DC By the Book

Excerpt: When she returned to Washington, the town buzzed with the news of the upcoming hearings on the crisis in Vietnam. Claiborne Pell, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, had invited the Secretaries of State, Treasury and Defense to testify on the American reaction to the whole mess. For once both the Administration and Congress were on the same page and all three Secretaries agreed to appear. The Committee set the hearing for the following week. In the interim hundreds of interested parties — from human rights associations to veterans and POW/MIA groups and trade associations — converged on the Committee, demanding to testify on behalf of this or that cause. It morphed rapidly into a circus. Chloe amused herself by following all the hoopla in the papers, on the radio talk shows, and on C-SPAN. On a whim she called a close friend on the Committee staff. “Carol, can you get me into the hearing?”.... The day of the hearing a line of hopeful spectators stretched all the way down the hall of the Dirksen Senate Office Building. But Carol came through for Chloe, and she found a spot at the press table in the back of the huge committee room. She sat down and took out a spiral notebook and pen, since Chairman Pell forbade the increasingly ubiquitous use of laptop computers. He claimed the clickety-clack of fingers tapping on the keyboards gave him a headache.... The days passed in a blur. Nothing new came out of all the jabbering, just as the press had predicted. Administration representatives were less than forthcoming on the President‘s position or plans.... Chloe stayed for the next to last panel, the Russian Expatriate Association, to hear their thoughts on the breakup of the Soviet Union. As she gathered her papers together, a staffer came through the door behind the Chairman‘s chair. He handed Senator Pell a piece of paper and whispered something. The Chairman pulled the microphone closer and blew into it. The general hubbub subsided. Chloe assumed he would announce something about the last panel, a gaggle of anti-globalization anarchists. “For the benefit of those Committee members who are still here…” He peered sternly, if a trifle myopically, at the three Senators whose staff hadn't been quick enough to schedule prior engagements, “There will be one more witness. He will testify tomorrow at 9:30 a.m. At 10:00 a.m. we shall go into closed session to hear the classified segment of his briefing.”... The press pool arrived early, but Chloe slipped in ahead of them and secured the chair closest to the section reserved for officials. As she waited, her heart flopped and flipped like a mackerel out of water. She tried clasping her shaking hands tightly in her lap. When that didn't work, she sat on them. Her gut told her this had something to do with Michael. She had lain awake all night, thinking over everything he had told her or that she guessed about his activities. The timing of his trip to Vietnam with the explosions occurring so soon after couldn't be coincidental. Whoever this Assistant Director Halloran was, he wouldn't have to say much to confirm her suspicions. Since Americans couldn't officially travel to Vietnam, Michael must be a spy. Or a saboteur. And if Americans were involved in the explosions.... The door opened again and the entire roomful of people leaned forward in anticipation. Chloe broke off her ruminations in time to see Michael — her Michael — enter quietly, dressed in a dark gray suit and a dark gray tie. Even with the eyes of two hundred spectators fastened on him he nearly dissolved into the background. His face was unreadable. He didn't look at the audience. In a remarkable display of composure he managed to look directly at no one. Chloe felt about as significant as a puddle of spit. Even though she sat in his direct line of sight, Chloe couldn't be certain he had seen her. She knew Skip had; whether the man recognized her or not was another question. But the implications of Michael‘s presence were inescapable. Spy.