09-22-2016, 02:08 PM
It was late when Beto arrived home. Washington was cooler, despite the summer humidity, than New Mexico and he was glad to be back. At least he could breath normally again. The return trip had been uneventful. That is not to say that it was not helpful. He and Ms. Makawee had been able to converse at length, though in his mind it was mostly to complete his picture of her.
Rather than press her, he'd let her speak freely and only prompted with questions to keep the conversation growing. Trust. This was how it was built. With time and interest.
He'd arranged for her to stay at the Embassy Suites in Georgetown, their standard choice for high profile witnesses and experts. She counted as one, if not the other.
This morning he was meeting the Assistant Attorney General John Donaghy, head of the Office of Legal Policy and his boss. It had been him who'd approved of Beto's trip to New Mexico since he did not have a district. Beto had had his own reasons for going. Still, he also wanted what John wanted. Information. There were recommendations that needed to be made. All existing Federal statutes needed to be reconsidered in the light of the channeler revelation. They had to determine which statutes and provisions would cover these newly revealed channelers and what new recommendations Justice need able to make to the Executive. Ms. Makawee's contributions would be crucial to that.
This morning he walked with her to John's office and gestured to have a seat while he went to John's secretary, Elsa. She was an older woman, 64, hair silver blue now. The tattoo on the side of her neck, just barely visible above the collar of her light blue jacket hinted at a wild streak in her youth. He gave her a warm smile, eyes shining, and pulled out a jar out of his bag to set on her desk. It might seem ironic, of course, given where they worked and what they enforced. But it was what it was, these games. And it was useful. "Hey gorgeous. I saw this and thought of you."
The label on the jar said 'Cannon's Sweet Hots Sweet Green Chile'. Feigning innocence, he said, "It fits,"
and then winked.
At her laugh, he smiled broadly before asking, "Good to go in?"
She nodded, "Ahh Beto. Always the charmer. I do wish you'd let me set you up with my daughter."
He tilted his head. "Oh come on now, Elsa. You know you will always be my girl,"
and then walked to the door and went in. The rituals were important, however alien they felt. The playful banter and flirtation preserved the illusion and gave him a bit of protection from people and their endless efforts to entangle him in personal affairs. He dated occasionally, though only to keep anyone from looking further into his life. It fascinated- perhaps even amused- him that the more distance and coolness he let himself display, the more interest he attracted. But maintaining the facade, while fairly easy, could be tiring. He enjoyed his alone time, able to shed the mask and just be himself. There was no trying necessary there. It was a sanctuary where he could breathe.
John looked up as he walked in. He was a tall imposing man in his early 50s, a little heavier then he once was, wearing a very sharp blue suit that set off his piercing blue eyes, a bit of grey at the temples streaking his brown manicured hair. Beto knew he got his hair cut every two days to maintain his look. He smiled as he came in and sat down.
"Welcome back. I got your email. Good work."
He chuckled wryly. "Course I got one from Harding too. He wasn't happy you were in his backyard. Panties in twist."
Beto smiled, mostly to himself. "Harding is a small man. He enjoys his little fiefdom without seeing the bigger picture. I got a message from him too. Thank you for smoothing things over with the New Mexico prosecutor."
"So...the girl."
His voice got low. "Did you see? Did she...do things?"
Beto didn't show the amusement he felt. He...'liked' John. The man was an effective leader and did his job well. He even respected him. But he was also amused at the awe his voice betrayed.
But it was a reminder. He leaned forward, letting his eyes widen a little, his voice a bit breathy. "Yes, John. I did. It was...something. Different from seeing it on a screen. Like night and day different."
John's eyes sparkled as he shook his head in wonder. Beto knew he was going to ask the girl for a demonstration. "It's just hard to believe...When I was a kid, superhero movies were all the rage. But it was fake. This, though...."
The awe left his voice and was replaced by concern. "The danger they pose, with these abilities of their's, is real. Bilson Iron Cloud is pushing for a registration like they're doing in the CCD. He's rabid on the subject. He's even trying to drum up some interest from a few senators."
Beto's eyebrow shot up. "Dangerous, that. Not sure how the President would feel about one of his prosecutors at Tribal Justice taking such a stand. It might be perceived as a conflict of interests down the line. Does he say why?"
John waved his hand. "The usual reasons. Threat. Protection. And he has a point. If these people can do a tenth of what Brandon can do, then how do we stop them? Still, not something a prosecutor should be pushing for."
Beto said nothing. He understood the point. And there were things to think about. People like Ms. Makawee could make bad decisions whose effects were far reaching. They would need to be held to account. Prosecuted. And if convicted, held. But none of that was registration. Registration was a PR move to placate the fear some people felt. And it was never good to act on fear. Too easy for people to make mistakes. "Perhaps registration might be the answer, given time. But it's too early for that, I think. In any event, Ms. Makawee is outside. Would you like me to bring her in now?"
Rather than press her, he'd let her speak freely and only prompted with questions to keep the conversation growing. Trust. This was how it was built. With time and interest.
He'd arranged for her to stay at the Embassy Suites in Georgetown, their standard choice for high profile witnesses and experts. She counted as one, if not the other.
This morning he was meeting the Assistant Attorney General John Donaghy, head of the Office of Legal Policy and his boss. It had been him who'd approved of Beto's trip to New Mexico since he did not have a district. Beto had had his own reasons for going. Still, he also wanted what John wanted. Information. There were recommendations that needed to be made. All existing Federal statutes needed to be reconsidered in the light of the channeler revelation. They had to determine which statutes and provisions would cover these newly revealed channelers and what new recommendations Justice need able to make to the Executive. Ms. Makawee's contributions would be crucial to that.
This morning he walked with her to John's office and gestured to have a seat while he went to John's secretary, Elsa. She was an older woman, 64, hair silver blue now. The tattoo on the side of her neck, just barely visible above the collar of her light blue jacket hinted at a wild streak in her youth. He gave her a warm smile, eyes shining, and pulled out a jar out of his bag to set on her desk. It might seem ironic, of course, given where they worked and what they enforced. But it was what it was, these games. And it was useful. "Hey gorgeous. I saw this and thought of you."
The label on the jar said 'Cannon's Sweet Hots Sweet Green Chile'. Feigning innocence, he said, "It fits,"
and then winked.
At her laugh, he smiled broadly before asking, "Good to go in?"
She nodded, "Ahh Beto. Always the charmer. I do wish you'd let me set you up with my daughter."
He tilted his head. "Oh come on now, Elsa. You know you will always be my girl,"
and then walked to the door and went in. The rituals were important, however alien they felt. The playful banter and flirtation preserved the illusion and gave him a bit of protection from people and their endless efforts to entangle him in personal affairs. He dated occasionally, though only to keep anyone from looking further into his life. It fascinated- perhaps even amused- him that the more distance and coolness he let himself display, the more interest he attracted. But maintaining the facade, while fairly easy, could be tiring. He enjoyed his alone time, able to shed the mask and just be himself. There was no trying necessary there. It was a sanctuary where he could breathe.
John looked up as he walked in. He was a tall imposing man in his early 50s, a little heavier then he once was, wearing a very sharp blue suit that set off his piercing blue eyes, a bit of grey at the temples streaking his brown manicured hair. Beto knew he got his hair cut every two days to maintain his look. He smiled as he came in and sat down.
"Welcome back. I got your email. Good work."
He chuckled wryly. "Course I got one from Harding too. He wasn't happy you were in his backyard. Panties in twist."
Beto smiled, mostly to himself. "Harding is a small man. He enjoys his little fiefdom without seeing the bigger picture. I got a message from him too. Thank you for smoothing things over with the New Mexico prosecutor."
"So...the girl."
His voice got low. "Did you see? Did she...do things?"
Beto didn't show the amusement he felt. He...'liked' John. The man was an effective leader and did his job well. He even respected him. But he was also amused at the awe his voice betrayed.
But it was a reminder. He leaned forward, letting his eyes widen a little, his voice a bit breathy. "Yes, John. I did. It was...something. Different from seeing it on a screen. Like night and day different."
John's eyes sparkled as he shook his head in wonder. Beto knew he was going to ask the girl for a demonstration. "It's just hard to believe...When I was a kid, superhero movies were all the rage. But it was fake. This, though...."
The awe left his voice and was replaced by concern. "The danger they pose, with these abilities of their's, is real. Bilson Iron Cloud is pushing for a registration like they're doing in the CCD. He's rabid on the subject. He's even trying to drum up some interest from a few senators."
Beto's eyebrow shot up. "Dangerous, that. Not sure how the President would feel about one of his prosecutors at Tribal Justice taking such a stand. It might be perceived as a conflict of interests down the line. Does he say why?"
John waved his hand. "The usual reasons. Threat. Protection. And he has a point. If these people can do a tenth of what Brandon can do, then how do we stop them? Still, not something a prosecutor should be pushing for."
Beto said nothing. He understood the point. And there were things to think about. People like Ms. Makawee could make bad decisions whose effects were far reaching. They would need to be held to account. Prosecuted. And if convicted, held. But none of that was registration. Registration was a PR move to placate the fear some people felt. And it was never good to act on fear. Too easy for people to make mistakes. "Perhaps registration might be the answer, given time. But it's too early for that, I think. In any event, Ms. Makawee is outside. Would you like me to bring her in now?"