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his head as he remembered back to the travesties that had occurred in the Super Dome following the storm.  Rape, violent assault, crack-cocaine and drug dealing not to mention suicide and disregard for the weak and elderly were all reported.  What a hell hole the Super Dome was. Crime was out of control in America, and Adam Patrick Lee, before he went to his grave, was determined to do something about it, or at least make his mark in history trying to fix it.
     
    His mind continued to wander and he reviewed the events of the day and his many visits to the Crescent City.  Things had gone pretty well in most of his meetings, but something wasn't quite right in the Governor's office.  Several of the Governor's aides had been short, practically rude, to him.  Well... maybe not rude, maybe more embarrassed and uninformed.  Didn't know a damn thing about how Governor Raccine was planning to use his influence with the Southern Governors to win the crime vote.  Raccine had to have a plan.  The Southern Governors were meeting next week.
    What was up with Governor Raccine himself?  Why was he unavailable for the Congressman?  For God’s sake, Adam Lee was one of the highest ranking Congressmen in DC. For years Raccine had been a wily, savvy politician, always in control of his issues and platforms. When Adam had finally met with him , Raccine seemed unsure of himself, sort of floundering all around the issues.  Not even four bourbons had calmed him down, although his speech was a little slurred when he left.  The governor had kept looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to be there.  Of course, his wife was sick with terminal cancer.  But Adam thought it was more than that.  Something was wrong.  He could smell it. Fucking, dirty, nasty city.
    Congressman Lee suspected that if Kathryn were that ill, he'd be screwed up too.  He smiled to himself when he thought of his wife back in Virginia.  He missed her.  He'd never tell her, of course.  But he knew she knew.  He'd been a lucky man to find such a fine woman to stand by him.  She was the best political wife a man could have, and she put up with his tangents, moods, idiosyncrasies, bouts of drinking and depression.  He'd never make it without her.  She was and had been his rudder in stormy seas for over 40 years.  He knew that and suspected she did too.
    He continued to muse about George Raccine.  He'd known him for years.  George was a real political machine.  He'd b r ought respect and dignity to a state long famous for corrupt politics.  Raccine ha d done a superb job working with Senator Bonnet and, for the first time in years, the economy of the state was growing.
    Adam felt his impatience increasing and he dialed Alex's number for the umpteenth time.  She answered in a sleepy voice on the second ring.
    "Where the hell have you been, young lady?  It's after midnight," he said, his voice gruff, but in a teasing tone.
     
    Alex laughed at his tone.  "Adam, need I remind you that I'm over thirty years old, educated, employed, and living on my own?  I have no keeper?"
    "Need I remind you that anytime I'm anywhere close you have a keeper?  Where've you been?"
    "Boy, you’re bossy.  For your information, I had a date with a most attractive man."
    "Humph, who is he and what does he do.  I'll check him out."
    "That's precisely why I'm not telling.  When and if it becomes important, you'll know."  Alex detected the playfulness her grandfather's voice.  She continued,
    "Okay, Granddad .  What's up?   You didn't call to keep tabs on me."
    "Hell I didn't.  What's the story on Grace Raccine?  She doing badly?"
    Alex tried to remember if she'd heard anything recently about the first lady.  "Not that I know of.  She's still at CCMC, getting chemo, but is doing all right. Robert did her surgery a few months ago.  Why?"
    Adam hesitated.  "Don't know.  Nothing really.  George seemed distracted.  Not on the ball or something.  He seems