Celtic Empire (Dirk Pitt 25)

“I’d be happy to discover a few myself. What else is happening in your bastion of democracy?”

“Our Environment Subcommittee hearing was hijacked by last night’s Detroit incident.”

“I’m heading there in the morning. We got called in by the President.”

“Smartest thing he’s done in weeks. The staff at EPA doesn’t know how to do anything but sue people.” She snuggled close to him. “Though I’ll be sad to see you leave so soon.”

They entered the museum’s south rotunda, where a throng of politicians and power brokers stood swilling cocktails amid a low din of conversation. Pitt couldn’t help but notice that many of the attendees resembled the stuffed and wrinkled bull elephant mounted in the lobby. “Some shindig,” Pitt said as he steered them to a bar at the side, where an ice carving of a whale encircled a large punch bowl.

“Funded by donors, I’m sure. The Ocean Preservation Society is one of the few nonprofits that actually seem to do some good, in an area you can appreciate. I have it on good authority that none of their managers even draws a salary from the organization.”

“Bully for them,” Pitt said.

His wife was recognized by a slew of lobbyists and quickly surrounded. Pitt grinned at Loren as she tried to fend off the attacks, then he slipped over to the bar and ordered a Don Julio Blanco tequila on the rocks. He was sampling some smoked salmon when she joined him a few minutes later.

“Thanks for abandoning me to the sharks,” she said as he passed her a glass of champagne.

“These are your waters to navigate,” he said with a smile. “How did you lose them so quickly?”

“I said if they didn’t let me go get a drink, I’d be proposing new legislation banning all lobbyists from the District of Columbia. That, and I pointed out the arrival of the House Minority Leader. They scattered like flies.”

“I thought they’d know by now that beneath your seductive exterior lies a pillar of virtuosity.”

“Doesn’t stop them from trying.”

Pitt noticed a heavyset man with combed-over silver hair weaving through the crowd. He wore an insincere grin, and his eyes constantly darted around the room.

“Don’t look now,” Pitt said, “but a great white shark is headed your way.”

Loren turned and extended her hand. “Senator Bradshaw, how nice to see you again.”

Senator Stanton Bradshaw, chairman of the Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works and a well-known backroom dealmaker, shook Loren’s hand with his plump mitt.

“How are you, Congresswoman? You look stunning tonight.”

“Very well, thank you. I think you know my husband, Dirk?”

“Yes, of course.” He swung his hand toward Pitt while keeping his eyes locked on Loren.

Pitt shook it, leaving behind a remnant of smoked salmon.

The senator now looked at Pitt and smiled. “Didn’t you have something to do with preventing that terrorist incident in Baltimore last year?”

“I had a small role.”

“Then we all owe you a debt of gratitude.” He wiped his hand on his leg and promptly turned his back on Pitt.

“You know, my dear,” he said to Loren, “the Senate just passed the bio cleanup bill, which your House committee is about to take up. I trust we’ll have your full support in the measure.” He grinned, exposing a mouthful of whitened teeth that reminded Pitt even more of a shark.

“I haven’t studied the bill’s content yet, so I’ll have to reserve judgment for the time being.”

“Its passage would be an important victory for our party.” He turned and nodded at Pitt. “I’m sure your husband can appreciate winning one for the team.”

“Actually, Senator,” Pitt said, “if the team in question is one of our major political parties, I’d rather take a rusty knife to the spleen.”

Loren choked on her champagne, stifling a laugh, before glaring at Pitt. “Well . . . I promise to give the bill a fair review,” she said to the senator.

Bradshaw turned red for an instant, then resumed his polished ways. “Of course you will.”