“What is your price for these supplies?” Charlotte asked her.
The woman looked at Daniel then back to Charlotte. She hesitated then said, “It’s standard to – I mean, usually the one buying makes the offer.”
Charlotte didn’t want to scare her off and risk the deal going sour. She sucked in some air and double-checked her quick calculations. Finally, she said, “6,500 digicredits.”
The woman looked unhappy with the offer and replied, “Some of this – especially the medicine – it’s not easy to come by. I can’t take anything less than 9,000 credits.”
Charlotte looked again at the supplies laid out on the bed. She realized that she had no idea how much the black market inflated the value of items. “Okay,” she replied. She took out the digicard and held it out to the woman.
The woman’s face betrayed her surprise as she took the card and swiped it through a portable digital receiver. She held up the machine to show Charlotte that it read 9,000 digicredits, but where Charlotte would normally place her thumb on the screen to authorize the payment there was instead a red X. Charlotte realized she had reached up to place her thumb on the screen out of reflex. “Good,” Charlotte said to her.
The woman tapped a few buttons on the screen to complete the transfer of credits then handed Charlotte back the card. Daniel began repacking the duffel bag.
The woman leaned in and said quietly to Charlotte, “I would have taken 7,000.”
The tone of her voice and the softening look on her face made it impossible for Charlotte to be offended. Instead, Charlotte shrugged and replied, “I guess I’ll know better for next time.” She gave the woman a small smile.
The woman watched as they left, Daniel exiting the room first. “See you next time then,” she said as Charlotte slipped out the door.
When Charlotte got back to her apartment, she decided to do something she hadn’t done in a while. “McGillicuddy, turn on the EBC. Channel 1.”
A small metal globe on the end of a rod descended two or three inches from its recess in her ceiling, humming and buzzing before projecting a holographic image of a man sitting at a news desk. He seemed too perfectly groomed, his facial features exhibiting masculinity and authority. Charlotte sunk into one of her chairs, watching for any clue or hidden meaning in the news. Harriet had said there were messages for those who knew how to listen for them.
First came a report about which bridges were scheduled for repairs in the upcoming weeks, followed by a lengthy segment on proposed educational reforms for primary school, apparently advocating for longer school days. She sighed with disappointment when the weather forecast came next. As any layperson could predict, it would be hot with UV warnings in the orange with the possibility of a “red day” or two in the upcoming week.
Could “red day” be a code for something? No, they weren’t at war with Mother Russia. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. She stood and paced while still half-listening to the news. Should she be listening for place names, people names, or would it be something so subtle that there was no way to know? Could something as simple as mentioning the price of butter rising be a code for a specific action to take? She decided that it was futile to try to decrypt the news.
“McGillicuddy, turn it off.” The newscaster, mid-word, disappeared from her room, replaced by empty air and the grinding, mechanical sound of the globe retracting into the ceiling.
Chapter Thirty-One
Charlotte fell asleep in a chair while darning a pair of socks, and awoke some time later to a knock at the door. In the intervening time, McGillicuddy had automatically dimmed the room lights to twenty-five percent luminosity. Upon awakening to the knocking, Charlotte cursed under her breath. As she made her way to the door, she prayed it wasn’t Daniel coming back to retrieve her for another episode of emergency surgery.
She opened the door to find Erin on the other side, smiling.
“Hiya,” Erin said. “You weren’t asleep, were you? How old are you – eighty?” she asked, inviting herself in.
Charlotte closed the door behind her and said, “Actually, I was asleep. It’s been a long day. A long few weeks or maybe even months, to be honest.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it,” Erin said, plopping down in the chair Charlotte had been sitting in.
“What is?” Charlotte asked, sitting on her bed.
“Tell me ‘honestly’ then, Charlie, what have you been up to lately? This business with Harriet, and then going to the salons…” she said.
Charlotte winced at the mention of the salons.
Erin continued, “I can’t help but think you’re not telling me everything. And darling, I don’t think you have all that many people you can really talk to. So why not me?”
Erin looked so eager and confident, like she was on a mission to be helpful. Charlotte hesitated before saying, “Erin, I know your heart’s in the right place, but…”
Erin picked up a stray sock off her floor and, balling it up, threw it at Charlotte playfully. “Sod it. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
Charlotte didn’t look at her as she said, “The less you know, the better.”
“Seriously? That’s your response?” Erin asked, getting up and coming over to sit beside her friend on the bed. “I don’t accept that.”
“Erin…” Charlotte said, letting out a sigh. She started again, saying quietly, “Okay, fine. You know when I told you all those things about how I thought that some of the people on my team might be American sympathizers? How I told you about my suspicions?”
“Of course. That’s not the kind of thing that one tends to forget,” Erin replied, looking more serious now, perhaps even worried. “Don’t tell me you were actually right. Your teammates – they’re sympathizers? Harriet, too?”
Charlotte nodded. She felt conflicting loyalties, wanting to be completely honest with Erin yet needing to protect Harriet. She decided not to tell Erin about Harriet being the leader.
Erin was silent for a long moment, seeming to wrestle with her thoughts, before she replied, “Well, I guess it could be a good thing. You don’t have to worry about them finding out about your background. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.” Charlotte could tell by the way Erin said it that even she wasn’t convinced of her own words.
Charlotte shook her head. “It’s not just that. They’re not just… sympathizers.”
Erin reached over and took her hand, “Tell me.”
Charlotte bit her lip and looked at Erin, feeling emotion rise up in her chest. “They’re… uh…”
“They’re terrorists,” Erin said quietly, waiting for confirmation.
“Rebels, not terrorists,” Charlotte replied. “There’s a difference.”
Erin watched her and then asked, “Is the difference just in what you call them, or are they not part of the larger Euroskeptic group that’s been terrorizing – sorry, rebelling against – the government?”
Charlotte counted as she took one, two, three breaths in and out before she replied, “Actually, Harriet doesn’t even like the word rebel. They just… call it the organization. They’re just a group of people committed to a cause.”
Erin’s voice was still quiet but Charlotte could hear the tension and strain as she asked, “And this group of people – are there rewards for their capture? Have they committed crimes against the government? Might you be detained by the police if caught in their company?”
The guilt was evident on Charlotte’s face, but even still she replied, “You know that everything you said is true.”
Erin pulled her hand away to run her fingers back through her hair, a nervous habit. Lines shown on her forehead as she asked, “Are there rewards for your capture as well now?”
“No, no rewards for my capture.”
The lines disappeared from Erin’s face as she let out a relieved breath. “And you’ve committed no crimes against the government? No aiding and abetting public enemies?”
Charlo
tte broke eye contact. “I’m not sure how to answer you.”
“How deep are you, Charlie?” Erin asked. “Have you been working with them?” Her voice was almost imperceptible as she asked, “Are you a terrorist now too?”
“I’m not a terrorist, Erin. I’m not even a rebel. I just… I help, sometimes, when I can.”
“This is all because of Harriet, isn’t it?” she asked, her words coming out clipped and fast.
“Not all. You don’t know what they’re really like. All that nonsense we hear on the news is just propaganda,” Charlotte said, finding herself defending a cause that she didn’t even know if she herself believed in.
“So they’re not violent?” Erin asked, the skepticism heavy in her voice. “Charlie, I told you that you can talk to me, and you can….”
“So you’re not going to turn me in, then?” Charlotte asked.
“That’s not even funny,” Erin said. She sighed and took Charlotte’s hand in hers again, squeezing it. “But I told you before that you need to be careful, and I don’t know what to do but to ask you, please, for your sake, find a way out.”
“But Erin, I don’t want out,” Charlotte said.
“Of course you do,” she replied. She looked at Charlotte hard for a moment before saying, “You get how these things work, don’t you? They’re all the same. They take advantage of people like you.”
“Excuse me?” Charlotte blurted, leaning back in offense.
“No, Charlie, listen. You’re lovely and clever and I wasn’t trying to say otherwise. But they take advantage of newcomers who have something to prove. And you’re expendable. You don’t know the hierarchy of the organization – you probably only know one level above you. So without that kind of… sensitive information… without knowing the people at the top, they can ask you to help, as you put it, and it’s no skin off their teeth if you get caught.”
Charlotte wanted to laugh at the idea of being expendable because she supposedly didn’t know the people, or rather, the person, at the top. “You’re wrong, Erin.”
“Well, let’s just both hope so,” Erin replied. “Anyway, come here, you,” she added, pulling Charlotte into a hug. “Let’s just hope I’m wrong.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Another workweek passed while Charlotte was lost in distraction, thinking about things that she’d learned, thought, and done lately. Erin had a sound moral compass but she felt an unwaveringly strong pull toward the organization. Or perhaps she was mistaken and it was really just a pull toward Harriet.
Charlotte frowned as she dressed at her work locker one morning. Was Harriet not telling her the whole truth about her relationship with Thomas? And did she need to worry about what Joanna and Daniel had said about some people not believing that Harriet was committed to the organization?
Joanna came into the locker room and opened her locker, hanging up her lab coat. “All right, Charlie?”
“All right,” Charlotte replied and finished dressing, made sure the contents of her locker were neatly arranged, and closed her locker door.
“Hold up a minute,” Joanna said. Joanna’s eyes flitted to the two other people in the locker room. They chatted with each other, oblivious to how Joanna and Charlotte were waiting for them to leave, but finally ambled out the door. Joanna looked again at Charlotte and said, “There’s a meeting this morning. 0900 hours.”
“Oh,” Charlotte replied, waiting for more explanation and thinking about how 0900 hours was past her bedtime.
“I think you should attend.”
“Oh, well, sure. I can come,” Charlotte replied, getting butterflies at the idea of seeing Harriet again and hopefully getting the chance to ask her about recent events.
“Splendid,” Joanna replied with a smile. “Same place as last time. And this time leave your knife at home, eh?”
“Right,” Charlotte said, chagrinned.
***
Charlotte arrived just before the meeting was scheduled to start. She recognized one of the two guards, who again patted her down in the foyer, but didn’t require anyone to vouch for her this time. Must have a good memory, she thought. Or maybe someone – Joanna – had told the guards to expect her.
The meeting was less full this time. She was able to glance around and observe some of the people in attendance. As before, they spanned various spectrums of age, race, and clothing style, but there was a sense of camaraderie that she hadn’t noticed the first time.
She leaned against a back wall, not talking to anyone. She wanted to see Harriet, and she lasciviously hoped Harriet would be wearing that same black dress again.
A hush came over the crowd as Daniel approached the dais. “Welcome, brothers and sisters,” he said. Charlotte peered over the shoulder of someone in front of her to see that Joanna stood near Daniel at the base of the dais. She wished Joanna had come over to say hello before the meeting.
Daniel reviewed the latest hot spots to avoid and a list of recent arrests. Charlotte wondered when, or perhaps if, Harriet would make an appearance. She was only half listening to Daniel when she heard him mention Thomas and, she thought, her own name, and then people were clapping and looking at her. She stood up straighter, her cheeks flushing, and gave a nod. And then, it seemed, the meeting was over as people disbursed for coffee and chitchat. Several individuals came over to shake her hand or slap her on her arm with a remark of “Good on you,” “Well done,” and even one “Thank you.” After that, Charlotte was alone again. She sought out Joanna, who was talking with Daniel.
“Glad you came,” Joanna said. “It’s good to be recognized for your valuable work. Everyone here knows Thomas and is relieved that he’s recovering well, thanks to you.”
“Just doing my part,” Charlotte mumbled.
“That’s all that’s asked of any of us, really,” Daniel said.
“Hmm,” Charlotte replied noncommittally. “You know, I thought I’d see Harriet here tonight,” she said, trying to make her voice as light as possible.
“She doesn’t usually give speeches,” Daniel replied, looking apologetic. “That was a special case last time. It’s just too high profile, mate. Can’t risk her in front of a crowd for just any meeting.”
“But is she here? I mean, is she back in town?” Charlotte asked.
Daniel looked slightly confused, but Joanna simply smiled and interjected, “Why don’t you get to know some of the people here? I see a couple of people at the coffee table whom I think you’d really like.”
“So she’s not here?” Charlotte asked, undeterred.
Joanna put her arm around Charlotte and guided her as they walked away from Daniel. “It’s best not to ask those kinds of questions. Come, let me introduce you to some people.”
Charlotte realized that she wasn’t going to see Harriet, whether she was here or not. She replied, “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather go home and sleep.”
“Of course, that’s fine. Thanks again for coming, Charlie.”
Charlotte nodded and made her way for the door, disappointed. Once out on the street, she made it about a block before she heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Daniel approaching.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“You didn’t.”
“I wanted to tell you…” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable.
“Yes?” Charlotte asked.
“I saw Harriet earlier today,” Daniel said, his words rushing out. “At this hour, she’s probably at home.”
Charlotte wanted to thank him for the information but she found herself asking, “Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought you’d want to know,” Daniel said.
“Yes, but… that time, outside the Bird’s Nest, you implied that I’m a distraction to Harriet. So what’s changed?” she asked, not caring that her words and tone were confrontational.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Daniel said.
“That’s it?” she asked.
He shrugged and replied, “Listen, mate, I just thought you’d like to know that she’s home. What you do with that knowledge is up to you.”
Maybe Charlotte was too quick to assume Daniel had an ulterior motive. She thought again to thank him for telling her, but paused, caught up in another thought. She asked, “Why didn’t you say something inside?”
“In front of Joanna?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“There’s your answer,” he said. “Listen, I’ve got to get back, but I hope to see you again. Stay well.” He turned and left, his long legs making quick distance between them.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Charlotte didn’t go to see Harriet. She didn’t go that day or the next day. She admitted to herself that perhaps she was angry that Harriet had gone out of town without even mentioning it and then returned without seeing her. Maybe Joanna was right and this was goodbye, an indirect way of letting Charlotte know that they were just a fling.
As Charlotte headed into the final hour of the sixth of six scheduled workdays in a row, a diginote appeared before her at her desk. It was from Harriet, and it read, “Come to mine after work?”
Charlotte sighed gloomily, wondering if this was the start of Harriet breaking her heart. She didn’t send a reply.
She slipped out of the lab as soon as the signal sounded that her shift was over. She showered and returned to her locker, dressing quickly.
“There you are,” Joanna said. “Coming to tea?”
The Organization Page 13