Trevayne (32 page)

“It’s simply true. Legally, every overrun at Genessee has been substantially vindicated. And that’s what he’s looking into; that’s what he’s going after. I’ve spent weeks examining every congressional question. I’ve put my best staff on every problem. A little stealing, yes; and Andrew will nail it. Beyond that, nothing.”

“You’re supposed to be a good man,” said Norton. “I hope you’re as good as the supposers say you are.”

“I can assure you I am, Senator. My fees might help to convince you.”

“I still want to know what Trevayne’s been after. You’ll find out, General?” asked Senator Knapp.

“Within forty-eight hours.”

Friday morning in Washington, and no one knew he was there. The Lear jet landed at Dulles at seven-thirty, and at ten minutes past eight Trevayne walked into the rented house in Tawning Spring. He showered, changed clothes, and allowed himself an hour to sit and collect his thoughts, let the pressures of the fast trip from Boise wear off. He was good at pacing himself, he believed. He worked well under tension, because he tried never to permit tension and exhaustion to be simultaneous—mental exhaustion. And he was aware that now, during these next few days, he had to be very careful. It would be so easy for his mind, his imagination, to work itself into such a state of anxiety that thinking clearly might be impossible.

He phoned for a Tawning Spring taxi and was driven into Washington to the Senate Office Building.

It was ten-twenty-five; Senator Mitchell Armbruster would be returning to his office within minutes. He had been on the floor for a quorum demanded by his party, but there was no other business of consequence. Armbruster was expected back by ten-thirty at the latest. For a routine Friday-morning meeting with his staff.

Andy stood in the corridor outside Armbruster’s door and waited. He leaned against the wall and halfheartedly leafed through the Washington
Post
. The editorial once again was a scathing appraisal of Congress’ progress; the House criticized for its indecisiveness, the Senate for its obfuscation of pertinent business.

Late November in Washington; perfectly normal.

Trevayne was aware of the fact that Armbruster had seen him first. The small, compact Senator had literally stopped walking; he stood motionless, as if momentarily frozen in astonishment. Indeed, it was this sudden break in the moving human traffic that caused Trevayne to look up from the newspaper.

Armbruster resumed his casual, relaxed posture as he approached Trevayne. He smiled his warm, laconic smile and held out his hand. The moment of silent revelation had passed, but it was absolute, and both men recognized it.

“Well, Mr. Trevayne, this is a delightful surprise. I thought you were out in my state, enjoying the scenic wonders of our Pacific.”

“I was, Senator. Then Idaho. But I found it necessary to make a brief, unscheduled return.… To see you.”

Armbruster, the handshake completed, looked questioningly at Trevayne as his smile diminished. “That’s certainly direct.… I’m afraid I have a full calendar today. Perhaps tomorrow morning; or if you like, we could have drinks around five-thirty. Dinner’s taken.”

“May I suggest that it is most urgent, Senator. I’m seeking the help and advice of your office. Shall we say, on labor statistics in northern California?”

There was a short halt to Mitchell Armbruster’s breathing. He was silent for a few moments, his eyes wandering from Trevayne’s face. “I’d rather not speak with you here, in my office.… I’ll meet you in an hour.”

“Where?”

“Rock Creek Park. Near the outdoor pavilion. Do you know it?”

“Yes, I do. In an hour.… And, Senator, one more suggestion. Hear what I have to say before you get in touch with anyone. You don’t
know
what I’m going to say, sir. It would be best.”

“I said you were direct, Mr. Trevayne.… I’ll keep my own counsel; because I also think you’re an honorable man. But then, I said that before, too. During the hearing.”

“Yes, you did. In an hour, sir.”

The two men walked along the wooded path in Rock Creek Park, the shorter one intermittently lighting his
pipe with fresh matches. Trevayne realized that Armbruster’s pipe acted as some kind of psychological crutch, an anchor, for the Senator. He remembered during the hearing how Armbruster had toyed with it—fondled it, really—packing and repacking the bowl, scraping the burned-out contents into an ashtray with methodical precision. Now, here in Rock Creek Park, walking casually along a path, he clutched it, held it between his teeth with such force that the muscles of his jaw stood out.

“So you’ve concluded that I’ve taken advantage of my office for personal gain,” said Armbruster calmly, his eyes staring straight ahead.

“I do, sir. I don’t know any other way to put it. You determined the maximum funding Genessee Industries could handle; made sure it was sufficient for the unemployment recovery—at least, you had the economists back you up; and then guaranteed the amounts. You
had
to get both labor and management support. It won you the election.”

“And that was bad?”

“It was a political manipulation engineered at considerable expense. The country will be paying for it for a long time to come.… Yes, I’d say it was bad.”

“Oh, you rich Brahmins are too holy for words! What about the thousands of families I represent? In some areas unemployment had reached the levels of twelve, thirteen percent! It was a constituency priority, and I’m damned proud I was able to help. Do I have to remind you that I’m the senior Senator from the state of California, young man?… If you want to know the truth, Trevayne …” Armbruster paused and looked up at Andy, chuckling his pleasant, throaty laugh. “You sound faintly ridiculous.”

Trevayne returned the good-humored laugh and saw that Armbruster’s eyes weren’t laughing at all. If anything, they were more probing than they had been in the corridor of the Senate Office Building.

“In other words, I’m ridiculous because I don’t recognize that what you did was not only good politics—I mean ‘good’ in all senses of the word—but also sound economics? And in line with defense objectives.”

“You’re damned right. You’re
goddamned
right, young man.”

“It was a question of priorities? A constituency … emergency?”

“You’re almost poetic. ’Course, you don’t scan.”

“It’s done every day, that’s what you’re saying.”

“It’s done several
hundred
times a day, and you know it as well as I do. In the House, the Senate, every agency in Washington. What in heaven’s name do you think we’re in this town for?”

“Even with such extraordinary sums of money?”

“That description is relative.”

“Contracts worth hundreds of millions are relative?”

“What in hell are you driving at? You sound like a ten-year-old.”

“Only one question, Senator. How often are these politically sound, economically feasible arrangements made with Genessee Industries? All over the country.”

Mitchell Armbruster stopped. They were on a small wooden bridge spanning one of Rock Creek Park’s many streams. Armbruster stood by the gray-oak railing and looked down at the rushing water. He took his pipe from his mouth and tapped it against the wood.

“That’s why you flew in on your … unscheduled detour.” He made the statement without any emotion whatsoever.

“Yes.”

“I knew it was.… Why me, Trevayne?”

“Because I was able to make the practical, provable connection. I think coincidence. Frankly, I wish it were somebody else; but I don’t have the time.”

“Is time that important?”

“If what I believe has happened, it is.”

“I’m minor. I fight for political survival so I can present a point of view that’s progressively disappearing. It’s important that I do that.”

“Tell me.”

Armbruster slowly removed a tobacco pouch from his jacket pocket and began refilling his pipe. He looked up at Trevayne several times, as if searching, wondering. Finally
he lit the pipe and leaned his short elbows against the railing.

“What’s there to tell? You join an organization, you understand the bylaws, the fundamental rules. As you go on, you find that in order to achieve certain objectives, those bylaws have to be, must be, circumvented. Otherwise you can’t get the job done. If you’re dedicated, I mean
passionately committed
, to your objectives, you become a very frustrated human being. You begin to doubt your own capabilities, your political virility. You think you’re a eunuch.… Then, after a while—at first very subtly—you’re told that there
are
ways, if you stop shouting off your big, fat
liberal
mouth. Stop trying to turn everything upside down with rhetoric. Be a little more accommodating.… It’s easy to assimilate; they call it the process of maturing.
You
call it at-last-achieving-something. You see the good you’re doing; you give just a little, but you get so much more in return.… Goddamn it, it’s worth it! Bills are given your name, amendments are named after you. You see the good … only the good.…”

Armbruster seemed to weary, to tire of his own logic, obviously circulated and recirculated throughout his ever-active brain. Trevayne knew he had to jar the man, make him respond.

“What about Genessee Industries?”

“It’s the goddamned key!” Armbruster whipped his head around and stared at Andy. “It’s the funnel.… It’s
accepted;
what more can I tell you? It’s the watering hole we constantly replenish, it never runs dry.… It’s got Mother, God, Country, Liberal, Conservative, Republican, Democrat, Bullmoose, and so help me Christ, the Communes, all wrapped into
one!
It’s the answer to every political animal’s hunger.… And the strangest thing of all is that it does a good job. That’s what’s remarkable.”

“I don’t think you settle for that, Senator.”

“Of course I don’t, young man!… I’ve got two more years to go; I won’t run again. I’ll be sixty-nine years old, that’s enough.… Then, perhaps, I’ll sit back and wonder.”

“With a Genessee directorship?”

“Probably. Why not?”

Trevayne leaned his back against the railing and took
out his cigarettes. Armbruster lit one for him. “Thank you.… Let me try to put this into perspective, Senator.”

“Do more than that, Trevayne. Drop it from your schedule. Go after the profiteers; what you and your subcommittee
should
be doing. Genessee doesn’t qualify. It may be too big, but it produces. It’s borne scrutiny well.”

It was Trevayne’s turn to laugh, and he did. Out loud and derisively. “It’s borne scrutiny because it’s too damned big, too complicated to
scrutinize!
And you know it as well as
I
know what’s happening in … what did you say?—‘every agency in Washington.’ That flag won’t get up the pole, Senator. Genessee Industries, the ‘watering hole,’ is the fifty-first state. The difference being that the other fifty are beholden to it. Obligated, I think, in a very dangerous way.”

“That’s overstating the case.”

“It’s understating it. Genessee has no constitution, no two-party system, no checks and balances.… What I want to know from you, Senator, is who are the princes? Who rules this self-contained, self-sufficient, ever-expanding kingdom? And I don’t refer to the corporate structure.”

“I don’t know that anybody … rules. Other than its management.”

“Which management? I’ve met them; even the money man, Goddard. I don’t believe it.”

“Its board of directors.”

“That’s too easy. They’re place cards at a dinner table.”

“Then I can’t answer you. Not ‘won’t,’ ‘can’t.’ ”

“Are you implying that it just grew—a Topsy?”

“That may be more accurate than you realize.”

“Who speaks for Genessee to the Senate?”

“Oh, Lord, scores of people. There are a dozen committees in which Genessee figures. It’s the predominant factor in the aircraft lobby.”

“Aaron Green?”

“I’ve met Green, of course. Can’t say I know him.”

“Isn’t he the real account man?”

“He owns an advertising agency, if that’s what you mean. Along with ten or twenty other companies.”

“It wasn’t a pun, Senator. The accounts I refer to go beyond advertising, although they may be considered part of it.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“We’ve established that Aaron Green administers between seven and twelve million a year—conceivably more—for the purposes of convincing the Washington bureaucracy of the patriotic validity of Genessee Industries and—”

“All registered—”

“Most buried. Anyone with that kind of fiscal responsibility generally has the authority that goes with it.”

“You’re speculating.”

“I certainly am. Over unbelievable amounts of petty cash. Year after year.… Does Green hold the reins?”

“Goddamn, son, you’re looking for villains! ‘Account men,’ ‘rulers,’ ‘kingdoms,’ ‘holding reins’.… ‘Fifty-first
state’!
” Armbruster tapped his pipe violently against the railing, clearing out the bowl. Several specks of burning tobacco fell on the back of the Senator’s hand, which shook in anger, but Armbruster did not seem to feel the pain. “Listen to me. For all my political life I’ve clashed with the big boys! I naven’t shrunk. Read over some of those speeches I’ve made at conventions! I’ve
set
policy! If you recall, a whole goddamn contingent of right-wingers walked out on me—walked out—in the fifty convention! I didn’t waver; I was right!”

“I remember. You were quite a hero.”

“I was right! That’s the important thing.… But I was also wrong. You didn’t expect me to say that, did you? I’ll tell you where I was wrong. I didn’t try to understand; I didn’t try hard enough to get to the roots of their thinking, their fears. I didn’t try to use the powers of reason. I just condemned. I found my villains, raised my sword of wrath, and smote the hordes of Lucifer.… Some awfully good men went out of the hall that day. They never came back.”

“Are you drawing a parallel?”

“Of course I am, young man. You think you’ve found
your
villain, your emissary from Lucifer. Your villain is a concept—bigness. And you’re prepared to impale anyone who accepts any aspect of it with
your
sword of wrath.… And that could be a tragic error.”