“I’m just the escort,” Alvarez said. “I’m not even sure how any of this works.”
Ophelia, however, had no such reservations. On her laptop, she showed them how the fake pictures had come together, layer by layer, until pictures of Marc and Aimee emerged, fully dressed, not even in the same frame. More pictures of a naked couple in a passionate embrace, the same body types. All of it artfully blurred together produced the photographs that had been sent to Hilary at Kerry and Vivien’s house.
The police had found the courier, but the young man hadn’t been able to identify the person who had sent the photos.
Ophelia could. She had also found, via which avenues neither of them dared ask, that the originals had been copied and printed on a computer that belonged to Miller’s Chief of Staff.
“Wow. That’s impressive,” Hilary said. “Not that I like to look at this again, but this is what we always assumed. There is no way Miller didn’t know about it. We have to show this to the police.”
“There is one catch,” Ophelia said. “You cannot mention my name--or hers. We can’t be associated to it. You can keep all of these printouts, the phone records, but you must say it came to you anonymously.”
Hilary shared a long look with Marc. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with this solution.
“Are you planning on joining Exodus?” she asked.
“No,” Ophelia said in unison with Jessica Alvarez’s “Not yet”. Hilary wondered once again how the two women were related.
“Not that we don’t think it’s an amazing project,” Alvarez clarified. “There’s just a lot of work still to do in other parts of the country, and the world. Actually, I was wondering about the emergency clause, and that promise you made, about leaving no one behind.”
“Jess. I think our work is done here.”
“Asking these questions is part of why we came here. Mrs. Greene?”
“We follow the law. Our intention is to foster understanding through education, the more the better.”
“Are you having success educating Mrs. LeBlanc?”
“We leave no one behind.” Hilary hoped this line would never sound empty to her. “If we help women locally, we also help the economy, and the country. Things can go further from that, but as much as I wish we could just go and free women in danger everywhere, I don’t see that happening right now.”
“Why not?” Alvarez’s calculating gaze was revealing. She had given this a lot of thought.
“International law. Money and business connections give us some leeway, but we’re not above all rules.”
“I see,” Alvarez said, dropping the subject altogether. “Don’t worry. We do support what you’re doing. In order for us to keep supporting you, you can’t tell anyone where this came from. If you don’t want to go to the police, maybe you have someone with the press you can trust. Either way, your case for recall is going to look even better with this.”
“Thank you,” Hilary told her. “We appreciate your help.”
She had to remind herself that the project they were undertaking was already of giant dimensions, growing by the minutes. Could they really dare think to go even further?
* * * *
When Celeste woke, it was late afternoon, and for a moment, she panicked, thinking she had missed work. Then she remembered she had a couple of days off—and the short conversation she’d had with Jessica. The others had been there, Gladys, Leah, and Ophelia. To Celeste’s relief, they weren’t planning on going to California, but she had sensed the longing between the lines of Jessica’s words. They exchanged private messages all evening. Jessica had to leave to catch an early flight. Celeste had been too wired to sleep all night and morning. This was why she had crashed around noon—it often happened when she had no place to be, her sleep schedule got messed up even more than usual. At least, there had been no nightmares for which she was grateful. She wondered where Jessica was going, and if it was for a job.
It didn’t really matter for Celeste where any of those women were, but she liked a reliable order of things, relationships, and people in her life, because that was the only way she could go on day after day. That, and she admitted to herself she would like to meet Jessica one day. There was no guarantee they would get along in real life, but with her, Celeste felt safe. There was no underestimating feeling safe with another person.
Jessica had said she’d tell her more once she had all the information, but she probably wouldn’t be home before tomorrow night. Celeste sluggishly walked into the kitchen, thinking she should make some tea, and an early lunch maybe. Otherwise, she’d be in for another long night.
* * * **
Why not?
Alvarez’s words rang in Hilary’s mind long after the two women were gone. She’d always had big dreams, in college, dreams that Kerry had shared and that Exodus would only touch on the surface. True, Greene Industries invested in educating and protecting girls and women around the globe best they could, but they were one of a handful. All the charity work and money taken together might amount to enormous sums, but still women were murdered and raped, dismissed and cast aside often by their own family. Could they do more to help?
Why not?
Because, as she’d told Alvarez, they had to follow the law of the land, their own and others’—otherwise everything they had already gained with Exodus could be gone in a heartbeat.
We leave no one behind. The ideas of Exodus had no boundaries, but there were practical matters to consider. They campaigned on behalf of those with a lot less privileges than theirs, and sometimes, there had to be compromises. Money bought privilege. It had for Hilary in the most difficult time of her life, and it did for Annette LeBlanc who had left her office and was working with Katherine Rhayne. Of course, Katherine and her colleagues would take on other, less fluent clients, such was the deal. Getting sessions with a renowned, famous specialist would always be easier for some than for others. At least Annette had become a reluctant accomplice to the cause—which meant she wasn’t sabotaging it as long as it meant shelter and a place to heal.
Many of those who needed the help would never be able to see a therapist or even get a chance to look beyond a world where everyone blamed them—including themselves.
One time, Kerry and Hilary had talked about a women’s secret society that could reach further than spreading information could. It was a sort of wistful gallows humor, imagining a network of secret agents around the world, deconstructing patriarchy bit by bit. They had to concentrate on what they could do at this point. She was intrigued by their visitors though, especially the younger woman. Ophelia had to be some sort of code name, she thought. There was something interesting going on with those two.
Interesting, to say the least, too, was the emergence of Susan Wells who had refuted her claims, on the grounds of false promises made to her by an investigator…A man who had ties to Miller’s Chief of Staff. It wouldn’t be long before heads started rolling. Miller would have to distance himself from the tactics of his staff before they could taint him.
Hilary had no doubt that he was a hundred percent behind every single dirty hat trick, but revealing that wouldn’t go over well with some of the moderate voters who inexplicably had given him their vote.
Close to lunchtime, she left her office to see if she could tempt Marc into another coffee. Hilary smiled wryly to herself when she realized he was conferring over something with Aimee. That plan had backfired quite a bit for Miller’s office.
They had survived lies and innuendo, and even the most traumatic day in the history of Greene Industries. The count of signatures for Miller’s recall was rising steadily.
“Oh, hey,” Marc said when she entered the office. “Not only do they lie and cheat, but they try to steal some of our best ideas as well. We call it The First Wave. Theirs is The Surge, and they want to give us as much trouble as they possibly can, to show us how morally perfect they are.”
Hilary picked up the flyer that advertised descendin
g on FPCs, Greene headquarters, and basically the doorstep of everyone anyone knew to be part of Exodus, businesses or private persons, and “pray for them.”
“Well, are we ready?”
“We so are,” Aimee said. “I called everyone involved in ‘None of our business’—the number has almost doubled, by the way, as more bosses realized they were uncomfortable discussing their employee’s menstrual cycles. They have their lawyers lined up. If anyone crosses any boundary, damage to property or reputation, they could easily find themselves in court.”
“Sounds good. Do you think they can help themselves?” Hilary recalled the protest at the FPC getting out of control. Since that day, there had been regular reports about similar confrontations.
“That’s a rhetorical question, right? Why don’t I make us some coffee and we talk this over some more?” Marc suggested.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Being alone in the room with Aimee was a lot less awkward than it had been the last time.
“Look, Aimee,” Hilary started, prompting the other woman to give her a startled look. “I just wanted to say, thank you for sticking with us through all of this. You didn’t have to, and we appreciate it.”
Aimee shrugged. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? If we survive The Surge, I think we’re good to go.”
For a moment, Hilary was troubled by what her words implicated, even though she was sure it was just a figure of speech. There wouldn’t be a lot of praying, but without a doubt, lots of shouting of obscenities. No one would get shot.
Marc returned with the coffee and she managed to relax. There was still a lot of work to do.
* * * *
These days, Vivien found her feminist beliefs were tested, or maybe she had to reconsider some of them. At least with the impending move, her new working assignment would be only temporary. First, Annette LeBlanc. There was no denying she had spent too long of her life in an unacceptable situation. The fact that she had left was promising, but she still believed her judgment of other women’s choices was perfectly acceptable. You couldn’t change minds overnight, some, never. Vivien assumed all hope wasn’t lost with LeBlanc.
Someone else had reconsidered her options, and today, in order to do her job, Vivien had to be a better person. Susan Wells had not only confessed to her lies, she wanted to make it better—by volunteering at the center. Vivien had drawn the short straw. She found comfort in the fact that in a matter of weeks, she and Kerry would be heading for their beautiful new home by the sea and never look back—at least where exes and homophobic doctors were concerned. She’d keep in touch with Dana, and of course the site which was now headquarters of Greene Industries would continue to exist.
“I know you hate me,” Susan said while they were organizing files and media contacts.
Here we go. “I don’t hate you,” Vivien told her. “I don’t claim for a minute I understand why you did what you did, but hey, I don’t need to. We can use the help, you’re here, fine with me.”
“I’m not interested in Kerry anymore.”
That was…bold. “Good. She’s not interested either.” Personal matters got in the way of being the better person, wasn’t it always that way? All right, so she wasn’t a saint.
“You don’t know how it is. Those folks—they are scary. They take something with a grain of truth and turn it into something completely crazy, and they tell you over and over again until you believe it.”
“Is that so?”
“I was pissed at Kerry when that investigator first contacted me. When you have feelings for someone, and they indulge you for a bit and then tell you why it can’t work—”
Vivien took a deep breath. “Stop. You’re forgiven. I don’t want details.”
“I just want you to know why I came here to work with you. By the time I did the interview, I honestly believed I had the responsibility to tell the story the way they wanted me to tell it. What I mean to say is…what you’re doing is right, and more people will understand it with time. It’s like a cult over there, and the more people wake up, the better.”
“Thanks…I guess. We have to get going though. I don’t like the flyers I found on the doorstep this morning.”
“The Surge,” Susan prompted.
“Oh yes. A joyful celebration of traditional marriage and saving the unborn. I’m already scared.”
“Some of them mean well. They are just tricked into thinking the worst of women and gays.”
Did she think Vivien didn’t know that? She refrained from sighing. It was going to be a long day. She was simply going to motivate herself by thoughts of drinks—alcohol-free--and making love by the fireplace—and the numbers of signatures for Miller’s recall. Maybe they could convince some members of The Surge to join in.
She’d almost forgotten the pregnancy test she’d planned to do later tonight as well. The thought considerably softened her sentiment towards Susan, and after all, she had a point. They had a lot of deprogramming to do.
* * * *
Kerry’s job today had been to coordinate with former colleagues in the police department and security staff of several companies who did business with Greene industries. She selfishly wished the big day would happen after their move. Vivien, Dana, and the center would of course be present with an informational event. They wouldn’t call it counter protest thought that was effectively what it was.
Governor King was expected to speak.
The Surge was, of course, the idea of Miller’s people. He had scheduled an event with the organizers.
She felt uneasy about the upcoming protests. Morton Harris was already whipping himself and his followers into a frenzy, talking about Armageddon and a last chance for the righteous.
Clearly, Miller needed to rally his troops around him, with the recall and investigations surrounding his office. Hilary had told her about the surprise visit of the two women, Jessica and Ophelia. Melodie Timms had broken the story of the doctored photographs.
Kerry didn’t think she was obliged to share details with the police department. She wasn’t sure if there would come a time anytime soon when she’d miss being a cop. To her surprise, though, the transition was easier than she had feared. She had so many other issues to consider. The long held dream she’d shared with Hilary, Exodus, was coming true at last—and other dreams as well. Life was indeed too short not to follow them, whenever, and wherever possible.
She unlocked the door, remembering how excited they had been to move in here. Now, it was all packed boxes and most furniture gone. How quickly life could change in a heartbeat—sometimes even to the better.
To her surprise, Vivien was home, the table set for dinner. A folding chair and table actually, because they had given away the dining room set to a charity benefiting poor families. The glasses were filled, one with wine, one with water.
“You’re a detective. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Vivien said behind her. Kerry spun around, struggling to find the words to accompany what was going through her mind.
“Oh my God,” was what came out. Maybe not the most eloquent choice, but she was lucky Vivien could always read her between the lines.
“Him or her, and the wonders of science,” Vivien said, smiling brightly as she stepped into Kerry’s arms.
For a moment, the world stopped. Coming here, Kerry had meant to ask how the day with Susan went and discuss details of what to do about The Surge, but all of it was completely irrelevant this instant. The world belonged to them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Celeste was back at work, but she had a hard time concentrating. This wasn’t good. She needed the focus, the sole incentive to make the world more beautiful one flower arrangement at a time. Of course, she voted, had gone to protests, and given what little she could to causes, but it was never enough. It could never be enough.
Jessica and Ophelia had met with the Greenes.
Celeste told herself firmly she was not jealous. Ophelia wa
s much too young to be interested in Jessica or vice versa. She was secretive, a hacker type. Celeste was surprised she had gone on the trip at all.
However, when she read about how Governor Miller’s office was apparently involved in a smearing scandal regarding Marc Greene and one of his employees, Celeste could put two and two together. It took someone extremely skilled to put the pieces together. Okay, so Celeste was jealous, and who could blame her?
She wanted to meet Jessica—and Hilary Greene. For different reasons, of course.
Celeste paid for her absentmindedness by piercing her index finger with the thorn of a rose. If she slept for a hundred years, would she wake up to a fair and equal world, after Exodus?
She didn’t have time to ponder this any longer, as the bell above the door told her another customer had just come in.
“Hi,” the tall woman with the warm voice said. “I’m looking for Celeste.”
* * * *
It had been a while since they had used the early morning just to be together like this, work and plans always interfering. It was foolish to think there would always be another chance, Hilary thought. Life, the good and the bad, was happening regardless of your plans. They dealt with the bad. The good was right now.
Of course, their ambitious project was part of the good too.
“We have to get started before them,” Marc said. “Jerome and Sunny, Sonia and Taylor, everyone from the first screenings is ready. Let’s call everyone in and see where they are, book flights, have them gas up their cars.” Sonia and Taylor planned to take their vacation time together to do a road trip.
“Sounds like a plan,” Hilary agreed. “Keeps them on their toes.”
“Right, if the investigation isn’t enough. That certainly helps a lot. What’s your impression of those two ladies, Alvarez and Ophelia? It seems like they’re doing their own thing, but they still took a chance coming here—and they did all the investigating earlier.”
The Exodus Strategy Page 26