Chapter Twenty-One

Because she was unable to think about anything else for more than a few minutes at a time, Bijal had sent Colleen a couple of text messages over the last two days to test the waters. When the first one went unanswered, she sulked, fearing she had indeed alienated the most attractive and scintillating woman she’d met in years.

The following day she texted Colleen again and obsessed over her wording—wanting to masterfully walk the fine line between sounding needy and just seeming earnest. Again she’d gotten no response. It was only after she went to Colleen’s website that she remembered about the CODEL to the Middle East and realized Colleen probably wasn’t in range of cellular phone service.

CODELs in classified locations weren’t allowed to broadcast their location in real time, as doing so was considered a threat to security, so perhaps Colleen wasn’t even allowed to have her phone with her.

Bijal pushed back from her work desk and stretched before reaching for her coffee mug. She really needed to let this go. Worrying and fretting all day wasn’t getting her anywhere other than a bleak and oppressive dwelling somewhere near the intersection of Sleepless Boulevard and North Anxiety Drive.

Perhaps when Colleen got back, Bijal could send her flowers. She shook her head at how tired and clichéd that sounded. What could she do that would, instead, be charming? Refreshing? Conceivably captivating?

Maybe she could have an adorable puppy delivered to Colleen’s house, with a note on its collar about how much Bijal missed talking to her. She could name the animal after someone else from Xena, to perpetuate her canine theme. Um…who else was a character in that show? Chlamydia? Why did that name sound familiar? Wait, wasn’t that what her college roommate contracted after staying out all night with three members of the school lacrosse team?

She sagged in her chair. Scratch that idea.

Maybe she could send her a fancy invitation for an evening on the town—a lavish dinner somewhere and possibly a carriage ride. Did DC have horses? If so, she’d never seen one, though downtown she’d certainly smelled shit often enough for her to hope horses were nearby.

The familiar chime sounded, signaling that she’d received an e-mail. Setting her coffee back down, she pulled up her in-box to see that it was an automated alert—one she’d set up to notify her when something was posted online about Colleen.

Opening the e-mail, her stomach dropped at the title of the article: “Explosion in Afghanistan May Have Hit Congressional Delegation.”

Clicking the link, she scoured the brief piece for details. A bomb had gone off in or near the location where Colleen’s CODEL had been. They were reporting both injuries and fatalities, though the identity of anyone had not yet been confirmed.

“Holy shit,” Bijal muttered softly.

Frantically, she began to search the Internet for additional details, combing search engines and news outlets. No one seemed to have any more information for the moment.

Bijal stood, her legs rather wobbly. She wandered in a haze toward Janet’s office, knocking and waiting for a response for what seemed an eternity. Her pulse was pounding in her temples.

Eliot opened the door. “What’s up?” He stared at Bijal for a moment, then said, “Oh, God. What’s wrong?”

“Um, a bomb apparently hit O’Bannon’s congressional delegation in Afghanistan.” Bijal’s voice cracked as she struggled to keep it together.

“Are you serious?” Janet asked. “Oh, my God!”

Bijal nodded and looked back at Eliot, who motioned for her to step inside.

He shut the door softly and crossed his arms nervously. “Is she dead?”

“They don’t know. They’re still trying to identify the bodies.”

Eliot drew in a long breath. “This is very bad.”

Bijal felt a momentary kinship with Eliot. Perhaps compassion and altruism had finally broken through the political artifice.

“What do we do?” Janet asked.

Eliot sat down, rubbing his palms repeatedly on his thighs. “If O’Bannon’s injured, she’ll have the public’s sympathy for her harrowing ordeal.”

“What?” Bijal was astounded.

“And I need to look at the Virginia Election Code to see how they’d handle it if O’Bannon dies this close to Election Day. Chances are the Democrats will replace her with someone else, and unless whoever they choose is awful, they’ll be the odds-on sentimental favorite. The best thing that can happen to us is for O’Bannon to emerge totally unscathed—safe, but because she did something reprehensible, like she hid behind a group of schoolchildren and let them take the brunt of the shrapnel.”

Bijal was now livid. “What is wrong with you?”

“What?” Eliot seemed genuinely confused.

Something inside Bijal snapped. “People were killed, for God’s sake! Do you two really not see what’s wrong with this campaign? What’s been wrong all along? We have no humanity. At every turn, where we could have taken the path of inclusion or sensitivity, we consciously chose not to. We dance around public opinion daily, pretending we’ve always held some particular view or other, hoping that no one will notice that we don’t have the courage of our convictions. Now we have the gall to take a horrific terrorist attack that may have killed our opponent and try to spin it so it looks best for us. And while we wait for the details of who’s dead and who’s maimed, we’ll continue to run our vile television ad full of hateful lies. That’s why we’re behind in the polls.”

As Bijal’s angry words evaporated into the ether, a stunned stillness fell over them. Bijal braced for the inevitable string of profanity that would surround the declaration of her termination—like a fluffy kaiser roll of four-letter words that enveloped a meat patty of poverty and despair, with maybe a pickle slice of failure for garnish.

“She’s right,” Eliot said.

Bijal was certain her heart stopped for at least a second. “Really?”

He rubbed his jaw and squinted. “We should stop running the gay-marriage ad until we get confirmation of O’Bannon’s health. Rao, go ahead and get on that. And let me know if there’s any news one way or the other.”

Astoundingly, the words that had been flowing without impediment from Bijal’s mouth just moments earlier had now vanished, leaving her an empty husk, just whistling in the breeze. She glanced at Janet, glimpsing what was possibly guilt and dejection on her face before turning and leaving the office.

“Bij, wake up.” Fran shook Bijal’s shoulder gently. “You can’t stay out here all night.”

Bijal, sprawled on the sofa, groggily sat up and rubbed the back of her neck. “What time is it?”

“A little past eleven,” Fran said, moving toward the kitchen. “I know tomorrow’s Saturday, but you haven’t slept much lately. You should at least try to get some sleep.”

Bijal wiped her eyes, then glanced at the television that she’d at some point lost consciousness in front of. Seeing Colleen’s name zip across the crawl, she pounced on the remote control and turned up the volume. “Holy shit!”

Fran returned—orange juice in one hand and a sticky bun in the other. “What’s up?”

“It’s Colleen. I think…I think she’s all right.”

“Thank God.” Fran took a seat beside Bijal and they watched together as a reporter posted at the U.S. Capitol Building spoke into the camera.

“Again, we’re waiting for a spokesperson from the U.S. congressional delegation to Afghanistan to make a statement and brief us on exactly what transpired when the bomb went off. The most recent update says that none of the casualties were part of the delegation, though we’ve heard conflicting reports regarding whether any of the party was among the injured.”

The shot switched to a different angle, showing a podium with several microphones mounted to it. To Bijal’s great relief, Colleen stepped into view with a familiar-looking congressman next to her.

“Two of the three members of Congress from the delegation have emerged—Steve McAllister from Ohio and Colleen O’Bannon of Virginia. It looks like Congresswoman O’Bannon is about to address the crowd. Let’s listen in.”

“Good evening. Let me first thank everyone for coming out so late. Regarding our overseas CODEL, here are the facts. On day two of our trip, on the outskirts of Kabul, a car bomb exploded as our convoy was passing through the area.

“There were two fatalities, both locals who were not with our party. Four other civilians were injured, two critically. Of those individuals, only one—Ms. Staines, who was traveling with Congressman Zeller—was part of our delegation. She was struck by some shrapnel, received medical attention on the scene from U.S. Army personnel, and was dispatched upon arrival in Washington to a local hospital. Her condition is currently listed as stable.

“Our trip was immediately terminated following the incident. Therefore, the events planned for the last two days of the CODEL were canceled, though we’re hoping to reschedule them at some point—if not with us, then perhaps with other members of the House Armed Services Committee as opportunities arise.

“I’ll take a few questions now, if you have some.”

Colleen looked somewhat tired but seemed alert and somber. She began the press conference by calling on a reporter in the front row.

“Congresswoman, do you believe, as representatives of the U.S. government, that you were targeted? Or is this incident more of a case of unfortunate timing?”

“Currently, the U.S. government is working with the Afghan police to gather information about the bomber, but as of our latest update, there was no evidence that we were specifically targeted. We hope to know more later. Bob?”

“Thank you, Congresswoman. Can you provide us with more information regarding Congressman Zeller’s staff member who sustained the injury? Um, Ms. Staines, I believe you said? What is her job title? Has her family been notified?”

“To my understanding, Ms. Staines isn’t technically classified as a staff member. It would be more accurate to say that Ms. Staines was simply traveling with Congressman Zeller.”

Fran’s head snapped to the side. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Congresswoman, are you saying the married congressman was traveling with a woman who isn’t his wife and isn’t employed by him?”

“Uh, I have no knowledge of whether or not Congressman Zeller has ever compensated Ms. Staines for her company, so I can’t address the issue of ‘employment’ per se. I can only confirm that she is neither his wife nor technically a member of his staff.”

“You’re saying she may be a prostitute?”

“I haven’t seen her résumé, so I can’t corroborate her occupation.”

“Oh…my…God!” Bijal was wide-awake now. That was certain.

The volume in the press room had become so loud that Colleen was struggling to regain enough control to continue fielding questions. Everyone was speaking over each other and clamoring to be heard.

“Easy, everyone. One at a time. Elizabeth?”

“Just to clarify, are you saying that Congressman Zeller took his mistress on a government CODEL to a war zone, where she was ultimately injured?”

“Again, I don’t have any empirical evidence as to the level of intimacy between Congressman Zeller and Ms. Cha Cha Staines. You’ll need to ask one of them for specifics. Terry?”

“Did anyone else travel with a companion, either in the capacity of employee or…otherwise?”

“No.”

“Where is Congressman Zeller now? Is he at the hospital?”

“He stated he was going home directly to hug his wife and children.”

Another crescendo ensued at that revelation. The members of the press were acting like frenzied piranhas, either horrified by Zeller’s behavior or simply ravenous for a story this salacious.

Fran swallowed a mouthful of glazed pastry. “You know, I’m really starting to like your girlfriend.”

“Why is she doing this?”

“Because Harlan Zeller is an asshole.”

“You just don’t like him because he’s a conservative Blue Dog Democrat.”

Fran shook her head once. “It’s more because he’s a shady bastard who’s been bought off by corporate conglomerates to sell out the environment and bend over small businesses to take it in the—”

“Shh!”

“Congresswoman, are you concerned that being so candid about Congressman Zeller’s travel companion so close to Election Day may torpedo the reelection chances of a member of your own party? Especially with so many seats in the House in play?”

“In my opinion, politicians should speak honestly and act with integrity at all times. So if you’re asking if my party or I would willingly mislead the public or collude to protect someone’s unethical behavior in the hopes of retaining a seat in Congress, I can say with great certainty that the answer is no.”

“Are you saying that Congressman Zeller has behaved unethically?”

“I don’t have enough facts to make that determination.”

“To your knowledge, does the congressman have a sexual relationship with Ms. Staines?”

“Again, I can’t speak specifically to the nature of their relationship. I had not met Ms. Staines prior to this trip. Perhaps some inquisitive journalists will do some research to ensure that her presence on the CODEL was justified and proper. I’m merely stating that in the two days during which I spent significant time with both of them, I saw no real evidence of propriety. Maybe someone else did.”

The reporters then started shouting at Congressman McAllister, who looked both mortified and terror-stricken. Colleen pulled him in front of the microphones, and he grudgingly spoke to the press in a timid voice.

“Um, I haven’t prepared a statement.”

“Congressman, did you see any behavior by either Representative Zeller or Ms. Cha Cha Staines that might imply they had an inappropriate relationship, or that she was on this trip in a role other than staff support?”

“Uh…I…”

“Congressman, why won’t you answer? Are you protecting your peer? Is this part of the Washington culture of complicity?”

“I’m not protecting anyone. There did appear to be some over-familiarity, but nothing I could swear to. Um…thank you!”

McAllister flew off the dais like a rocket, bumping into Colleen in the process. He grabbed her by the wrist before turning to thank the press one more time—an assurance to them that they would take no further questions. In a flash, they had left the room.

“Colleen, what did you just do?” Steve said in a nervous sort of shriek-whisper. “You threw Zeller under the bus?”

“I told the truth. That’s all. If Zeller’s under a bus, he crawled there himself.”

“Your caucus is going to destroy you!”

Colleen was tiring of this. “I’m not here to cover the ass of a guy like Zeller, Steve. And if it’s more important to my party to hold a single seat in the House than it is to have principled people in office who do their jobs, then we don’t deserve to have a majority, do we?”

Steve seemed to consider that point. “Heh.”

“Am I right?”

He stood with his arms planted firmly on his hips. “O’Bannon, you’re one hell of a woman. It’ll be a real shame when they crucify you over this.”

Colleen shrugged. “So be it. But at least I’ll have a clear conscience.”

“And balls of steel,” Steve said reverently.

“I’m out of here. Go home, Steve. Be with your family.”

“Thanks. For what it’s worth, I really hope you’re right.”

“Me too,” Colleen replied. She waved good-bye and headed toward the exit.

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