The audience inside the hearing chamber was invitation only. They’d never have been able to fit everyone in, otherwise. Mostly, reporters and TV cameras crammed the place. We were late. The senators were already in place behind their authoritative tables. Senator Duke was absent, but I recognized his aide, the one from last night, standing in a corner. He refused to look in my direction.
I couldn’t find Dr. Flemming among the audience, either. So, Duke, Flemming, and Stockton had all ditched. Did that make me the last one standing? Did that mean I won?
What, exactly, did I win?
Jeffrey Miles had made it into the audience. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. I wanted to hug him, but he was on the other side of the room.
Henderson leaned close to his microphone and cleared his throat. The general shuffling and murmuring in the room quieted as he drew attention to himself.
“I’d like to thank my esteemed colleagues in the Senate for taking an interest in this final day of oversight hearings regarding the Center for the Study of Paranatural Biology. I hope we can hold your interest. In the absence of Senator Duke, and with the consent of my fellow committee members, I’ll be serving as the committee’s acting Chair. This is mostly a formality, since the only activity on the day’s schedule is our closing statement and recommendations. Without further ado, I’ll now read those into the record.
“Due to recent events, and recent actions by a colleague, this committee decided to issue a statement regarding this hearing’s subject matter as soon as possible, to reduce any confusion and to head off any speculation about what stance we will take. First off, I would like to thank all the panelists who testified for their time and their opinions. Without the testimony, formulating any response to the existence of the Center for the Study of Paranatural Biology and its research activities would have been impossible.
“This committee has already taken action in making recommendations to the full Senate about how that body should proceed. We have recommended that the Senate Committee on Ethics begin an investigation into the activities of our colleague Senator Joseph Duke, for suspicion of abusing his authority and conspiring to commit the crime of kidnapping. The full Senate may consider a censure against Senator Duke. We have recommended to the director of the National Institutes of Health that the Center for the Study of Paranatural Biology be dissolved, due to its questionable methodologies and possible unethical practices. Its research projects should continue, but under different supervision as part of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, according to all the regulations and guidelines set forth by the NIH. This committee sees no reason why, if the conditions under discussion really are the result of diseases, they should not be studied under the aegis of an existing disease research organization. It remains to be seen what, if any, criminal charges will result from the way in which the Center for the Study of Paranatural Biology conducted itself, especially in consequence of events leading to last night’s television broadcast with which we are all no doubt familiar. I have received word that civil charges, at least, will soon be filed on behalf of Katherine Norville against the parties directly involved. At this point decisions and recommendations fall outside this committee’s jurisdiction. We gladly leave such considerations to the judicial system.
“In closing, it is the committee’s opinion that the victims of the diseases studied by Dr. Paul Flemming and his laboratory have lived in American society for years, unnoticed and without posing a threat. We see no reason why they should not continue to do so, and we urge all good people of reason not to fall into a state of hysteria. Thank you.”
That was it. The whole thing was filed away, folded into the bureaucracy to be forgotten as quickly as possible. Which was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? It felt anticlimactic.
The exodus began, senators and their aides shuffling papers and closing briefcases, reporters sorting out their recorders, people massing toward the doors.
This was the first day Flemming had missed. I couldn’t really blame him; he had a lot to answer for. And really, if I’d been able to corner him and talk to him, what would I have said? “Sucks to be you”? Maybe I just wanted to growl at him a little.
Maybe I should thank him for saving my life.
I hid away in a corner of the room and called his number. I expected it to ring a half-dozen times, then roll over to voice mail. But after the first ring, an electronic voice cut in. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service . . .”
I scanned the crowd and found the committee staffer who’d been herding witnesses all week. I maneuvered toward her as quickly as I could against the flow of the crowd, and managed to stop her before she left the room. She was in her thirties, businesslike, and her eyes bugged when she spotted me stalking toward her. I thought she was going to turn and run, like a rabbit. We all had the flight instinct, in the end.
“Hi, do you have a minute? I just have a question.” I tried to sound reassuring and harmless.
She nodded and seemed to relax a little, though she still held her attaché case in front of her like a shield.
“Dr. Flemming wasn’t here today,” I said. “Do you know if he was supposed to be? Or where he might be if not here?” In jail, maybe? Was that too much to hope for?
Her gaze dropped to the floor, and the tension returned to her stance. She actually glanced over her shoulder, as if searching for eavesdroppers.
“He was supposed to be here,” she said. “But right before the session started, I was informed that he’d be absent. That he had another commitment.”
“Informed? By whom? What other commitment?”
“I know better than to ask questions about certain things, Ms. Norville. Flemming’s out of your reach now.” She hunched her shoulders and hurried away.
Conspiracy theory, anyone?
“Wait! Am I supposed to think that he’s been
sucked into some dark, clandestine project and no one’s ever going to see him again? Is there a phone number for him? I’ve got court papers to serve, you know!”
She didn’t even look back at me.
The senators arranged a press conference inside the hearing chamber. Henderson and Dreschler answered questions, many of them regarding Duke and what his future in the Senate, if any, might be. Listening between the lines, I felt like they were saying nothing much would happen to Duke. He’d be censured, and that was about it. A slap on the wrist. They expected the other people involved to take the fall for him. Stockton and Flemming. I didn’t have enough energy left for righteous indignation.
Then came my turn. After the senators left, I agreed to spend a few minutes at the podium, mainly because Ben convinced me that facing all the reporters at once was easier than running the gauntlet. If I gave some comments now, it would be easier to ignore them later on.
Ben was right. I had to face up to the reputation I’d built for myself. I had to face the consequences of that reputation.
I tried to think of it as being on the radio. The microphone reached out in front of me, and that looked familiar. If I could ignore the lights, the cameras, the rows of faces in front of me, I could pretend I was talking to my audience. As a voice on the radio, I could say anything I wanted.