Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance

by Roger Herst

  During the wee hours of the next morning, warming air replaced frigid northern air, melting much of the previous day's snow. Heavy rains pattering on the roof woke Gabby before dawn, promising to melt the snow before the commuter rush hour to town. Yet on National Public Radio the early morning forecast remained unfavorable. The Weather Service predicted that on the tail of the rain a second arctic cold front was sweeping south from Canada and would turn the newly melted snow into dangerous sheets of ice. Travel by midday was expected to be extremely treacherous.

  When Chuck Browner entered Gabby's office to receive his marching orders for the morning, he observed her weariness. Usually, she managed to sound cheerful and optimistic, but a faint gargle in her throat and eyes that failed to rise above her reading glasses revealed an inner exhaustion.

  "Know much about Politicstoday?" she asked as he stood in the doorway, watching her from afar.

  "Only what I read in the papers. Kye Naah attracts enemies like Charles Darwin in the southern Bible belt. Moi? I think he's on to something with his e-campaigning. This town needs some shaking up. We've become complacent about our government being the very best that money can buy. If Naah's technology can change things, he's got my support. Unfortunately, I read in the Post that his creditors are ganging up to topple him."

  She was startled that he knew so much, yet Chuck often surprised her. "He's invited me for lunch today in Prince George's County."

  "You're not going across the street until this ice melts," Chuck asserted his protection. "You're probably right, but let's see how things develop. Major roads will clear as soon as they lay down salt. Once I get on the Beltway, it's an easy shot to Lanham. Lot's of heavy trucks to clear the roads."

  A small smile parted his lips and his eyes began to dance. "Well, well, Rabbi Gabby. What are you up to these days?"

  On the spur of the moment she decided to drop a bombshell. "They want me to run for Congress in the Eighth District of Maryland. Should I?"

  He shot back without an instant's hesitation, "Only if you'll take me to Congress with you,"

  "Whoa, horsey. I'm only running not elected. But if a miracle occurs, I wouldn't want anybody else."

  "Okay, now stop toying with me. You're not really thinking of it, are you?"

  She studied her reddish knuckles before lifting her eyes to regard him. "I'm not sure. I'm intrigued and flattered. Don't bother trying to talk me out of it. I already know it's a dumb idea. Why give up a profession I love for one I would probably hate?"

  "Because you live dangerously," he said. "If this isn't an oxymoron, you're more comfortable in a discomfort zone than a comfort zone. But before you think of driving to Lanham in this weather, I recommend having lunch with me here where we can work out your mid-life crisis on a full stomach."

  "I need a favor, pal," she added.

  He eyed her skeptically. A request like that usually meant something outside his job description.

  "Sooner or later, the Fire Marshal's office will issue an official report of the Morgenstern accident. Most of what caused it is pretty clear. Still, I'd like you to call the Fire Department and request a copy of this report. If the Department won't cooperate, get in touch with Dominion Mutual Insurance. Harold Farb will give you the contact and phone number."

  "Playing detective… again?" He drew out the last word for dramatic emphasis.

  "No. I want to know what's in store for us. My hunch is that before we see any daylight on this issue, we're going to be in a long, dark tunnel for some time."

  A few minutes later, he called through the open door to her study. "I can't get Politicstoday on the phone to decline the lunch invitation. No answer. I just called the phone company. They said there's a power outage in Lanham – due to ice on the power lines. Phone lines are also down."

  "Please, keep trying. I don't think they'll expect me in this weather."

  Before leaving the office at the end of the day, Chuck leaned though the door to Gabby's study and shook his head negatively. "Sorry about not reaching Politicstoday. I just learned that power's been restored to the area; the phone company also admits to loss of service, but claims all phone lines have been restored. I still can't get through."

  "Thanks for trying," she said, then lowered her eyes to the desk. Queasiness stirred her stomach and telegraphed an intuition that this was more serious than it appeared. She didn't believe in extrasensory perceptions, yet could not ignore the strength of her intuition, however irrational. Something was wrong at Politicstoday and there was no way for her to know exactly what without driving to Lanham. Travel by car in the rush hour was likely to be hell. But that condition was likely to change in a few hours. She reckoned that since most employees at Politicstoday lived in an adjacent office building, finding Kye after hours shouldn't be difficult.

  In the interim, Asa Folkman weaved his way through Chuck's cluttered office and found Gabby's door open. She was at her desk with her rimless reading glasses perched above her forehead, nestled in wavy brunette hair that was normally allowed to float where it liked. In a rare moment of idleness, her eyes were gazing abstractly through the window and, until he stepped into the office, remained glued on some distant object. When she finally acknowledged his presence, her dimples rippled. She liked him to feel free about interrupting her.

  He froze behind one of the chairs facing her desk until she rose and marched around it to shake his hand. But that did not satisfy her and she planted a kiss upon his cheek. In order to maintain their professionalism she had previously restricted kissing him to Shabbos greetings. But given their troubles such professional distancing no longer seemed warranted.

  He hid his embarrassment by waving an envelope. "A messenger dropped off this summons. They're going to depose me. It's really going to happen now, Gabby."

  "Depositions aren't so bad. You're going to get a lot of coaching by a lawyer named Horace Corcoran, who represents the insurance company, and one or more of the Ohav Shalom lawyers. The main thing, Asa, is that you have truth on your side. You don't have to lie or fabricate anything that isn't exactly the way you remember it. The synagogue will be exonerated by facts, nothing less."

  He looked dubious. "Will you be there when they flay my carcass?"

  "If they'll let me. It won't be a picnic but it won't be that bad either. David Morgenstern's lawyer will get around to deposing me later so I'd better know exactly what you say. Shirley Delinsky will be there with you, but she said her role is limited by rules about depositions. But before answering, you can confer privately with Mr. Corcoran or whatever defense counsel he appoints."

  "Is it true that Marc Sutterfeld is a barracuda?"

  "That's his reputation yet I doubt he'll expose his fangs to a rabbi. Many people are scared of us or the power we're supposed to represent. Hopefully, he's one of them."

  ***

  Gabby arrived by car in the New Carrolton area near Politicstoday at a quarter past eight in the evening and immediately headed for the Metro East Business Campus. How different this cluster of office and low-rise buildings appeared after business hours when their deserted parking lots were blanketed with fresh snow. A heavy vehicle had left behind deep tracks in the ice for her to follow. Distant street lights silhouetted the headquarters of Politicstoday. No signs of life shown through its dark windows, though the adjacent building used by the staff as a dormitory was slightly less ghostlike. A faint light beyond the glass door suggested the presence of life inside.

  While tracking over slippery ice, she wondered why Politicstoday remained dark when neighboring buildings appeared to have recovered from the power outage. Her pulse increased as she passed through the front door into a vast lobby bathed by faint light from a hurricane lamp deposited on the receptionist's counter. Rock music permeated the surrealistic atmosphere. It took Gabby only a few moments to appreciate there was no heat.

  On the first floor in open space used for a canteen, she discovered a dozen young employees huddled around a kerosene space h
eater. Here music was louder and in order to be heard over it, voices were elevated. Bundled in winter jackets and wearing fleece mittens, no one seemed to notice her approach along the dark corridor.

  "I'm Gabrielle Lewyn," she introduced herself as she emerged from the shadow into light from two additional hurricane lamps. "I'm looking for Kye Naah. Any idea where I might find him?"

  A heavy-set girl with a ski cap restraining bushy hair erupting around her ears rocked onto her knees in the act of standing and eyed Gabby with dawning recognition. "Aren't you the woman going to challenge Toby Ryles for the Democrats?"

  To be recognized both flattered and alarmed Gabby. "Yes, in theory that's the program. Kye invited me to have lunch here, but the blizzard snarled everything. Are you planning to spend the night without heat?"

  A slim young man with an adolescent beard and wrapped in thick fleece followed the girl to his feet. "This is our home. Where else are we gonna go?"

  Gabby refrained from saying what first popped into her mind. "Any place warmer than this." Instead, she said, "I'd like to talk with Kye Naah."

  "He's across the way at South Pole salvaging our computers," the girl said. "You can go over, but you're going to need a flashlight. We need the hurricane lamps here."

  "What's to salvage? Won't everything just return when you get power back?" Others clustered around the space heater turned their attention to Gabby and immediately perceived that she didn't understand the situation. A thick necked, plump girl said, "The whole frigg'in shooting match. They got us good. Everything is fried."

  The remark puzzled Gabby but she didn't want to sound dumb and ask for clarification. "Can somebody lend me a flashlight for a few minutes. I'll bring it back on my way out."

  A rubber-handled flashlight made its way from the inner circle outward through several gloved hands toward Gabby. "Anybody interested in accompanying me?" she asked at the last second before turning to leave.

  A slender youth accepted her invitation; she couldn't tell if from a desire to be helpful or just out of boredom. "Journey to the bowels of Disasterville," he uttered to those remaining behind.

  Batteries powering the flashlight were weak. In the path of a dim beam that flickered on and off, Gabby barely recognized the thriving nerve center of Politicstoday she had visited on New Year's Day. Her guide apologized for malfunctioning elevators and led her into a stairwell descending to the South Pole, where artificially cooled air had once contrasted with warmer temperatures on the floors above. Now that differential was negligible. Cold air snaked through her lined fleece jacket and attacked exposed wrists. Once in the basement, the pair navigated wide corridors to the interlocking computer rooms housing Politicstoday's mainframe memory. The continuous growl of the air-circulating chillers was gone now, along with the humming of the computers. A gaggle of distant voices penetrated the purr of temporary generators.

  Ahead, four hurricane lanterns provided illumination for seven engineers working on a bank of servers. Beside them, two portable oil-burning generators pumped power into an improvised command post. The engineers' concentration precluded them from noticing Gabby's approach. Kye was huddled beside a monitor punching a keyboard with the aid of a headlight strapped to his forehead. A companion nearby was dictating numerical code from a rumpled spiral notebook.

  After a long moment, Gabby's guide addressed Kye, knowing that an interruption would not be appreciated. "The rabbi has come to see you."

  The light attached to Kye's forehead swung in her direction, but almost immediately returned to the keyboard. "Just a second, please," he called to her. "We're almost finished with this sequence…" His keystrokes increased in velocity. A spate of expletives issued from his partner's lips. Beside an adjacent monitor additional cursing erupted.

  It took twenty-five minutes before Kye was able shift his attention to Gabby, who shivered in the cold, thinking that nothing could be colder than a dark, unheated office building in the winter. She drew herself into the ring of light and offered a gloved hand. His well-shaven look she was accustomed to seeing had vanished. From behind sweat-coated glasses, his eyes were weary. When she tried to withdraw her hand, he held on, dragging her from the circle of his associates in shadows beyond the penumbra of hurricane lamps.

  She said, "I tried to answer your email about lunch, but couldn't raise your server. The phones were also dead. So I said to myself, the only way to find out what's going on is to drive over. Looks like I caught you at a bad time."

  His lips curled with irony and his eyes seemed to disappear entirely into the darkness surrounding them. "Thanks, Gabby. I appreciate your concern. We got hit real bad."

  "I thought high-tech companies like this had emergency generators."

  "We do. Three separate redundancies. But none work when sabotaged."

  The word sabotaged sent a secondary chill rippling through her already chilled body. "I don't understand. Is this more than a power outage?"

  "We've made a lot of enemies around this town. People who make their livings in Washington feel threatened by what we do. And for every politician there are a dozen associates whose livelihoods depend upon business-as-usual. And that's not to mention all the people we owe money. They'd be just as happy to lynch me from the White House portico. Whoever sabotaged us knew what he was doing. He waited for a blizzard like this and went after our jugular – all three emergency generators. They bled fuel from one. Then cut belts of another. Redirected the exhaust lines of a third. When PEPCO went down, my backup generators also failed. I figured on one or two failing, but not all three at the same time. If that was all we got, we might have been able to recover the bulk of our data. But they went way beyond that. Somehow they hooked into our input from PEPCO. When power returns, you're vulnerable to electrical surges. We have resistance protectors to guard against this. But whoever did this to us tapped into our main line and pumped six or seven times the juice expected from a normal surge. It fried our resistance coils to a crisp and traveled on to attack our memory banks. We're trying to assess the full damages now. Several servers are destroyed beyond repair; others crippled. We're employing some pretty heroic methods to salvage what's left."

  Both her hands felt for his in the darkness and failing that, gripped his upper arms. "I'm sorry, Kye. You must feel like you've been hit by a meteor."

  He sighed audibly, breathing heavily. "It isn't me, Gabby. Somehow, I'll survive. I always do. But I've got people here who have worked their asses off for this organization. They've sweated and sacrificed so we could build a company that does more than just make money. They've deferred their compensation. Eaten beans. Foregone marriages and children. They've lived like penniless hermits in a dormitory that wouldn't pass muster in the Congo. All because they believed in what we're doing. I promised to repay my creditors and I will, even if some of them are behind this shit. That's a solemn promise. They have my word and I've never, never gone back on it. All I ever needed was time to prove what we could do. Now that's doubtful."

  She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his torso, embracing him. In the darkness, her lips press against his neck. His arms completed the circle coupling behind her back. When she lifted her chin, moisture from his skin transferred to her cheek. Was this sweat or tears, she asked herself? Perhaps a combination of both.

  "I haven't figured out yet what to do with your campaign," he said. "I'll get some part of this operation moving again, but it's too early to know exactly what."

  "Don't worry about that, Kye. In the big picture that isn't important."

  "PEPCO turned on our power just long enough to fry our hardware, but then turned it back off until I cough up cash for my overdue bills. One or two days in the cold and I'm going to have to release my associates. As long as I ask them, they'll stay behind and endure anything. These aren't ordinary people, you must understand. They're the very best in the industry. But I can't imperil their futures. Once gone, they'll scatter over the country. I fear Politicstoday will be nothing mor
e than a bad memory."

  "I've got access to wealthy entrepreneurs in the Jewish community. Can I introduce you?" Her lips caressed his neck again. It was damp and coated with a granular residue, but she didn't care.

  "Thanks, but I can't. To maintain the value of the stock warrants, I promised not to dilute the company's ownership. Nobody's going to lend me money flat out without wanting a part of the equity. We've been backloading our financial success knowing that the more we show our product the more customers will buy it. I just didn't see this one coming." His hands rose to touch her hair, then fall over her cheeks and the indentations of her dimples, now flat for lack of a smile. "Sorry, Gabby. I've got to get back to work. It's going to be a long night. And when the sun rises in the morning, it will still be bloody cold."

  "Go, Kye. You know my phone and email address. Thanks for taking time to fill me in. I'll wait until I hear from you. And I'll recite a prayer, too. It probably won't do much good, but it will make me feel as though I'm helping. And by the way – how many people are in the dorm right now?"

  "About seventy, plus or minus five."

  "Do they eat pizza?"

  "What techy doesn't?"

  "Good, because I know a great place that delivers – even on cold nights like this."

  "That's not necessary, but I can't say it wouldn't be appreciated." He seized her hand and led her back in the direction of the lanterns. Gabby's guide remained with the engineers, waiting to usher her out. "Please take Rabbi Lewyn to her car, Carl. Be careful on the ice. We've already had one injury," Kye said to him. And to her, he said, "Thanks for coming. You made this shit a little easier to accept. I'm really glad you came. I'll be in touch. Promise."

  She replied, "Whatever I can do for you, Kye. And I'm serious about the offer to make contact with rich investors."