said.

“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t the answer we were
hoping for, the Senator wants to go ahead with the association’s
language.”

“I see,” she said.

“Look, I can take care of it, it’s just a
matter of calling Bill in the Committee.”

“No, no, it’s my job, I’ll take care of
it.”

“You’ll have to get in touch with Talbot with
the association and let him know.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ll take care of it.”

“Sorry Jennifer.”

“Thanks,” she hung up the phone and then,
“dammit” she said under her breath.

Jay looked up at her, “bad news?”