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have been railroaded into jail.”
    “Apples and oranges, Ms. Bates. These folks, the ones who burst in looking like they haven’t slept or eaten for days because they are so consumed with the import of what they alone know, have only nonsense and noise to offer. That detracts from the real business of our government.”
    “Which is what?”
    “To maintain and protect the state. It is not about the individual, Ms. Bates. If it were, we would spend our careers ineffectual, broken hearted, and despairing.”
    Suddenly he smiled broadly and the effect was nothing short of glorious. Again, Josie was stung by the idea that she had known him. Before she could grasp the memory, he maneuvered the conversation toward a conclusion.
    “You’ve drawn me in, Ms. Bates. If we had all the time in the world we would debate the purpose of the constitution, the intent of the founding fathers, individual freedoms versus the good of the whole. But we don’t have that time and we are really only talking about a slight ruckus.” Patriota touched the arm of the couch as if assuring her that they were friends again. “You’re far too young to have had enough experience to accept the fact that almost all things truly are what they seem.”
    “That’s cynical, Senator,” Josie suggested.
    “No, no, no.” He sat back again, waggling his finger. “That is an honest assessment and an efficient use of both my brain and my time. But that doesn’t–” The office door opened, interrupting him. “Ah, our debate is about to be settled. Eugene. What news have you brought us?”
    Josie looked over her shoulder. Sounds of a busy office skittered through the open door only to be silenced when Eugene Weller closed it again.
    “Everything is taken care of, Senator.” Eugene paused beside Josie and shook her hand. “Eugene Weller, Ms. Bates. Senator Patriota’s chief of staff.”
    Josie took his hand thinking he looked a bit like a Wyeth painting. Eugene Weller could have been the corner grocer, the town pharmacist, or an insurance salesman were it not for his well-cut suit and obvious influence.
    “Eugene is one of the most competent staffers you will find on the hill,” the Senator announced proudly. “I hope he is also the most loyal.”
    “Always, Senator.”
    Eugene slid his hand from Josie’s grasp. His palm was moist; his smile disappeared too quickly. The man was not as confident in his position as Ambrose Patriota gave him credit for.
    “Eugene is quite modest. I know ten senators who would steal him away from me given half a chance. Luckily, this is government and no one can entice him with more money. Though I fail to see why he hasn’t fled to the private sector. With what he knows about the goings on here he could command quite a salary and probably add to it with a few bribes to keep him silent. Isn’t that so, Eugene?”
    “I’ll write a book someday, Senator,” Eugene answered.
    “You’ll wait until I’m dead and buried, I hope,” Patriota countered. “So, tell us what you have found out.”
    “The gentleman’s name is Ian Francis, sir.” Eugene paused as if waiting for a reaction. None was forthcoming. “He holds a Canadian and American passport. He worked as a consultant to the Defense Department at one time and he was a professor at Texas A & M many years ago. Mr. Francis is not drunk. He is confused. It appears he has fallen on hard times and, perhaps, suffers to some degree from mental illness.”
    “Drugs?” Patriota asked.
    “No. Nothing was found on him.”
    “Weapons?”
    “No, sir. He had a senate pass. It had not been renewed since the early nineties but security sent him through. A misunderstanding,” Eugene assured him.
    “You see. It is as I said.” Patriota was pleased.
    “But did you ask specifically about me or Hannah?” Josie pressed.
    “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything more to tell you.”
    Josie was fully aware that his was a non-answer but there was no time to pursue it