By Silent Majority Page 5

  Peter introduced Daniel to the Senator after the speech. Daniel accepted an interview that Peter set up with one of the Senator’s aides for the next day. Daniel was keeping the options open. He was nervous about the range of choices. Yet, he was taken by the idealism that Senator Bratton displayed. Government can make a difference. Some of his classmates had to take the one job that was offered. He could make the choice, rather than the choice be made for him. Freedom can be so stressful.

  Daniel, who thought about the interview he had with Senator Bratton’s aide, was a great storyteller. He had a relaxing nature about him. Someone spending ten minutes with Daniel would have an affinity toward him at the end of the talk. Some felt it was because of his wit and his ability to turn a phrase. Others felt it was his boyish smile.

  At the end of the interview, the aide assured a position to Daniel assuming Bratton wins the election. Daniel thanked him for the offer and said he would need time to think about other job options. Daniel really had his mind on one thing.

  What Daniel was excited about was the upcoming trial on the Mandell/Blackwell murder. Instructed to go directly to the courthouse, Daniel skipped a day of researching and writing. He was finally going to take part in a trial. He was going to help a man who Daniel legitimately believed was not guilty. The hours of research and preparation would all culminate into a glorious display of articulated evidence and supposition. Daniel also personally researched the avenue of thought that the search by the police of Mr. Mandell’s personal belongings was an invasion of his privacy, and needed a search warrant. That idea was quickly dismissed as liberal bullshit—too progressive—by Barry Farkis.

  Barry Farkis had a reputation of being an excellent speaker. His skills would be pit against a less experienced lawyer from the Suffolk County District Attorney’s office. Daniel dressed in a three-piece suit. With his briefcase in hand, he noticed Farkis talking to the D.A. as Daniel approached, Farkis walked away from the D.A.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to the office,” Farkis said. Daniel followed behind him.

  “What happened? Continuance?”

  “No, plea agreement.”

  “Plea agreement?”

  “Yeah. Got the guy three years,” Farkis said with satisfaction.

  “Three years. The guy had a great case. What the hell is this? I worked for hours!” Both men stopped walking.

  “I know. Good job. It got the guy a deal. I’m the lawyer. I decide whether we have a good case or not.” Farkis began to walk again.

  “What bullshit! Did Mandell agree to this?”

  “He got three years for a murder. He’ll be thrilled.”

  “He’s getting three years for nothing—he’s innocent. He shouldn’t have taken it. I’m going to tell him to withdraw his plea.”

  Farkis stopped in his tracks and pointed his finger at Daniel.

  “You’ll fuckin’ do nothing of the sort! I’m not going to tell Mr. Lewison that you even suggested such a thing. If you so much as give him change on the street I’ll see that you’re fired.” Both men were nose to nose. The ultimatum was clear in Daniel’s mind. He had the opportunity to back up his idealism. Daniel was going to put his money where his mouth was.

  “Fuck you, drive by yourself. I’m taking the T!” Daniel said, as he stared intensely into his supervisor’s eyes.

  “You’ll see, Carlson. The guy will be grateful that I’ll get him three meals a day and a place to stay for the next maybe three years. Oh no, he might get out in two and a half years, if he lives that long,” Farkis said with a laugh.

  Daniel didn’t mull over his decision. The facts were on the table and he was able to decide. Daniel skipped going into the office the next day. After a few beers at the Harkness Commons he typed up his letter of resignation, called Senator Bratton’s office, and accepted the position in politics with his friend Peter Spark.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Anderson House

  Daniel Carlson, the new Senator’s aide, fit into his small but pleasantly decorated office at the office of Senator Terrence P. Bratton, in the traditional Rayburn Building on Capitol Hill. Carlson had a couple of framed pictures and some indoor plants that he got from the neighboring Senator’s office. Carlson’s desk was small, but he made room for a picture of his mother’s face standing alone. The picture was fuzzy due to its age. Black and white. Her neck was slender, carrying a necklace that held a charm that resembled the hand of God. Her picture was in a frame, along with a family photo of her, his father, and himself, outside of their home in Florida.

  Daniel’s first assignment as an aide was to compose rhetoric, formulate ideas for legislation, and garner support for a civil rights package in the name of Senator Bratton, in honor of the late President Kennedy. Daniel never had the opportunity to meet President Kennedy. He sat three rows directly above President Ford at a Harvard/Yale game. Daniel could hardly contain his excitement or focus on the President because Daniel was sitting next to Chief Justice Warren Burger. The Chief Justice looked at Daniel in a fatherly way. Chief Justice Burger reflected on the day when he was on the Law Review at Harvard. The Chief Justice knew that all Harvard Law Review graduates had the potential to be leaders of America, so he returned the respect to Daniel.

  “Maybe you’ll be a Justice of the Supreme Court someday, Mr. Carlson.” It sounded a little like the Chief Justice was encouraging a child. It was a little hokey, maybe patronizing, Daniel admitted to himself, but he liked the compliment. Daniel wouldn’t repeat it, but knew the Chief Justice was right, his resume was right. Daniel was surprised that he had that thought. Daniel thought it was arrogant and unseemly to have those thoughts in the past, but recently he felt that keeping an internal pep talk would be acceptable.

  “I hope someday to hold the qualifications and respect in the legal community to be one, Mr. Chief Justice,” Daniel replied respectfully with half a smile.

  Daniel couldn’t remember the score of the game. He recalled that Harvard had lost. However, Carlson did not—lose that is. He glowed for a week after the game. A friend of Daniel, who was in the stands at the game, took a spontaneous photo of Daniel and the Chief Justice and the then-Deputy Chief Secretary of Defense and him, which Daniel hung on his wall in the office.

  Senator Bratton and Jack Kennedy were as close as a President and a Senator could get. They didn’t see eye-to-eye on many issues. But, it didn’t matter. There were basics they did agree upon. Kennedy relied on Bratton for Southern support on the Hill. Senator Bratton believed in the President’s quest for desegregation and the creation of jobs for the black community. The Bratton Bill was the essence of the Senator’s mission as a Senator. Daniel felt extraordinarily fortunate to be working for Bratton. If Bratton led his legislation through Congress successfully, it would send a strong signal to the Party that Bratton should be considered for the Presidency himself. Therefore, Senator Bratton was pulling all the strings he could, exerting all the influence he could muster. He voted for bills he wouldn’t normally support in order that certain senator’s would owe him a favor when his bill came up. It had all the right ingredients: the cherry on top of what would have been a Kennedy supported sundae. It would have support from the Northeast, minority support, and Bratton’s Southern influence. All this ambition for the brass ring had Daniel Carlson working late into the night.

  This evening, Daniel was busy working late on coordinating the latest aspect of Bratton legislation with members of the Presidential staff. Daniel had a knack for understanding what the people wanted. Carlson’s job: listening. He read the popular press’s interpretation of civil rights groups but understood that’s what is was, the popular press’s interpretation. He enjoyed meeting with dignitaries and speaking with senators and Presidential aides. He was developing the art of persuasiveness, nudging commitment from semi-reluctant power players.

  That day was particularly special. Daniel
was on another spiritual plane because hours earlier he had met with Correta Scott King, the widow of Dr. King. Daniel recalled the way Dr. King spoke when he was younger. The “I have a dream” speech was one of the most inspiring. No matter which political party, equality for all is America. After listening, Daniel just wanted to get up and dance. Daniel privately made notes on Dr. King’s oratory skills. It seemed that Dr. King would speak in simple language. But his words would create vivid pictures. His words would be short memorable phrases. Daniel felt Dr. King liked him, but understood that was part of Dr. King’s personality and mission to recruit support. Daniel Carlson was sincere and would suggest Dr. King’s ideas in the composition of civil rights legislation. He had to force himself to stop work on the project, to dress for a formal reception on Massachusetts Avenue for the Ambassador of China.

  Daniel unwrapped the tuxedo from the cleaner’s plastic and examined the outfit. His parents had given him the tuxedo as a college graduation present. His father said that a Yale man would require a tuxedo. Boy, he was right. If Daniel Carlson had to rent a tuxedo for every formal event he had to go to, it would cost him ten percent of his salary.

  Daniel dressed slowly. He looked at himself in a mirror behind the door to his office. He walked with extra stature in his tuxedo, as if he were wearing a cape. His eyes ran over the crisp turns in his collar, lapel, and sleeves. Tonight he wore a black bow-tie. Then he slipped on his onyx cufflinks. He looked handsome and he knew it. He ran his fingers through the side of his head and he was ready—ready to meet the Ambassador of China.

  The Anderson House was an old wood house. The design was intended to be homey. It was filled with many rooms with an upstairs full of more rooms. It transformed into the perfect location for politics. Politicians can mill about and have little private conversations in any of these rooms. Daniel entered the House and stopped at the door to look around. He recognized the usual faces but his attention went to a pretty blonde server who was carrying a tray of spinach quiche. After handing his invitation to the decorated Marine at the door, he walked over, double time, to the blonde. He grabbed an appetizer and dipped it into a sauce that he could not identify but looked sweet. Peter immediately approached him.

  “Come on. Quit stuffing your face and say hello to Bratton. He’s speaking with the Ambassador.” Daniel thought that he would be able to speak to a couple of lightweights before he would actually meet the Ambassador. Good strategy, Daniel thought. He quickly slipped a napkin out of the fingers of the server and wiped his mouth.

  Strategically, the two men maneuvered into Senator Bratton’s eye. The Senator was surrounded by several dignitaries from China that neither of the two could identify. China was an important player to America. China is the key to American stability in the Far East. Japan is the key to American stability in the Far East. It all matters. Senator Bratton said China would have an enormous economic influence over the next thirty years. Only a strong relationship with Korea, Japan, and China could ensure safety and tranquility for the United States. Daniel didn’t quite understand why. He thought Europe was the key to stability of democracy in the world. Bratton knew better. His mastery of foreign policy and international relations took a backseat to no one.

  Peter smiled at Bratton. Bratton gave a look of acknowledgment. Bratton liked showing off his young protégées. It gave him a chance to brag—a chance to hear himself talk in a grandiose manner without getting into trouble, commitment wise. He knew his boys were smart and intelligent, with bright futures ahead of them.

  “Ah, Mr. Ambassador, let me introduce you to my aides. This is Daniel Carlson and this is Peter Spark. Daniel is very smart. He writes many of my speeches for me, a brilliant young man. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Daniel knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but loved it anyway. “Daniel studied law at Harvard and grew up in Florida, where you will be visiting soon.” Daniel greeted the Ambassador and his wife.

  “Here, also another Harvard graduate, Peter. He is my right hand.”

  “You’ve compiled quite a collection of right hands,” the Ambassador said.

  “Yes, and both so attractive,” the Ambassador’s wife said.

  “Behave yourself, dear. We don’t want the Americans to have a bad impression of us.” The Ambassador and the Senator laughed. The Ambassador’s daughter’s eyes widened toward Bratton.

  “This guy, Peter might be a Senator someday. He has what it takes. Don’t you think?” Bratton referred his question to the daughter. She and the Senator locked eyes and she smiled. He smiled back.

  “I think this one has what it takes, too.” She pointed to Daniel. Peter was annoyed by the comment. Stay ten-steps behind, Peter barked in his mind’s voice.

  “You stay away from this one,” the Ambassador said referring, to Daniel.

  “It was a pleasure meeting with you,” Daniel said and slightly bowed.

  The Senator excused himself for a moment and walked with his men over to the champagne table. Each took a glass.

  “The Ambassador’s daughter really likes you, Peter.”

  “Yeah. It’s worth a shot,” Peter said. Daniel just smiled, and took a sip.

  Americanized Chinese music was played. The ambiance was very elegant, but the people were not very warm.

  Suddenly, Melissa, Peter’s date, approached them. She slapped Peter sarcastically.

  “Peter, I wanted to meet the Ambassador.”

  “Oh, sorry, honey. I only spoke to him for thirty seconds anyway.”

  “Did you see his daughter’s dress? Very authentic. Loved it . . . really hated it.” she said with a laugh. Peter smiled.

  “I didn’t notice, but Daniel did. Oh, you remember, Daniel,” Peter reintroduced.

  “Of course.” The two shook hands lightly. She smiled at Daniel. She was impressed by him since their first meeting and thought Daniel was a good influence on Peter.

  “I want to introduce you to a friend of mine I came with. Her name is June. Maybe you’d like to go out with us after this party is over?”

  “Don’t force her on him.”

  “I’m not. She’s my friend. How bad could she be?” Daniel thought Melissa was impressive as well. Her presence was soft yet had a certain strength. She was short but her high heels compensated. She was studying for her Master’s in Education at George Washington. Daniel was jealous and impressed with that fact. He remembered Melissa, and liked her. She was also someone Peter could be seen with in public and fit his image. Daniel thought, how bad could her friend be?

  “Okay. I’d love to meet your friend.”

  “I’m going to steal Peter for a while and we’ll catch up with you.”

  By the shrimp server, a man in his forties approached Daniel. He was a conservative-looking man. The message his look depicted was stoic. His hair was cut close to the sides of his head. He wore silver wire glasses that had circular lenses. He smiled briefly at Daniel and asked him questions without introducing himself.

  “You’re Senator Bratton’s aide, aren’t you?”

  “Well, one of them,” Daniel said with a smile. The man swallowed his shrimp and then continued.

  “He’s told me a lot about you, Daniel. He thinks you’re the one who will take his seat one day.”

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “You know, you’re working on the civil rights legislation that will naturally lead Bratton to the road of the presidency. There’ll be a vacant seat in the Senate, you know.”

  Daniel smiled and was flattered. Bratton says that about everyone who works for him.

  “Well, there are elections, you know,” Daniel politely mimicked the man’s speech pattern.

  “I’m Austin Hesse. And I’m not a bullshitter. I’ll leave that to the old machers in Florida. Bratton has told me you’re the man and I just wanted to meet you.” Daniel thought this white bread wasp sounded funn
y forcing Yiddish into a sentence.

  “What makes you so sure?” Daniel didn’t know what to make of this guy. “I was told Peter Spark has the Senator’s support.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you’re loyal to your friend Peter.”

  “What do you do, Mr. Hesse?”

  “Daniel, we’re friends. Call me Austin. I work for Central Intelligence.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure thing.” This man intrigued Daniel. With his seamy background and strange approach, he didn’t feel totally at ease with Hesse.

  “What kind of work do you do for the Agency?”

  “I’m officially retired. However, I work in the Directorate of Operations, in an advisory capacity. . . .Politics is a hobby.”

  “Well, it was very interesting to meet you. If there’s anything I can do for you, give me a call at Senator Bratton’s office,” not willing to continue the conversation with a CIA man. Daniel was still relatively new to the job and still wasn’t sure what he could discuss freely or what to keep under wraps.

  “Oh, just continue being who you are, Daniel. You see, I know about Peter. Look out for him. He’s a good friend to have, but he can be sneaky.”

  “I’ve always found Peter to be a loyal friend.”

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Daniel.” The two shook hands and parted.

  Daniel saw a woman staring at him through the corner of her eye. She was an attractive woman who was busy talking to someone else.

  “Hello, Daniel. Great party, huh?” Daniel’s friend, Laurence Thompson said.