Sex Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 6) (7 page)

“That’s true. Right now I’m ending nuclear war and in a minute or so I’m going to set about eliminating disease and poverty.”

Ha ha ha.

Ha ha ha.

“No, seriously…”

Be quiet, Nina.

Stop acting like an idiot.

“Seriously, I’m always at the Congressman’s service.”

“Wonderful. Do you think you could spare a few minutes now?”

“Sure.”

So she got her jacket and followed Tim Sandler up and out of the Rayburn Building, across South Capitol Street, through the Longworth House Building, across New Jersey Avenue, and into the Cannon House Office Building, where senior-level House administrators (and the Whip was certainly one of those) had their offices.

Along the way, he chatted pleasantly with her.

The talked about the weather.

Beautiful day. Beautiful day.

Certainly is. Certainly is.

The Gulf Coast.

Wonderful country down there.

Certainly is. Certainly is.

The fast pace of life in Washington D.C.

Are you getting used to it?

Little by little.

Ha ha ha.

Ha ha ha.

Then they took the elevator up to the third floor, walked along a corridor for eight or nine miles, and stopped before a massive oaken door.

“Have you been in Congressman Maxwell’s office before, Congresswoman Bannister?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And you haven’t yet met the Congressman?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll introduce you!”

He opened the door.

The room flashed and glittered and laughed and sun-sparkled and was just completely happy about everything in the whole damned world.

It was a massive room, surrounded with massive windows, which let in wondrous amounts of morning sunlight.

In the room were perhaps a dozen people, all chatting, all friendly to each other.

They all waved at her and greeted her as she stepped into the room.

She filtered through them and below them (for they were all taller than she was—even the furniture was taller than she was), and she shook as many hands as possible.

Finally, she came to rest standing before a man taller than anyone else. A man with white thinning hair, and a deeply chiseled face. He looked down at her with bright sparkling eyes and smiled:

“Tim, have you brought us Congresswoman Bannister?”

“Yes, sir, I have.”

“Wonderful! May I call you Nina?”

“Of course!”

“Nina, I’m Jeb Maxwell.”

“I know. I recognize you from TV!”

“And I have to apologize.”

“For what, sir?”

“Why, for not coming round to your office much earlier, and making it my business to meet you. It’s inexcusable on my part that it’s taken this long!”

“Don’t think anything of it.”

“I think a great deal of it. That campaign you ran down there—absolutely marvelous work!”

“Well—most of it was Jackson Bennett’s work.”

“I know; I know Jackson. He’s highly thought of up here. Good man, good man. But you more than did your part in that campaign. And to have had so little experience—the stuff dreams are made of. Dreams and movies. No, you’re to be congratulated, no ifs ands or buts about it!”

“Thank you!”

“And now—look, you have to excuse me for just a second; we’re finishing up a press conference. Want you to meet a few of these people. Here’s Connie Hightower from NBC News…

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

“Peter van Armstead, Reuters…”

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

“This is Senator Danielson from the House Armed Services Committee. Tom’s come to give these press types an update on the P-345; you familiar with
 
it?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll send over some info on it. Interesting piece of equipment. Oh, and here’s Dan Remmington, Ways and Means.”

“Nice to meet you, Congresswoman Bannister!”

“Pleasure’s mine.”

“Helluva campaign. We all followed it. We loved Jarrod Thornbloom you understand…”
           

“Of course.”

“But if there has to be a replacement—well, the state of Mississippi couldn’t have done any better!”

“You’re kind to say so.”

“He’s not just being kind,” Jeb Maxwell interrupted. “It’s the undeniable truth. Oh, and here you need to meet…”

So, for five minutes—it seemed much longer—she was herded through the room, given a chance to shake hand with this luminary or that lawmaker, this writer or that analyst, this TV talk show host or that retired general.

And always the talk of her wonderful campaign.

She was flattered, of course.

It was a remarkable thing.

She, little Nina Bannister.

Being fawned over by some of the most influential people in the world.

How many lunches of fish sticks and tater tots had she eaten in her life?

Now she was caviar lady.

Finally, the crowd oozed out into the room, and she was alone with Jeb Maxwell and his aide.

“Tim, I’m gonna go in the conference room back here with Congresswoman Bannister. See that we’re not disturbed, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Now, Nina. If you’ll come in here, maybe we can finally be alone.”

“Sure.”

And, so saying, he led her into his office and closed the door behind her.

“Sit down.”

“All right.”

The massive desk, of course.

And, damned if it wasn’t true…

...the couch was uncomfortable.

“So, how are you finding Washington?”

“A bit fast pace, but I’m learning.”

“Hear you’re rooming with Laurencia Dalrymple.”

“That’s right.”

“Remarkable lady.”

“I think so.”

“She may run for president, you know.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“And yet she’s so down home; charming, but so easy to talk to.”

“I know.”

“So what the hell is this?”

A pause.

“I’m sorry…”

“I would think you’re sorry. You damned well ought to be sorry!”

“I just…I don’t…”

“You don’t, huh! Well, look!”

He slid open a drawer of the desk, reached inside, and pulled out a newspaper.

The Washington Post
.

He held up the front page.

There she was, lower right quarter of the page.

A picture of Nina Bannister.

And the headline:

“Dem. Lawmaker Advocates Blanket Welcome for Refugees!”

“I…I…”

“You haven’t read this yet, Nina?”

“No. I didn’t see the paper this morning. I’ve been answering mail.”

“Read it.”

He threw it at her.

She caught it and read:

“In a sharp break from party policy…”

She looked up.

“A sharp break from party policy is not good, is it?”

The face across from her, now brutally cold, glared back.

She forced herself to go on reading.

“In a sharp break from party policy, a junior member of the Democratic Party told a reporter yesterday that she favors allowing admission into the United States of all Honduran refugee children. ‘There are only about fifty thousand of them,’ said Congresswoman Nina Bannister, newly-elected representative from the state of Mississippi. ‘And there are three-hundred million Americans. That means only one American out of every fifty-thousand would have to take in a child. Surely we can do as much!”

She put down the newspaper.

“I didn’t give this story,” she said quietly, “to
The Washington Post
.”

“If you give it to one paper, you give it to all of them. Surely you’re not so stupid that you didn’t know that.”

The word stung, but there was nothing to do but sit and take it.

“And surely you also know that we are feverishly trying to work out a deal with the other side to fix this mess before it gets any worse. The President has asked for thirty-billion dollars so that we can process these people and get them back home to where they came from. The Republicans are holding tough. All they can do is say, ‘Why didn’t you build the wall when you had the chance?’ Right. A Berlin Wall right on our own border, built to keep people out and not in. Most ridiculous thing I ever heard of in my life. No. No, the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of in my life is you shooting off your damned mouth to the national media. And doing it without consulting a single member of your own party.”

A horrible silence for a time.

There was no sound in the room, nor outside of it.

The Capitol Dome gleamed white through a huge window to her right.

It seemed to be grinning at her.

“The President is livid.”

“The President knows about this story?”

Jeb Maxwell shook his head:

“No, of course not. The President never reads any newspapers. He especially doesn’t read stories about his own party members making policies he’s never heard of. But don’t worry about him. He’s heading off to Geneva later this morning for talks concerning the Ukraine. Oh, and by the way, I don’t suppose you’ve thought of a way to solve that crisis too? Maybe just invite all the Ukrainians to come and stay at your place for a while? Maybe just a few years, until the Russians stop shooting at them?”

“Sir, I…”

“Lady, what in the hell were you thinking?”