Summer Forsythe - her name was thanks to the beautiful July day on which she was born - had been a precocious child, good at everything she tried her hand at but easily bored by the effort. All the pliés, turnouts, and balletic steps of Mrs. Linder's dance class were a colossal waste of time, she thought, too young to articulate her growing feelings of special destiny and the frustration caused by nonsensical things put in her way.
She was good at math - surprising for a girl, her teacher Mr. Grady suggested to Mr. Steege, the Headmaster of Muirwood Country Day School who had some ideas of his own for the precocious little girl who sat in the front row of his history class.
'A nymphet', he mused, thinking of Nabokov's Lolita, a delicious young thing that Humbert Humbert pursued to the very end; but of course Steege, principal of a school for well-behaved and brought-up children of New Brighton's upper classes, couldn't allow himself such thoughts and quickly turned to Reconstruction and the harsh punishment the radical Republican Congress inflicted on the South.
Steege was a closet apologist for the Cavalier South, lover of antebellum mansions, hoop skirts, magnolia blossoms, and mint juleps. 'Now, those were the days', Steege was often heard saying about the glorious days of ladies and gentlemen, long allées of live oaks, grand lawns sweeping down towards the river, carriages, elegantly dressed men and women coming to dine. Yet these sentiments, he felt, were contrary to the censorious sentiments of the day, so he stuck to the facts and figures of slavery, servitude, and free labor.
In any case, and despite Steege's somewhat unconventional views, he was right about Summer. She was indeed a nymphet, a pre-pubescent girl with very post-pubescent desires, a dangerous girl, a girl to be reckoned with, a girl to be avoided at all costs.
She was dismissive of boys her age, too infantile to know any better, and was seen with the upper form soccer players, going off in their Jaguars and Mercedes to road houses and raves in Wethersfield without her parents' consent of course, but destiny being what it was, Mom and Dad were kindly but insignificant.
The exclusive New England school where she prepped for college wasn't quite sure what to do with this obviously brilliant but seductively devious girl. They prided themselves on diversity, but weren't prepared for the kind Summer represented - a willful, demanding, girl seemingly untethered from any moral principle; arrogant to the point of dismissal but headed for some kind of recognition, her teachers all agreed.
So, Harvard it was, la creme de la creme, only the best for her, and she whizzed through advanced calculus, number theory, and abstract mathematics so quickly that there was nothing for her in the undergraduate curriculum, so she took classes at MIT.
Far too 'geeky' a place for her, she returned to her Cambridge apartment in the evening, dressed for a night out, and headed to Boston - Charlestown to be exact, the neighborhood which has produced more bank robbers and thieves than any community of comparable size, a tough place with the kind of tough guys Summer wanted to try out. Her life would be filled with men like these, perhaps not so crude, but with the same violent misbehavior to which she was drawn.
She took up with Albert Flannagan, 'construction worker' hoodlum, known to the FBI but elusive enough to remain on the streets. She met him in a bar, and he, a sucker for beautiful blonde townies like her, made a move to which she responded quickly. They would teach each other things, special things.
Of course Charlestown and Flannagan were just whistle stops on her way ahead, so after a few years at MIT - the most promising PhD in theoretical mathematics the university had ever seen - she headed to Washington for a position with Defense Intelligence. Code breaking, the stock in trade of smart mathematicians since Alan Turing, was her assignment; but it wasn't long before that became a sidelight. She hadn't come to Washington to fiddle with numbers.
All well and good, except that the casual observer could not really believe that any woman could possibly have the combination of a precocious, demanding sexuality and intellectual brilliance. One or the other would be enough in anyone; but here was the exception to the rule. A woman of remarkable intelligence, irresistible allure, and Nietzschean will. God did not make many like her.
This, however, is exactly the kind of woman that Washington thrives on - an amoral, ambitious, highly intelligent and sexually savvy woman who will stop at nothing to get what she wants; a woman that Washington Type A men found irresistible. After all sexual challenge was no different than geopolitical conflict, both requiring degrees of insight, calculation, and intimidation.
Her job at the Defense Department was her entree to official Washington. Such a high-level appointment to a clandestine service was her key card. Enough said, doors opened; and so it was that Summer's real career began.
It began with a Western Congressman in whose district was vast wealth - millions of tons of the rare earth elements that are essential for all cell phones and computers. Although he was a rube, a simpleton who was elected thanks to his homespun offerings long before lanthanum was discovered in the ground, he was treated like royalty after its discovery. Any politician sitting on that treasure would be sought after, and because of his eager ingenuousness, he was an easy mark.
Summer wanted his attention, and because of her calling card bypassed the supplicants crowding into his antechamber and met the man in private. Intelligence and quickness of wit were not the issue with this clueless man but sexual interest was. Pulling out her divining rod, Summer knew after a few passes what his heart desired, and in a marvelously-woven fantasy of sexual innuendo and promise, she hooked him and reeled him in.
The affair was managed well and surprisingly for Washington was never suspected let alone found out; and before long she was privy to the most profitable arrangements the Congressman had with Zephyr Mining, Inc., the principal company selected to mine, process, and sell the increasingly valuable earth elements sitting under the Congressman's feet. Not only was she privy to them, she was invited to share the wealth.
Her code-breaking was excellent cover. If needs be, her moonlighting for Zephyr could easily be explained as a national security enterprise; but there was no need, and with the occasional sexual favors provided to the Congressman and the promise of many more to the CEO of Zephyr, the deal was as locked tight as could be.
Why is this story so troubling to many? Washington is known for its amoral venality, for its unabashed ambition, and its limitless hunger for power and money; so why the fuss about a young, attractive, brilliant woman who took advantage of all of it?
Feminists should be happy that such a woman existed - a woman of brilliance, independence, and will who used her feminine allure to good advantage over men. Men of power and ambition should be happy to cross swords with an equal, regardless of gender. All of Washington should be pleased to welcome one of their own.
Only the governed, the credulous Americans who vote in the likes of Congressman X and ignore the shenanigans in the Capitol and on K Street, would be unhappy to hear of Summer's cavorting. A nice girl like that, imagine.
Like most comers, she came, made her fortune, and left the bank. Her whereabouts are unknown although there have been alleged sightings in Coeur d'Alene, Biloxi, and Martha's Vineyard. The only unfortunate part of all this is that this marvelously American story will never be told. Few people will ever know of the genius of Summer Forsythe and how she took official Washington for a ride they will never forget.
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