"THE BOSS OF THE SENATE" GAINS A NEW ALLY
Mrs. Spangler would have flattered herself on guessing correctly as to
Senator Peabody's uneasiness had she heard and seen all that had taken
place in his apartment at the Louis Napoleon Hotel, where he had
hurriedly taken Senator Stevens on leaving the Langdon house.
Not only would the two Senators lose their immense profits on the
Altacoola transaction if Langdon persisted in his opposition, but they
would lose as well the thousands of dollars spent by their agents in
purchasing options on hundreds of acres, and where they could not
get options, the land itself. This land would be on their hands,
unsalable, if the base went somewhere else. Moreover, they feared that
Langdon's revolt would bring unpleasant newspaper publicity to their
operations.
"There's only one course to pursue, Stevens," snapped Peabody as they
took off their overcoats. "That is to be prepared as best we can for
the very worst and meet it in some way yet to be determined. But first
we must try to figure out what Langdon is going to do--what it can be
that he says he will tell us to-morrow at 12:30 if we appear. He must
have something very startling up his sleeve if he makes good his
assertions. I can't see how--"
"Nor I," frowned Stevens, "and my political eyesight is far better
than that fool Langdon's. Under ordinary circumstances we could let
him go ahead with his minority report for Gulf City, but as things
stand he'll have every newspaper reporter in Washington buzzing around
and asking impertinent questions--"
"Yes, and you and I would have to go to Paris to live with our life
insurance friends from New York, wouldn't we?" laughed Peabody
sarcastically. "I'm going to send for Jake Steinert," he added.
"Steinert?" Stevens ejaculated. "What--"
"Oh, that's all right. Maybe he can suggest something," said Peabody,
going to the telephone. "We've too much at stake to make a mistake,
and Jake may see a point that we've overlooked. Luckily I saw him
downstairs in the grill-room as we came through to the elevator."
"Steinert is all right himself," continued Stevens, "but his
methods--"
"Can't be too particular now about his methods--or ours, Stevens, when
a bull like Langdon breaks loose in the political china shop. Fortune
and reputation are both fragile."
A ring of a bell announced the arrival of Jake Steinert, whose
reputation as a lobbyist of advanced ability had spread wide in the
twenty years he had spent in Washington. Of medium height, sallow
complexion, dark hair and dark eyes, his broad shoulders filled the
doorway as he entered. An illy kept mustache almost hid a thin-lipped,
forceful mouth, almost as forceful as some of the language he used.
His eyes darted first to Peabody and then to Stevens, waiting for
either of them to open the conversation.
The highest class lobbyists, those who "swing" the "biggest deals,"
concern themselves only with men who can "handle" or who control
lawmakers. They get regular reports and outline the campaign. Like
crafty spiders they hide in the center of a great web, a web of
bribery, threat, cajolery and intrigue, intent on every victim that is
lured into the glistening meshes.
Only the small fry mingle freely with the legislators in the open, in
the hotels and cafés and in the Capitol corridors.
Jake Steinert did not belong in either of these classes; he ranked
somewhere between the biggest and the smallest. He coupled colossal
boldness with the most expert knowledge of all the intricate workings
of the congressional mechanism. Given money to spend among members to
secure the defeat of a bill, he would frequently put most of the money
in his own pocket and for a comparatively small sum defeat it by
influencing the employees through whose hands it must pass.
"Sit down, Jake. Something to drink?" asked Peabody, reaching for a
decanter.
"No," grunted the lobbyist; "don't drink durin' business hours; only
durin' the day."
"Well, Jake," said the Pennsylvanian, "you probably know something of
what's going on in the naval affairs committee."
"You mean the biggest job of the session?"
"Yes."
"Sure thing, Senator. It's the work of an artist."
"The boss of the Senate" smiled grimly.
"Now, suppose a committeeman named Langdon absolutely refused to be
taken care of, and insisted on handing in a minority report to-morrow,
with a speech that read like the Declaration of Independence?"
Steinert jerked his head forward quickly.
"You mean what would I do if I was--er--if I was runnin' the job?"
"Yes."
Steinert leaned toward Peabody.
"Where do I come in on this?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Come, come, man," was the irritable retort. "I never let a few
dollars stand between myself and my friends."
"All right, Senator."
The lobbyist thrust himself down in his chair, puffed slowly at a
cigar, and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"Few years ago," he began, after a minute or two, "there was a feller
who was goin' to squeal about a bond issue. He had his speech all
really to warn the country that he thought a crowd of the plutocracy
was goin' to get the bonds to resell to the public at advanced rates.
Well, sir, I arranged to have a carriage, a closed carriage, call that
night to take him to see the President, for he was told the President
sent the carriage for him. When he got out he was at the insane
asylum, an' I can tell you he was bundled into a padded cell in jig
time, where he stayed for three days. 'He thinks he's a member of
Congress,' I told the two huskies that handled him, an' gave 'em each
a twenty-case note. The doctor that signed the necessary papers got
considerable more."
Stevens' gasp of amazement caused the narrator genuine enjoyment.
"I know of a certain Senator who was drunk an' laid away in a Turkish
bath when the roll was called on a certain bill. He was a friend of
Peabody's," laughed the lobbyist to the Mississippian.
"But in this case," said Stevens, "we must be very careful. Possibly
some of your methods in handling the men you go after--"
"Say," interposed Steinert, "you know I don't do all pursuin', all the
goin' after, any more than others in my business. Why, Senator, some
of these Congressmen worry the life out of us folks that sprinkle
the sugar. They accuse us of not lettin' 'em in on things when
they haven't been fed in some time. They come down the trail like
greyhounds coursin' a coyote."
The speaker paused and glanced across at Peabody, who, however, was
too busily engaged in writing in a memorandum book to notice him.
"Why, Senator Stevens," went on the lobbyist, "only to-day a Down East
member held me up to tell me that he was strong for that proposition
to give the A.K. and L. railroad grants of government timber land in
Oregon. He says to me, he says: 'What'n h--l do my constituents in New
England care about things 'way out on the Pacific Coast? I'd give 'em
Yellowstone National Park for a freight sidin' if 'twas any use to
'em,' he says. So you see--"
"I must go," broke in Stevens, rising and glancing at his watch. "It
will soon be daylight."
"If you must have sleep, go; but you must be here at 9 o'clock sharp
in the morning," said Peabody. "Steinert will sleep here with me.
We'll all have breakfast together here in my rooms and a final
consultation."
"You won't plan anything really desperate, Peabody, will you? I think
I'd rather--"
"Nonsense, Stevens, of course not. Our game will be to try to weaken
Langdon, to prove to him in the morning that he alone will suffer,
because our names do not appear in the land deals. The options were
signed and the deeds signed by our agents. Don't you see? Whereas his
daughter and son and future son-in-law actually took land in their own
names."
"How clumsy!"
"Yes. Such amateurism lowers the dignity of the United States Senate,"
Peabody answered, dryly.
"But suppose Langdon does not weaken?" asked Stevens, anxiously, as he
picked up his hat and coat.
"Then we will go into action with our guns loaded," was the reply.