9

U.S. SENATE, RUSSELL BUILDING,
OFFICE S-212-D
WASHINGTON, D.C.

“You see what he’s trying to do, don’t you?” Christina asked. “The president is using the tragedy to promote his own agenda. After the Kennedy assassination, LBJ could get almost anything passed in Kennedy’s memory. This is the same thing. President Blake is using his wife’s memory to promote his own conservative goals. To get rid of those pesky civil rights once and for all.”

Ben stared down at the blue-backed bill resting on his desk. “I think that’s a bit extreme.”

“It’s a pretty extreme bill.” Christina paced back and forth across the length of Ben’s office. “Okay, here’s what we do. First, I’ll line up all the chiefs of staff and take the pulse of their bosses. Tout de suite. I think we can assume the president will get the votes of all or most of his fellow Republicans, but he’s going to need more than that to get this passed. He’ll pull his strings with the religious right and the wealthiest political donors. He’ll try to make it a matter of patriotism. He’ll suggest that people who oppose the amendment don’t care about the safety of the nation. They’ll be trotting out relatives of the victims, trying to make it an emotional issue. This amendment is already being met with cheers and applause in the red states and at least half of the blue. He may have sufficient support in thirty-eight states, and that’s all he needs to make this thing law—if it gets out of Congress. So we have to make sure that never happens.”

She grabbed her husband squarely by the shoulders. “You’ll have to be at the forefront of the fight, Ben. Whether you like it or not, you have a reputation for being one of the most liberal senators in Congress. How many other senators do you think we can count on to oppose this?”

She paused, waiting for an answer. “Ben?”

He looked up, his eyes dark and tiny.

“I asked, ‘How many senators do you think we can count on to oppose this?’”

Ben tossed his head to one side. “I…really don’t know.”

She leaned across the desk. “Why are you mumbling?”

“I didn’t realize I was.”

“Trust me. I’ve known you a long time.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “Why am I getting the feeling you’re not hearing what I’ve been saying?”

Ben looked down again. “I heard you. Every word.”

“And you understand why it’s important to move quickly?”

No response.

“And we’re going to fight this thing, right?” She waited an uncomfortably long time. “Right?”

Ben picked up the bill. “You know, Christina…these are tough times.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide. “No.”

“You haven’t spent most of the past week watching your best friend vegetate in a coma he may never recover from.”

“But that’s not the point—”

“I think it is,” Ben said, his voice rising.

She gaped at him, incredulous. “What are you saying, Ben?” Pause. “Ben?”

He gazed down at the bill now clenched tightly between his fingers. “I think maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.”