waiting from Buchanan would be almost impossible for a human being to
exhaust.
Buchanan’s bribery scheme had started out cautiously at first. He had
analyzed all the players in Washington who even remotely might further
his goals, and whether they could be bribed. Many members of Congress
were wealthy, but many others were not. It was often both a financial
and familial nightmare for people to serve in Congress. Members had to
maintain two residences, and the Washington metro area was not cheap.
And their family often did not come with them. Buchanan approached the
ones he figured he could corrupt and began a long process of feeling
them out on possible involvement. The carrots he dangled were small at
first but quickly grew in size if the targets showed any enthusiasm.
Buchanan had selected well, because he had never had a target not agree
to exchange votes and influence for rewards down the road. Perhaps
they felt that the difference between what he proposed and what
occurred in Washington every day was marginal at best. He didn’t know
if they cared that the goal was a worthy one. However, they hadn’t
gone out of their way to increase foreign aid to any of Buchanan’s
clients on their own.
And they had all seen colleagues leave office and grab the gold of
lobbydom. But who wanted to work that hard then? Buchanan’s
experience was that ex-members made terrible lobbyists anyway. Going
back hat in hand to lobby former colleagues over whom you no longer had
any leverage was not appealing to these overly proud folk. Much
smarter to use them when they were the most powerful they would ever
be. Work them hard first. And then pay them grandly later. What
could be better?
Buchanan wondered if he could really hold it together during the
meeting with a man he had already betrayed. But then, betrayal was
doled out in large doses in this town. Everyone was constantly
scrambling for a chair before the music stopped. The senator would be
understandably upset. Well, he would have to stand in line with the
rest.
Buchanan suddenly felt tired. He didn’t want to get in the car or
climb on another plane, but he had no say in the matter. Still a
member of the Philadelphia servant class?
The lobbyist focused his attention on the man who was standing before
him.
“He sends his compliments,” the burly man said. To the outside world
he was Buchanan’s driver. In reality he was one of Thornhill’s men
keeping close tabs on their most important charge.
“And please send Mr. Thornhill my sincerest wishes that God should
decree he not grow one day older,” said Buchanan.
“There have been important developments of which he would like you to
be aware,” the man said impassively.
“Such as?”
“Lockhart is working with the FBI to bring you down.”
For a brief, dizzying moment Buchanan thought he would vomit all over
himself. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“This information was just discovered by our operative inside the
Bureau.”
“You mean they entrapped her? Made her work for them?” Just like you
did to me.
“She voluntarily went to them.”
Buchanan slowly regained his composure. “Tell me everything,” he
said.
The man responded with a series of truths, half-truths and outright
lies. He told them all with equal, practiced sincerity.
“Where is Faith now?”
“She’s gone underground. The FBI is looking for her.”
“How much has she told them? Should I be making plans to leave the
country?”
“No. It’s very early in the game. What she’s told them thus far would
not warrant prosecution of any kind. She’s told them more of the
process of how it was done, but not who was involved. However, that’s
not to say they can’t follow up what she’s told them. But they have to
be careful. The targets aren’t exactly flipping burgers at
McDonald’s.”
“And the vaunted Mr. Thornhill doesn’t know where Faith is? I hope
his omniscience isn’t failing him now.”
“I have no information about that,” said the man.
“A poor state of affairs for an intelligence-gathering agency,”
Buchanan said, even managing a smile. A log in the fireplace let out a