Congressman Ben Barnes appeared out of his inner office moments later, looking rumpled with wisps of his thinning, ash-blond hair sticking up at all angles. A wrinkled red silk tie hung loosely from his open shirt collar, and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Mitchell took it all in and made a mental note to never again let the congressman attend an auto industry luncheon unaccompanied. Thank God there hadn’t been any unfriendly press there. Barnes never seemed able to resist an open bar unless there was somebody around to pull him away.
The congressman smiled uncertainly and blearily at his AA. “What’s up, Jer?”
Mitchell pointed at the screen.
“… as this tape from a CNN camera team shows, armed troops began firing on the students — apparently without warning.
“Reports are sketchy and the South Korean government has imposed a news blackout, but it appears that at least several hundred people have been killed. Sources in one Seoul hospital report treating dozens of gunshot wounds and emergency rooms all across the city are said to be overflowing with the critically injured. There are even unconfirmed reports that several American or European tourists have been killed.
“For now, Seoul remains under strict curfew. And South Korea’s security forces have warned that violators will be shot on sight. That’s a threat they seem all too willing to enforce. This is Amanda Hayes. We’ll have more news from Seoul on the half-hour.”
Mitchell reached up and turned the volume down — shutting out an ad for hay fever medicine. He spun around in his chair to face the congressman.
Barnes seemed puzzled. “Very interesting, Jer. But couldn’t you have just put together a memo for me? I’ve got a million things to do before the committee meets this afternoon.”
“But don’t you see …” Mitchell stopped. Yelling at your boss was not recommended for Capitol Hill survival. He tried again. “Ben, this is the kind of break we’ve been waiting for. This Seoul massacre thing gives us the leverage we need to put an imports bill on the legislative fast track.”
“That’s great. That’s really wonderful.” Barnes still looked a little lost — an expression he was careful never to wear in front of TV cameras or constituent groups.
Mitchell decided to lay it all out. “South Korea makes those cheap Hyundai cars and other products that have the unions back home all hot and bothered. They want some more tariffs and import restrictions to even things up, but we haven’t been able to move anything worthwhile through both the House and Senate.”
Barnes seemed to be following along, so he threw in the clincher. “Right now these news reports are being shown all across the country — in every district — so I don’t think South Korea’s going to have too much public support by nightfall. They’ve been getting bad press for some time now, and this should really fan the flames. If we got a tough trade bill moving, we just might be able to ram it through before all the ‘free traders’ know what’s hit them. And that would make the autoworkers back home very happy.”
“And I’m going to need the autoworkers next year when I run for the Senate.” Barnes finished the sentence for him. He grinned. “That’s great thinking, Jer. Let’s do it. Draft up a real solid bill for me, something that’ll pull in a big coalition and get me a lot of press. I’ll take a look at it later this afternoon. Okay?”
Mitchell nodded and Barnes left humming happily. Mitchell spun back around to his keyboard and opened a new file, Korea-Bash. He smiled to himself. That was going to be a pretty accurate title.
Now, he thought, let’s see just what kind of a packaging deal I can come up with. Packaging was everything on the Hill, and if you wanted to pass a bill, you had to be sure it had a little something in it for every important interest group. That was part of the fun.
Mitchell started making a list.
The first section had to be a strong condemnation of South Korea’s human rights abuses and a tough set of required democratic reforms, with a short-term time limit for their implementation. Church groups and the other liberal lobbying organizations would really lap that stuff up.
Then came the sanctions the U.S. would impose if the Koreans didn’t put the reforms in place before the deadline.
The most obvious were new tariffs on Korean imports coming into the country. That would give the union bosses their bone, and they, in turn, would give a lot for Barnes come the next election.
Mitchell paused, his hands held over the keyboard while he thought. Yeah, the U.S. had troops in South Korea. Well, we wouldn’t want to prop up a corrupt, tyrannical regime, would we? He typed in “Withdrawal all U.S. forces if reforms not made.” That would piss off the conservatives, but it would win solid backing from the liberals in the party caucus. Maybe they could make sure that any troops pulled out of South Korea were sent to bases in Texas. That would make the Speaker happy. And making the Speaker happy was a crucial part of getting any bill through the House of Representatives.
Now he needed something to help break up the conservative opposition. “Cut off all military aid to South Korea and use the money to reduce the deficit.” Mitchell smiled. That would pick up a few votes. And it would give some of the Southern Democrats a conservative fig leaf to hide behind if they voted for the bill.
That should do it. Mitchell knew that the committee’s legislative counsel cold turn his rough notes into a polished piece of legal language in a matter of hours. He could concentrate on putting together all the background material they’d need — “Dear Colleague” letters soliciting support from other congressmen, fact sheets, and most importantly, press releases. Given two or three days and some good staff support, and he could flood the Hill and the airwaves with talk about Representative Barnes’s new South Korean sanctions bill.
Then he frowned at the outline taking shape on his screen. Any bill drawn up along those lines should be a real vote-getter. The trouble was it touched on everything from trade and taxes to defense and foreign affairs. And that opened the door for practically every major committee in both the House and Senate to demand a piece of the action.
Mitchell wasn’t sure who had first called committees “God’s gift to procrastination, sloth, and delay,” but it could be a completely accurate picture at times. With only a few weeks left until the Congress was scheduled to adjourn, there just wasn’t time to waste while every committee held hearings, tossed in its own favorite amendments, and issued its own thousand-page report. He was going to have to get Barnes to cut enough deals with the other committee chairmen to win expedited consideration for the bill. Even worse, he was going to need a senator to do the same thing over on the other side of the Hill.
Okay, it wasn’t going to be easy — but it could be done. And if he could pull this off, his reputation as a top-notch legislative strategist would be made forever. That was something worth working for. He just hoped that the South Koreans didn’t get smart and stop killing each other before they could get the bill through.
Mitchell turned away from his computer screen and started flipping through his Rolodex. It was time to start calling in a few favors. For years he’d made sure that Barnes carried water for liberal political action groups and for the unions. Now he was going to cash in. Besides, they’d all probably jump at the chance.
He pulled a card out of his Rolodex and started dialing. It had begun.
The reporter stood framed against the Capitol dome.
“This is Phil Smith, reporting from Capitol Hill. Just three days after the Seoul massacre, Congress has begun moving against the South Korean government.