DC By the Book

Excerpt: The next time I opened my eyes, the sky was just starting to lighten in a milky sort of way, too soon for telling whether it was clear or cloudy, and we were on the road.... I looked out,,,, saw we were on a freeway with lots of lanes, all those lanes clogged in both directions. "Our government on the way to work," Bernie said. "Kinda wish they wouldn't bother." Uh-oh. What could we do about that? There were so many of them. We climbed a long hill, and on the other side a big city appeared, maybe not as big as the Valley, but the river in this city had water in it and ours didn't. "Foggy Bottom," Bernie said. "Where they keep the levers of power. Wouldn't mind seeing one of those levers someday, let alone getting my hands on it." ... We crossed a bridge over the river, a white-domed building on the far side. "Jefferson Memorial," Bernie said, and then surprised me be leaning out his window toward the white-domed building and calling, "Come back to life.!" We've had this type of long road trip before, a long road trip where Bernie gets a bit hard to follow after a while. Those road trips always ended well in my memory, just like everything with Bernie.

Excerpt: Things quieted down by the time we got back to the city, that strange stone tower straight ahead. "First in the hearts of his countrymen," Suzie said. "Not me," said Bernie. "Lincoln's the one." "That's the sentimental choice." "Me? Sentimental? That's a first. Should I take it as a--" Suzie's phone rang, a good thing since it interrupted all that incomprehensible chatter.

Excerpt: "Where is the Design Show?" "Franklin Court," said the woman, still snappy. "But she won't be there." We drove into the city, went downtown, and soon I was catching glimpses of that strange stone tower again. It popped up a lot, taller than just about everything else around; I turned my head this way and that to keep the tower in view. Bernie glanced my way. "What's with you and the Washington Monument, Chet?" I didn't know, wasn't even sure I understood the question. "Kinda makes sense," Bernie said. "He was a fan of the nation within. Had to be--those Virginia gentlemen were into foxhunting in a big way." ... We parked in an underground garage.... This lobby was maybe the nicest I'd ever been in, full of sunshine, with polished stone all over the place. Along all the walls were--what would you call them? Sort of rooms, except they weren't real, since the real room was the lobby? Whoa! Way too complicated! Lots of people were clustered around the unreal rooms--kitchen, living room, office, closet, TV room, others I didn't know the names of, all filled with shiny things, lots of them breakable if you happened to have a tail. I followed Bernie across the lobby, my tail up and as motionless as I could make it.

Excerpt: "That Fenwick address is in Ivy City," William said. "Not the best area." ... Meanwhile, we were rolling in a bad part of town, bumping over rusted train tracks, boarded-up houses on one side and grimy warehouses on the other. Bernie turned a corner, and we pulled up in front of a low brick building with dirty barred-over windows and a cracked and broken sidewalk out front. "It's a bar?" Bernie said. No doubt about that: bar smells were in the air, big time. We got out of the car, and right away, a red-eyed dude appeared from down an alley and came toward us, although not in a direct line, the scent of his booze cloud reaching us first.