Saving Faith By: David Baldacci

organizations over a two-week period on three continents to show just

how such a thing could be accomplished. How important it was.

Theresult: passage of a bill in Congress that supported a study to

determine if such an endeavor could work. Now consultants would rack

up millions of dollars in fees and kill several forests of trees for

the mountains of paper the study would generate (to justify the

enormous consulting fees, of course), with no assurances that a single

child would receive a single dose of vaccine. “A small success, to be

sure, but a step forward,” Buchanan had told the client. “When Faith

goes after something, stay out of her way.” The client already knew

this about Faith, Buchanan was aware. Perhaps he was just saying it to

bolster his own spirits. Perhaps he just wanted to talk about Faith.

He had been hard on her the last year, very hard. Terrified that she

would be drawn into his Thornhillian nightmare, he had outright pushed

her away. Well, he had succeeded in driving her right into the arms of

the FBI, it seemed. I’m Sony, Faith.

After the luncheon it was back to the Hill, where Buchanan waited with

a handful of Rolaids on a series of floor votes. He sent in his cards

to the floor asking for time from some of the members. He would

buttonhole others as they came off the elevator.

“Foreign debt relief is essential, Senator,” he individually told more

than a dozen members, hustling along beside them and their overly

protective entourages. “They’re spending more on debt payments than on

health and education,” Danny would plead. “What good is a strong

balance sheet when the population is dying at the rate of ten percent a

year? They’ll have great credit and not a damn person left to use it.

Let’s spread the wealth here.” There was only one person better at

pitching this appeal, but Faith was not here.

“Right, right, Danny, we’ll get back to you. Send me some materials.”

Like the petals of a flower closing up for the night, the entourage

would close ranks around the member, and Danny the bee would be off to

gather other nectar.

Congress was an ecosystem just as complicated as the one existing in

the oceans. As Danny trolled the corridors, he looked at the activity

swirling all around. True to their titles, whips were everywhere

prodding members to follow the party line. Back in the whip’s

chambers, Buchanan knew the phones were constantly being worked with

the same goal in mind. Gofers scurried down the corridors in search of

people more important than themselves. Small groups of people huddled

in pockets of the broad hallways, discussing matters of importance with

solemn, down-east expressions. Men and women pushed onto crowded

elevators with the hope of snaring a few precious seconds with a member

whose support they desperately needed. Members talked with each other,

laying the groundwork for future deals or reaffirming agreements

already struck. It was all chaotic and yet possessed a certain order,

as people coupled and uncoupled like robotic arms around hunks of metal

on an assembly line. Give a touch here and on to the Next one. Danny

dared to think that his work might be as exhausting as childbirth; and

he would swear it was more exhilarating than skydiving. The man was

thoroughly addicted to it. He would miss it.

“Get back to me?” was his typical closing to each member’s aide.

“Of course, you can count on it,” would be each aide’s typical

response.

And, of course, he’d never hear back. But they would hear from him.

Again and again, until they got it. You just fired your shotgun

pellets and hoped one stuck somewhere.

Next, Buchanan had spent a few minutes with one of his “chosen few,”

going over the language Buchanan wanted to insert in a line amendment

in a bill’s report. Almost no one ever read the report language, yet

it was in the monotonous details that important actions were

accomplished. In this case, the language would tell the managers at

AID precisely how funding approved by the underlying bill was to be

spent.

With the verbiage in good shape, Buchanan mentally checked that off his

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