Chapter 2

Washington DC, Congressional Office Building

Spring in Washington, DC can be as strange as the city's major business. One day is hot. The next is not. As Will Rogers once said about Oklahoma, "If you don't like the weather, stick around a while. It'll change." This particular day was rain soaked and cold. The wind off the Potomac cut through the light spring coats that had come out after everyone thought winter was gone. The congressional office building, hidden by the various floras, seemed to lurk under the dark sky. The atmosphere reeked of intrigue and covert undertones. In short, something slimy was in the air. In the nation's capital, however, slimy is called politics, and it is practiced with pride.

Each day, congressmen go to and fro doing the job they feel they were elected to do. Generate enough money for their campaign funds to keep their jobs. It seemed most activities were designed to enhance congressional tenures. If that interfered with the peoples work, it's, well, too bad so sad.

As Miami, Florida Congressman Jesse Jamison made his way from his protected parking space, his thoughts were on the upcoming elections and the Cuban Political Action Committee's financial contribution that would allow him the first class campaign he had grown accustom to. What principles and ideas that drove him into this job to begin with were replaced by the lust to remain a part of the power structure that seduces the country's leadership.

Eight years ago Jesse was young, dedicated to America, full of ideas to make the world better, and had a rich, well connected younger wife to help his implement those ideas. In order to fulfill those ideas, he needed to be elected. At first, it was only one PAC. Then another and another PAC came forward to supplement his wife's vast resources. It was so easy. A PAC administer would come to Jesse and offer to give him what was called soft money. Money that could not be counted under the election laws began to flow unchecked into Jesse's campaigns. This happened on a continuous basis because every 2 years Jesse had to go through reelection.

Soon each PAC started to demand something in return for the money they invested in 'their' boy. After a while, they were bringing bills with Jesse's name on them. He became a mouthpiece for whatever group had the money to pay for the privileges of the position to which he had become addicted.

The animal that kept Jesse in office became a hungry beast with a self-preservation mentality. With the increase in the costs of consultants, media, travel, local bribes and other justifiable expenses accelerating at astronomical rates, feeding the beast became more and more time consuming.

The Cuban was a mixed blessing. Somehow he had unlimited cash to offset the knife he held to Jessie's back. How the Cuban got those pictures didn't matter. What did was that he wanted Congressman Jesse Jamison to share in his wealth. Jesse was no longer so naive as to think the money was free. What he wondered was how much of his soul he would lose on this deal and still keep the knife out of his back.

Jessie did not have long to wait. As he walked into his offices, Sara Sexton pointed to his closed private office door and mouthed the word "Cuban." She rose from her desk and pulled Jessie aside. "Baby, are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes Sara, we need the campaign money. Wilson is catching some good pole numbers. You know that."

"Jesse, I am really afraid of this guy. The inquiry we made from the committee was one thing, but the Cubans are going to ask for much more. He is going to ask us to do things to clear up their problems. Do you want to know about it, or do you want me to just do it?"

'

"Do it."

Before anything else could be said, the door to Jesse's office opened, and Sal Salendes came out. "Congressman, my friend, how are you and the lovely Ms. Shannon?"

Jesse could feel Sara cringe as his wife's name was mentioned. "Just great Sal, what can I do for you?"

"Could I have just a few minutes of your time Mr. Congressman? My people in Florida are having some problems."

"Sure, Sal lets go into my office. Do you want coffee or anything?"

"No, thank you."

After the two men went into the office and closed the door, the Cubin pulled two boxes of illegal Cubin cigars from his brief case and placed them on the congressman's desk. Sal continued, "There is some cowboy down in the Caribbean shooting up the boats my people are using to save Cuban refugees. We need help in keeping our people safe."

"What happened, Sal?"

"One of our crews lost a crew member and was looking for her when they ask a sailboat if they had seen her. The captain of the sailboat said no, but my crew saw the life raft from their boat and asked to look around. For no reason at all the people on the sailboat opened fire with automatic weapons and wounded several people on the boat. We were lucky to have a doctor on the boat, or some of those people could have died."

"Why didn't your people report this to the Coast Guard?"

"We tried, but they will not listen to us. The cowboy has friends in the Coast Guard."

"What do you want me to do about this?"

"Could you please get involved in this to make sure justice is done, and we get our crew person back? The Coast Guard people we talked to almost threw us out of their office when we gave them the name of the sailboat. They think this cowboy is some sort of hero."

"What was the name of the sailboat?"

"The Cassandra II out of Cleveland, Ohio."

"Did you learn anything about the owner?"

"He is some spoiled rich kid, the son of a big contractor in Cleveland. His father must have given him money to get out of the business, so he went south to play pirate. This is interfering with our efforts to save lives."

"Sal let me look into this. How long are you going to be in town?

"I will leave this afternoon, but I have a cell phone that can reach me anywhere in the USA. Please feel free to call me." Salendes handed Jessie a gold leaf business card.

"Okay, I'll get back to you today or tomorrow."

As the Cuban left the inner office, he stopped to talk to Sara. When he left the outer office with an unseen slap on her ass, Jesse motioned Sara into the office.

Sara was a woman, like so many others, that was drawn to Washington, DC in search of power and the desire to be close to it. Her 5' 9" height seemed to be made mostly of legs. Very shapely legs grew into an hourglass figure. Her jet-black hair was cut short to frame her pail face in a cameo appearance. A faint whisk of hair sneaked between her high cheekbones and her protruding chin. There was a slight cliff in her chin that drew attention to her face's slender nature. Sara had one of those faces that became more beautiful with age, and she was already a knock out.

She had an angelic appearance when she was behind her desk that proved to be an illusion when she walked or talked. She was pure sex. Men would look in awe of her. Women would become envious. Both would stand aside as she entered a room.

Jesse somehow had won her loyalty and her body. He didn't know how, but he considered himself lucky. Jesse's wife, Shannon, knew about the affaire with Sara, but she had grown too accustomed to the narcotic of power and family honor to risk a scandal by going public. As Congressman Jesse Jamison moved from freshman congressman to Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee on his way to soon be Speaker of the House, Mrs. Jesse Jamison went through the product line of the Seagram's Company. It was no secret Shannon Jamison was a lush, but Jesse Jamison was not yet important enough for the press to make an issue of her. They were, however, becoming interested.

Sara wore a summer gray tweed wool business suit over a shear white blouse with no visible support for her not too insignificant frontal assets. As Sara walked into the office she removed the suit coat and hung it on the coat tree inside the door. She knew Jesse liked looking at her breasts, and forced herself to take every opportunity to let him look, feel, or kiss as he desired.

Jesse took Sara into his arms, and crushed her body to him. "God I need you, sugar. Hold me tight. I need to know you are here for me."

"Oh Jesse, at any time or in any place you know I'm yours." She tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his. As her tongue parted his lips and sought out his, she could taste the stale cigar he had smoked in the car. Jesse could not smoke in public, it could cost votes, and the office building had just been designated no smoking. "I thought you were trying to stop smoking. It's bad for you, and you know I don't want anything hurting the love of my life."

"I'm trying; sugar, but Sal gave me a box of Havana's. I couldn't resist."

"I'm not nagging you Jesse. I really do love you, but I don't want anything to hurt you." What she did not say was that she had humiliated herself and suffered his sexual discrimination and boorish hands too long for her not to get something out of it. That something had better be soon. She did not know how long she could last kissing up to this red-necked charlatan. "You do remember you have to take Shannon to the White House reception for the new Israeli ambassador, so you don't want that on your breath."

"Sara, I don't know how you can stand sitting at home at night while I have to go home to that sot I'm married to."

"Jesse, I really don't like to talk about this, but I'll just say it does hurt. It hurts like hell. However, it's the only way we can make this work. Divorced men do not become presidents. I'd rather have you when I can than to see me be the reason you lose your destiny."

"God, what would I do without you?"

As Sara turned to walk back to her desk she thought to herself, 'You're going to find out one of these days, asshole.' She said, though, "Honey, let me make some calls and see what we can do for the Cuban. Right now, you have five minutes to get to the floor for that vote against the gun control bill."

Bermuda Triangle aboard the Queen Norse

Bill brought the Queen into the opening to the reef without a problem. Jeff slapped him on the back and boasted, "Never doubted you could do it. I was just telling Brian how much I trusted your judgment."

Bill looked at his best friend's father and replied, "Well, since you're so comfortable with my nautical skills, would you mind letting go of that railing before you break it off?"

Brian came back to the wheel. "Dad, you sure look better than a while ago. Glad to see you made it through the night."

Jeff turned red and slipped lower on the bench he was setting on. "OK. OK. You guys win. I admit the last time through here still kind of bothers me."

Bill looked at Jeff. "You know, it still bothers me too."

"Not me! I knew my captain would make sure you got it right!" Sally almost floated over the deck as she came back to the three men at the stern of the sailboat. Captain Daddy is the best sailor in the world."

"Sis, you keep that up and Dad's gonna have the biggest head in the world."

Sally beamed at her new brother. "That's OK Brian, Amanda will bring him down a peg or two. She's still sea sick this morning and really grumpy. I had to leave the galley."

Bill looked at Brian, and they both looked at Jeff. In unison they said, "Morning Sickness!"

Jeff looked at his two shipmates and turned pale. He quickly left the stern and headed to the galley. He sat next to a very sick Amanda and reached for her hand. "Feeling any better, dear?"