Congress to take a vote.
Troy opened a big plastic bag of mozzarella cheese and glanced up at the television. He was almost getting used to seeing Raymond Harris's name on the screen.
News Alert: Harris to Appear, read the screaming yellow and red headline.
The talking head was standing in front of the Capitol quoting Harris, who had just said it was time for decisive action, and explaining that Harris would be back on the Hill tomorrow, advocating a vote.
'So will I,' Troy said, looking at the screen.
'Huh?' Vicente asked.
'I gotta tell Mr. Mahmud that I'm gonna be late tomorrow,' Troy said. 'I've got something to do in the morning.'
Chapter 47
'What's going on?' Troy asked a man standing near the barricade.
He had gotten an early start Friday morning on his hike to the Hill. He knew that Raymond Harris was scheduled to testify at 9:00 A. M., but he wanted to be sure that he was on hand when the Firehawk CEO's limo arrived. What he found was an unusual flurry of activity as one black Town Car after another sped up to the Capitol steps to disgorge passengers.
'I heard they called Congress into session this morning for a vote on this PMC deal,' the man said. 'All the senators and congressmen are showing up.'
'Nobody wants to be absent for this vote,' interjected a woman who was standing nearby. 'It's about time if you ask me. They've been sitting on this thing for weeks. It's like General Harris says… they've gotta get off their duffs and make a decision already.'
'Is Harris coming up today?' Troy asked. 'They said on the news yesterday that he was supposed to testify.'
'All the committee hearings were canceled,' said a Capitol policeman who was standing near the crowd barricade. 'Everybody's going to be in their chambers for the House vote and then maybe a Senate vote this afternoon.'
Feeling defeated, Troy turned away from the barricade and headed down the hill on Pennsylvania Avenue toward the pizza parlor. He would be there well before the lunch rush. The vote in favor of turning the executive branch over to Harris and the PMCs was widely reported as a foregone conclusion. The analysis by every news channel showed that the opposition just didn't have the votes to block the tidal wave of inevitability.
Things were busier than usual at Mr. Mahmud's that day. A lot of people were making a bit of a party out of watching the live television pictures from Capitol Hill.
'Didn't expect to see you 'til this afternoon,' the proprietor said as Troy arrived.
'I got done earlier than I thought,' Troy said. 'So I thought I'd come in.'
'Good thing you did,' Mr. Mahmud said. 'I need help here at the take-out counter.'
Troy was glad that it was busy. It took his mind off his distress over a missed opportunity to confront Harris. After today, if there actually was a vote, Harris would be unlikely to show up in public. Unlike politicians, CEOs didn't have to show up to smile at voters.
He watched the television out of the corner of his eye as congressmen were going on the record from the floor with last-minute statements. He couldn't hear the audio, but the creepers kept him abreast of the essentials.
At last, it finally came time for the vote. The people seated at the few small tables craned their necks to watch, and Mr. Mahmud turned up the volume. Most of the people ordered a second soft drink.
The roll call began, and within moments, the Executive Branch Management Bill, the bill to put the executive branch in the hands of a consortium of PMCs headed by the Firehawk CEO, had a lopsided majority in favor.
Then, a strange thing happened.
The vote in the House of Representatives started to swing the other way. When it was over, the bill passed, but by a razor-thin margin of 221 to 214.
The hush that had fallen over the room ended as the pizza parlor pundits at the tables began discussing and rationalizing the unanticipated results of the long-awaited vote.
Troy heard Vicente say something about Harris kicking Fachearon's ass — his favorite analysis of the situation — and they heard reports that the bill was being hand-delivered to the Senate chamber.
Troy took some consolation in knowing that Raymond Harris was not resting easy at this moment. He was probably sweating bullets and making calls to every senator who owed him a favor. The CEO who had been above the fray was having to get his hands dirty in the trenches of politics.
As the lunch crowd thinned out, Troy went out on a couple of nearby deliveries. People in the offices seemed just as absorbed in the Senate debate as were the people in the pizza parlor during the House debate earlier in the day. Lobbyists whose clients had big government contracts were concerned about keeping them. Those who represented people with smaller slices of the government spending pie saw it only as an opportunity to be exploited.
At times like these, Troy remembered the words that had been spoken to him long ago when Harris was explaining why the Zapatistas were anxious to keep the Chiapas pot growers in business.
'It's complicated,' Harris had said. 'But if you follow the money, it all makes sense.'
Troy wondered how much money had been spent to skew the vote in the House that morning — and how much Harris was spending right now.
The Senate vote was in progress as Troy walked through the building lobby after his last delivery. A group of people had paused in front of the television above the reception desk, but Troy couldn't bring himself to watch. It was too painful. He just hoped the senators would give Harris a close enough margin so that he'd have to sweat it out as he had in the House vote.
When he got back to the pizza parlor, everyone was just staring at the television screen. Vicente, who always had plenty to say, was speechless. So too were the four customers. It was so quiet that one woman stepped outside to make a phone call.
The Senate had voted.
The Executive Branch Management Bill had lost, 59 to 41.
Harris had lost, and President Albert Bacon Fachearon would continue to run the executive branch as the voters had elected him to do.
The pundits, none of whom had predicted this outcome, were now spinning the news so as not to appear totally out to lunch.
Troy just smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.
'We're gonna have to stop meeting like this,' Jenna Munrough said, glancing up from her mail. As had been the case earlier in the week, she saw Troy Loensch walking across Thirty-first Street. 'You could have called.'
'I happened to be in the neighborhood.' He shrugged.
'Speaking of which, I tried your cell number and it was disconnected. I need your new number.'
'I'm dead, y'know,' Troy said. 'Dead men don't have cell phones. I don't have a cell phone or much of anything else. All my worldly possessions were at Cactus Flat. Guess maybe they were shipped to my mother's place in California.'
'Where have you been?' Jenna asked.
'Around. Trying to figure out a way to confront Harris.'
'Y'all must have been pleased by the 'Senators' Surprise' this afternoon.'
'Is that what they're calling it?' Troy smiled. 'I bet there was some gnashing of teeth over at Firehawk today.'
'I wasn't there.'
'Where were you?'
