"What about the staff?"
"Well, you'll be lucky to hire the main people-your personal secretary, the head of research, the chief field investigator. The others… well, congressmen have folks to whom they owe jobs, besides which, everybody on the committee will want at least one personal spy in the organization."
Karp was openmouthed. "You must be joking."
"Not really. They're all worried, especially Flores. This Kennedy thing is a can of worms, with no real political payoff for anyone. The House leadership launched into it very reluctantly."
"Yeah, you said that before. So why did they go for it at all?"
"Well, there you have me. My own theory was that it was a payoff to the black caucus in an election year. Launching a King investigation is something they can sell at home, and it's kind of hard for the House Democratic leadership to buck something having to do with King. Once you're looking into King, Kennedy kind of follows. Plus the stuff about federal agencies not being forthcoming with Warren, the stuff that's turning up in the Church committee's work. And the assassination nuts keep yawping at their heels. A lot of people believe it and it has to be answered. O'Neill's the key player, of course, and he hates this kind of thing, and consented very reluctantly. Warren is gospel with Tip. The old 'protecting the family' business."
"This is not good for us, right?"
"Right, but meanwhile here we are." Crane checked his watch. "Look, I have to roll. Let me take you by Hank's place. If he's in, I'll introduce you; if not, we'll set up a date to get the two of you together."
This, as it proved, was not necessary. As they entered the elevator, Crane greeted a tall, lean, sandy-haired man already in the car.
"Hank! This is a piece of luck. I have to run off and here you are to take the pass. This is Butch Karp from New York."
One of those Norman Rockwell kids grown up was Karp's first impression as he shook hands with Henry Dobbs, Democrat of Connecticut. As their eyes met he revised his take. Dobbs had the freckled skin, the even, understated features, the crisp short hair, but the cornflower eyes were not innocent ones. There was a careful intelligence there, a wariness, some complexity of character that was not ever seen on the covers of the old Saturday Evening Post.
By the time the car had gone two floors, it was agreed that Karp and Dobbs would lunch together. Crane took his leave. Dobbs led Karp to his own office. It was like Flores's, with different flags, seals, and posters. Dobbs checked his messages, excused himself and made a short call, dealt with several matters pressed on him by staff, and then broke free. He seemed to run a happier and lower-keyed ship than Flores did.
The Capitol has a restaurant reserved for members and their guests during the lunch hours, and Dobbs took Karp there on the little subway that connects the various congressional buildings.
"I hear you met George," he said when they were seated. "What did you think?"
"A great American and a fine public servant," Karp answered.
Dobbs smiled. "You're learning. Keep that up and you'll be a big hit in Washington."
"Well, about that-I'm starting to think this might be a major misunderstanding, me doing this job."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I tried to explain to Bert about being politically impaired. It's a form of epilepsy. If I think an investigation is being screwed up because of politics, my eyes roll up, I foam at the mouth, and I become uncontrollable."
Dobbs laughed but Karp went on, deadpan. "I'm serious. I don't want to mess things up and destroy lives and careers. I want to kiss ass, and go along to get along, and be one of the boys. I just… can't… do it. It's my personal tragedy, like being one of Jerry's kids. And now you know my shame."
Dobbs wiped his eyes with his napkin. "Thank you for sharing. Actually, I think you're just what we need. Look, in all seriousness, here's the picture on Flores. Like the rest of us, he's got more committee assignments than he knows what to do with. Two things interest him, Hispanic affairs and migrants-to his credit he's sincere about helping out his people-and energy, because he's in the oil patch down there and that's how he stays elected. His interest in the Kennedy thing is twofold: first, if you do come up with something rich, it'll get him on TV in Dallas, and two… that's a bit more complex." Dobbs took a sip of water and continued.
"One assumption some people have is that the mystery behind JFK is a Dallas mystery. Oswald's life there. Ruby and the cops. What really happened in the half hour or so after the first shots. George is connected to the people who run Dallas, and to the extent that the investigation might affect them, especially in a negative way, George has got to be on top of it. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, it does. But the question is, if it turns out that one of his associates needs to be leaned on, will he balk?"
Dobbs grinned. "Oh, yeah. He might balk. He might do worse than that. Which is why you have me."
Karp thought about this for a moment, and then, looking into the blue eyes, asked, "And why do we have you, Mr. Dobbs? Are the people of Connecticut burning to find out if old Earl Warren went into the tank on this one? Or what…?"
The waiter came and they ordered. When the man left, Dobbs said, "That's the right question, all right. What's in it for Dobbs. I like you, Mr. Karp, or, if I may, Butch. I'm Hank. You get right to the point, which is sometimes like a dose of oxygen around here, although I should warn you it's a violation of the Federal Anti-Confrontation and Bullshitters' Protection Act of 1973, As Amended." He smiled at the small joke and Karp smiled too.
Dobbs leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "How to put it? Well, first, my constituents. The people of the great state of Connecticut are mainly interested in keeping the insurance industry happy and making sure that when ships and weapons get built, they get built in the great state of Connecticut, as a result of which I spend most of my time on the Banking and Armed Services Committees. In my spare time, I try to do an occasional favor for the United States. As far as personally goes, in 1963, I was at Yale. I'd worked on the presidential campaign in Hartford, and my family had some connections in the past with Jack Kennedy. I'd actually shaken his hand, once, when he was in the Senate. I remember I told him that I was interested in politics and that I was off to Yale that year, and he laughed and told me that if I worked hard I could overcome even that obstacle. I was in Dwight eating a sandwich when some kid ran into the dining room and yelled out that Kennedy'd been shot in Dallas. I went into shock-well, everybody did, really, but I guess I imagined mine was worse. My dad had just passed on that summer and I suppose I conflated the two losses in my mind. It was an extremely bad year for me; I nearly flunked out, as a matter of fact, and had to repeat the semester. Okay, that's personal aspects. There's a political aspect too. I think practically everyone understands that when Kennedy was assassinated, the country started on a downward slope. I think it had more of an effect on the country than Lincoln's did, because Lincoln had mainly finished his work and Kennedy had barely started his. Not that I'm comparing Kennedy to Lincoln-that's not the point. The point is that the country was tipped out of one track and into another, which we're still on and which is no good."
"Because Kennedy died?" Karp asked.
"Actually, as much as I mourn his loss, no, not exactly. It was mainly because of what happened afterward. The government didn't tell the truth about what happened. Some people decided that a higher national purpose would be served if the facts about the assassination were bent to prove a point. Have you read the Report?"