The First Councel

Looking up from his legal pad, Julian Zane smirks wide. It’s the third meeting in a row that he’s been called on first. Pathetic. As if any of us is even counting.

“Still haggling with SEC reform,” Julian says in a self-important tone that slaps us all across the face. “I’m meeting with the Speaker’s counsel today to hit a few of the issues-he wants it so bad, he’s skipping recess. After that, I think I’ll be ready to present the decision memo.”

I cringe as Julian blurts his last few syllables. The decision memo is our office’s official policy recommendation on an issue. And while we do the research and writing for it, the finished product is usually presented to the President by Simon. Every once in a while, we get to do the presentation too. “Mr. President, here’s what we’re looking at… ” It’s the ultimate White House carrot-and something I’ve been waiting two years for.

Last week, Simon announced that Julian was presenting. It’s no longer news. Still, Julian can’t help but mention it.

Shading his eyes as he checks his schedule, Simon reveals the same silhouette I saw in his car. I try to bury it, but I can’t. All I see is that forty grand-ten of which is now linked to me.

Simon shoots me a look, and a hiccup of bile stabs up from my stomach. If he does know, he’s playing games. And if he doesn’t… I don’t care if he doesn’t. As soon as we’re out of here, I’m calling in some favors.

With a quick nod, we move to the person on Julian’s right. Daniel L. Serota. A shared smile engulfs the rest of the room. Here comes Danny L.

Everyone hired by the Counsel’s Office brings their own personal strength to the office. Some of us are smart, some are politically connected, some are good at dealing with the press, and some are good at dealing with pressure.

Danny L? He’s good at dealing with large documents.

He scratches the front of his glasses with his fingernails, trying to remove a smudge. As always, his dark hair is out of control. “The Israelis had it right. I went through every MEMCON we have on file,” he explains, referring to the memoranda of conversations, which are taken by aides when the President talks to a head of state. “The President and the Prime Minister never even speculated about how the hardware got there. And they certainly never mentioned U.N. interference.”

“And you got through every MEMCON that was in Records Management?” Simon asks.

“Yeah. Why?”

“There were over fifteen thousand pages in there.”

Danny L. doesn’t skip a beat. “So?”

Simon shakes his head, while Pam leans over to pat Danny L. on the back. “You’re my hero,” she tells him. “You really are.”

As the laughter dies down, I continue to fight my panic. Simon’s enjoying himself too much. That doesn’t bode well for what he was doing in the woods. At first, I liked to think he was a victim. Now I’m not so sure.

My mind churns through the possibilities as Pam takes her turn. The associate in charge of background checks for judicial appointments, Pam knows all the dirt about our country’s future judges. “We have about three that should be ready for announcement by the end of the week,” she explains, “including Stone for the Ninth Circuit.”

“What about Gimbel?” Simon asks.

“On the D.C. Circuit? He’s one of the three. I’m waiting for some final paperw-”

“So everything checks out with him? No problems?” Simon interrupts in a skeptical tone.

Something’s wrong. He’s setting Pam up.

“As far as I know, there’re no problems,” Pam says hesitantly. “Why?”

“Because at the Senior Staff meeting this morning, someone told me there are rumors floating around that Gimbel had an illegitimate child with one of his old secretaries. Apparently, he’s been sending them hush money for years.”

The consequences quickly sink in. As the room falls silent, all eyes turn toward Pam. Simon’s going to hammer her on this one. “We’ve got an election that’s two months away,” he begins, his tone unnervingly composed, “and a President who just signed major legislation against deadbeat dads. So what do we do for an encore? We tell the world that Hartson’s current judicial candidate has intimate knowledge of our newest law.” Across the room, I see Julian and a few others laugh. “Don’t even snicker,” Simon warns. “In all the time I’ve been here, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen all three branches of government collide so embarrassingly.”

“I’m sorry,” Pam says. “He never mentioned anything abou-”

“Of course he didn’t mention it-that’s why it’s called a background check.” Simon’s voice remains calm, but he’s losing his patience. He must’ve taken plenty of heat in Senior Staff to be this worked up-and with Bartlett’s campaign slowly closing in, all the bigshots are on edge. “Isn’t that your job, Ms. Cooper? Isn’t that the point?”