Personal and Political
From the New York Times personals, May 21, 2001
E – I missed you at the restaurant, but I got home ok. Katrin.
Henry Guyrich was sipping a cosmopolitan in a trendy little bar just off Dupont Circle. The two men at the table with him were also wearing impeccable suits, though their ties were more conservative and their hair was shorter. They had always had a few questions about Henry Guyrich.
“I tell you,” Henry said. “He’s slipping. Yesterday he said to me that he wondered if God really wanted him to do this. He said he had been praying on the Mutant Registration Act, and that the Lord had planted seeds of doubt in his heart.”
One of the men sniffed, the tall one.
“Perhaps,” the other said, “he isn’t reading the Lord’s will correctly. Even the wisest may be led into error.”
The tall one sniffed again. “I’ve never thought that Robert Kelly was led by the Lord as much as he was by Gallup.”
“Our poll numbers are solid,” Henry Guyrich said.
The taller man leaned in over the table. “PEW is showing soft support for the Registration Act. And ABC has a majority believe that mutants should be covered by the Americans With Disabilities Act.”
The shorter man shook his head. “That ABC poll has flawed methodology. They always do.”
“Our numbers are solid,” Henry insisted. “It’s Kelly who’s soft.”
“Who’s getting to him?” the tall man asked. “Donors? Some of those football boosters of his?”
Henry Guyrich spread his hands. “I don’t know. Nobody in the office. The mail is running 50/50, like it has since January. Nobody he golfs with. Just the usual folks. Only big meeting this week was with the telecommunications lobby.”
“White House making him nervous?”
Guyrich shrugged. “Why? Kelly’s golden. The President isn’t going to address this one way or the other.”
The tall man sniffed again. “So he’s not discussing this with anybody but God?”
“Nobody else has an appointment.” Guyrich grinned as if it were funny. His companions didn’t look amused.
They left before Guyrich. He walked out very stiffly, as though an injury pained him. Perhaps there was a white bandage beneath is impeccable white shirt.
From the New York Times personals, May 27, 2001
E – I looked for your number but I couldn’t find it. I’ll be at work. Katrin.
Henry Guyrich stalked out of Senator Kelly’s office and all but slammed the door.
The Legislative Assistant and the Office Manager looked up in shock. Guyrich went in his office and started slamming things into a file box.
Mary Curtis, the Office Manager, looked in. “Henry?”
“Want these plants, Mary?” he asked, gesturing to a pair of peace lilies on the credenza.
“Sure,” she said. She watched in silence, the kind of shocked silence you have at car wrecks, as Henry swept the contents of his top drawer, every half-used roll of Rolaids, into the box.
Finally he looked up. “He fired me, Mary. Just like that. I’ve had it.”
“Well,” Mary said. What else can you say?
“I’m going to California. The party is finally getting some traction. There’s a good chance of a job.”
“Henry….”
Henry Guyrich grinned. “I know. That’s politics. At least I won’t have to put up with his pseudo-religious self-aggrandizing patter.”
Mary went back in the outer office. This was bad. This was very bad. Henry Guyrich was one of the best Legislative Directors she’d ever worked for. Kelly would regret it. Softly, she knocked on the Senator’s door.
There was no answer.
She knocked again. After a minute, she cracked the door and looked in. The Senator’s coffee mug was on the desk, but he wasn’t there. He hadn’t come past her in the outer office on his way out. She supposed he had gone out through the hall door, the one he never used. Yes, that made sense. To avoid seeing Henry. He would go out and walk around for a couple of hours until he was sure Henry was gone.
Mary was right. Exactly 20 minutes after Henry carried his boxes out, Senator Kelly breezed in through the main door. “Hello, Mary!” he called cheerfully.
From the New York Times personals, June 4, 2001
E – I haven’t found your number yet. But I will. Katrin
Hank McCoy thought that going by Senator Kelly’s office was always a waste of time.
But he drew a perverse pleasure in asking for the appointment anyway. Senator Robert Kelly was the original sponsor of the Mutant Registration Act, and about as likely to meet with Hank as he was to grow wings like Warren and fly, but it gave Hank a certain satisfaction to annoy his office staff by coming in pleasantly and asking for appointments. They had to, at least, be polite, even though he could see them shrinking away, as though they thought he was hiding poisonous fangs.
Hank strode into Kelly’s outer office, neat pinstripe suit and glasses, neat briefcase and tiepin with the untidy little logo of Mutant Rights=Equal Rights. (Which Scott, suddenly Mr. Grammar, had said was a double statement.)
“Good morning,” Hank said pleasantly to the middle-aged office manager. “I’m Dr. Hank McCoy of Mutant Rights=Equal Rights, and I wondered if I might speak with Senator Kelly.”
Mary opened her mouth for the usual demurral.
The door to the inner office popped open. Senator Kelly stuck his head out. “Hank McCoy? Good to see you.” He came out and offered his hand.
Hank shook it.
“The Senator is very busy,” Mary managed.
Senator Kelly kept shaking his hand. “I’ve been hoping you’d stop by. Come in, Hank. Want some coffee? It’s decaf.”
“Yes, thanks,” Hank said, following Kelly into the office, trying to ignore the speechless office manager behind him.
Instead of taking refuge behind his big desk, Kelly waved Hank to the gold brocade couch and two chairs at the end of the room. He sat down in one of the chairs. “I’m glad you stopped by. I’d like to get some talking points from you and discuss a press conference I’m planning.”
Hank opened and shut his mouth. He flipped open his briefcase. “Well,” he said.
He had a folder with talking points. Not that he had expected to use it for Kelly. A nice green folder with Mutant Rights=Equal Rights on the front, and tidy laser printed documents courtesy of Jean inside it.
Kelly glanced over the page. “Very good. Very persuasive. Dr. Grey I suppose?”
“Yes,” Hank said. “I believe you met her at the hearings last winter.”
Kelly nodded, his sharp blue eyes running over the page.
“May I ask why you’re interested?” Hank asked. “It seems….”
Kelly looked directly at Hank. “I’ve had a change of heart. Or rather, the Lord has changed my heart, and I’ve seen that I was in error. We are all His children.”
“Um,” said Hank. He was never any good with the religious argument anyway. He was from New York, and this Kansas-style rhetoric never made any sense to him when it was on the other side.
Kelly smiled. “The Lord has moved me,” he said. “Moved me to embrace my mutant brethren, to understand that I am given the grace and the unique opportunity to undo the wrongs I have done. I wish to publicly withdraw my support of the Mutant Registration Act and to do everything possible to foster complete understanding between us.”
“Ok,” said Hank.
An hour later, standing in the shade of the massive arches of Union Station, on the cell phone with Jean, it was all clear to Hank.
“Dead?” he said.
“That’s Mystique,” Jean said. “At least that‘s what the Professor thinks. That it’s somehow part of Magneto’s plan.”
“He thinks everything is Magneto’s plan,” Hank said.
“I know,” Jean said. “But I don’t see how it could be anyone but Mystique.”
Hank sighed. He wished Jean had called him and told him before. But he wasn’t one of the X-Men, wasn’t as close to his old high school friends has he had been. So now he was the one who didn’t know.
All around him people were rushing for trains, trying to get out of town on a beautiful Friday afternoon. “So what do I do? She’s going to do this press conference whether I get involved or not. I can’t hardly stand up and say, this isn’t the real Senator Kelly because the real one was murdered by mutants in my friends’ basement last April but they didn’t bother saying anything about it to the police?”
“I don’t see what you can do, Hank. Except applaud Senator Kelly’s change of heart. The only witness that Kelly’s dead is Ororo, and you’re right. What can she say now? What can she say that doesn’t make everything worse? I don’t know what kind of game Mystique is playing, but for now the only thing we can do is play along.”
“I’ll bet the Professor loves that,” Hank said.
“I’m sure he does. And it’s not something he’ll bring up on his next visit.”
“He’s visiting Magneto?” Hank cupped the phone. “Is he nuts?”
Jean sounded tired. “Try and stop him. Go on. I have.”
“He might as well just put his name down on a list of suspects,” Hank said.
“Not like your name isn’t,” Jean said. “Walking around with that silly logo on your tie.”
“You’ve got a problem with that, Hearing Girl? It’s not me up in front of the full committee.”
“That’s because you can’t talk and stand up at the same time, Beast,” Jean laughed.
“You are so immature,” Hank said.
Jean laughed again. “Because I’m eight months younger than you. And you never let me forget it.”
“It’s a whole grade in school,” Hank said. “I’m going to go get some lunch.”
“Be well,” Jean said.
“You too.” Hank slouched off toward the food court at Union Station. A real friend that lasts a lifetime is a wonderful thing.
From the New York Times personals, June 9, 2001
E – I’m working late this whole week. I know you can’t call. But I want you to know I’ll try to call you. Katrin.
Only one reporter asked about Henry Guyrich. His body had been found on the Appalachian Trail, apparently mauled by a bear.
“Henry Guyrich was a fine man, and it was a pleasure to work with him for five years,” Senator Kelly said. “We had our differences, but I believe our mutual respect for one another was greater than any disagreements about public policy we might have had.”
Senator Kelly wrote a very nice letter of condolence to Guyrich’s parents in Tennessee, praising their son’s industry and intelligence, with no mention of the differences that had cost Guyrich his job not too long before his death. Mary thought it was very appropriate, even if the Senator was in such a hurry that he typed it on his computer, then left it forgotten on the laser printer. “Mary,” he said when he called, “Can you just put my John Hancock on it and drop it in the mail? And send a nice spray for the memorial service, please.”
She did, of course.
And then the press conference eclipsed all. Allies were storming in and out of the office, constituents calling at all hours, unexpected mutants turning up everywhere to thank him for changing his mind. The top old evangelist in the US called practically from his deathbed. Jesse Jackson called. Ted Kennedy and Robert Kelly did lunch and talked about mutant rights.
After two weeks of being in the top of the news cycles, Mary thought Henry Guyrich had gotten off easily with being mauled by a bear.
Senator Kelly didn’t cave in. He was tireless – talking to the press, sharing his story over and over of how God had awakened his heart to the plight of mutants everywhere. He spoke with fervor and passion, with a command of the language and understanding of the issues involved in the Mutant Problem that suggested considerable study of the briefing papers provided by Hank McCoy. His easy command of opposition language was baffling to his former allies.
The day after a small private meeting with disappointed big donors, Kelly was on Crossfire. “You know,” he said, leaning back easily in his chair, “yesterday some friends came to see me, and they came close, very close to a violation of federal bribery laws. But I want you, and the American people, to know that this office is not for sale. I truly believe that the message of compassion and understanding that my heart has been opened to is right and true, and that we are marching in the footsteps of Dr. Martin Luther King and many other men and women of God who were inspired to reach out in brotherhood, rather than hatred. And to those supporters of mine, and the Mutant Registration Act, who are feeling upset with me right now, I just want to say, meditate on this. Read Dr. King’s work. Read the words of Christ, the Great Leveller. And ask yourself, ‘what would Jesus have you do?’”
Congress adjourned for the 4th of July holiday and the month of August -- to return to session after Labor Day – without a committee vote on the Mutant Registration Act. The week after they came back into session was September 11th. They had problems other than mutants on their mind by then.
From the New York Times personals, Sept. 17, 2001
E – I’m fine and I’m at home. I wasn’t anywhere dangerous. I know you’re worried. I miss you. Katrin.
Mary thought Senator Kelly was working too hard. Of course, September was a hard month for everyone, but the Senator seemed tired. He rarely went home before 9 pm, and he spent his days obsessing over national security reports. Once, he made one of the interns cry when she didn’t have the data sheets he expected ready for him.
She thought perhaps his wife suspected an affair, but Mary knew better. Senator Kelly was at his desk, alone, until late each night. He even stopped writing notes to donors, dictating them instead for an intern to transcribe and drop his electronic signature on.
Like many in these troubled weeks, he had a new and consuming interest in intelligence programs. Mary noted, however, that his interest had been prescient, beginning in the middle of the summer rather than in recent days.
Hank McCoy came by too often. He made her very uncomfortable. She wondered what secret devolution he was hiding.
Once, when he was leaving the Senator’s office, Mary heard Kelly call him back. “Hank,” he said, in a very different tone of voice. “I know that you know where.”
McCoy paused in the doorway. “I don’t. They haven’t told me anything.”
“You could find out.”
McCoy shook his head. He left. And he looked almost miserable.
Behind him, Senator Kelly’s face was stone.
Mary went to the door. “Is there anything I can get you, Senator?”
Kelly looked up. For a moment there was a flicker in his eyes, something unreadable, like a different soul looking out. “No, thanks.”
From the New York Times personals, Sept. 30, 2001
E – I don’t know how to find you. I promise I will keep looking. I won’t stop. Katrin.
On October 3, Mary had to fill in helping the Senator and his wife at a reception for various diplomats. Once again, she wished for Henry Guyrich. He had always handled these functions in the past. Instead, Mary looked wistfully at the beautiful buffet, painfully aware that she couldn’t go fill a plate because she had to be at the Senator’s elbow if he needed her.
Which was extremely dull. Her mind wandered while Kelly carried on a long conversation in German with the German ambassador. His aide was a dapper man about Mary’s age who tried to engage her in conversation on the side. Mary found herself relaxing a little. Of course she was divorced, and not looking, not by any means, but Herr Buchner was not bad looking at all and seemed to be doing his best to make himself agreeable.
“Your Senator Kelly is very charming,” he said.
“He’s a pleasure to work for,” Mary said warmly.
“He must have traveled in the East, I assume?” Herr Buchner asked. “Or perhaps once been stationed there with the State Department?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
He shrugged. “His accent. His German is excellent, and one does not notice it in English, of course, but in German it’s quite distinctive. As distinctive as your Texas accent, for example.”
“I don’t know,” Mary said. “I don’t think he was ever in Europe for any length of time. Perhaps he had a professor in college who was from that area.”
The things you learned, even after so many years.
Mutants tried to assassinate the President on October 13, two days after a tragic air accident in Brooklyn sent everyone into bomb shelters and basements all over the capital.
The next day Senator Kelly had a meeting at the White House.
He returned abstracted and did not eat lunch.
Instead, he asked to look at the stack of hate mail that Mary was carefully filing. He took the folder from her gently. “It’s all right,” he said quietly, “I know my views aren’t universally popular.”
“Some of them are vicious,” Mary said. It shocked her, the anger people brought to him. The threats.
The Senator looked up and smiled, a kind smile she would later remember. “It upsets you, doesn’t it?”
“You’re just following your conscience,” she said.
Kelly flipped the folder open. One writer was threatening to eviscerate him for allowing abominations of nature to live in their midst and prey on their children. “And what do you think, Mary?”
In seven years he had never asked her for an opinion before. She looked away.
“Mutants scare me,” she said. “But I do truly see what you mean by a godly solution to the mutant problem. It’s a test of faith, isn’t it, to live with people who are so different?”
“It is,” he said. “But how can we blame them for just wanting to survive? To have jobs and families and safe places to live?”
“Some of the children,” Mary said. “The ones Mr. McCoy brings in pictures of. They seem so alien. If it were my son….”
“If it were your son?” Senator Kelly asked. His face was so expressionless, Mary thought he looked suddenly like a carved saint.
“If it were my son…I couldn’t just turn my back,” Mary said.
Kelly shuffled his hate mail. He did not look at her. “And neither can I. Even if I died for it.”
“They’re just whackos,” Mary said. “People write their Member of Congress like that because they’re upset.”
“I know,” Kelly said. “I’m not afraid.” And Mary remembered that too, later.
He left early that night, at only 6, walking out to where his car was waiting for him. At 6:45 his driver came in to ask when he was coming – he’d asked for the car and not showed up – perhaps he had another meeting.
Mary was gone by then. The security guard said he had gone over to Longworth to talk with a Representative. It wasn’t until 10 the next morning, when the Senator missed his National Security briefing, that Mary knew something was wrong.
From the New York Times personals, October 16, 2001
E – Happy Birthday! Love, Katrin
From the New York Times, November 22, 2001
The investigation into the disappearance of Senator Robert Kelly (R-Kansas) seems to have reached an impasse, according to spokespersons for the FBI. Senator Kelly, missing since October 16, was embroiled in controversy over the Mutant Registration Act, and has been speculated to be the victim of anti-mutant violence.
“As of today, we have no indication that Senator Kelly was the victim of foul play,” said Gerald Davis of the FBI. “We are treating this as a missing persons case until such time as remains are found.”
Already this case is being compared with the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa, the former Teamster president who vanished in 1971….