Vixen 03 (Dirk Pitt 5)

The House Foreign Affairs subcommittee hearing on economic aid to African nations, chaired by Frederick Daggat, opened to a half-empty conference chamber and a platoon of bored reporters. Daggat was flanked by Democrat Earl Hunt, of Iowa, and Republican Roscoe Meyers, of Oregon. Loren Smith sat off by herself near one end of the table.

The hearing stretched into the afternoon as representatives of several African governments made their pitch for monetary aid. It was four o'clock when Hiram Lusana took his turn and sat down before the subcommittee. The chamber was crowded now.

Photographers stood on seats, their flashbulbs stabbing the walls, while reporters began furi-ously scribbling on note pads or muttering into tape recorders. Lusana paid no attention to the commotion. He sat poised at the table, like a croupier who knew the odds were in his favor.

"General Lusana," said Daggat. "Welcome to our hearing. I think you know the procedures. This is purely a preliminary fact-finding session. You will be allowed twenty minutes to state your case. Afterward, the committee will put their inquiries to you.

Our opinions and findings will later be reported to the House Foreign Affairs Committee as a whole."

"I understand," said Lusana.

"Mr. Chairman."

Daggat turned to Loren. "Yes, Congresswoman Smith."

"I must object to the appearance of General Lusana at this hearing on the grounds that he does not represent an established African government."

An undercurrent of murmurs swept the room.

"It is true," Lusana said, leveling his gaze at Loren, "I represent no established government. I do, however, represent the free soul of every black on the African continent."

"Eloquently put," said Loren. "But rules are rules."

"You cannot turn a deaf ear to the pleas of millions of my people over a technicality." Lusana sat immobile, his voice almost too soft for those in the back of the room to hear. "A man's most prized possession is his nationality. Without it he is nothing. In Africa we are in a fight to claim a nationality that rightfully belongs to us. I am here to beg for black dignity. I do not ask for money to buy arms. I do not ask for your soldiers to fight alongside ours. I plead only for the necessary funds to buy food and medical supplies for the thousands who have suffered in their war against inhumanity."

It was a masterful performance, but Loren was not suckered by it.

"You are a clever man, General. If I argue your appeal, I'd be condon-ing your presence at this hearing. My objection still stands."

Daggat made an imperceptible nod to one of his aides in the background and turned to Earl Hunt. "Congresswoman Smith's protest is duly noted. How say you, Congressman Hunt?"

While Daggat was polling Hunt and Roscoe Meyers for their opinions, his aide moved behind Ljren and handed her a large white envelope.

"What is this?"

"I was told to tell you it is most urgent that you open the envelope now, ma'am." Then he hastily turned away and left the chamber through a side door.

Loren undid the unsealed flap of the envelope and eased out one of several eight-by-ten photographs. It had captured her naked body entwined with Pitt's in one of a wild series of orgiastic positions. Quickly, she shoved the photo back in the envelope, her face gone white, reflecting fear and disgust.

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Daggat turned to her. "Congresswoman Smith, we seem to have a hung committee. Congressman Hunt and I agree that General Lusana should be heard. Congressman Meyers stands with you. As chairman of this hearing, may I prevail upon you in the interest of fair play to permit the general to speak his piece."

Loren felt the hairs on the back of her neck stiffen. Daggat was leering at her. It was all there in his expression: he was no stranger to the contents of the envelope. She struggled to contain the sickness that was rising in her throat, suddenly realizing that Felicia Collins had sold her out to Lusana's cause. Silently she cursed her stupidity in allowing herself to be set up as naively as a teenage runaway with a big-city pimp.

"Congresswoman Smith?" Daggat said, prompting her.

There was no out. Daggat controlled her now. She lowered her eyes and trembled.

"Mr. Chairman," she said in total defeat, "I withdraw my objection."

Barbara Gore, at forty-three, still cut the figure of a Vogue fashion model. She remained trim and had shapely legs, and her high-cheekboned features had yet to flesh with age. She had once had an affair with Dale Jarvis, but that had long since passed through the sexual phase, and now she was simply a good friend as well as his personal secretary.

She sat across from his desk, those beautiful legs crossed at an angle comfortable only to women and showy to the male eye.

Jarvis, however, took no notice of them. He sat engrossed in dictation. After a while he abruptly broke off and began probing through a mountainous batch of highly classified reports.

"Perhaps if you tell me what it is you're looking for," Barbara said patiently, "I can help you."