Edge

simply perusing the general media. For a half hour I read through hundreds of pages of news stories and op ed pieces mostly. Finally I had a portrait of the object of my search.
    Senator Lionel Stevenson was a two-term senator, a Republican from Ohio. He’d been in Congress before that and a prosecutor in Cleveland before running for office. He was a moderate, and respected on both sides of the aisle, as well as in the White House. Judiciary Committee for four years, now Intelligence. He was the one who’d hammered together a coalition to get just enough votes in the Senate for the Supreme Court nominee. One politicianwas quoted as saying of Stevenson’s efforts, “That was tough work, building support—everybody seems to hate everybody else in Washington nowadays.”
    Too much screaming in Congress. Too much screaming everywhere. . . .
    He made visits to Veterans Administration hospitals and schools back in Ohio and in and around D.C. He was part of the Washington social scene and was seen in the company of younger women—though, unlike some of his colleagues, that was not a problem, since he was unmarried. He was supported by political action committees, lobbyists and campaign fund-raising organizations that had never run afoul of the law. He was considered one of the icons in what was being called the New Republican movement, which because of its moderate stance was converting Democrats and independents and looked likely to win solid majorities in upcoming state and federal elections.
    Maybe the most significant thing I found were his remarks delivered at a community college in Northern Virginia a few months ago. While in many ways a fervent law-and-order advocate, Stevenson nonetheless said, “Government is not above the law. It is not above the people. It is bound by the law and it serves the people. There are those in Washington—there are those in every state—who think that rules can be bent or broken in the name of security and attaining a greater good. But there is no greater good than the rule of law. And politicians, prosecutors and police who would turn a blind eye toward the will of our Founders are no better than common bank robbers or murderers.”
    The reporter stated that these remarks earned Stevenson a standing ovation from the hall full of future voters. Other articles observed that this philosophy had cost him votes at home from Republicans and occasional enmity from fellow GOPers in Congress. Which told me that his motive for the upcoming hearings on government surveillance was rooted in ideology, not winning votes.
    I continued to scroll through the voluminous material, jotting a note or two.
    I felt at sea doing this, and again I envied Claire duBois her research skills. This, however, was not an assignment I would give to her.
    I glanced up to see Joanne stepping into the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning against the jamb, her stern handsome face a bit less numb than before. I saved the pages in an encrypted file and typed a command to bring up the password-protected screensaver.
    I stared at the monitor for a moment, the images of chess pieces appearing and dissolving, as I reflected on what I’d just learned about Stevenson. Then I rose and walked to the doorway, nodding to Joanne.
    The inside of the safe house was surprisingly cozy. Many women principals fell in love with it. A few men too. When a lifter or hitter is after you, the nesting instinct swells fast, like a helium balloon at Hallmark. I’d even come downstairs once to find my principals had rearranged the furniture. Another time, to my horror, a couple had swapped the drapes between two rooms, presumably standing in full view of naked windows to do so.
    The comfort made this my favorite safe house—notfor my personal ease, but professional; my principals felt less agitated and that made my life easier.
    Joanne picked up the remote, asking me, “Okay?”
    “Sure.”
    She turned on the TV, perhaps to see if we’d made the news. We had, albeit anonymously. “Possibly gang related,” the announcer said, referring to the shootout at the Hillside Inn. Then the story was gone, replaced by snippets on the Orioles’ chance in the playoffs, a suicide bombing in Jerusalem, a statement by the Supreme Court nominee, urging that the demonstrations in front of the Capitol, both for and against him, remain peaceful; there’d been some incidents of spitting and hurling bottles. I gave him my silent