Year of the Rhinoceros

Chapter 23: Ashley Gets Even — They Won’t Survive Dr. X — Laney Goes Rhino

268 ~ Year of the Rhinoceros Chapter 23 Ashley Gets Even — They Won’t Survive Dr. X — Laney Goes Rhino DESPITE MANNY EDEN’S PLANS TO DISSOLVE Washington and create a new utopia of bureaucrat-slapping supergods, the business of OWC must be attended to, the cruelty of government career endured. Mortgage and landlords leave no other choice. Therefore, on the Monday following the two week suspension, Manny and Laney take the subway into D.C. and soon find themselves entering a cold lobby of glass and stone decorated with pots of paper tulips. The space itself, though claustrophobic, oozes a lesser twilight in comparison to the OWC Hitchcock floor above. Manny escorts his Vendetta over the iron-on tiles, his hand clasping her arm to steady her. He notices among the lingering bureaucrats, a large, dark-suited man standing directly in their path, solemn in pose before the elevator and looking like a morose General Patton. A few feet later, the general spots them. Immediately dismissing Manny, he excites himself just enough to glare at Laney, a grain of preeminence tainting his anger blue. How can Laney not notice? In response to this browbeating, she trembles ever so slightly, enough to alarm Manny. She flip-flops as if in last stage chrysalis, facing humiliation anew, and only seconds later, after a slight attitude adjustment, emerges and makes herself available. She wriggles free of Manny’s lifeless hand and proceeds to reveal her new self to all present. The charm grill of her teeth, white as noon frost, inflates and consumes her face. “Counsel Madison, hello,” she says, her tone disturbingly sexual. A group of OWC legal suits linger nearby. They watch in paralyzed silence, noting that the catalyst of Laney’s new self now wears M. B. Neff ~ 269 a barking face attached by a bridge of white collar to a torso the size of a warehouse. “What have you to gloat about?” he asks as she boldly invades his space without taking the hint. “Absolutely nothing. I have no reason to,” Laney says, happy as fresh mint. “Then why hover so close?” “Because a power sheathes you,” she states without a hint of flattery, “a defiance that makes others uneasy.” “Nonsense. I’m a diplomat.” “You’re a leader, Counsel Madison.” “Transparent flattery, Elaine . . . why are you laughing?” “I recall Senator Ormsby remarking on that same quality.” “What?” “Politics.” She winks at Ashley. He winces. “The Senator actually sympathized with your position here. He realized that no one in the Administration could credibly support a whistleblower without running the risk of career suicide . . . no one blames you.” The elevator door opens. Ashley shifts his bulk sideways to allow Laney to enter before him. She thanks him in coquettish fashion before sweeping grandly ahead on like Dolley Madison herself, opening the smile grill so wide it makes Manny quiver. Once they’re all inside the elevator, smudged in brass, stiff and dark, Ashley introduces a “gentleman gun” who up until that moment had been lurking at his rear. “Ms. Dracos, meet Jay Van Weberhoff,” he says, “an aide to Senator Monroe of Indiana.” Van Weberhoff, a Clark Kentish hireling of Yale-pale fur, shakes Laney’s hand overlong during the introduction, squeezing it in milking fashion just once before release. “Jay is down from Mars, I mean . . . the Capitol Dome, to inspect our operation here,” Ashley says, sounding convivial. “You see, Elaine, I’m a very popular fellow these days.” Van Weberhoff chuckles and nudges the glasses up on his nose, while Ashley orders his cinderblock head of General Patton to adjust itself until nose to nose with Laney’s face. And as their eyes lock, he asks her with a boyish voice: 270 ~ Year of the Rhinoceros “Now, uh, Mzzz Dracos, one more time, I want to get this straight. You mean to say that Senator Ormsby . . . admired me?” Laney smiles nervously and says, “Yes.” “You mean the Senator might even console me, if he got the chance?” “I’m not sure—” “You mean that ignorant, fossil cracker actually felt sorry for me?” Van Weberhoff spits air in lieu of guffaw. The Counsel coldly appraises Laney’s dumbfounded face and continues the interrogation. “You mean that anti-Christian, tree-hugging, union-loving, invalid liberal prick actually saw fit to forgive me?” “Well—” “Then his stroke was sent by God!” Ashley shouts. Van Weberhoff chortles out loud this...