by Gary Sapp
began to methodically disconnect her from bondage.
Deputy Director couldn’t in his wildest wet dream imagine that his troops would have bagged such a prize, but here Angel was now seated across from her in an orange jumpsuit that mandated that she was an inmate of The Atlanta Justice System. Angel smoothed out her eyebrows, pushed the collar of her silk blouse down into she felt it was perfect, took one last drink of her flavorless black coffee and focused on the moment, as she had always successfully done before. The FBI needed as much Intel as they could about Pandora’s current and future operations. It was time for Angel to earn her keep.
“Hello, Angel,” Serena initiated the conversation. “How long has it been now… a year…two? I’ve looked so forward to seeing you again.”
Oh no, Serena, we need to keep this conversation professional, impersonal…and focused on you, at least for now. “I’ll remind you that you have waved your right to be represented by legal counsel at this time.”
“I have.”
“I will also remind you that anything you tell me, you are sharing that information willingly with representatives of Federal Bureau of Investigations,” Angel made a slight inkling of her head to left where the mirror sat on the wall. “And they have representatives present on the other side of that glass.”
“I’m fine, Angel.” Serena said without looking at the mirror herself.
Angel scanned the other woman’s face; she had the slightest discoloration building underneath her eye and some purple bruising on her forehead and a cut by her left ear. The mastermind behind the vicious and cowardly attacks that had killed scores of innocent Atlanta residents deserved to be tried, convicted and even potentially executed for her crimes. I will gladly pay to reserve a seat at that party.
Still…no woman, not even this one, deserved to be whipped…and nearly raped, especially when she was supposed to be under the protection of the Atlanta legal system. I know that everyone from Rice to Sheridan to the APD is taking a beating by the media and women’s group for the two men’s behavior.
And now she and Serena had another bond that tied them together.
Angel reached for her coffee out of habit, the cup lukewarm against her fingertips. Serena matched her movement and swallowed a third of a cup of water in a single gulp. Since the incident Serena has been assigned a shift of four female guards to stay with her at all times. Sheridan shared the report with Angel as she arrived at the courthouse this morning: Serena was eating very little, only the fruits and vegetables that came with her meals. She was consuming water by the gallons. And she was seen muttering prayers from time to time in her cell.
Angel cleared her throat. “Both the FBI and the Atlanta Police Department extend a full-fledged apology for the trauma that you experienced at the hands of state employees.” Angel said. “I assure you that either association condones such behavior, in fact it is unacceptable and intolerable in their eyes. A full investigation is taking place, even now as you and I speak.”
“It’s not your fault, Angel.” Serena said quietly.
Angel stole a peek at her associates standing behind the glass. She could imagine Christopher pacing like a caged tiger. Sheridan probably was standing stoic, almost a statue in concentration. And she didn’t know Tabitha Blue well enough to give a fair opinion on the younger woman. Remember to focus, Angel, she thought to herself as she planted her two inch heel on the floor.
“I’ll share this with you, Serena,” Angel leaned close. “It took some prodding to convince the FBI to allow me to conduct this conversation with you, especially considering my short stay in Pandora.” Actually, it was Sheridan’s idea, but Angels’ lying, especially to herself over the years about the booze and the men, flowed so naturally that sometimes she couldn’t help herself. “If you have any statements you would like to make, if you have anything meaningful to say to me this would be one hell of a time to start.”
“All in good time,” Serena sat back in her chair far enough to cross one matchstick of a leg over the other. “How is Thomas Pepper? Are your associates, as you call them, treating him well? And try telling the truth this time.”
Angel shifted her feet under the table. “I’m not at liberty to speak about him at this time.”
“How deeply do they suspect that he is involved in this?” Serena acknowledged the people behind the mirror for the first time with a quick glance.
“How deep,” Angel said in a quick burst of anger. “Eight APD officers and two federal agents died from the result of you having the roads to his townhouse mined during your little visit. He is involved in this, Serena. In so many words you threatened to have black children kidnapped if Xavier Prince and the others in A House in Chains don’t disband and turn themselves in.” Angel felt a snarl curl on her surgically enhanced lips. “That means you will be involving Louis Keaton, a known pedophile, which also involves…me, because I treated his sickness when he was a patient of mine when I served under you.” Angel got to her feet and made quick circle of the room. She combed her brunette hair with her fingers. “We’re all in this thing together. The feds will have to make their decisions to who is truly involved and to what extent.”
Serena sat back in her seat in silence. Angel sat back opposite her and examined her facial expression for any sign of …anything. Serena had always been a glacier. Angel had rarely run into anyone that was difficult to gage their emotional state, if at least on an introductory level. That is why Angel had felt that she was reaching Louis Keaton, getting at the core of where his real issues were.
But Serena Tennyson was either asking about Thomas Pepper because she hoped to distract Angel from conducting her interview at her pace and with the subject matter she wanted or did the woman truly has a concern over the man’s well-being? Did anyone truly know the extent of the two’s relationship? Christopher had told Angel about the shrine Thomas had dedicated to the wall of his spare room. Angel glanced at her wristwatch. Maybe, they’ll get more out of him that I’m getting out of her. Christopher and Agent Blue should have left from behind the glass by now so that they could conduct their own…debriefing, she wouldn’t call it an interrogation, with Thomas Peeper down the hall.
Now it was Serena’s turn to lean over…and she locked her long fingers with Angel’s.
“Emissary, when have you last had a vision?”
Angel snatched her hand back with such suddenness, with Serena’s grip so tight, that the retraction caused the other woman to scratch her enough to draw blood.
Angel grabbed a nearby napkin, dabbed it in Serena’s drinking water and put slight pressure on the wound which was clotting already. The truth of the matter was that the doctor wasn’t sure what exactly disturbed her more: Was Angel upset that Serena had used her old Pandora call sign that she’d been issued during her brief stint with them, or did this woman somehow know about this dream that Angel had last night?
Angel had dreamed that she was in this same courthouse, sometime in the future she guessed, and she was walking around the building as naked as the day she was born.
What was worse it that she was all alone.
“I hadn’t had one in a very long time.” Angel lied and if the other woman saw through it then so be it. “I did have nightmares after I saw both People of Color and your Pandora operatives being pulled out of the Fox Theatre. I’ll never forget watching the construction crews finding a foot, arm or a severed head form a child at the remains of The Andrew Young Youth Center.”
“Perhaps you aren’t really sure when the timeline of your nightmare occurs. You think it might be about the present or hope that it was something in your past, when it is truly the future you see.” Serena told her. “Operation 411 is over and done with. We are dawning on a new hallmark, a new chapter…The Whirlwind. If The Circle doesn’t turn away from their wicked ways then that carnage you saw last night was not a nightmare but a vision and it is not about what has happened but will yet happen.”
“You are truly insane, Serena.”
Angel got in the other woman’s face, tired of this game of words between them. “Let’s talk about fathers, shall we.” Angel pushed a single piece of Serena’s red hair that had loosed itself from her bun out of her face. “Your father was a believer in the flames as well. That’s where you learned this foolishness from.”
“Leave my father out of this.” Serena said, her thin lip nearing a quiver.
“We shared stories about our fathers, remember.” Angel remembered drinking too much scotch that night. Serena had nursed only on club soda. “A couple of weeks after you took the state title and set a record, if I can recall your tale correctly, in a marathon that your father had attended—“
“Leave my father out of this, Angel.” Serena said in a low, dangerous voice that would have frightened most people. Doctor Angel Hicks Dupree wasn’t most people.
“Two weeks after you won