Senator Chuck Hastings was the Chairman of the Armed Services Committee and had served several consecutive terms in the United States Senate, representing the state of Massachusetts. His political power stretched everywhere in Congress and he was not above using that power to get what he wanted, politically and personally.
At age fifty-five, he was bald, except for a small layer of hair around the back of his head, just above the neck. He had a thick, puffy nose below two deeply set eyes. His bushy eyebrows almost came together to form a single brow. He was overweight and reeked of stale cigar smoke. He had never married. Women found it difficult to be in his presence for a few minutes. The thought of spending a lifetime with the man would have discouraged any woman. The absence of a wife did not mean Senator Hastings had been without female companionship over the years. His sexual exploits were known on Capitol Hill. Hastings’ money and power were enough to purchase women whenever he wanted them, sometimes two and three at a time. Although senators, members of Congress and staffers knew about the actions of Chuck Hastings, no one said anything, since Hastings was a friend of the President of the United States, James Conklin.
Hastings and Conklin had roomed together during their four years at Harvard University. After graduation, Hastings started a career in politics. His cunning intellect and connections from his days at Harvard helped him win a senate seat and rise in seniority. Hastings had helped his friend Conklin win two terms as Governor of Massachusetts after the latter had served his country.
Conklin was a marine with the First Battalion 8th Marines and stationed in Beirut, Lebanon in 1983, and was among the 128 who were wounded when a suicide bomber detonated a truck bomb near the building serving as the barracks. Two-hundred forty one American service members were killed. Hastings suggested to Conklin that he use his hero status in the election and it paid off. Conklin won in a landslide victory.
Hastings sat in his office chair, puffing on a Cuban cigar. He heard a knock on the door. He plucked the cigar from his lips. “Come in.”
His secretary leaned halfway into the room. “Senator Hastings, Special Agent Cruz of the FBI is here to see you. Shall I send her in?”
Stamping out the cigar in a nearby ashtray, he motioned with his other hand. “Please.” Hastings had refused Cruz’s repeated calls to meet with him. When he got a call from FBI Director Jameson, he agreed to the meeting out of respect for Jameson, whom the President held in high regard. One thing Hastings had learned during his time in politics was not to upset the President or anyone who held favor with the man.
Hastings stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He strolled around his desk to greet his visitor. On the other side of his desk was a large circular rug, emblazoned with an image of an American bald eagle. He stopped short of stepping on the eagle and waited. The office door swung inward and he watched Cruz enter the office and approach him. She’s gorgeous. The words were so prominent in his mind that he wondered if he had uttered them aloud.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Senator Hastings.” Cruz extended her hand.
Her beauty stunned Hastings. He had not heard a word she had said. He stood there with his hands behind his back, his mind envisioning her naked. She said his name a second time and he responded.
Hastings stuck his hand out and the two shook. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Cruz. Please have a seat.” He motioned toward the two chairs facing his desk before walking around them and sitting. “What can I do for you? I’m afraid I don’t have much time.” He gestured toward the clock above his office door—it read 3:55. “I’m scheduled to be at a committee meeting in five minutes.”
“I understand, Senator. I’ll get right to the point.” Cruz spent the next few minutes outlining what she had discovered from Martin O’Neal. She finished by asking the senator a question. “Senator, do you have any knowledge of or involvement in any of this?”
Any ideas Hastings had entertained about what this woman would be like in bed had been replaced with utter contempt for her. His head went from white to crimson, in color. “How dare you come in here and accuse me of having anything to do with this.” The muscles in his neck strained, causing the rolls of fat above his shirt collar to flap up and down. “I am a United States Senator who has served his country proudly for nearly three decades.” He pointed a pudgy finger at Cruz. “I agreed to this meeting as a courtesy to your boss. Does Director Jameson know what you’re accusing me of doing?”
“Senator, he was the one who arranged this meeting. I had credible information that public corruption was taking place at a high level in our government. Any information you can provide will help me find those responsible and bring them to justice. No one is accusing you of anything, Senator.” Cruz remained calm, unaffected by Hastings’ outburst. She had constructed her question to elicit a response from Hastings. She did not expect the response to be so damning. No one in Hastings’ position would have reacted the way he did, if innocent. A normal reaction would have been anger, but anger over the criminal activity happening in Washington. An innocent person would have been eager to cooperate with Cruz and the FBI.
“This meeting is over, Agent Cruz.” Hastings stood, walked to the door and opened it. “Rest assured I will be speaking with Director Jameson.”
Cruz stood and followed him to the door. She stopped when she was even with the Senator. She turned her head and gave him the most attractive and seductive smile she could muster, knowing his proclivities toward women and how he had stared at her when they first met. “Thank you for your time, Senator. You’ve been more helpful than you know.” She left his office and strode down the hallway.
When Cruz had disappeared from sight, Hastings returned to his desk and used his personal mobile phone to make a call. After a few seconds, he heard a voice on the other end of the line.
“Senator Hastings, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Save it, Robert.” Hastings rolled his eyes toward his office door. “We’ve got a problem.”