The End of Marking Time (35 page)

There were no trees against the inside of the wall. I lowered myself down until only my fingertips gripped the concrete edge. Then I let go and fell the remaining few feet to the ground. There was nowhere to hide out here on the lawn, but fortunately my instincts were right. No dogs responded to my landing. I trotted across the lawn and ducked into the shrubbery at the base of the house. Voices laughed inside. Dozens of voices.

Marc had only spoken a few sentences to me that day in his office. As I sat there in the bushes, I tried to pick his voice out of the crowd but soon realized it would be impossible. I didn’t know how often he showed up here. Would he come two nights in a row? I was desperate to catch him. I should have waited in the bushes and watched the cars along the drive, but if I had, I would have missed my chance because Marc was already inside.

Eager to prove my case and desperate to get out of reeducation, I snuck along the edge of the bushes to the one sturdy tree that stood close to the house. The birch proved flimsy. Several branches cracked underfoot, but it was the only way up. I climbed to the roof without falling.

The roof was covered in slippery slate tiles and on my first step up to the gable window, my foot flew out from under me. I caught myself softly with my hands and made little noise even though I had to wedge my foot into the gutter to keep from slipping off the roof and back into the tree. Had the cameras been in my hands I would have lost them both and my adventure would have ended, but they were tucked into my shirt pocket and luckily they didn’t fall.

I raised slowly into a crouch, pulled myself to the window, and worked it open. Nothing sounded inside. I stepped down to the floor and discovered a room arranged with couches and racks of clothing. I was lucky not to find a bed with a customer in it. I assumed this was where the girls came to get away from their customers. Farnsworth paid them well according to Nick, so they probably got breaks during the night. I needed to vacate the room quickly before one of them found me.

Outside was a hallway with a bunch of doors. The door directly across was narrower than the others, probably a closet, I thought. I listened outside the door and hearing nothing, I tried the knob. Locked. Voices rose from downstairs. A couple could come up any second. I slipped the folder from my shirt and used it to lever the latch open. The folder wasn’t sturdy and by the time the knob turned, I was sweating.

I shut myself in and was plunged into complete darkness. I was glad for the time alone to collect my thoughts and listen to what was happening around me. The voices were completely muffled by the insulation. I listened, waited, and let my eyes adjust.

The room looked like a cleaning closet that had been emptied to make room for the ladder nailed to the wall. I climbed up. Still hearing nothing, I pushed my way through the hatch. I couldn’t believe what I saw or how lucky I was that no one was up there when I stepped inside. Few people were ever meant to see this room. No one would be allowed up here while customers were being serviced, so this was the one place in the house I could be alone for the night. I closed the hatch and I was safe.

The carpeted walkway was ultra quiet; the entire space darkened to be sure no light found the one-way mirrors set into the floor. Six cameras looked down into bedrooms below.

I stalked along the walkway until I was looking down into the first room. A naked man, covered from the waist down in only a sheet, lay on top of a blonde who looked straight up at the camera. I focused my pen camera on the couple even though I knew it wasn’t Marc down there. I waited for several minutes and when the man rolled over to rest, I was stunned to recognize the judge from the eleven-defendant trial the day before. I held in a squeal and stood silent until the judge turned his attention back to the blonde.

In the next room I found the prosecutor with a brunette. He was dressing to leave, but I took thirty seconds of video anyway. I’m sure his wife would want to know why he was getting dressed in a strange room while a naked woman looked on from the bed. I stopped and panned my camera around the attic room, taking in the cameras and the mirrors assembled to make their own recordings.

I passed over two empty rooms before I found Marc entangled with a girl too chunky for my taste. He was happier than I’d seen him before. He wouldn’t have been if he’d known what I was doing. Even without me he was headed for trouble. If he crossed Farnsworth, the videos would surface and he’d lose his job. He might even end up in reeducation.

Hours passed before all the men left and even after that, the women huddled in a few of the bedrooms beneath the one-way mirrors. I waited until I could see them sleeping before I climbed down into the closet. That’s why I’m so exhausted standing here at the window. I had to make sure the lounge was empty or I never would have made it here alive.

When I went out the lounge window, I almost lost my balance because the slate tiles were slick with dew, but I got a toehold in the gutter and lay flat to catch my breath. It wasn’t a smart decision to jump to the trunk of the birch tree, but I thought it was the safest way down. The flimsy branches folded underfoot and I slid down the first ten feet like a fireman’s pole.

My feet caught two thick branches. I came to a hard stop and almost fell off, but I got my grip and climbed down one branch at a time, careful of the dew and thankful I didn’t plunge all the way to the shrubs. I veered over and picked up Treasure Island and searched for a way over the wall. It was smooth on the inside and I finally settled for climbing the iron gate at the drive. There had to be cameras, but I wasn’t worried about being seen going out. I scrambled up and over, then ran down the street with the pen cameras, my book, and the files Nick took from the bank.

It was seven blocks before I first saw the cab. I tried to flag him down, but he already had a fare. I walked another five blocks before that same cab came back and took me home. It was well after midnight when I walked into my apartment. I half fell onto the couch, but the moment I touched down the phone rang. Truthfully, I thought someone had seen me climb the gate at Farnsworth’s and that he was calling to make a deal. Who else could know what I’d been doing? I hauled myself up and answered.

“Hello, Michael,” Wendell said.

I was stunned.

“Do you have something for me?”

He had been watching. He knew what I had and he was anxious to get it. A burst of pride filled me and I felt rejuvenated. When he saw what I’d accomplished, his life would be changed and he’d be so appreciative he’d set me free. Soon I’d be living in a little house like Nick and Kathleen. I’d find a wife and maybe have a couple kids. My path was so clear I could almost touch it.

“I do,” I said. “You’re going to be very happy. I think you can put Farnsworth away with what I’ve got.”

“Excellent.” He sounded excited on the other end of the line.

The black box watched me in silence. The two remaining books from Wendell’s stack beckoned me. When Wendell asked me to meet him downstairs I almost took them with me. How foolish to think he’d set me free the moment I gave him the cameras and the files.

He told me to come around back of the building and not let anyone see me. I obliged, taking my book, the files, and the two cameras out into the hall, down two flights of stairs, and out the front door. As I skirted the edge of the building, I wondered why he wanted to meet so late. It was after two A.M. by that time, but you know that. You were here waiting for me. I don’t know how he assembled you all, and of course he hadn’t told me about you yet. All I knew as I walked over the grass was that I had proof that would put Nathan Farnsworth out of business. I’d accomplished my mission and I thought Wendell would be ecstatic.

When I reached the back corner of the building, I saw him standing with the control room door open. Light spilled outside, suggesting we were headed there. I didn’t hurry across the grass. I kept thinking of Mandla and what he’d said about how my challenge was outside the black box. But I’d won. I was carrying a little piece of victory in each hand.

Wendell smiled when I finally reached him. He gestured inside and I stepped in. The door closed tightly, like a refrigerator sealing the air in, like nothing inside should ever be allowed out.

The monitors were all active, showing my apartment, the street, and a tracking map of where I had been that night. Wendell had followed my every move. He knew I’d completed my mission, but he didn’t seem excited. Maybe he was as tired as I was.

I explained what I had for him. I handed him the printouts Nick traded me for my son, then I handed him the cameras with the video I shot from the attic of Nathan Farnsworth’s brothel. He wasn’t surprised in the least. He set them on the counter, then turned his back.

“Follow me.”

We went around the corner to the place where I’d seen the glass partitions set into the floor. I sensed trouble and I rushed to keep up with him so he couldn’t lock me into one space or another. I imagined gas spilling from the walls or gunmen emerging from around the corner, but he calmly led me to the darkened window where you’re sitting now. When I was beside him, he pressed a button in his pocket and the two glass panels shot up from the floor and locked us in a narrow section of hallway. I’d just been standing over one-way mirrors in Nathan’s attic, so it was easy for me to understand that I’d been locked into a space in front of one. Of course I told you a while ago that I’ve seen the inside of that room. I know there are thirteen chairs in there. The glass partitions have kept both of us in front of the window so you could see me the whole time I’ve been talking.

I tried to remain calm. I wanted to break through the glass and escape, but I knew that acquittal was the only way out. Honestly, I never thought of attacking Wendell for the remote. He trusted me. He came inside with me. I always felt I owed him something and even now I believe he wants to set me free. This is where you see me now. This is the final court. Where I came to beg for my life.

I don’t know when you started listening to Wendell and me here in the hall, but when I first got here, before I started telling you my story, this is what Wendell said to me.

“Try and relax, Michael.

“What Mandla told you was true. It seems you understood the message he gave you. What you did with the black box was good. You tried hard to learn what you neglected when you were a child in school. These things are important and if you do well here today, you’ll have a chance to go back to school and earn your diploma. That will be the first step to living a successful life. But as Mandla said, the real test is what you do in your life when you think you’re not being watched. That is what we are here to judge today.”

I couldn’t believe he was judging me then. It was almost three in the morning and I was exhausted from chasing evidence against Nathan Farnsworth.

“The court you have been going to, relearner court, is only for your benefit. Nothing that happens there has any meaning whatsoever. It is how you react to judgment that is important. The cat baggers don’t really exist either. We convinced you they did, but the American people would never abide the torture of inmates.”

I heard what he said, but I couldn’t believe they hired all those people to conduct pretend trials. No wonder they were over so fast.

Wendell gestured to the window.

“Behind this glass, there are twelve jurors. They each have two buttons. If they press the green button, they are voting to let you free. If enough of them do so, you will be given an apartment, you’ll be enrolled in a real school for adult learners, and when you complete your diploma, we’ll help you find a job, provided you don’t get into trouble again. The hot dog vendor you met was telling the truth. He is a graduate.”

He paused then.

“And if they don’t press the green button?” I asked.

“Each of them has a red button. If three or more jurors press the red button you’ll be taken away for termination.”

He didn’t say prison, because prison didn’t exist anymore. He didn’t say how long I’d wait to be executed, but I was convinced one of the doors at the end of the hall served that purpose.

“Why now?” I asked.

Wendell quivered. I wondered for a moment if he’d ever had that question before. Everything seemed so well planned. It seemed he’d done this hundreds of times, but why did he bring me here at three A.M.?

“You’ve completed your quest. What we need to determine now is whether you can move back into society without being a danger to those you meet there.”

Mandla had told me exactly what I needed to know. I just didn’t think broadly enough. I knew Wendell was going to rehash every mistake I’d made since I’d been in reeducation. I almost couldn’t listen, but he was talking to you, prosecuting my case, as much as he was talking to me.

“You took the lessons to heart, Michael. You trusted me and there is something to be applauded in that. Even after you found the subliminal messages in the videos with Stephan, you didn’t think to check your own. There were thousands of them in yours. Stephan showed you how to find them, but you didn’t look. I’m glad you trusted me, Michael. Trust is an important quality in this world, one that is particularly difficult for you since you felt betrayed by your own mother.”

“Felt?”