Free Drummer In the Dark by T. Davis Bunn

in the far corner, the ones watching us.”
    As far as Wynn could tell, every eye in the room stalked their progress. “Yes.”
    “British journalists. The two ladies represent the
Guardian
and the
Independent
respectively. The gentleman, however, represents the
Sunday World.”
    He caught the warning tone. “I should avoid him.”
    “We refer to such tabloids as the rags, Congressman. And with good reason.”
    She managed to insert herself into the group surrounding the ambassador, drawing Wynn along with her. “Excuse me, Lord Vinson, might I have the pleasure of introducing Congressman Wynn Bryant.”
    The gentleman was as polished as his aide, and as well briefed. “Of course, Congressman. What an honor to have this opportunity to add my own personal welcome. You are recently arrived to this fair city, I believe.”
    “Just yesterday.”
    “Then you are even more the newcomer than myself. Perhaps you have not had the pleasure of meeting our esteemed companions.” Lord Vinson made swift progress around the circle. Wynn shook a dozen hands, met as many measuring gazes, felt himself invariably coming up short.
    “I see you have not yet found yourself refreshment.” The ambassador steered him away from the others, a single step taking them beyond earshot. He signaled a passing waiter and said, “I have long been an admirer of your predecessor. Had the occasion to meet him, twice in fact, when Graham was over attending symposiums in the City.”
    Wynn accepted a glass, sipped at a liquid he did not taste, and guessed, “The Jubilee Amendment.”
    The ambassador’s eyes gleamed. “So nice to know you share our interest, Congressman. So very nice. Perhaps you would be so kind as to join us at the residence for dinner. I assure you, the chancellery is a far more pleasant environ than here. And more private.” A hint of a smile, a nod, and the man was lost in the swirling throng.
    Before the crowd could sweep Wynn up again, however, another man was standing in front of him. He appeared so smoothly he revealed a lifetime’s practice at slipping into tight spots. “Congressman Bryant, I am Father Libretto. We spoke this afternoon by phone. What a pleasure it is to meet you, sir. A pleasure indeed. Sybel speaks so fondly of you.”
    Though Wynn was surprised to face the slight man in the dark suit and Roman dog collar, this time he was also ready. “Before we get started on whatever you came to say, first tell me about the Jubilee Amendment.”
    Father Libretto smiled, revealing teeth as neat and compressed as the rest of him. “Sybel warned me not to make the world’s mistake of dismissing you as inconsequential. She said you had been a fighter all your life. Once you locked down on a goal, she told me, you were satisfied with nothing less than the ultimate prize.”
    “The Jubilee Amendment,” Wynn pressed.
    “Read your files, Congressman. They have far more information than what I can give you before someone else walks over and sweeps you away. Read the pages neatly typed by your staff. Resist the temptation to dismiss this as nothing more than the ramblings of a passionate and tragic brother in Christ.”
    “You mean Hutchings?”
    “I mean, Congressman, that this is more than a question you have presented here. This is a
choice.”
The priest noticed someone coming up to join them, and adroitly moved up alongside Wynn, turning them together so that the newcomer met a wall of two joined backs. “We are a group wanting to do more than just survive, Congressman. We are joined by the call of God. We seek to hear the voice of those who have been robbed of speech. We seek to give life to ourselves by giving hope to others.”
    “You’re not making any sense.”
    “Of course not. And so long as you continue to ask the wrong questions, Congressman, so long as you seek to remain safe and observe everything from the comfortable distance of power’s mountaintop, you will not understand anything. You have ears,