The Organization

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The Organization Page 8

by Lucy di Legge


  “Yes,” Charlotte answered. She wanted to be in control of this conversation but it seemed as though Joanna had anticipated it. “What do you know about Harriet?” she asked.

  “You’ll need to be more specific than that, Charlie,” Joanna replied. “She and I go a long ways back.”

  “She works for the EBC,” Charlotte said.

  Joanna’s inhalation of breath betrayed her surprise. After a moment, she said, “So she told you about that.”

  “Yes, and it doesn’t make any sense,” Charlotte said.

  “What doesn’t make sense?” Joanna asked.

  A man came around the corner toward them, and Charlotte waited until he was out of earshot before she said, “The things that she’s said – I mean she really does seem Euroskeptic sometimes.” She wanted to mention the American books as further evidence. Instead she said, “I want you to tell me what’s going on. I need to know.”

  “What do you think is going on, Charlie?”

  They had been approaching a bridge, and Joanna slowed to a stop in the middle of it. She leaned back against the railing and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Charlotte knew that her next words were risky. She looked at her – her friend, teammate, colleague – and for a moment considered not saying what she needed to say. “I think she’s involved in something, I don’t know, undercover. I think she’s an American sympathizer. And I think you and Geoff and Paul know that.”

  There was a glint in Joanna’s eyes as she replied, “I knew you were sharp.”

  Charlotte’s heart was pounding. “I’m right?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

  “Almost,” Joanna replied. She looked over at a handsome brownstone. “There on the corner, with the wrought iron railing, do you see it?”

  Charlotte turned and looked, confused. “Yes,” she said.

  “If you want to know what’s going on, come to a meeting. I’ll tell you when.”

  Charlotte was about to ask what kind of meeting, and what it had to do with Harriet, when a different question occurred to her. “What’s the address there?”

  “85 Westchester Place,” Joanna replied. The address clicked in her mind as she had heard it before. It was the address from the slip of paper she had seen months ago. Joanna added, “That’s all I can tell you, Charlie. I hope you’ll understand.”

  Charlotte’s mind raced as she carefully chose her response. “Of course,” she said.

  “Brilliant. Now we’d better head back to the lab. Would you like to share?” Joanna asked, twisting the lid off her soup thermos.

  A small part of Charlotte wondered if it was dangerous to decline, yet she simply shook her head no and said she wasn’t hungry.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Charlotte arrived back at her workstation, she saw that she had a diginote waiting for her. She figured that it was work-related but she hoped it was from Harriet. Instead, she found that it was a note from Erin. The note read, “Come to mine after work? I’ll cook.” Charlotte jotted off a quick response to confirm.

  She was grateful that it wasn’t a day that Joanna expected her to have tea with her and Paul as she had no idea what to say to either one of them. As soon as it was possible to get free after work, she rushed over to Erin’s, even splurging to take the Tube. When she arrived, the door to Erin’s apartment was slightly ajar, and she could hear her friend whistling a tune. She knocked lightly, pushing the door open and saying hello.

  “I’m in here, hon,” Erin called from the kitchen. Charlotte went in and found her at the stove, wearing a polka-dot sundress and an apron, with her hair held back by a bandana.

  “Why, aren’t you the picture of domesticity?” Charlotte asked, trying to make a joke, trying to pretend that everything was normal.

  Erin started to laugh but when she looked over, something in her expression changed. “What’s wrong?” Erin asked, beginning to appear alarmed.

  Charlotte shrugged and said, “It’s… well… don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” She averted her eyes.

  Erin put the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir something – it smelled like bean soup – back into the pot. She walked over and held Charlotte lightly by the shoulders. “Talk to me. I know when something is wrong.”

  Charlotte studied her face, conflicting thoughts battling each other in her mind. She knew she could trust Erin with anything, but did she want to let her into this secret? How could she not, though? “It’s my football team,” she said.

  “Oh,” Erin said, visibly relieved. She grinned and went back to her pot. “Well, why didn’t you just say that? So what’s the matter? Did the team lose a game or something?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Charlotte replied, watching her back.

  “All right. So what, then? Did you get kicked off? Have a row with that coach slash lover of yours? Harriet, wasn’t it?”

  “Erin,” Charlotte said, searching for the right words. “I think they’re American sympathizers.”

  “What?” Erin asked, incredulous, turning to look at her friend again. With knitted eyebrows, she looked as though she was trying to decide whether Charlotte was just kidding around. “You’re going to need to back up a minute, my dear, and tell me what you’re going on about.”

  For the next hour, Charlotte told her about what she had found out and what she suspected. Erin listened attentively, interrupting only to ask questions, mostly about how Charlotte felt. They sat on the couch discussing everything as the soup simmered and reduced on the stove. When she’d finished telling Erin everything, Erin covered her friend’s hand with her own. Charlotte knew that this was meant as a comforting gesture, but she thought she detected a slight shaking to her hand, a quiver in her lip as Erin said, “Don’t worry.”

  “Do you think I’m in over my head?” Charlotte asked her.

  “I think…” Erin started then trailed off before saying, “I don’t think it’s too late. I think you could still make a clean break.”

  “You mean, find a new place to work? Away from Joanna and Paul?”

  “My darling, I’m more worried about you and this Harriet. You can walk away from colleagues, friends, but can you walk away from someone you’re infatuated with?”

  “I don’t know if I’m... if I would put it quite like that. There’s so much I don’t know about her. And I’m not sure if I can even trust her. And, besides,” Charlotte said, feeling newly close to Erin after confiding so much in her this past hour, “I couldn’t walk away from a friend. I know I couldn’t just walk away from you.”

  “That’s sweet,” Erin said. Her eyes looked watery.

  “I’m not sure what to do, Erin,” Charlotte said.

  “I know you don’t, Charlie. But I think you need to be very, very careful. Do you hear me?”

  A tear had escaped and ran in a line down Erin’s cheek. Without thinking, Charlotte brushed her tear away with her thumb and cupped her cheek, leaning in and pressing her lips against hers.

  Erin kissed her back for only a moment before murmuring, “Not like this.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

  Erin took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” Even as she was saying it, they both knew that it was more of a hopeful thought than an assurance. After a moment, she stood abruptly and said the soup was ready.

  Chapter Twenty

  Charlotte arrived at 85 Westchester Place. She had felt an unfamiliar thrill when Joanna had told her the time of the next meeting – 19:30 hours. This was an hour and a half before her next shift, meaning she would need to wake early to make it there in time. She didn’t mind. In fact, she hardly even slept. She was awake when McGillicuddy announced it was time to get out of bed.

  Charlotte looked for Joanna, who had said she would be waiting outside. She was beginning to doubt that Joanna would show when she slipped out from the shadows and walked into the light of a street lamp.

  “I’m glad you came,” Joanna said. Apparently,
she had had her doubts about Charlotte as well. “Are you ready to go in?”

  “I’m ready,” Charlotte replied, although she wondered if she really was.

  Upon entering the brownstone, they were confronted by two tall, well-muscled men. The men nodded to Joanna in recognition, but didn’t move to let Charlotte pass. “Is she with you?” the one asked Joanna without taking his eyes off Charlotte.

  “Yes, this is Charlie,” she said by way of an introduction.

  Charlotte held out her hand to shake his, but he didn’t make a move. Still looking at Charlotte, he again spoke to Joanna. “Have you searched her yet?”

  “Searched me?” Charlotte asked, incredulous. She didn’t hear Joanna’s response but the other man began patting down her pockets. He pulled out her pocketknife and sunscreen, the latter of which he opened, sniffed, and then handed back to her.

  “You can get the knife back on your way out,” he said.

  “Great,” Charlotte replied dryly, slipping the sunscreen bottle back into her pocket.

  As they walked into the front room, she gave Joanna a questioning look.

  Joanna shrugged and said, “Security. Don’t let them bother you.”

  Charlotte turned to survey the room. People crowded the space, shoulder to shoulder, making it difficult to even make a guess at the number of attendees. They represented a broad spectrum of ages and were dressed in all manners, from gym clothes to business suits. They were a sea of strangers until Charlotte’s eyes settled on Geoff, who was working his way toward Joanna and her. She was relieved to see another familiar face.

  Once close enough, he grabbed Joanna by the elbow and asked tersely, “What’s she doing here?”

  “Relax,” Joanna said. “It’s fine.”

  “She’s not a member,” Geoff replied.

  “I’m vouching for her,” Joanna said.

  Geoff studied Charlotte for a long moment before saying, “All right. Sorry to be less than inviting, Charlie. I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “That’s okay, Geoff. I didn’t expect to see you here either,” Charlotte said.

  “What exactly did you expect?” Geoff asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Charlotte said. “I guess I was hoping for some clarity.”

  Geoff cracked a smile and replied, “Aren’t we all?”

  A hush fell over the crowd as heads turned toward the far end of the room. A man of African descent rose above the crowd. She gathered that he must have stepped up onto some kind of dais. He held his arms out in front of him broadly in a welcoming gesture. “Thank you all for coming tonight,” he said.

  A few cheers greeted him back before he continued. “We’ll begin with news. As most of you have probably heard, Brother Benjamin has been detained by the police. We have no reason to worry, naturally, but for now you should avoid transactions in St. James’s Park. Just to be safe.”

  The crowd murmured and several people looked upset.

  The speaker continued, “This leaves a gap, though, in our surveillance. We need someone in the northern Green Park area, night shift on Tuesdays and Fridays. Do we have any volunteers?”

  Several people enthusiastically motioned or voiced their willingness.

  The speaker looked pleased. He gestured toward an elderly woman. “Thank you, Betty. I’ll discuss the specifics with you personally.”

  “Glad to be of service,” the woman said.

  The speaker smiled and then said, “And now for a real treat. We have a special guest tonight, someone that few of you may recognize but all of you know.”

  There was movement in the crowd near the podium as someone else made their way toward the stage. That someone was dressed in a simple yet stunning black cocktail dress that accentuated all the right places. Harriet.

  “It is my most sincere pleasure to introduce our very own leader, who of course needs no introduction. Harriet, the crowd is yours.” The speaker kissed Harriet once on her cheek before relinquishing his position on the dais.

  The crowd teemed with excitement.

  Harriet looked confident. Her hair was slicked back away from her face as she looked over the room. “Thank you, Daniel. And thank you all for being here. As we all know, this is a crucial point in our movement’s trajectory. I have been listening to your concerns, and I want to assure you that I have reflected deeply on our proper course of action.”

  Crowd members nodded and murmured approval.

  Harriet said, “This is a time for strength, but not a time for a show of strength. Violence is not the answer. I know that some of you are pushing for more action, but I ask for your patience. Support for our cause is growing. To nurture this support, we must prove ourselves to be responsible allies. We must overcome the image of a militaristic rebellion.”

  Whatever Harriet had planned to say next was left unsaid. She stopped speaking for an extended moment as her eyes met Charlotte’s. Charlotte could plainly tell that Harriet didn’t know she would be in the room. Harriet regained her composure quickly, though, and once again addressed the crowd. “Please see Daniel for specific instructions. Thank you once again for your faithful service, everyone.”

  “Hear, hear!” the crowd cheered, as Harriet stepped away from the dais.

  The crowd was anxious to talk to her personally but it seemed she was being ushered to a back room. The volume of the room rose as people engaged in many simultaneous conversations.

  “I need to see her,” Charlotte said to Joanna.

  “This really isn’t the place, Charlie. She’s not just Harriet here,” Joanna said.

  “Do you think I don’t realize that now?” Charlotte retorted.

  Joanna held up her hands.

  Charlotte pushed her way to the other side of the room with Joanna and Geoff in tow. As they approached a small hallway, another pair of men, as equally well muscled as the two at the front door, blocked their path.

  “I need to talk with Harriet,” Charlotte told them.

  “And you are?” the one asked.

  “I’m Charlotte Parker,” Charlotte said.

  Joanna interrupted, “We don’t use surnames here, Charlie.”

  The guard said, “I wasn’t asking for your name. I’m asking who you think you are that you get to see Harriet.”

  Thomas appeared behind the guards. He spoke to one of them, saying, “It’s all right, Ethan. Let her through.” The guards complied.

  Geoff said, “Tell Harriet I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t know Charlie would be here.”

  “Come with me,” Thomas said to Charlotte. For a moment, she considered backing up and leaving the way she had come. She hadn’t seen Thomas much lately. She had been avoiding him since she began sleeping with his wife, and she was having a difficult time facing him now. Even though she didn’t know the man very well, her guilt was getting the better of her. But her need to see Harriet overwhelmed that guilt.

  Charlotte followed Thomas deeper into the building, around a corner and to a closed door. He knocked twice on the door and was answered with Harriet’s voice, crisply calling, “Yes?”

  “Wait here,” he ordered Charlotte before he entered. He reappeared a moment later, looking slightly flustered, and said, “She’ll see you.”

  Charlotte entered the room as Thomas pulled the door closed behind her, leaving her alone with Harriet. Harriet sat at a large mahogany desk that hadn’t been retrofitted for a holographic desk computer. She was studying what appeared to be a thin paper notebook, a stub of a pencil held like a cigarette between her fingers. A bottle of scotch was open on her desk – this time Charlotte knew better than to ask whether it was real alcohol – and an empty glass sat on her desk. The walls were covered with various maps, all of which were made of paper and some of which had ink and graphite scribbles on them. The thought registered in Charlotte’s mind of how expensive all the paper in this room must be, but that thought was fleeting. She could concentrate on nothing besides Harriet, this woman whom she had held naked i
n her arms but who now appeared as a stranger before her. A powerful stranger.

  Harriet looked up at her and said, “Joanna should have told me that she was bringing you.”

  In the privacy of the room, Harriet had dropped the confident and relaxed mask that she wore in front of the crowd. She was tense.

  Charlotte nodded and said, “I don’t know why she didn’t.”

  “I think she wanted to see how we would react,” she said.

  “We?” Charlotte asked.

  “You. Me. Not the members – they were oblivious, thankfully, in spite of my momentary lapse of concentration.” She looked away to carefully set the notebook and pencil on her desk then to pour more scotch into the glass. “Have a drink, Charlie. You look like you could use one.”

  Charlotte hesitated, wanting to approach her but fearful that she would seem different now close up. She walked the few paces to the side of Harriet’s desk and took the glass from her. Harriet’s fingers brushed Charlotte’s in a deliberate way.

  “Thomas is outside,” Charlotte blurted in disapproving surprise.

  “Thomas is my bodyguard,” Harriet replied.

  Charlotte didn’t know what to say so she took a long drink, breaking eye contact. Her nostrils immediately filled with a scent that was somehow both smoky and lemony at the same time, and her throat burned. She felt the heat in her chest.

  “First time drinking scotch, I take it,” Harriet said, her expression softening into a hint of a smile.

  “Yes,” Charlotte confirmed. “So Thomas isn’t your husband, then.”

  “No, he’s my husband. Technically. We needed the cover.”

  “But you don’t sleep with him,” Charlotte replied.

  Harriet looked away again for a moment. Charlotte was still standing near her, beginning to feel like maybe she was hovering. Even though Harriet was seated, and from Charlotte’s vantage she had a generous view of Harriet’s cleavage, her position of power wasn’t diminished.

 

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