Read The Return of Elliott Eastman Online
Authors: Ignatius Ryan
The Return of Elliott Eastman (21 page)
The President received notice of the passage of SB 1190 at two in the morning. Around 5:00 a.m. Archie woke Goldie with a nudge when he got a call from one of the operatives that it had passed. Goldie gave a whoop and hopped out of bed, made coffee and began texting her girlfriends.
Elliott’s phone was in the charging station and he missed the calls from the President and Archie. He was sitting up in bed in what was in his opinion a far too revealing hospital gown waiting for the last of the radiation team to arrive watching CNN and Headline News. He’d requested copies of the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times and the Washington Post be brought to him. They had been delivered a short while ago. Each of the papers had the story buried back in the last few pages of the front section, primarily because most of the reporters had gone home by the time the vote had gone down. Each newspaper hailed it as a major achievement. CNN was discussing the impact of the million strong crowd on the mall. Headline News was suggesting the people had carried the day and was asking if a new third party had been created, calling it the ‘We the People’ party. And party it was. When news of the passage of SB 1190 reached the masses on the Capitol Mall the music and love fest began in earnest.
Elliott was wheeled into the radiation room, but never the less he had a smile on his face.
“You seem awfully pleased for a fellow getting prepped for a rather strong dose of radiation,” Doctor Glynn commented.
“It’s a good day Doc. A very good day,” was all Elliott said as they helped him into the radiation chamber.
“The bastards! The rotten stinking bastards. If I ever find out who these two are I’ll have them strung up by their heels.”
Even through the fog of recovering from the radiation treatment and feeling weak as a kitten Elliott understood something was very, very wrong and interrupted the President’s rant asking, “What’s happened?”
“While the approved bill was being typed at the Government Printing Office, someone in the Senate put a secret hold on it. It may never be released for my signature.”
“Damn,” Elliott whispered, feeling the nausea crawling up his throat.
“It’s the same thing they did with the Whistle Blowers Act. The public and congressional proponents thought the bill had passed, but the secret hold killed it. How can they call this a democracy if one or two people can hold up or kill important legislation?”
“Don’t lose hope. We can find out.”
“Find out what?” Paul asked.
“We can guess who they are. Who were the most vociferous voices against the bill?”
“Obviously Coryn and Graham.”
“Agreed, but we must be absolutely certain they were the ones who put the secret hold on the bill. What we need to do is ask the public to contact their senators and ask each of them if they were the Senator who put the hold on the bill. In fact, I’d like to see each senator sign a pledge swearing they are not the ones placing the hold. We need to be absolutely certain who put the hold on the bill before we can act. This is a process of elimination. We must have people call each of their individual senators and ask them point blank if they’re the ones who have put the hold on. Once we know who it is, we’ll plaster their names across the heavens. The public wants this bill passed, and if we can prove we know who is holding it up without a shadow of a doubt we can put an incredible amount of pressure on them to remove the hold. I’ll contact some people I know and start the wheels in motion.”
“I like it.”
“I’ll get the word out.”
“How?”
“Paul, please trust me. I’ll get it done, but I have to go now.”
The President was about to say something but Elliott tossed the phone on the bed, threw the covers off of his legs and painfully made his way to the bathroom where he threw up. He threw up until his stomach was empty and then experienced dry heaves for another ten minutes. When he was done, his eyes were watering to the point he could barely see and the stomach acid had burned his throat raw. He crawled on all fours back to his bed and pulled himself up to a point where he could collapse face down on the mattress. As he fell asleep again, with a pounding headache the likes of which he’d never experienced before, he kept thinking he had a bone marrow transplant scheduled twelve hours from now.
Soro met with Senator Graham at about eight in the evening in the latter’s home office. He’d parked down the street and walked up a side path to the Tudor mansion so no one would see him enter. He knocked softly on the side door and Graham let him in.
“Do you want a drink, Rick?” Graham asked.
“Sure, a gin and tonic sounds nice.”
As Graham poured the drink he eyed Soros. The big man had a smug look on his face, so Graham knew he had some information for him.
“So what did you find out?”
“It took some digging, but I know a lot of people who know other people and …”
“Get on with it Soro. I don’t care who you know,” Graham growled, handing the drink to his hired gun.
Momentarily taken aback, Soro continued with an abbreviated narration. “Their names are Edward Kelley and James Lally. They are both former Army Rangers who served in Iraq and re-upped on multiple occasions. And get this. Guess who their immediate superior was over there in Iraq?”
“Ike Eisenhower, how am I supposed to know?”
“The famed Master Sergeant, Elliott Eastman.”
“Eastman?”
“Yep, and we have some satellite photos taken a couple of months ago when a pretty large gathering of men was at Mr. Eastman’s ranch. Guess who was there?”
“Kelley and Lally?” Graham replied.
“Bingo.”
Glancing away Graham said softly, “And that was a few weeks before the ‘War on the Deficit’ bill was brought to life.”
“And we have confirmation that Eastman was in a meeting with the President and General Robert Gates at the White House a few days after that,” Soro added.
“And both Gates and the President are strong backers of the bill. Of course, now it all makes sense,” Graham breathed. “They needed strong financial backing and someone who knew his way around the Hill.”
Soro stared at Graham as the Senator’s face grew red. He pounded his fist on his desk.
“Eastman, you bastard!” Graham shouted so loud that dogs started barking nearby. “You’ve ruined me!”
“Ruined?”
“Yes, he’s made the whole nation aware of his damn bill and they know I’ve opposed it. I’ll never get reelected.”
Soro watched the man across the desk from him with a measure of apprehension.
“I want him dead,” Graham declared with a savage snarl.
Soro was getting a little uncomfortable at the man’s demeanor.
“I don’t do dead,” he said in a hesitant manner.
“You do now,” Graham said glaring at him.
“No, no I don’t. I’ll do drops for you and maybe crack a few heads, but killing is a different ball game. That can get me the chair.”
“Do you know someone who does that kind of work?”
Soro thought for a second. “I can locate two or three.”
Graham turned and pushed a picture aside and began turning a dial on a small safe built into the wall saying, “I want all three.”
“It ain’t gonna be cheap. They want $5000 up front and $5000 more when the job is done, plus expenses.”
Graham closed the safe and handed Soro three bundles of bills. “Here is fifteen thousand and two grand more for tickets to Colorado. I’ll cover any additional expenses and another fifteen thousand when the job is done. My name is not to be mentioned.”
Rick glanced at the money in his hands and said, “Colorado? I think Eastman is in D.C.”
“I want the job done in Colorado. There it will just be some old man who died in a failed robbery attempt,” Graham explained coldly.
“He’s a war hero. You don’t think the news will get out?”
“Better there than here. He’s a damn legend around here. Get going.”
Elliott was sitting up in bed and as usual had multiple newspapers in his lap and the television locked on C-SPAN. He muted the channel and placed a call to Archie.
He got Archie’s voicemail and left a message. “Do me a favor Archie. I can’t speak very well; I think I’m losing my voice. Please call Stephanie Wells and tell her to mobilize everyone. And get a video out on YouTube about the need for people to contact their senators. And put a full page exposé on the back page of the Wall Street Journal, wait, no scratch that; make it both the Wall Street Journal and the USA Today. I want it to read ‘Two senators have put a Secret Hold on ‘The War against the Deficit’ bill. If two men can control a bill how can we call this a democracy? Contact your senator and find out if he or she put the hold on SB 1190.’ And see if you can find some sort of written pledge we can include as a tear out. I want the senators to sign a pledge swearing they are not the ones placing the hold.”
Elliott paused for a moment. “And then report it to Politico.com who will publish it on their website. Maybe Citizens Against Government Waste and any others you can think of too. Thanks Arch. Talk to you soon.”
After he concluded his message Elliott shut off his phone, leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes. He was tired of hotel rooms, lying on his backside in some bed, cell phones and most of all radiation treatments that left him sick and weak. He longed for the grand expanse of his Colorado ranch. Was he doing the right thing with his last few weeks of life? Maybe a trip down the Amazon River was in order, or a visit to the Pyramids of Egypt. One last long goodbye to this amazing planet might be in order. Or maybe he could do both; get this damn bill passed and then take a trip. He was planning these implausible possibilities when a polite knock sounded at his door.
“Come in,” he said.
Doctor Glynn entered and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“I feel like I’m spending my entire life in bed. I’ve felt better, but I’m okay. I’m having a little trouble talking.”
“You probably have acute mucositis which is very common after an intense exposure to radiation. It’s inflammation of the mouth and the GI tract. But I must say you are remarkably strong for your age. The radiation treatment you received is called an ablative procedure, meaning it was very strong which usually leaves most recipients down for a day or two.”
“Thanks Doctor Glynn.”
“We’re approaching zero hour. I’ve got the bone marrow procedure scheduled to begin in a few hours. I’ve brought in an expert transplant team. I won’t be doing the procedure myself, but I’ll be standing by.”
“Thank you Doctor. I appreciate your efforts.”
“Now, the marrow donor is here. He’s been thoroughly tested and the match is perfect. If you would like to meet him you’re welcome to do so. He’s in the waiting room.”
“Yes, that would be a pleasure. I’d like to personally thank him,” Elliott said. “Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll be out in a minute.”
Dr. Glynn smiled. “I wouldn’t recommend that. You need every ounce of strength you can muster. I’ll contact the nurses’ station and ask them to send him in.”
“Okay,” Elliott agreed, gratefully easing back against the pillows and closing his eyes. He had no wish to be walking anywhere today.
A few minutes later Eddie Kelley silently opened the door and stepped into the room. Instantly he was taken aback by Elliott’s appearance. He stopped in his tracks and then turning quietly, closed the door. Elliott was leaning back on his pillows and his eyes were closed. Eddie studied him for a moment and the big man suddenly found his eyes watering. For a moment he thought Elliott was dead. He’d lost much of his hair. His cheeks were hollow and deep dark circles ran under his eyes. He’d lost so much weight there was barely a bulge beneath the blankets. Wiping at his eyes, Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed and Elliott stirred.
“How you doing, boss?” Eddie said in soft tones.
Elliott opened his eyes and sat up in bed. Eddie noted the yellow evidence of jaundice in the former senator’s eyes.
“Eddie, what are you doing here?” Elliott croaked.
“I’m your donor.”
“You? But how did you know?”
Eddie smiled. “Elliott, you forget we’ve known you for thirty-five years. Archie was the first one to make the call. He sensed something was wrong and called several of us. He then hacked your phone and that of Doctor Yates.”
“Why that sneaky little … !” Elliott started in, but Eddie held up a hand.
“Don’t blame Archie. We pushed him to do the hacking so we’d know what was going on with you. In fact, that’s part of the reason I’m here.”
“Who else knows?”
“There are only six or seven of us.”
“Does Stephanie know?”
“None of us have told her anything.”
The two men talked for another hour and a half and then they were called to begin the marrow transplant procedure.
Archie called Stephanie and passed Elliott’s words along to her. He then bought the full page advertisements in the newspapers. The banner headline read: “CAN TWO ANONYMOUS SENATORS HOLD UP THE DEMOCRATIC PROCESS?”
The text of the article below the banner explained what had taken place with SB 1190. The bill was passed and sent for typing where the tag team hold was put in place. The article explained what a tag team hold was and explained the need to identify the two perpetrators of this action. Beneath that was an urgent call for action asking the public to contact their senator’s office demanding to know if they were the ones placing the hold.
In his next move Archie went a step further and had thousands of flyers printed up with Elliott’s message. He asked a dozen of the former Army Rangers in Elliott’s employ stationed in the D.C. area to hand deliver them to the masses on the Capitol Mall. Their outrage was immense. A sense of betrayal pervaded the crowd. In one instance they were celebrating the bill’s passage and delirious with joy, and the next they were being told it was over. Senator’s offices were besieged with calls. Many of the voting public, both young and old, showed up in front of their senator’s offices demanding to know if they were placing the secret hold on SB 1190. A second YouTube video was released with split-second images of hundreds of average Americans gazing into the camera and asking one simple question: “Are you the one holding my bill hostage?”
Many of the websites Stephanie contacted instantly expressed outrage at this latest development and sent the information out in mass e-mailings to alert their members.
Within 24 hours the crescendo of anger reached a tipping point and the Senate called an emergency session to deal with it. Several senators stood and read particularly vicious e-mails they had received. Senator after senator stood demanding to know who placed the hold.
Vice President Jackson, the Presiding Officer of the Senate, pounded the gavel and demanded the Senate come to order. Ever the pragmatist and noted for his level headed demeanor, Jackson felt his anger growing and said, “As you know there is no requirement that those senators who placed the hold must reveal their names, so stop asking the question. We will now recess for one hour.”
As the senators gathered their files and briefcases, Jackson instructed a Senate page to inform both Coryn and Graham to be in his office in ten minutes. Jackson was considered
an easy going giant of a man. A six term senator from Mississippi, his soft southern drawl put people at ease, but could be very misleading. Those who knew him well knew once his feathers were ruffled he had a fearsome side as well.
Under tremendous pressure, Coryn and Graham met privately with Vice President Jackson. He knew they were the ones who were tag teaming the hold because they had to inform the Senate chair first. Initially Jackson had approved the hold, although at the same time he had second thoughts about approving it because there was much to admire about the bill, but he was also reluctant to arbitrarily amend what was a time honored part of Senate procedure. His opinion had since changed. He spoke with the senators at length, but they were adamant that it was a legitimate Senate action and within their rights as senators to continue to keep the hold in place. Vice President Jackson shook his head and simply said, “I don’t recommend this course of action. I cannot say what the consequences might be.”
The meeting ended in a deadlock. Three hours later, the process of elimination was complete. The torrent of e-mails, phone calls and personal appearances had done the job. With 98 senators pledging they were not the ones who placed the hold, the remaining two were identified. Within minutes the information raced across the Internet. Tens of thousands of protesters appeared at the senator’s gated mansions that night. Rocks were thrown, fires were lit, and each senator was burned in effigy. The police were called in with tear gas and the crowds disbursed, but they reassembled later with thousands more showing up and staged a sit-in. The liberal talk shows vilified the two senators as un-American. The conservatives manhandled them as well.
The following morning, looking rather disheveled from a sleepless night, Coryn and Graham, under police escort, returned to the Senate for the morning session and withdrew the hold. C-SPAN covered what looked like a perp walk without the handcuffs for the two men. SB 1190 went to the Government Printing Office.
