No Way Out

by David Kessler

  So instead she took comfort in the bottle, and when that wasn’t enough she resorted to tranquilizers. The last time she had been on such a self-destructive spiral was after that time that she mentioned – all too briefly – in her parting words to Claymore: the time she had been raped.

  Then it was Gene who had got her through the crisis. But this time she couldn’t call on Gene for support. Gene was the crisis.

  Is it what Gene did to me or what I did to her?

  It was all too fuzzy and unclear. Gene hadn’t set out to do anything to her. Gene had merely set out for revenge against Claymore, having finally spotted the chance years later. But it was a reckless kind of revenge that hurt the innocent as well as the guilty. Bethel Newton was now robbed of her chance to see the real rapist brought to justice. Despite the mitochondrial DNA, they’d have a hell of a job proving Louis Manning guilty after Bethel had clearly identified Claymore in court. The DNA might prove sexual activity, but the defense could still attack Bethel personally, claiming that it was consensual and that she couldn’t tell fantasy from reality.`

  They might have done this even without Gene’s interference, citing the previous incident with Luke Orlando – as Andi herself had done, to her eternal shame. But the false accusations against Claymore and the ridiculous change in the rapist’s age from twenties to fifties and then back again, would undermine her case completely.

  But there was something even more troubling to Andi. She realized that even now she wasn’t thinking about Bethel or even Gene as much as herself. She had been with Gene for so many years and now the fortress that they had built together – them against the world – had been destroyed.

  But the hardest part to bear was that it was not Gene who had destroyed it. Gene could have had no way of knowing, when she embarked upon this crazy venture, that Andi would end up defending Claymore. That was why Gene had been so upset when Andi took on the case. Not because of what Claymore had done per se, but because it clashed with her plan for revenge. But by then it was too late to back out of it. By that stage there was no way she could stop it. She could hardly tell Bethel to withdraw the accusation against Claymore – not after she herself had urged Bethel to make that accusation in the first place.

  But Andi had taken a conscious decision to go after Gene and force her to confess in public to suborning a witness. Yes, everyone would tell her that she had done her duty, that she had been right to put her emotions aside and act in strict accordance with the law and professional ethics.

  Yet it feels so wrong!

  She had done the “right” thing and in the process destroyed the woman she loved and thus also destroyed her relationship with her lover.

  The phone rang. She couldn’t bear to communicate with a fellow human being, but instinctively she reached for the handset.

  “Yes.”

  “Andi… it’s Gene.”

  “What do you want?”

  Her voice was hardened by the edge of bitterness and guilt.

  “Are you… are you coming home.”

  Was it a cry for help or an offer of forgiveness?

  Andi wasn’t ready for either.

  “I don’t have a home,” she said, her eyes flooding with tears of regret, the moment the words were out of her mouth.

  “Andi... baby… don’t let Don’t let that bastard Claymore destroy everything we had.”

  “You don’t get it do you? The future belongs to the Claymore’s of this world. Everyone loves a repentant sinner. That’s why he lives in a beachfront property in Santa Barbara. That’s why he’s in a fancy suite in this hotel while I’m in a basic Business Plan.”

  For a second Andi almost mellowed. But then she realized that Gene had said “had” rather than “have”. They were too far gone for things to be as they were. Gene knew it too.

  You can’t bring a relationship back from the dead.

  Andi put the phone down and took another swig of the vodka… and popped another pill.

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 13:40

  “Hallo could I speak to Martine Yin please.”

  Louis Manning was in a payphone and he felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like the feeling of not being mobile. He had lost his car – or rather Claymore’s car – and he didn’t have as much money on him as he would have liked. There was a bit on money in the cop’s wallet, which he had augmented by a couple of quick muggings across town.

  But now he felt exposed. The cops would surely be looking for him and he had to lie low. He’d been living out of Claymore’s car when he first drove up to Oakland. But back in LA he had his own pad, albeit rented. His common sense told him that she should get on a bus and hightail it back to LA, where he could lie low for a while. But the BART station would be crawling with cops and they’d certainly be on the lookout for him. He had just about enough in his pocket for an old set of wheels and some gas. But like he had told the nurse, he had some unfinished business to attend to.

  “She’s not yet back in LA. As far as we know she’s still in Oakland. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “But I thought she stopped covering the Claymore case and was replaced by some one else? Besides, the Claymore case is over.”

  “Yes but she stayed on in Oakland. That’s all the information we have at the moment. Could you tell me what this is about? There may be some one else here who could help you.”

  “No I can’t do that. I only deal with Martine.”

  He put the phone down, confident that he had not set off any alarms. They would assume that he was one of her sources of information and that he didn’t trust anyone else. He wasn’t surprised by what they had told him. Martine Yin had a thing going with Alex Sedaka and so it made sense that she’d stick around.

  The question was, had she gone back to San Francisco with Sedaka or was she still in Oakland? On the phone they’d said the latter. But then again they probably didn’t know about Sedaka – or at least not the whole story. If she was staying with Sedaka, then she might be hard to get at. But he had try.

  The first stage was finding out for certain. That meant he had a few phone calls.

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 14:25

  “You want the light on Your Honor?”

  Justice Ellen Wagner had been sitting alone in the dark in her chambers when her clerk entered. It was light outside, but the judge had closed the curtains against the early afternoon sun to sit there quietly, contemplating in peace.

  “No that’s all right. I prefer the dark right now.”

  The clerk was a girl of 23, full of the enthusiasm of youth and the excitement that a young person feels at the beginning of an adventure. In this case, the adventure was the start of her career. Ellen Wagner saw so much of herself in this girl. That bright-eyed look of wonderment at all that was possible, with all the hope and dreams for the future spread out before her. And this girl would grow up in a world made all the better by what Ellen Wagner’s own generation had done – by the battles they had fought and won.

  But how much had they won? And how much had the world changed? Was it a case of plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose? Was it true that what goes around, comes around? Had they replaced one stereotype with another? Had they traded in rights for some with rights for others, yet still not achieved that elusive nirvana of rights for all?

  Claymore had walked out of court a free man, legally innocent. But one of his victims was now facing the prospect of many years imprisonment for obstructing justice. Was that right?

  Claymore might even be able to resume his life as a celebrity. It would be hard, but everyone loves a repentant sinner, especially in America. He had proved that before and he’d probably prove it again.

  “Do you want to talk?” asked the clerk.

  “No… no that’s all right. You can go home for the day.”

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 15:10

  Smoke hung in the air and the sound of gansta rap filled the room, punctuated occasionally by the staccato sound o
f the cue ball ricocheting off its target.

  Gene ignored the wolf-whistles and vulgar jibes as she stood a few feet into the bar looking around. It had taken her a few phone calls and a few face to face encounters in some seedy back alleys and side streets, but she knew how to talk “street” and it was only a matter of time before she finally found out where she needed to go. And here she was.

  She took a deep breath as she thought about what she was planning to do.

  Yes. It is right. It is fair… it is just.

  The only thing she couldn’t tell herself was that it would do any good in the broader scheme of things.

  Steeling herself to face up to it, and trying very hard to stay focused, she walked up to the barman. Before he could ask her what she wanted to drink, she whispered a few words into his ear and pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand.

  He whispered a word back in hers and nodded in the direction of a corner table. She turned casually and walked towards it. At the table, sat a solitary young man, smoking what may have been a joint and trying to look like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Are you Joe?”

  He looked up at her without smiling.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Jane.”

  “Cute name,” he said, this time giving in to the urge to smile, imperceptibly. “I know a lot of Janes. Most of ‘em work the streets.”

  “I don’t work the streets.”

  “No, I didn’t think so. Are you the Jane that’s looking to buy a piece?”

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 16:30

  “Hallo can I speak to Martine Yin please… I’m not sure what room she’s in.”

  At the other end of the phone, some one was looking up the name in a perfunctory fashion, with no recognition of the name.

  “What was that name again sir?”

  “Yin, Martine Yin.”

  “I’m afraid we have no guest of that name at the hotel sir.”

  “Oh sorry. I guess she must have checked out. Well thank you anyway.”

  “You’re welcome sir. Have a nice day.”

  He broke the connection and crossed yet another hotel name off his list.

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 16:55

  Elias Claymore was debating whether to call Alex again. He assumed that if Alex hadn’t called him then it meant he hadn’t been able to contact Andi. He had debated going to reception or the concierge and asking what room she was in. But they wouldn’t tell him – anymore than they would reveal which room he was in. The most they would do is let him call her on the courtesy phone.

  Actually that was all he needed. He would call using a one digit prefix and the room number. But what was the point? If she was in her room, then Alex would have been able to reach her. The fact that he couldn’t meant that she wasn’t in her room and her cell phone was switched off.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” he called out.

  “Maintenance,” said a female voice.

  This caught him by surprise. He associated maintenance with men. If it had been room service or the maid it would not have surprised him. But he hadn’t ordered room service and the main would normally come in the morning. He didn’t need anyone to turn down his bed.

  He opened the door to find himself confronted by Gene. This in itself would not have been frightening. But she was holding a pistol in her hand and it was aimed at his chest.

  As he backed into the room, she followed him, closing the door behind her.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “Justice has finally caught up with you.”

  He looked at her, with pity rather than fear or anger.

  “Justice… or revenge?”

  “Do you think you even have the right to ask that question?”

  “It seems like a long time to wait for revenge. You must have known who I was a long time ago. Why wait till now.”

  “Until recently I was on the other side of the country.”

  “That’s not the reason. Not if you were really determined.”

  “Apart from that, I never had the opportunity.”

  Claymore shook his head

  “Not to do it the way you did with that Bethel Newton girl, maybe. But to do what you’re doing now… you could have done that any time. Why now?”

  “You think I didn’t do it a hundred times in my mind?”

  “But you didn’t have the courage.”

  “I didn’t have the anger.”

  “It took what happened in court today...”

  He let it hang in the air.

  “What happened to me in court today is nothing. It’s what happened to Bethel Newton in court today that rekindled the anger.

  Claymore understood.

  “She reminds you of another young girl… and there was only a limited amount you could do for her too.”

  The implacable expression on Gene’s face didn’t change.

  “You know, pain is a funny thing,” said Gene. “Wounds heal. But scars never do – and every now and again they start to itch.”

  “And now your scars have started itching.”

  Again it was a statement, not a question.

  “Let’s talk about you Claymore. You say you’ve changed. That you could never hurt a woman like you did before. But do you know how much pain it caused Andi to defend you?”

  “I know… butshe didn’t say anything about–”

  “I know she didn’t say anything,” Gene interrupted angrily. “That’s Andi! She keeps things bottled up. But that isn’t really the point. There’s a limit to the amount of suffering anyone should have to bear.”

  “I tried to object to Andi taking second seat. But Alex insisted.”

  “Yes, Alex is a bastard figuratively speaking. He’s a bit of rapist himself. At least he knows how to use coercion of one kind or another to force other people who conform to his will… what?”

  She was looking at him bewildered. His thoughts had found means of expression on his face.

  “That’s what Andi said.”

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 17:20

  You may have thwarted my plan, but there is a price to be paid for doing so. I am now going to kill Andi. Her blood is on your hands.

  Lannosea.

  She had finished keying in the text message to her cell phone and was now keying in the number to the intended recipient. That recipient was Alex Sedaka. But then she had second thoughts. Why Alex? Was it really Alex that she wanted to hurt?

  Alex Sedaka was insignificant. He meant nothing to anyone. There was some one else who deserved to be hurt much more. And he had a weak spot: his conscience.

  She had read somewhere that it was wrong to punish a person using their own conscience as the means of punishment, because conscience was a virtue. To punish a person through his own conscience was to punish him for his virtues and not for his vices.

  And yet it made perfect sense. You punish a wrongdoer by attacking his weaknesses. If his weakness is his conscience, then so be it. If he has no conscience then maybe you have to use other means. But why use more force than necessary?

  And if Claymore did have a conscience, then how did it make him a better person if he protected that conscience through denial. That conscience was only worth something to his victims if it was pricked by self-awareness. Absent that awareness, his conscience was a disembodied attachment – a conscience without a consciousness.

  So she deleted Alex Sedaka’s cell phone number and replaced it with that of Elias Claymore.

  But as she was about to press SEND, she hesitated again.

  Wednesday, 2 September 2009 – 17:30

  “Do you know how painful it is to bottle it all up inside like that?” asked Gene, still holding the gun close to her side, aimed squarely at Claymore’s torso. She had ordered him to sit down on the couch, from which it would have been hard for him to take any hostile action. That meant that he was facing the TV on the wall, with his side to her, f
orcing him to turn his head to give her his full attention.

  “That’s what I don’t understand. Why didn’t the anger come out sooner? Why only now?”

  “I guess it’s because we have a duty to ourselves go on living. That’s how I got through the pregnancy.”

  He was confused again.

  “What pregnancy?”

  “You don’t know do you?” She looked at him for a few seconds, alternately angry and then contemptuous at the blank look on his face. “When you raped me you got me pregnant.”

  For a few seconds he was dumbstruck. But he had to know.

  “And did you...”

  “Have an abortion? I couldn’t”

  “Why not? It was after Roe versus Wade.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “No one could have blamed you.”

  “Not even born-again fundamentalists like you?”

  “The Bible says ‘judge not that ye shall not be judged’.” he said, lowering his eyes in shame. “And I’d be the last person to sit in judgment… Why didn’t you? Couldn’t you afford the costs?”

  “Oh I could afford it. There are always organizations ready to come forward and help in those circumstances. I could barely afford not to considering my lack of job skills at the time and the fact that I couldn’t provide for the baby. It’s just that I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  “Even though it was... mine?”

  “You mean even though it was the fruit of an act of violation?”

  “Yes,” he gulped, barely able to speak.

  “But don’t you see that didn’t matter. Because it was mine too. And when I felt it inside me I didn’t think of you. I saw it as...” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to kill it. It was life.. and if I was going to go on living, as I resolved to do, I guess I had to let the baby live too. I didn’t know how I’d feel when it was born, but I couldn’t destroy it when it was inside me. And when I held him my arms, he was so weak and vulnerable and I knew that I was there to protect him.”