Term Limits Read Online Free PDF Page A

Just because you’re from Chicago and you have an Italian name doesn’t mean you’re tough. You’re an aide to a congressman, not a hit man for the Mafia.”
    Vanelli picked up his right hand and reached for his bent wrist. Before he was halfway there, O’Rourke slammed the wrist back another inch and Vanelli’s free hand shot back to the floor as he let out a scream.
    â€œListen to me, you little punk! I don’t know who you think you are coming in here and threatening me, but if you or your scumbag boss ever bother me again, you’ll have the FBI, 60 Minutes, and every other major news organization in the countrycrawling up your ass. Do you understand?” Vanelli was slow to respond, so O’Rourke increased the pressure and repeated the question. “Do you understand?” Vanelli shook his head yes and started to whimper. O’Rourke set the tape recorder on his desk, dropped to one knee, and grabbed Vanelli by the chin. He stared into his eyes and in a firm, precise voice said, “If you ever screw with me again, I’ll do a hell of a lot more than twist your wrist.”
    Garret came bursting into the Oval Office. He’d been running back and forth between his office and the president’s all morning, sneaking puffs of cigarettes and screaming into his phone. He strutted across the room to where the president and Dickson were sitting. “I’ve got great news; Moore is on board.” The president punched his fist into the air, and all three men let out a yell.
    â€œJim, I think we should postpone the press conference until one P.M.”
    â€œStu, you know I hate postponing those things. It’s just going to make us look like we’re unorganized.”
    Garret grabbed a fresh piece of paper and leaned over the table. He wrote the number 209 in the upper left-hand corner and 216 in the upper right. “We were at two hundred and nine votes versus two hundred sixteen this morning. Since then we’ve picked up Moore, Reiling, and one of those hicks. They were all undecided, and we got Dreyer and Hampton to defect. That’s minus two for them and plus five for us. That puts us at twohundred fourteen apiece.” Garret stood up and screamed, “God, I love this tension. We’re going to win this damn thing.” The president and Dickson smiled.
    â€œI see where you’re headed with this, Stu,” said the president. “You would like to turn this thing into a little victory announcement.”
    â€œExactly. If we can wait until one, I think Jack and Tom can pick up enough votes to give us a little breathing room. Tom’s office has already leaked that Moore settled. The rest of the gamblers will be making their deals as soon as possible.”
    The president looked up at Garret with a smile and conceded. “Stu, do what you have to do to move it from twelve to one o’clock, but try to be gentle with Ms. Moncur.”
    Garret nodded, then headed off to get the job done. He would be about as gentle with Ann Moncur as a five-year-old boy is with his three-year-old baby brother. He was in one of his zones. Victory was just around the corner, and he would do anything to win. He had no time for frail egos and overly sensitive, politically correct appointees. He was on the front line and they were nothing more than support people. It was always amazing to him that the people who complained the most were usually the ones who were trying to justify their jobs. The people in the trenches never complained. They just continued to produce results. Koslowski was like that. He didn’t care if it looked pretty or not, he just made sure the job got done. Their new ally, Arthur Higgins, was a producer. No bullshit, no complaining,only results. He made a mental note to thank Mike Nance, the national security adviser, for setting that one up. God, did he do a nice job on Frank Moore. That could be the one that put them over the