"As far as the rest of the committee goes, they'll be inclined to let Flores take the lead. Frank Morgan's a solid guy, he's a black caucus leader, but he's mainly interested in the MLK side. On your side, I'd have to say the main guy would be Hank Dobbs."

"Who is…?"

"Representative from the Second District in Connecticut. He's Richard Ewing Dobbs's kid, by the way." Karp gave him a blank look. Crane shook his head in amazement. "How soon they forget! Richard Ewing Dobbs? Doesn't ring a bell? How about Alger Hiss? Julius and Ethel Rosenberg?"

"Them I know. His father was a spy?"

"Accused spy. One of the great liberal cause celebres of the bad old fifties. We don't discuss it with Hank, incidentally. He's a little raw on the subject. Anyway, of the committee as a whole, he's probably the strongest supporter of the way we want to do things."

"A friend, in other words," Karp ventured.

Crane sniffed, "I wouldn't go quite that far. You know the saying-if you want a friend in Washington, buy a dog. But an ally, at least-and I think you and he will get along."

They reached the undistinguished sugar-white pile with the acromegalic statues flanking the entrance and went in. Walking down the broad corridors toward Flores's office, Karp was gratified to see actual lobbyists plying their trade, speaking in small confidential groups to one another or surrounding a striding representative in a slowly moving pack, like hyenas tugging at a dying wildebeest.

They arrived at the appointed hour and were told to wait in an anteroom. Karp looked around with interest. He had never been in a congressman's office before. On the walls, posters showed the Dallas skyline and a rodeo. There was a Lone Star flag on display and a Remington knockoff of a buckaroo on a side table, which also held a selection of magazines devoted to Texas, Dallas, government, and Mexican-Americans, several in Spanish. The walls of the waiting area were paneled in dark wood and there was a rug on the floor emblazoned with the congressional seal.