they could get one government exploration—leaked, naturally.'
'You won't have any voice at all if you turn Partridge down.'
'Why not?'
'Because he really wants you.'
'Why?'
'I'm not sure, I'm only sure he doesn't do anything without a reason. Maybe he wants to extend his influence west, build a base for his own personal advancement—who knows? But he controls a hell of a lot of state delegations; and if you insult him by saying “No, thanks, pal,” he'll consider it arrogance and cut you off, both here and back home. I mean, he is one macho presence on the Hill.'
Kendrick sighed, his brow wrinkled. 'I can always keep my mouth shut, I guess.'
It was the third week after Congressman Evan Kendrick's appointment to the Partridge Committee, a totally unexpected assignment that thrilled no one in Washington except Ann Mulcahy O'Reilly and, by extension, her husband, Patrick Xavier, a transplanted police lieutenant from Boston whose abilities were sought and paid for by the crime-ridden capital's authorities. The reasoning behind the chairman's action was generally assumed to be that the old pro wanted the limelight focused on him, not on the other members of the committee. If that assumption was correct, Partridge could not have made a better choice. The Representative from Colorado's ninth district rarely said anything during the twice-weekly televised hearings other than the words 'I pass, Mr. Chairman when it was his turn to question witnesses. In fact, the longest statement he made during his brief tenure with the 'Birds' was his twenty-three-second response to the chairman's welcome. He had quietly expressed his astonishment at having been honoured by selection, and hoped that he would live up to the chairman's confidence in him. The television cameras had left his face midway through his remarks—in precisely twelve seconds—for the arrival of a uniformed janitor who walked through the chambers emptying ashtrays.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' said the hushed voice of the announcer, 'even throughout such hearings as these, the government does not overlook basic precautions… What?… Oh, yes, Congressman Owen Canbrick has completed his statement.'
However, on Tuesday of the fourth week a most abnormal thing happened. It was the morning of that week's first televised hearing, and interest ran higher than usual because the primary witness was the representative of the Pentagon's Office of Procurement. The man was a youngish, balding full colonel who had aggressively made a name for himself in logistics, a totally committed soldier of unshakeable convictions. He was bright, fast, and blessed with an acerbic wit; he was Arlington's big gun where the snivelling, penny-pinching civilians were concerned. There were many who could not wait for the clash between Colonel Robert Barrish and the equally bright, equally fast and, certainly, equally acerbic chairman of the Partridge Committee.
What was abnormal that morning, however, was the absence of Congressman Arvin Partridge of Alabama. The chairman did not show up and no amount of phone calls nor a platoon of aides rushing all over the capital could unearth him. He had simply disappeared.
But congressional committees do not revolve solely around chairmen, especially not where television is concerned, so the proceedings went forward under the lack of leadership provided by a congressman from North Dakota who was nursing the worst hangover of his life, a most unusual malady, as the man was not known to drink. He was considered a mild, abstemious minister of the gospel who took to heart the biblical admonition of turning swords into ploughshares. Hew as also raw meat for the lion that was Colonel Robert Barrish.
'… and to finish my statement before this civilian inquisition, I state categorically that I speak for a strong, free society in lethal combat with the forces of evil that would rip us to shreds at the first sign of weakness on our part. Are our hands to be shackled over minor academic fiduciary procedures that have only the barest relationship to the status quo ante of our enemies?'
'If I understand you,' said the bleary-eyed temporary chairman, 'let me assure you that no one here is questioning your commitment to our nation's defence.'
'I would hope not, sir.'
'I don't think—’
'Hold it, soldier,' said Evan Kendrick, at the far end of the panel.
'I beg your pardon?'
