Free Bagmen (A Victor Carl Novel) by William Lashner

two more.
    “I’ve seen government regulations stifle innovation. I’ve seen government interference kill progress. And I’ve seen government-imposed taxes take the profit out of a small business and drive it into bankruptcy. We can outwork, outproduce, outcompete anyone in the world if can we just get the gorilla of the federal government off our backs. That was my purpose in running for Congress in the first place, that’s been my mission during my first three terms in the House, and that’s what I pledge to continue to fight for if the people of the Thirteenth Congressional District see fit to send me back to Washington for another round of battle.”
    When I returned from my fishing expedition, Melanie was with a tall, serious man in a dark suit, who stood beside her with his arms crossed, staring with a mournful intensity at the man on the platform waving his hands like a carnival barker.
    “Victor,” said Melanie, “I’d like you to meet Tom Mitchum, the Congressman’s chief of staff.”
    Without uncrossing his arms or turning his gaze from the Congressman, he said, “So you’re the one I’ve been hearing so much about. The Congressman asked me to thank you personally for your efforts. That’s why we invited you here today.”
    “She’s quite the package, that Duddleman.”
    Mitchum’s head snapped my way at the name. “We’re all grateful for your tact and discretion.”
    “Mostly my discretion, I assume.”
    “Be advised, Victor, that Congressman DeMathis intends to change this country.”
    “Imagine that,” I said. “I have enough trouble changing my sheets.”
    “It won’t be easy, and he can’t do it alone. We need team players, Victor. Are you a team player?”
    “There’s no I in team,” I said.
    Mitchum nodded in satisfaction. “Good,” he said before turning back to gaze at his boss.
    “Then again, there’s no I in oyster,” I said, “for whatever that’s worth.”
    “You can trust Victor, Tom,” said Melanie. “I’ve known him since law school. He’s smart and effective, and he can keep his mouth shut. He’ll be an asset.”
    “I hope so,” said Mitchum.
    “There’s no I in law school either,” I added, “which is peculiar, because I was there with Melanie.”
    Melanie elbowed me in the ribs, but Mitchum’s attention was already back on the stage. He nodded at the Congressman’s words as if listening to a favorite old pop song. I figured he had probably heard the speech enough times that he could recite it in the shower.
    “You know I’ve gone up against the tax-and-spenders,” said the Congressman, “the big regulators, the bureaucrats, and the entrenched interests that have tried to stifle our voices every step of the way. It’s been a hard road, but we’ve made progress. I’ve introduced scores of bills to knock down the size of the government octopus, and with every bill I get more of my colleague’s votes.”
    “Are they serving calamari?” I said, looking around, searching for a tray. “I have a sudden hankering for squid. Perhaps with a bright marinara?”
    “Don’t they feed you at work?” said Melanie.
    “Where some might see an example of grassroots politics at its most basic, I see dinner.”
    “We’re getting closer. Success is at hand. We can do this if we work together. We can make a difference, we will make a difference, and America will rise stronger, wealthier, more influential than ever before. We owe it to ourselves, to the world, and to our children. Thank you for your support, thank you for your vote, thank you for sharing my unabashed love for this country. Thank you, and God bless the United States of America.”
    As the crowd applauded and the Congressman stepped down from the stage to be dramatically engulfed by the people, at least the people willing to put up a quick five hundred smackers, Mitchum turned to us once again.
    “Why don’t you both come up to the suite after the event. Generally, we only invite our