Zero Game - Brad Meltzer [42]
“They asked for you personally,” Blutter added. “Something to do with your sponsor’s office.”
Viv nodded. The only way to get a job as a page was to be sponsored by a Senator, but as the only black page in the entire page program, she was well accustomed to the fact that there were other requirements of the job besides delivering packages. “Another photo op?” she asked.
“I’m guessing.” Blutter shrugged as Viv signed herself out on the locator sheet. “Though from the room number . . . maybe it’s just a reception.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Behind her, the door to the cloakroom opened, and the Senator from Illinois lumbered inside, heading straight for the old wooden phone booths that lined the narrow L-shaped room. As always, Senators were tucked into the booths, returning calls and gabbing away. The Senator stepped into the first booth on the right and slid the door shut.
“By the way, Viv,” Blutter added as his phone started to ring, “don’t let Senator Spooky creep you out. It’s not you—it’s him. Whenever he prepares for a Floor speech, he stares through everyone like they’re a ghost.”
“No, I know . . . I just—”
“It’s not you. It’s him,” Blutter reiterated. “You hear me? It’s him.”
Lifting her chin, Viv pushed her shoulders back and buttoned her blue suit jacket. Her ID dangled from around her neck. She headed for the door as quickly as she could. Blutter went back to the phones. There was no way she’d let him see the smile on her face.
S-414-B . . . S-414-C . . . S-414-D . . . Viv counted to herself as she followed the room numbers on the fourth floor of the Capitol. She hadn’t realized that Senator Kalo had offices up here, but that was typical Capitol—everyone scattered all over the place. Remembering the story about the female staffer giving new meaning to the term briefing the Senator, she stopped at the heavy oak door and gave it a sharp knock. Truth be told, she knew the story was bullshit—just something Blutter told them so they’d watch their manners. Indeed, a few staffers may’ve had some fun, but from the looks of the rest . . . the stiffness she saw in the halls . . . none of these people were having sex.
Waiting for a response, she was surprised not to find one.
She knocked again. Just to be safe.
Again, no answer.
With a twist, she opened the door a tiny crack. “Senate page,” she announced. “Anyone here . . . ?”
Still no response. Viv didn’t think twice. If a staffer was tracking down the Senator for a photo op, they’d want her just to take a seat by the desk. But as Viv entered the dark office, there wasn’t an open seat. In fact, there wasn’t even a desk. Instead, at the center of the room were two large mahogany tables, pushed together so they could hold the dozen or so outdated computer monitors piled on top. On her left, three red leather rolling chairs were stacked one on top of the other, while on her right, empty file cabinets, storage boxes, a few spare computer keyboards, and even an upside-down refrigerator were shoved together in a makeshift pile. The walls were bare. No pictures . . . no diplomas . . . nothing personal. This wasn’t an office. More like storage. From the layer of dust that covered the half-lowered blinds, the place was clearly deserted. In fact, the only evidence that anyone had even been in there was the handwritten note on the edge of the conference table:
Please pick up the phone
At the bottom of the note was an arrow pointing to the right, where a telephone sat atop one of the open file cabinets.
Confused, Viv raised an eyebrow, unsure why someone would—
The phone rang, and Viv jumped back, bumping into the closed door. She searched around the room. No one there. The phone rang again.
Viv reread the note and cautiously stepped forward. “H-Hello,” she answered, picking