It wasn’t Katrina, a tsunami, or 9/11, but the cable news stations were scrambling to cover the epic Senate battle, and camera men and TV producers were wildly searching out senators to interview. This was an intraparty battle not seen in years.
We left the Capitol and rode over to Dirksen, with an escort, and took the Senators Only elevator to the third floor. Ro insisted the escort stay with Raines who was going on to the Hart Building.
Rufus and I sat in Roanne’s office while she and Michael attended to things. An aide escorted a woman into the room and introduced her to the former governor. She was Senator Jean Witherspoon, a fiftyish, slightly plump lady from the Great Plains. Her short, brunette hairstyle gave her an outdoorsy look. Rufus took right to her, and they sat and chatted like old friends.
I decided not to join in with them. Roanne and Michael were using Michael’s office for their work, so I looked for a room with a TV and watched C-SPAN’s umpteenth showing of Kelly’s neck arteries about to burst.
I was thinking of doing something else when Michael asked me to join him, which I gladly did. We went into his office, where Roanne stood with Senator Szymanski.
“Al, this is Laura Wolfe. Laura, Al Szymanski.”
He extended his hand. “Ms. Wolfe, I am proud to make your acquaintance.”
“Senator,” I said cordially.
“Laura’s been my beacon through the bulk of the Tutoxtamen mess, Al. She is a reporter above reproach.”
I knew we had some slackers in the media, but we’re mostly an honest, hard-working group. However, I smiled at her compliment.
“I followed that serial-killer thing closely,” he said. “You were almost killed.”
“By about a second, actually,” I said, and immediately wished I hadn’t when I saw Roanne’s shocked expression.
“You never said—” she started.
“It’s not something I dwell on or talk about.”
Szymanski bored ahead. “Weren’t you pregnant . . . didn’t that ever make you . . . ?”
“In the heat of the chase, it was the killer we wanted.”
“That was weird the way . . . you know who . . .”
I interrupted him, trying to keep my tone neutral. “I prefer not talking about it, sir. It was sickening and sad. So many people, other than those killed, were irreparably damaged.”
“Yes, yes, I guess there were, well . . .” He looked to Roanne.
She said to me, “It looks like we’ll have sixty votes, and Al will also have a majority on the committee. He wants to move fast. Can you see any reason why we shouldn’t?”
I was startled by the question. Two senators . . . but she must be asking because of what Rogers was doing, and we were keeping that quiet. “I think the timing couldn’t be better. Especially as my Style piece on you is coming out tomorrow.”
Szymanski looked surprised. “Style piece?”
I jumped in. “We worked on it last month, but then when you made your offer to Senator Dalton, we decided to hold off running it until the partnership and the bill were announced.
Today’s notoriety makes it good for her and good for your bill.” My God, I’m getting political, I thought. “Your bill should be very popular . . . it’s bipartisan . . . yeah, go for it.”
Both senators smiled appreciatively.
“This has all the signs of a good boxing match, Senator. You’ve knocked the opponent down once, and you’re going right after him, before he can get his legs back.”
I could see Szymanski liked my simile and smiled.
“Damn, Ro, you’re right; she’s solid.”
Whatever that meant. I thought he was going to slap his leg and let out a hoot. He had some rough edges, but I doubted he was anyone to take lightly. I’d have to look up his bio.