I took a deep breath. This was it. I caught Sam’s eye, and he gave me a slight, encouraging nod. So I began, and I said the first thing that came to my mind: “My name is Anabel Martin, and it is a confirmed fact that I am a b—.”
“Anabel!” gasped my brother. But the spattering of laughter around the hearing room gave me the courage to go on, and even Ms. Fischer looked amused. I slipped back into my former life, and thought about who I was back in April. I became that Anabel and was glad I could poke fun at myself now. I couldn’t then, you see. I used to take myself way too seriously. I closed my eyes as I spoke, and was home, back on the island.
So here I am, living with my father, who—nine months prior—fired my nanny. She wasn’t really my nanny anymore and rather had become a mother to me. I loved her, and my father took her away—and I hated him for it. Without Marilyn’s influence, I have become cold. Heartless. I am alone and carry around a quiet anger that burns steadily and refuses to subside.
Don’t get me wrong. Here, I have my uses. After all, I am the only female to traipse around Caereon Storage Facility, aside from Ida, who weighs 250 pounds, and Evelyn, who is old enough to be my grandmother, so I provide excellent eye candy to the hundred or so males who work here. Even though I consider the lower half of my body entirely too fleshy, and my bosom not ample enough, and I downright hate my hair, all of this was lost on the lonely men who probably while their nights away jacking off to pornographic magazines, or—and I shudder at this thought—images of me. It might seem that I’d be in a precarious situation here, knowing that the quantities of women are rather scarce, but all of them know better. You see, my father, Jonathan Martin, basically owns their souls during their stays on Caereon. One false move and they answer to my dad—which makes me wonder what he’s doing to Kevin Miller right now.
Kevin had the misfortune of actually talking to me. For the record, I warned him it wasn’t a good idea, so I take no responsibility for it. But—to my surprise—we became friends. Earlier this evening my father found the two of us curled up on a couch. Again, I refuse to accept any fault for this; rather, I blame it on my father, as I wouldn’t be hanging out with Kevin if my father hadn’t allowed him free time on the grounds for good behavior. But I digress. The point is that Jonathan was not happy about this at all. In between many vulgarities and columns of spit (my father has a lisp and stutters when he screams), he informed Kevin that he would in no way, shape, or form support his daughter’s fornication with a convicted felon, and despite my many protestations of innocence, my father grabbed Kevin by the ear and hauled him into his office. They’ve been in there ever since. I’ve been waiting anxiously on a bench outside the rather massive (and, unfortunately, soundproof) heavy oak door, straining my ears, but I hear nothing. These circumstances are unfortunate, because as I sit here, I’m starting to realize that I was growing very fond of Kevin. He was the only companion I had who was near my age, was literate, and didn’t stare at my chest all the time. I sat up straight. I had been deluding myself with Kevin’s friendship for a while, but the problem lay much deeper. The fact was, I was sick of being here, and I needed out.
I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain what Caereon is and why I detest it so much.
You won’t find Caereon on a map, but you wouldn’t want to visit anyway. It’s a tiny little island in the South Pacific that is often overlooked by any seamen who happen to pass by. From all appearances, it looks like a deserted island, overgrown by trees, brambles, and marsh.
But those of us who live here know better. The deserted island facade is the perfect hiding place for an extremely technologically-advanced socie—
No. Definitely NOT a society.
Caereon is a vault. We protect the most important assets that belong to the United States. On this small little island there is an enormous vault that is more highly protected than the Pentagon, the White House, or Fort Knox.
I made a sardonic smile at that. Much more so than Fort Knox.
Without Caereon, the United States as you know it would cease to exist. Your money would be valueless. You would be in debt with no shot at ever getting out. Consumerism and capitalism as they now are would be obliterated. I just think it’s funny that a place so integral, so key to the very existence of that nation houses roughly 100 convicts, a situation that arose after the closing of several prisons. Before, we were just a vault; now, we’re a vault and jail. Don’t worry, the irony of the situation does not escape me.
I will give the cons credit, however. Many of them are quite brilliant. You see, when you commit a crime, there are three options. They can release you, they can kill you, or, if you’re of the particularly twisted-yet-brilliant criminal variety, they ship you here.
Come to think of it, I’m really not sure why they sent Kevin here. He’s smart, but not stellar. He’s got a wry sense of humor but he lacks a certain quickness and clarity that marks the other fallen members of society who live here. Moreover, he’s a decent person, and his crime was neither murderous nor cunning. He’s just a doctor who euthanized a celebrity out of pity for her intense suffering. She was dying of a plethora of diseases and had begged him not to prolong her pain. He wasn’t even her doctor; he was a gynecologist who struck up a friendship with the poor woman. Despite what I thought about assisted suicide, I couldn’t help admiring Kevin. He put everything on the line—his job, his freedom, his life—for this woman.
Truth be told, Kevin’s probably the best person I know.
The door to my father’s office swung open and Kevin stepped out, his face ashen. He closed the door, shaking his head. His eyes fell on me. Neither of us spoke for a minute.
“I’ve gotten you in trouble, haven’t I?”
He came and sat beside me. “That’s not it at all.”
“It is,” Ialleged. “My father cannot stand the idea of me actually enjoying myself.”
“Stop it, Anabel. Besides, you knew that this would probably happen anyway. I shouldn‘t be here.”
I looked at him, horrified. “They’re not kicking you out!”
His face was grim. “Jonathan is recommending that I be placed into a secure facility.”
“Kevin, no,” I protested. “They can’t. They wouldn’t—”
“They can and they will,” he said. His hand reached up and brushed a tear away from my eye. I hadn’t realized it had fallen.
“I’ll get you out,” I vowed. “I’ll get you to stay here. I’ll arrange it—”
“There’s no way Jonathan would go for that, first off. Secondly, how would you do it?”
“I have connections,” I pointed out. I then looked at him, anxious. “You do want to stay with me, don’t you?”
He grinned. “Of course I do, silly. Among other things, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” He kissed my forehead.
The moment was broken by someone clearing her throat. I looked up and saw Evelyn, the vile woman who ran our household affairs, glaring at me. “Yer father is wantin’ to speak with you, Miss Anabel.”
Kevin stood up. “I should be heading back to my bunk anyway. I’ll see you later, Anabel. Goodnight, Mrs. Evelyn.” He turned and slowly walked down the hallway, a defeated man.
I glared right back at Evelyn, the old bat. She turned away from me and bustled down the hallway, muttering in Polish. I slid off of the bench, squared my shoulders, and prepared for confrontation. My steps were bold, and I pushed past the door and marched over to my father’s desk.
My father’s office, like my father, was large, imposing, and just a tinge menacing. Gigantic bookcases lined the walls, filled with long-forgotten literature and lore. A picture window at the far end of the room provided light, and in front of that sat my father’s desk. I stared at the back of a leather chair, which was turned to face the window.
“Hello, Daddy,” I murmured.
The chair slowly swung around, an act that I somehow always felt was rehearsed, and I came face-to-face with Jonathan Martin. His hai
r had turned a deep silver, and his dark brown eyes peered at me over horn-rimmed spectacles. “Anabel.” He gestured with his arm. “Have a seat.”
I sat down and stared him in the eye. “What you’re doing to Kevin is ridiculous, cold-hearted, and just plain mean.”
He sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Understand what? Kevin and I are just friends, Daddy. There was no ‘fornication,’ as you called it.” I glared at him.
“Precisely my point. My daughter, friends with a convicted felon?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Kevin is a doctor. He did what all doctors do, he helped a patient.” I crossed my arms. “Besides, who else is there on this blasted island to be friends with besides convicts? You took Miss Marilyn away from me, isn’t that enough?”
“You were too old for a governess. There was no sense in keeping her.” He waved an impatient hand. “We’re straying from the subject here.”
I jumped up. “No, I think we’re precisely on subject. Any time there is someone I can actually tolerate, you get rid of them!”
“Your social needs are adequately met,” Jonathan intoned.
I scoffed. “By whom? I only see you when you’re angry. Evelyn only speaks to me to scold or chastise, Ida disgusts me, and you barely let me see Charlie anymore. The men who work at the control tower are a nuisance, and you won’t let me talk to the soldiers or the other workers.” I flipped my hair in disdain. “So who is it that I socialize with? This I really must hear.”
Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door and in stepped another man. While he was close to my father’s age, the difference in the two men was striking. Unlike my father, this man was none too tall, and his face was not purple with rage. “Good evening, Jonathan,” he stated, his voice calm. He then sent a smile my way. “Hi Annie.”
I dashed to his side. “Charlie! Oh, Charlie, you’ve got to do something, my father has gone off the deep end once again—”
“Anabel,” Charlie cut in, “will you let me have a few words with your father? Step out into the hall, I have something I wish to say to you afterward.”
Only for Charlie would I comply. I bid my father a cool goodnight and then slid out of the room, leaving the door open a tiny crack so I could attempt to hear what was going on.
I made out a few mumbled formalities, and then Charlie began, “You can imagine why I came, Jonathan.”
“Yes, my old friend,” my father sneered, “I know you’ve come to criticize me, so I eagerly await it.”
“Kevin Miller did nothing that deserves you throwing him off this island. He will waste away in a regular prison, you know that.” Charlie’s voice was sharp. “You’re the one who insisted on bringing him here in the first place. You gave him a false sense of security, when the fact of the matter is you wanted him here for some pretty twisted reasons of your own.”
He had brought Kevin here? That was interesting. I strained my ears to hear more.
“And what if Anabel had realized who she was dealing with? What then?” hissed my father.
“Anabel supports what Kevin did,” Charlie remarked.
“Oh, does she now? You know, it’s a good thing I got rid of Marilyn, before she instilled any more faulty morals in that girl!” he roared.
“That’s not why you kicked Marilyn out, and you know it. Besides, Anabel’s not exactly a girl anymore,” retorted Charlie.
Oh good. Someone had finally noticed that, as I approached twenty years of age, I wasn’t interested in dolls anymore.
A short pause ensued after Charlie’s statement, and then I heard my father say in a voice that encouraged caution, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Charlie sighed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, but that really doesn’t matter now. The point is, something’s got to be done in regards to your daughter, or you can be certain that Sam will get involved. Kevin was a distraction for her. What’s going to occupy her mind now?”
“Forget Kevin. What does S-Sam have to do with anything?” he spat, losing his cool.
“He and Anabel are close, despite your wishes, and you know he will pull her out of here if he sees fit. She’d go, too.” There was a pause, and then: “I don’t have to remind you that his authority supersedes your own,” finished Charlie.
“What exactly have I done that’s so wrong? She is my daughter—I’ve taken care of her.”
“All the same, news travels fast. When Sam found out about Kevin arriving here in the first place he mentioned to me that he had decided to send out Jared Sorensen, to evaluate the situation on the island. If you’re kicking him off, I can only imagine the visit will be moved up. I don’t even know if Sorensen knows he’s going yet.”
“S-Sorensen is a filthy, s-slimy—”
“Nonetheless, he is Sam’s choice, and Sorensen will report back, and—”
“I see.” Jonathan was curt. “I expect you to work on damage control. I will see you in the morning.”
There was a shuffle of papers, and then Charlie walked out of my father’s office. I caught his arm. “Charlie! What on earth—”
“Annie, I’m sorry,” he apologized, sounding weary, “but there’s a lot going on that you don’t understand.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“But what did you want to say to me?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“What on—”
He stopped me. “I can’t help you, love.” After staring at me long and hard, he moved briskly down the hall.
Then I made up my mind. I didn’t care if I would be waking him up at an ungodly hour. He loved me. I needed some answers.
So, I called my brother.
Chapter 2—Jared
“Jared, I have something I need you to do for me,” Sam announced over the telephone.
“I gathered that,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “It’s 4 a.m., Sam. Somebody better be dead.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been up for over an hour,” he said with aplomb. “I need you to come down here, now.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. Last Night’s Girl stirred in bed next to me. I guessed she was not going to be happy when I told her she had to leave. “Will you at least tell me what this is about?”
“My sister,” he said. Then he hung up.
“You don’t have a sister,” I said to the dial tone. Then I slammed the phone down. “Great,” I moaned.
The blonde next to me stirred. “Is everything okay, baby?” she simpered.
“No. You have to go. I’ll call you a taxi.”
She sat up. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I have to go to work,” I got out of bed. “Now, I can call you a taxi or you can leave on your own. I don’t care which one, but either way, I want you gone by the time I get out of the shower.”
She stared at me, and then started getting dressed. I watched her, somewhat concerned she might do something violent, but she picked up her heels and then slammed the door so loudly that it shook in its hinges.
Somehow I didn’t think we would be getting together again. I couldn’t even remember her name. Cathy? Caroline? Something with a C. I locked the door behind her and jumped into the shower, trying to shake the fog I was in. It was all a blur as I showered, dressed, went downstairs, and hopped in the car.
“Morning, Jared,” called Daniel, the driver, cheerful as ever.
I stared at him. “Why am I up right now, Daniel?”
“I would guess that’s something between you and the President.”
“I would guess it is,” I sighed.
I had a great job. I did. I worked when I wanted, most of the time, and was very, very good at it. The problem was that I worked for my best friend. It had been great when he had been Speaker of the House. He was high profile, sure; but not to where he was calling me at all hours of the night. He did his thing, and I cleaned up the messes that always arose along the way. Every politician, I a
ssured myself, had someone who did that for them. The ones who didn’t weren’t re-elected.
Then, two years ago, Air Force One had crashed, killing the president. A day later, as they were about to swear him into office, the Vice President suffered a fatal heart attack. As a consequence, Sam Sallinger had reluctantly stepped into the role. I doubted he had ever wanted to be president—despite the aspirations of his wife—and it was now an election year. He hadn’t been elected, and his opponent was trying to play this. Still, Sam had maintained a high approval rating and was looked on as a national hero for guiding the country through a tragedy.
I had no doubt he would win. He also kept his nose clean, and I was there to get rid of the times that he didn’t.
All the same, I felt disturbed about being called in at this hour.
I went into the Oval Office, and Sam didn’t even look up. “Good morning,” he said, staring down at a file.
I seated myself. “So what is it this time?”
He pushed a photograph toward me, and I picked it up. The girl in it smiled widely for me. She had brown hair, a nice enough face, and she looked really, really . . . young.
“So what, is someone saying that this is your kid? What do you want me to do?” I grinned at him. “Don’t tell me that Sam Sallinger actually has a blemish on his squeaky clean past?”
“No, not as bad as that, but not good. She’s my sister,” he confided.
“She looks sixteen! Your mom is way too old to have a kid this age.”
“She’s nineteen,” he replied. “And you’ve never met my mom.”
“Yes, I have,” I retorted. “That’s how we met, in case you forgot. My dad worked for your parents. Kristin loves me.”
“Kristin’s not my mother,” he admitted, keeping his eyes downcast. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m adopted.”
I almost fell out of my chair. “You’re serious?”
He nodded.
“How did this never come out before now? I can’t believe you never told me. Sam, we’ve known each other since I was five!”
Anabel Unraveled Page 2