Capitol Crimes. H.L. Katz

      Callie paused for what seemed like an eternity.“Nothing.” What Callie and Mike talked about was none of Barry’s business, but either way, it wasn’t in her best interest to discuss it with Barry.

      Barry stood and turned for the door. Callie followed behind him as if only to move the day forward and that would not start until he was gone from her office. “See what Kacey knows,” Barry said. “We may have to handle it ourselves.”

      Callie looked curiously at Barry, not sure what he meant by that, or how he thought they could handle it themselves. He walked through the open doorway then doubled back with the express purpose of looking in her eyes when he delivered his next piece of advice.

      “Callie, we need to close ranks on this and fast. Do not trust anyone.” Barry started to leave then turned back to Callie once more.

      “And I mean anyone.”

      Callie watched Barry walk down the hall, then scurried back to her desk, sat down and picked up her cell phone. She leaned back in her chair and dialed Mike’s number.

      “Hey, you,” Mike said when he picked up.

      “I think I’m going to need a raincheck on lunch, sweetie.”

      “Why’s that?”

      “I have to get together with Kacey…talk about this piece in the paper.”

      “You have any idea where it came from?” Mike asked.

      Callie hesitated a moment before she answered, “Not as of yet, but that’s why I have to dump you today.” Callie stood up and sashayed over to the corner of her office, kicked off her white Ruthie Davis pumps and spread out on the couch.

      “What about dinner? You want to go somewhere?” Mike asked.

      Lying down, Callie closed her eyes, and enjoyed a momentary escape from the barrage of land-mines that awaited her. “I’m thinking maybe we could eat in…jacuzzi…your legs wrapped around me…falling asleep in your arms…”

      “I guess eating in’s not so bad,” Mike said with a smile she could not see.

      Callie laughed. “You guess not, huh?” She smiled, immersed in the excitement of their solitary secret. “You see Todd, today?”

      “I did.”

      “Did you tell him about us?”

      “I did.”

      “Did he say anything about it?”

      “He did.”

      “Duh…why are you making me work so hard…what did he say?”

      “He said you’re really hot.”

      “He always says that. What did he say about us, the marriage thing?”

      “He said you made a good decision.”

      “You made a good decision, as in you Mike, or that I made a good decision as in I, me, Callie?” Callie was engrossed in conversation. She paid no attention to the calls that continued to pound her office phone.

      “As in you over there. He said you, Callie, made a good decision.”

      “Screw him. I mean, are all CIA guys assholes?”

      “What do you mean all CIA guys?”

      “Mike, you speak eight different languages, what do you think I mean?”

      “Are you saying I’m an asshole?”

      “I just asked a question...” Callie said.

      “Oh, no, I don’t care if you called me an asshole just so long as you marry me.”

      “Don’t make me regret my good decision…”

      “Ouch. That’s cold, Cal.”

      Callie hung up the phone, stood up from the couch and slipped back into her heels, knowing that play-time was over. She walked to the window and recalled what Barry had said about having to handle it themselves. What was he referring to? What she did know from her own experience with him was when Barry got involved, things did not stay clean and simple for long and usually those who were in the way, did not stay in the way. What she had to do now, she thought, was make sure that anyone close to her did not get in the way.

      Eight

      The Capital Beltway, it could be argued, was the site of the worst congestion in the entire country. Mike Ferguson sat in it on his drive back from the Capitol following a frustrating meeting with Senator Reid McCombs. McCombs was President Conroy’s closest ally in the Senate and it is assumed that when Conroy wants to get something off his chest, McCombs does the dirty work for him. The one great thing about being a field agent, Mike thought, was not having to deal with people like McCombs. Mike could never understand why legislators like McCombs, who claimed to have the Country’s best interests at heart, constantly behaved as if that concept was the last thing they had on their mind.

      “In my opinion, the money we are wasting with this new covert ops thing is shameful,” McCombs had told Mike, who sat across from him in the Senator’s office.

      Mike had been through this drill plenty of times with numerous lawmakers over the past six months, however when it came to McCombs, Mike got the sense that he was acquiring some actual insight as to how the President felt on the matter. If anyone thought to press him on it, Mike would have to admit that he enjoyed playing possum with politicians a little more than he should have and this get together with McCombs would be no exception.

      “What exactly is it that you object to, Senator?”

      “All of it, actually,” McCombs said with disdain in his voice.

      “So you object to us pursuing the bad actors who get their rocks off terrorizing innocents all around the world?”

      “Bad actors? According to who? You, Mr. Ferguson?”

      “I am only one person and others are involved, but yes, I do get paid to make those type of decisions,” Mike said.

      “You do? Under what constitutional authority?”

      “Excuse me, Senator?” Mike was quite familiar with this dance. It was the same one he had tangoed to with the various other politicians who considered the CIA a useless relic of the cold war.

      “You heard me,” McCombs said. The Senator reached to his right and picked up a conveniently accessible copy of the Constitution, then opened it up to a random page. “Please, Mr. Ferguson, point me in the right direction. I have my Constitution right here,” he said as he shook the pamphlet in his hand.

      “Senator, I have some critical work that needs my attention,” Mike said, trying to remain respectful. “There are some nasty people looking to do severe damage to our country and it would be my preference that they didn’t.”

      McCombs jumped to his feet with the Constitution still in his hand, and railed away at Mike. “Do you think I’m playing games with you? You don’t think I’m asking you important questions? Are you not the Deputy Director of Covert Operations?” McCombs stepped out from behind his desk and walked towards Mike in a huff, but still remained far enough away to keep a safe distance between them, just in case. “I would like to know under what provision of the Constitution do you get your authority? Can you at least tell me that?”

      Mike stayed calm and collected as he responded knowing it was sure to piss off the Senator. “I believe it is Congress, sir.”

      “Bullshit. Don’t play games with me, Mr. Ferguson. I am Congress,” McCombs said in his blustery best. “As the Majority Leader of the Senate, I can bury your entire disgusting operation.” McCombs was prone to grandstanding like this, which could occasionally be effective on ten-second soundbite TV, but not with anyone who knew he was talking out of his ass.

      “I am pretty sure our authority comes from Congress.”