The Weed Agency (33 page)

Jamie and her Marine husband became parents, and Ava found her old friend … content, but kind of boring. The light from that luminous vision she had described two decades earlier, of planning grand international summits, dimmed a little more each day. Life became more focused on her son, and the house in the outer suburbs, and balancing the schedule of her event planning for the agency, and her husband’s work as a defense contractor.

Ever since he had read her piece in the Sunday Outlook section of the
Post
, former Congressman Nick Bader had been trying
to get in touch with Ava Summers. Finally she agreed to have lunch at the America! restaurant in Union Station; she concluded if he was so insistent to meet, she could at least get a good meal out of it.

“Your op-ed was great,” Bader wiped a bit of food from his chin. “I think it had people choking on their Cheerios all over the
Washington Post
’s circulation area. It said a lot of things that needed to be said, a lot of things that people in this city just walk by, oblivious to, ignoring, averting their eyes, pretending everything’s fine. I saw it early on, and tried to … well, I mean, even back when I was working for Reagan, we were supposed to be cutting the bureaucracy. And then with Newt. And then with Bush.”

Ava nodded. “I remember when I worked at AIS, people talked about you as if you were some combination of Timothy McVeigh and Mephistopheles.”

“Really?” Bader emitted a grim chuckle. “You know, for all of that, you would think I had actually managed to cut a budget or two. No, I, uh … I was … there was something Sisyphean in my efforts, over a lot of years in Congress. It’s not getting beat after seven terms that hurts, it’s the sense that I could have and should have done more in those seven terms that keeps me up at night.”

Ava was slightly unnerved by the intensity of the regret in Bader’s eyes.

“You know, this lunch is nice, if you just wanted to say you liked my piece, you could have just sent an e-mail.”

“I have a … proposition for you,” Bader said uneasily. “Adam Humphrey’s crowning achievement is that monstrosity they’re building next to the Washington Monument.”

“I know,” she sighed. “This guy I’m dating gripes about it; he says they took away a perfectly good flag football field on that spot.”

“Ava, I’ve had some information brought to me that could allow you and I to … make sure it never opens.”

Ava stared at him, wondering just how insane the man in front of her really was.

“Congressman, please don’t tell me you’re working with domestic terrorists.”

“What? No!” he exclaimed. “No, no, I’d never do something like that. Jesus! How could you think that—look, never mind. The bottom line is, there are a lot of ways to delay a construction project.”

Go on.

“One of my old committee staffers got a tour of the construction site with a congressional delegation two weeks ago. They’re going through this state-of-the-art, no expense spared, federal office building of the future, blah blah blah. But then he says, as they’re walking through the top floor, he says he saw a couple of bags of drywall with Chinese writing on it.”

Ava stared blankly. “What, did that violate some ‘Buy American’ law or something?”

“At the very least!” howled Bader. “How much have you heard about Chinese drywall?”

“I rent, I don’t worry about HGTV stuff,” she replied.

Bader explained that defective drywall had been made in China and imported to the U.S. for about a decade, and that the stuff could emit various noxious gases, including hydrogen sulfide, creating a stink and other human health issues. In addition, the gases could tarnish and damage copper pipes, wiring, air conditioner coils, and some types of jewelry.

“What’s more, last year the EPA found some types of drywall were particularly vulnerable to a mold that originated in Southeast Asia,” he continued, consulting a pile of papers from a folder he brought in his briefcase. “Something where the mold
grows at faster rates, spews spores, aggravates asthma and respiratory problems—your basic health and lawsuit nightmare.”

Ava chuckled. “Gee, somebody should get the Agency of Invasive Species right on that.”

“I know, right?” he said, eyes bulging. “Here’s the problem. If I or this staffer go to the EPA, and say, hey, we saw something … there’s no guarantee they’ll take it seriously. I’m on record as saying the building is a disaster, my opinions on how that agency should be eliminated are well known, and apparently some blogs are spreading the rumor that I’m obsessed and unhinged!”

“I can’t imagine why,” Ava tried really, really hard to not sound sarcastic.

“Anyway, if we want the EPA or General Services Administration to take this seriously, we need evidence. And the AIS isn’t just going to hand it over.”

Ava wondered when Bader had become so comfortable with the pronoun “we,” and she had a feeling Bader’s idea was going to get very complicated.

Ava thought that Bader’s plan was particularly insane—perhaps losing office had left him seeing conspiracies all around him, or devising elaborate plans of action to right a wrong turn of political history—and so her first step was to try a much simpler approach.

She called Lisa.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you,” Lisa greeted her rather icily.

“Yes, I know, we haven’t talked in a while, and I’m sorry. But something big has come up, and it involves your job.”

“What?” Lisa said, with a hostility that Ava didn’t seem to pick up on.

“So, if I heard the new office building you’re supposed to move into next year was a public health hazard, you would want me to do something about it, right?”

Lisa dropped her hostility for a moment.
“What?”

Ava repeated the question.

“That … question was in English, but the words make no sense in the order you put them.”

“I heard a rumor that they used Chinese drywall in the building.”

“Well, I mean, how seriously do you take the rumor?” Lisa asked. “I spend my days knocking down all kinds of nonsense rumors.”

“Let’s say, serious enough. If I told, say, Wilkins, do you think he would take it seriously?”

“Well, Ava, you’re not exactly a popular person in the office right now,” Lisa said, letting a bit of festering anger flare. “After all, it is spin to argue we ‘
generate anything more than mediocrity at best, offering abysmal value, with little inclination to improve our performance
.’ ”

Ava cringed, having momentarily forgotten how her friend would greet the high-profile denunciation of her employer and life’s work.

“I’m sorry. Lisa, you know that no matter how much that place drove me nuts, I always thought you were the best. In everything.”

“Ava, you trashed my work!” Lisa fumed. “It was harsh, it was demeaning, it was insulting, it was … it was …”

“All true?” suggested Ava.

“That’s beside the point,” Lisa said. “I mean, yes, we’re a very bureaucratic institution, and yes, this place could drive Mother Teresa into a swearing rage, but it still—”

“Listen, we should talk about this in detail, face to face, sometime soon. But right now I’m sort of in a pressing situation. Do you think I would need evidence to persuade Wilkins or whoever that the new building is a health hazard?”

Long pause on the other end. “Ava, what do you mean, ‘evidence’?”

“Someone else I’m dealing with is … very determined to go in and check the drywall.”

Lisa’s pause was long enough where Ava wondered if her cell carrier had dropped the call.

“When you say ‘go in and check,’ I’m getting a distinct ‘break and enter’ vibe.”

“Your vibe assessment skills have not dulled with age,” admitted Ava.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I don’t know if I trust the usual channels on this. If there’s a health hazard in there, it would stop the construction, and a lot of people will want to sweep it under the rug.”

“You sound like a conspiracy theorist.”

“Well, call me crazy for thinking that Humphrey and Wilkins might ignore something that could delay opening up their precious new office!”

Lisa was quiet again, and Ava found that this time her carrier had indeed dropped the call.

That night, after dark, Ava found herself standing with a former congressman outside a construction site as he walked the perimeter, a leather satchel full of tools, determining the easiest way to sneak into the site.

“What if you’re caught?”

“I thought this was a ‘we’ project,” Bader grumbled, examining a chain-link fence gate and concluding that the years of fundraising dinners had made squeezing between them a physical impossibility. “This will be real simple. Get in, get to where my old staffer said he saw the bag, take the samples, get out. Piece of cake. Security is minimal.”

“This is breaking and entering a federal facility!” Ava whispered. “This is the sort of thing they send people to Gitmo for!”

“Oh, they’ll have Gitmo closed any day now, I’m sure,” Bader said. “You coming or not?”

After waiting for a moment, Bader shrugged, and started to climb over the chain-link fence.

Ava watched him, shook her head, and pictured the cover story she would write on the insane ex-Congressman who broke into a construction site to blow open a giant Chinese drywall scandal.

“Wait for me!”

“If I wasn’t so terrified of being arrested, I’d be screaming at you for your insanity,” Ava whispered. “You never said we had to go up to the fifth floor!”

Their night had presented only one hitch so far, when Bader awkwardly cleared the chain-link fence and didn’t stick the landing, tumbling on his butt in a puddle. Other than the embarrassing stain on the seat of his pants, he had managed to navigate the construction site with a penlight, and he and Ava ascended ten half-flights of railing-free concrete stairs, navigating concrete pillars, piles of rebar, and plastic orange fencing.

From this height, they could see the trailer office by the vehicle entrance to the construction site, and the faint flicker of light within.

“If that guard comes out and sees your flashlight or hears us, we’re screwed!”