The Cupel Recruits

by Willshire, Susan

  “It’s open,” she yelled. An irony, given that it was left unlocked so the protection team could come and go freely into the front part of the house for the kitchen and the powder room. Bianca bounded in, datebook in arm and a Coach bag slung over her shoulder, her ponytail perfectly pulled back, her designer sunglasses perfectly matching her outfit and her makeup already done at 9 am on a Saturday. Lela was in light cotton sweat pants, a tee shirt, and bare feet. She had combed her hair at least, not that it mattered much. Bianca was like a sister and didn’t require any formalities. The two women hugged and flopped on the cushy chairs in the back porch sunroom with their coffees.

  “Soooooo….. are you glad to be back?” Bianca launched.

  “Yeah,” Lela responded in a mellow tone, “but I wished I’d had more time in Africa.”

  “More time getting hunted down and shot at? What are you, crazy?” Bianca scolded.

  “No, not that part, but more time for research. And to help people.”

  “Well, maybe you can go back, once it’s safe.” Lela mulled this over and raised an eyebrow, giving a noncommittal noise. She thought about the dream, about the prospect of the corporations launching zone wars over resources and ruining what was left of peace there. It was almost impossible to imagine, yet the idea nagged at the back of Lela’s brain. She knew there was a grain of possibility in it. She had seen Richard Currier’s behavior in the meetings with Pfister. Those people cared about nothing, literally, but the bottom line. Almost caricatures, she doubted they could be persuaded by reason or human rights arguments.

  “Anyway, I’m glad to be here. I can finish stuff with the house. I think I’ve decided to rent it out instead of selling. I might want to live in it when I’m older, but right now my apartment is fine, and besides, I might want to do some traveling, or need to for work.” Lela’s explanation rambled on until it sounded more like a desperate justification.

  “You don’t need to convince me,” Bianca chimed, “I don’t think you should be shuffling around this big house all by yourself, but you might want it later.” Then Bianca broke into a wide, teasing smile and leaned in toward Lela, “besides, never can tell if you might want to go see James.” Lela smiled slightly, but said nothing.

  “So, heard from Captain America lately?” Bianca continued, not for a second intending on letting Lela get away from the topic that easily. Lela laughed.

  “Yes,” she conceded,” He’s coming this week. I think he wants to talk about seeing each other more often.”

  “Well, hallelujah! It’s about time.”

  ‘Now, Bee, don’t make a big deal out of it. He still lives about 1,000 miles away, so who knows what might work.” Lela dampened her own enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Bianca waved her off, “but at least you’re talking about it. Ready to give it a real try?”

  “I think so,” Lela answered slowly, not for lack of conviction in the idea, but for the fact that it had been a long time coming.

  “Well, keep me posted. Now, find me an honorable Captain America type, and we’ll both be good to go,” Bianca joked. There was a knock at the door.

  “It’s open!” Lela and Bianca yelled in unison, their voices harmonizing in a way that sounded as if they actually were sisters.

  “Lela?” Brett’s voice echoed tentatively through the house. He couldn’t tell where she was from all the sound bouncing in multiple directions in the foyer.

  “Back here!” she yelled loudly, and then whispered “Brett” so only Bianca, who nodded knowingly, could hear. Brett appeared in the doorway freshly scrubbed, looking tan and exuberant, a stark comparison to the exhausted, pallid, sickly-looking version of Brett Lela had last encountered.

  “You look better,” she complimented.

  “So do you,” he responded, but wasn’t looking at her, at all, but Bianca. After a moment, Brett realized he was staring and pretended to see something out the window. He pulled up a chair and became less casual in his carriage.

  “I’m here in a more official capacity,” he confided and glanced hesitantly at Bianca, as if to question whether he should continue. Lela stiffened her posture, rising at least eight full inches in the chair in the process, curiously.

  “Bianca’s like a sister, Brett. There’s nothing she doesn’t know, “ Lela advised.

  “Okay,” Brett began, “Well, they found Phoebe Jacob’s body.”

  “Oh, my!” Lela exclaimed, reflexively clasping her hand over her mouth.

  “Yeah,” Brett shook his head in dismay, “she was buried in an area with some brush.” He looked pointedly at Lela, but did not elaborate further on the correctness of Phillip Harriman’s assessment.

  “Did they catch the guys who did it?” Bianca interjected.

  “Yes, we did.” Brett added a slight inflection to the “we” but not enough to be arrogant, just enough to clarify. “In fact, I interrogated them myself for hours. That’s how we found the body. One of them had a conscience about it and I kept reminding him that the child’s mother would be hunting indefinitely for her. He finally caved.”

  “I still can’t believe this. So, did they say why they did it?” Lela’s gaze rekindled an old intensity she had right after the bus accident. Brett knew she was wondering if this was related.

  “They just wanted ransom money, believe it or not. We investigated thoroughly and there really is no connection at all between this and the bus accident,” he added, not sure if she’d be glad or sad that the two were unrelated.

  Lela became angry. “Then why did they have to kill her if they just wanted ransom money! Her poor mother is already grieving and they could have just gotten the money and returned her.”

  “I know,” Brett consoled her, “the one who told us where the body was said it was an accident. I believe him.”

  “Yeah, “accidentally” dragged a four-year-old out of her own warm bed and killed her. I hope they get life in prison.”

  “I say death penalty,” Bianca added, taking a sip of her coffee.

  “Me too. Or at least the one-he was cool as ice. No remorse at all,” Brett commented. Lela refrained. She didn’t believe in the death penalty.

  “Anyway, it’s in Felix Lee’s hands now. Which reminds me…” Brett pointed to the front door, “ …those guys are being removed today. They declared the bus incident an accident. There really was no foul play. They’re sure.” Lela was relieved, and felt a sense of closure in the knowing of it, behind her sadness.

  “Well, I suppose that’s better, that it was just a random accident and not someone intentionally taking my family away,” she said quietly. How much better it was, she wasn’t sure, but however slight the improvement, she did feel it.

  It renewed Lela’s desire to close out all the existing mess, both in the house and in her life. She wanted to start completely fresh, and in order to do that, she had to tie up loose ends. After Brett and Bianca left, Lela dug back into the office. Her guards had left and she felt a sense of peace at finally being able to be alone, after weeks in the company of others. Since the investigation was no more, she did not pick up with her mother’s old notes and files, but instead focused on closing out the Africa documentation. She would be presenting to Pfister, Currier, and other company representatives this coming Monday for the assessment of the future viability of the project.

  It occurred to Lela that the precious mineral would be a sought-after commodity once the location of the cavern, and the mineral vein, was known. Surely they’d want to start testing, and mining, as soon as possible. She had managed to keep it secret, deferring the moment when she’d have to decide how much to tell them, and now she had fifty or more other people who also knew the location. Fortunately, only the core team would be on location Monday to present their findings to the committee. She read through her emails and was finally jolted from her indecision by one line from Pfister: “Currier is continuing the project on their dime. He’ll be sending his own team.” Lela’s body shuddered in a way that rem
inded her of when she and Gabriel were children and they would say “someone walked across your grave”. Every bone in her body screamed out that Currier’s men going in without any buffer from a truly scientific team would lead to disaster. She knew they would be callous. She knew they would be ruthless. She knew that the dream was right-they would start a war.

  Lela dialed Tina’s number immediately, as she reached for the list of who else would be presenting Monday. Lela, Tina, Mako and Brett were scheduled to speak, but Lance and four others from the project teams would be in attendance to assist with technical detail if needed. ‘Nine people’ Lela thought to herself. She and Tina agreed they should call together that small team of 9 for a meeting that afternoon to decide how to handle the situation.

  “I have a huge empty house,” Lela offered, “We won’t be bothered here and it’s very private.” Tina advised that Brian and Rachel were already in her garage lab cataloging samples from the trip, and that she’d bring them as well.

  “Good,” Lela added enthusiastically,” Rachel has some data I never got to see. Can you please ask her to bring it?”

  “Sure,” Tina replied, and hung up, leaving Lela wondering if she could convince the entire rest of the team to do something so against all of their natures, as well as her own-lie. She finished with her emails and was halfway through creating her PowerPoint presentation before she once again heard a knock at the door.

  “It’s open,” she yelled in a rote manner, realizing that the door was still wide open though her security detail had left. She’d spent nearly her whole life in that house, never wondering about whether a door was locked or unlocked, now to have it spring to mind all too often. She hoped she wouldn’t feel this jumpy about security forever. She just wanted to feel safe without having to think about it, the way you do when you’re a little kid. In walked Gretchen, arms overflowing with a pile of files.

  “Here are those files of Gabriel’s you asked for,” Gretchen stood in the doorway, stiff and still holding them. She still did not feel very relaxed in this house. Plus, everything here reminded her of Gabriel, which she hoped someday would be a fully good thing, but for now it still was not. The grief was too great.

  “Thanks! Please, put them here.” Lela cleared a tiny corner of the desk off.

  “I’m so glad you can use them,” Gretchen added sincerely, “I wasn’t sure what to do. I wouldn’t want to destroy any of Gabriel’s research, but I can’t do anything with it either. I hope one of these weekends you can come over and help me sort through what’s needed from his lab and what can go.”

  “Of course. Someday we’ll be done sorting through piles and piles of hard memories,” Lela added in an attempt to console Gretchen. She felt closer to her now that the family was gone, like a war buddy almost, and was hit with her intense remorse for not having been nicer to her sooner, while Gabriel was alive.

  “Someday,” Gretchen sighed, glancing downward. A picture on the desk caught her attention abruptly and she grabbed it up without hesitation, without even thinking.

  “Where did you get this?” she was almost frantic.

  “My Mom had it,” Lela informed her, “It’s a woman and a baby she helped before I was born.”

  “No, it’s me!” Gretchen corrected, “And my mom. I’ve never even seen this picture. I wonder if Gabriel found it and somehow it got mixed in with your stuff.”

  “No, Gretchen, this picture is taken in our upstairs back room. See the trim on the window? It used to be a nursery.” Lela began sifting through the rest of the file for the two other pictures that were within it. She pulled them out. One was of the two mothers standing together, and one was of Gabriel, about three, sitting and carefully holding the baby, Gretchen, in his arms. Gretchen saw it and pulled it gently to her face, examining every detail. She began to weep softly.

  “He knew me. You all knew me-and my Mom. I barely remember my Mom. I wish I’d known. I could’ve asked about her. Your Mom would have had stories. My Dad never likes to tell stories about her, especially after he married my step-mom.” It was as if someone were pouring lemon juice over the already-existing wound within her.

  “Gretchen! We have all those home movies. Remember when Mom did that huge project converting everything on film or VHS to DVD last year and then bored us to death with old vacation footage? Well, there are like hundreds in there! C’mon.” They raced out of the room and upstairs to the storage closet. Lela whipped open the top of the box to reveal hundreds of DVDs, each marked clearly by year and color coded as to type of activity.

  “Typical Mom,” Lela smiled, pulling out a large stack of twenty or so from the year Gabriel was three. She rifled through them, but there was no real way to tell which footage might be helpful and which would not. She handed them to Gretchen.

  “I can borrow all of these?” Gretchen asked, knowing these memories were precious to Lela, too.

  “Of course. Just make copies of what you want and please bring them back eventually.” Gretchen looked as if she had been given the Hope Diamond.

  “I will! Thank you so much. This is so exciting.”

  Lela hugged Gretchen as she left, glad that she was able to help in some small way atone for the prior treatment of her. She knew they would always keep in touch and feel connected by the deep loss they had shared. As Gretchen departed the front porch, Tina pulled up in her Jeep and jumped out with a springing motion.

  “Grand Central Station, welcome!” Lela said, noting how good it felt to have the house bustling with activity again after shuffling around in silent solitude over the last months.

  “The interns are right behind me. Brian and Rachel followed me from my house. The rest will be here in about half an hour.” When Brian and Rachel arrived, Lela immediately began reviewing the mineral data Rachel had gathered with her while Brian and Tina prepared the sitting room for a meeting. She wanted to get the data review out of the way before the others arrived.

  “This is what I thought was odd,” Rachel, commented, pointing to the unique crystalline structure of the mineral. It was comprised of what seemed like thousands of very tiny decahedrons all tightly packed in a beautiful array.

  “Hmmm, strange.” Lela mumbled.

  “Yeah, and watch this!” Rachel withdrew a tuning fork and struck it gently on the desk. The pure tone emanated from it and then seemed to level off at first, instead of fading as was usually the case. Then, when Lela started to think of the continuance of sound as inordinately long, it actually began to increase, becoming slightly louder at first and then building. Lela looked at it with surprise, and then realized the sound was now coming from the crystal itself, not the tuning fork.

  “Wow! Well,” she patted the stack of file folders Gretchen had brought over of Gabriel’s, “I’m really gonna have to dig into these files and see-hope, rather-that my brother was ahead of me.”

  “Yeah, my brother and I help each other like that,” Rachel said, then stopped short, not sure if she’d made a social guffaw with Gabriel having died so recently. Lela smiled warmly, reassuring her no misstep was made. The others arrived soon thereafter and the meeting was brief, with little debate over how much detail they should provide the sponsoring corporations. Lela shared her concerns about the corporations’ misuse of the information and seemingly bad intentions regarding the villages, and Tina followed with an eloquent speech regarding the duty of scientists to preserve pure science and not allow good discoveries to be used for ill purposes. Not that they needed much convincing, but any trace of doubt held by the team members in attendance vanished in the face of Tina’s conviction and they all agreed to near silence on their findings regarding both mineral and other resources catalogued.

  Monday morning Lela marched into the presentation room and did exactly what she thought she would never do. She blatantly lied. She, Tina, Mako and a few others described how few resources were found, the difficulty in retrieving them and the instability of the area. Mako even added a comment about how it was clear p
eople wouldn’t live that poorly if they had any other choice, and unless the investment motives were purely altruistic, they shouldn’t expect to yield any benefit. Lela added a pitch for continuing on purely altruistic levels to help the education, fresh water in malaria treatment in the region, and mentioned that she was sure there would be some great tax benefits to it. She masterfully painted herself as a scientist so embedded in the pure research of it that she didn’t understand the harsh economic realities and that the tax benefits were negligible. A brilliant performance, by her and by all, and a successful one.

  All the corporations pulled support and Richard Currier, who had intended on continuing with his own people was so disgusted, he stormed out, declaring, “This is the biggest damn goat rope I have ever seen. Don’t ever call me for anything again. Ever!”

  As the huge conference room cleared and the others walked the remaining guests who had not stormed out to the entryway, Lela stayed behind with a twinge of guilt. ‘It’s for the greater good’ she reminded herself, mostly convinced she’d done the right thing. She knew herself well enough to know she’d wrestle with it for the rest of her life, whether she had done the right thing. She glanced out the giant floor to ceiling picture windows at the canyon, where her family had died, remembering how she couldn’t even look there before she left for Africa. She was filled with a deep sense of tranquility and calm. She knew deep down she had taken the proper course of action. Regardless of how much she would wrestle with herself in the years to come, she would always remember that in the immediate wake of the action, it truly felt like the right thing to do.

  After the guests left and Lela had moved down to her office, Pfister entered as she was packing a small box of personal items.

  “Ms. Aquila, I’m so sorry they wouldn’t pursue the project. There is so much good work to be done. We just can’t afford to keep you attached to this facility when your skills don’t match any of the other chartered projects. I do hope to work with you in the future.” Pfister was obviously deeply concerned for her, and the sincerity of his message was felt.