Torpedos Loa

by Gary Beck

I left the meeting completely disgusted. The committee refused to reject the incumbent congressman, despite the many accusations of rape and sexual abuse of teenage boys. My reasonable request to wait until the claims were investigated was denied. I had made one last effort to change their minds:

”Some of us know how much money the congressman’s backers funnel to this committee. I haven’t brought it up because all politicians do it. This isn’t about money anymore. Six women have come forward, one of them 16 years old, with pathetic stories of rape and abuse.”

But they dismissed my concerns without allowing a discussion. I never think that I have seen it all, but this brazen bribery was totally unacceptable to me. I’ll send a letter of resignation in a day or two, but right now I wanted to brood about my frustration. I went out and stood on the sidewalk trying to decide where to go. Then Warren called to me:

“Just a minute, Glenn.”

I started to walk off, but decided I’d give him a minute, even though I knew what he’d say. Warren was an older political operative, a little couther than many of them. He liked to play mentor to young men, especially those who would advance, therefore giving him the satisfaction of building careers. He tried to mentor me, but just didn’t recognize I didn’t have the kind of ambitions he nurtured. I saw my country declining faster and faster which would harm most of the people, except the rich. I tried the political route in hope of making change, but got nowhere.

“What is it, Warren?” Then I noticed the woman with him.

She was one of the few at the meeting who spoke out against the congressman. She was tall, shapely, pretty and expensively dressed. I assumed she was another of Warren’s mentees.

“You are confronting the committee, rather than trying to persuade them. We don’t have another candidate who can win this election, so we’re going with him. Three months after the election he’ll resign for the good of the party and our governor will appoint a loyalist until the next election. Your passion is admirable. We need it to rejuvenate the party.”

“I appreciate your concern. I’ve reached my limit in this arena. Thanks for your efforts, but I’m through here.”

“Take a day or two to cool off, then talk to me,” and he went back inside.

The woman looked at me, but I didn’t speak and turned to go.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’m not going back.”

“I know that. I want to know what you’ll do next.”

I looked at her and she looked sincerely interested.

“Will you join me for coffee?”

She smiled and looked very winning. “I’d love to.”I located a nearby Starbucks on my Iphone and we didn’t talk as we walked there. She didn’t comment when I ordered tea, a nice change from the usual inane comments I got, as if it had any importance. I didn’t say anything and waited for her pitch that I assumed was prompted by Warren.

“I’m Wendie Blaine,” and I nodded. “I know your name,” and I nodded again and waited, but she didn’t seem to know how to continue.

I was getting over the anger that made me leave the committee and ideas were swirling through my mind of what I’d like to do. Some of them were getting silly and I shook off the urge to kidnap the committee, fly them to Antarctica and drop them on a glacier, which made me smile.

“What’s funny?” She asked.

“Unproductive thoughts.”

“What are you going to do?”

An idea was hovering near my consciousness, just out of reach. “Well I’ve been doing sane things for a while and accomplished nothing. It’s time for me to go crazy.”

She grinned. “Like a looney or brilliant?”

The idea formed. “I’m going to sink the mega yachts of the American mega rich.”

“Are you serious?”

“I think so. I haven’t had time to consider if it’s practical, nuts, or worth doing.”

“Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “I guess from struggling to make people understand that the big corporations and billionaires are strangling America. I will have to decide if it’s a meaningful demonstration or a futile gesture.”

“It is a crazy idea,” and she paused to see if I’d react. When I didn’t, “but it’s very exciting, targeting the most extravagant flaunting of wealth by those who have forgotten the people.”

I stared at her, surprised by the response. For a moment I wondered if she had an ulterior motive, but I tamped down my paranoia.

“Do continue.”

“I’ve been as frustrated as you with the economic manipulation of our system. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m ready to do something extreme if it will mean something.”

“At the moment this is only a wild idea. If I were to do it I could be killed, injured, arrested, imprisoned. It’s not like a social protest.”

Her eyes flashed, her cheeks flushed and she breathed harder. “If you decide to do it, I want in.”

“Are you sure you understand the consequences?”

“This is the first thing I wanted to do in years.”

This was a new one on me. A beautiful, slick woman who wanted to be a mad bomber. “I think we should get better acquainted to discover if we are right for each other.”

“May I take you to a nice restaurant for dinner?”

“That’s the second best invitation I’ve had in years.”

“What was the first?”

“An interesting woman wanted to go yachting with me,” and she laughed a delightful laugh.

“Let’s go. We can discuss boats over dessert.”