Capitol Crimes. H.L. Katz

makeup, fluffed her hair and smiled, then purposely positioned the compact next to her, knowing what sort of effect it would have. She did not care.

      “I’m not going to think about it, Miles. I need to do this and I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

      “But there are other ways...”

      “No, this is the right thing to do,” Callie said interrupting her lawyer. “I’ve ignored the right thing for too many years. It has to stop.”

      Chairman Rice returned to his chair and called the session back to order. “Ms. Wheeler, what you have done here is wrong and shows a total disregard for the integrity of this body. Nevertheless, I have decided to let you continue with your statement and even give you some latitude. It is my hope, however, that you’ll take this opportunity to salvage whatever is left of your reputation. You can start by addressing this committee with the proper respect is deserves.”

      Callie’s face conveyed her contempt for the Chairman and the rest of the members as she pulled her microphone closer. “Senator, please don’t lecture me on the integrity of this body or how I should address you. Spare me the self-serving notions on the sanctity of this institution and the illusion of greatness that sits pompously before me,” Callie said, then glared at Senator Shulman. “I know all too well about the integrity of this body and in all honesty, I believe I am showing each of you the exact respect you deserve.”

      There was a flurry of camera flashes and more talk from the gallery. Chairman Rice gaveled the room quiet. Callie took advantage of the silence before Rice could respond. “I arrived at M&G that first day, nervous, but excited at the prospect of working on Capitol Hill and hoping to effect this country for the better. Little did I know at the time, my life would take me in directions I never could have imagined and it all started the moment I sat down early that first morning…”

      Monday, January 2, 2006—Six Years Earlier

      “Ms. Wheeler, your schedule will be synced with the one I keep for you on my computer, every morning at 6:00 AM. To access it, just hold down the shift button, and press the letter S.”

      Callie was in her new office at 1900 K Street NW, sitting behind the second most expensive desk she had ever seen. Against the wall to her left, empty bookcases and an old metal filing cabinet surrounded an ugly cactus and a tall empty vase that stood in the corner. The beige paint on the walls gave the room a bland appearance, salvaged only by the large bay window behind her that unveiled a tenth floor view of the D.C. skyline. Sitting across from Callie and dressed in polyester grey pants and a Kmart twill brown top was Donna Walkin, her new secretary who at the moment, acted very much like Callie’s boss as she went over all the pertinent information Callie needed to know.

      “You have a meeting with Derek in less than five minutes and while you’re with him, I will be setting you up with a copy machine passcode and a parking garage access key. I usually arrive here by 8:00 AM each day, and leave at 4:30. My lunch break is at 12. I don’t do overtime, ever. If you need anything, I’ll be at my desk arranging your direct deposit and all the different e-mail accounts and whatnot that you will need to have here.”

      Callie accessed her schedule by following her secretary’s instructions. She took a moment to familiarize herself with the format, quickly scanning the information, then scribbled a note on her day planner. She lifted her head. “It says on this schedule that I have a meeting on Capitol Hill at 10:30. Who is that meeting with?”

      Donna gave her an unwelcome smirk then stood up and walked to the door. “Mr. Gladstone will fill you in on all of that. Welcome again to the firm and I will be outside if you need me,” Donna said in a matter of fact tone then closed the door behind her and left Callie alone to get used to her new surroundings. Callie studied the decor and wondered how anyone could spend their days in such a dreary depressing atmosphere. She wrote another note in her day planner reminding herself to ask Derek what changes she could make to her office in an attempt to produce a more livable work environment. Next, she pulled out two 5x7 pictures from her purse and placed one at each corner of her desk. The first was a picture of Mike holding an umbrella and kissing her on the cheek, the emerging sun in the background glistening off her wet hair. The second was a photo of her and Kacey locked arm in arm, taken on the day of her Law School graduation. Callie searched her computer for some sort of radio station that would have to suffice as background music until she could transfer her own music library onto iTunes. Before she could settle on a selection, Derek Gladstone knocked on her door and opened it without giving Callie a chance to react.

      “Everything okay?”

      “Perfect,” Callie said with a smile. “There is one thing Mr. Gladsto…Derek.”

      “Fire away.”

      “My office?” Callie looked around for effect. “May I re-decorate it?”

      “Any way you’d like. I, myself, am partial to red and white, but whatever makes you comfortable, have at it.”

      “Thank you, Derek,” Callie said with a bright-eyed smile.

      Derek motioned Callie to the conference table. Callie followed. He held out a chair and waited for her to sit, then sat down next to her.

      “I brought you some reading materials, a sort of what-to-expect manual that you can read when you have a few minutes.” Derek slid the folders towards her. “What I wanted to talk with you about now, though, were the kind of things that are not written down in the manual.”

      “Should I get some paper?”

      “I’d prefer you didn’t, Callie. What I’m about to tell you…well, we try not to write any of it down.”

      Callie shook her head, frustrated that she didn’t pick up on that. “Which is why it’s not written down in the manual,” Callie said as she shook her head again, disappointed with her initial reaction.

      “I don’t have to tell you that we are an instrumental cog, if not the most instrumental cog, in how things get done in Washington.” Derek straightened his tie then pressed down on his lapel. “What is critical, is that they like you. Get them to like you and you will own them.”

      “By them, I’m assuming you mean Congressmen.”

      “Actually, I am speaking about all of them. Congressmen, their staff, their janitors…but, yes, mostly Congressmen.”

      Callie nodded and crossed her legs, which Derek noticed and took a moment to enjoy.