The Organization (16 page)

Is this what Harriet wanted?  Charlotte thought about how Harriet had said she didn’t want her involved in the organization, yet she hadn’t made an attempt to stop her from joining.  Surely, if her joining had been off-limits, she would have made that clear to Joanna months ago.

Charlotte met Daniel outside the busy King’s Cross Station.  She had crossed the street to join him, barely registering how the words “Look Left” had been worn down to illegibility; the city had painted these words on the pavement as a friendly reminder about the direction of car travel on one-way streets, but these days pedestrians wandered freely into the roads without fear of collision.

Daniel stood waiting in front of a digital propaganda poster that warned loyal subjects to “beware the enemy” with angry, scowling faces superimposed over a burning American flag. 
It didn’t even have artistic merit
, Charlotte thought as Daniel shook her hand in greeting.

They blended into the crowd of people, making their way on foot to a hotel that was a couple of blocks southwest of the station. Daniel had seemed surprised but pleased to see her, yet they walked swiftly and wordlessly.  Charlotte felt like she was squandering her time by not asking him questions about the organization, about Harriet, but she was too preoccupied.

Hotels mainly let rooms by the hour these days, as there wasn’t much in the way of out-of-town visitors.  The front desk clerk glanced up at Daniel and Charlotte when they entered the lobby but didn’t offer any greeting.  “I’ve already checked in,” Daniel said, although Charlotte wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or to the clerk.  Daniel then used a hotel guest keycard to swipe into a ground floor hallway.

For whatever reason, Charlotte wasn’t expecting a woman to answer the hotel room door, nor was she expecting that person to be young and attractive.  Her blond hair was braided to one side and her eyes seemed alert, perhaps anxious.  If Charlotte had passed her on the street, she would have never suspected her of collaborating with rebel terrorists.  Then again, Charlotte supposed that was the point, that none of them particularly looked like anything other than ordinary people.

“Hello,” Charlotte said.

Daniel said, “The world spins…”

“Madly on,” the woman replied.  “The world spins madly on.”

Daniel nodded and the woman moved aside to let them in. The woman entered the room’s bathroom and returned with a large duffel bag, which she set upon the bed.  Charlotte realized that Daniel and this woman were both waiting for Charlotte to examine the contents of the bag, so she walked over and unzipped it.  Within the bag, she found smaller bags and cases of supplies, which she began placing in neat stacks and groups on the bed.  She tried to create a mental tally of supplies and associated costs, counting the bottles of alcohol, gauze bandages, pins, scissors, sutures, forceps, saline solution, ointments, splints, and various bottles and tablets of medicine.

“What is your price for these supplies?” Charlotte asked her.

The woman looked at Daniel then back to Charlotte.  She hesitated then said, “It’s standard to – I mean, usually the one buying makes the offer.”

Charlotte didn’t want to scare her off and risk the deal going sour.  She sucked in some air and double-checked her quick calculations.  Finally, she said, “6,500 digicredits.”

The woman looked unhappy with the offer and replied, “Some of this – especially the medicine – it’s not easy to come by.  I can’t take anything less than 9,000 credits.”

Charlotte looked again at the supplies laid out on the bed.  She realized that she had no idea how much the black market inflated the value of items.  “Okay,” she replied.  She took out the digicard and held it out to the woman.

The woman’s face betrayed her surprise as she took the card and swiped it through a portable digital receiver.  She held up the machine to show Charlotte that it read 9,000 digicredits, but where Charlotte would normally place her thumb on the screen to authorize the payment there was instead a red X.  Charlotte realized she had reached up to place her thumb on the screen out of reflex.  “Good,” Charlotte said to her.

The woman tapped a few buttons on the screen to complete the transfer of credits then handed Charlotte back the card.  Daniel began repacking the duffel bag. 

The woman leaned in and said quietly to Charlotte, “I would have taken 7,000.”

The tone of her voice and the softening look on her face made it impossible for Charlotte to be offended.  Instead, Charlotte shrugged and replied, “I guess I’ll know better for next time.”  She gave the woman a small smile.

The woman watched as they left, Daniel exiting the room first.  “See you next time then,” she said as Charlotte slipped out the door.

When Charlotte got back to her apartment, she decided to do something she hadn’t done in a while. “McGillicuddy, turn on the EBC.  Channel 1.”

A small metal globe on the end of a rod descended two or three inches from its recess in her ceiling, humming and buzzing before projecting a holographic image of a man sitting at a news desk.  He seemed too perfectly groomed, his facial features exhibiting masculinity and authority.  Charlotte sunk into one of her chairs, watching for any clue or hidden meaning in the news.  Harriet had said there were messages for those who knew how to listen for them.

First came a report about which bridges were scheduled for repairs in the upcoming weeks, followed by a lengthy segment on proposed educational reforms for primary school, apparently advocating for longer school days.  She sighed with disappointment when the weather forecast came next.  As any layperson could predict, it would be hot with UV warnings in the orange with the possibility of a “red day” or two in the upcoming week.

Could “red day” be a code for something?  No, they weren’t at war with Mother Russia.  Maybe she was going about this all wrong.  She stood and paced while still half-listening to the news.  Should she be listening for place names, people names, or would it be something so subtle that there was no way to know?  Could something as simple as mentioning the price of butter rising be a code for a specific action to take?  She decided that it was futile to try to decrypt the news.

“McGillicuddy, turn it off.”  The newscaster, mid-word, disappeared from her room, replaced by empty air and the grinding, mechanical sound of the globe retracting into the ceiling.

Chapter Thirty-One

Charlotte fell asleep in a chair while darning a pair of socks, and awoke some time later to a knock at the door.  In the intervening time, McGillicuddy had automatically dimmed the room lights to twenty-five percent luminosity.  Upon awakening to the knocking, Charlotte cursed under her breath. As she made her way to the door, she prayed it wasn’t Daniel coming back to retrieve her for another episode of emergency surgery. 

She opened the door to find Erin on the other side, smiling.

“Hiya,” Erin said.  “You weren’t asleep, were you?  How old are you – eighty?” she asked, inviting herself in.

Charlotte closed the door behind her and said, “Actually, I
was
asleep.  It’s been a long day.  A long few weeks or maybe even months, to be honest.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it,” Erin said, plopping down in the chair Charlotte had been sitting in.

“What is?” Charlotte asked, sitting on her bed.

“Tell me ‘honestly’ then, Charlie, what have you been up to lately?  This business with Harriet, and then going to the salons…” she said.

Charlotte winced at the mention of the salons. 

Erin continued, “I can’t help but think you’re not telling me everything.  And darling, I don’t think you have all that many people you can really talk to.  So why not me?”

Erin looked so eager and confident, like she was on a mission to be helpful.  Charlotte hesitated before saying, “Erin, I know your heart’s in the right place, but…”

Erin picked up a stray sock off her floor and, balling it up, threw it at Charlotte playfully.  “Sod it.  I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Charlotte didn’t look at her as she said, “The less you know, the better.”

“Seriously?  That’s your response?” Erin asked, getting up and coming over to sit beside her friend on the bed.  “I don’t accept that.”

“Erin…” Charlotte said, letting out a sigh.  She started again, saying quietly, “Okay, fine.  You know when I told you all those things about how I thought that some of the people on my team might be American sympathizers?  How I told you about my suspicions?”

“Of course.  That’s not the kind of thing that one tends to forget,” Erin replied, looking more serious now, perhaps even worried.  “Don’t tell me you were actually right.  Your teammates – they’re sympathizers?  Harriet, too?”

Charlotte nodded.  She felt conflicting loyalties, wanting to be completely honest with Erin yet needing to protect Harriet.  She decided not to tell Erin about Harriet being the leader.

Erin was silent for a long moment, seeming to wrestle with her thoughts, before she replied, “Well, I guess it could be a good thing.  You don’t have to worry about them finding out about your background.  Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”  Charlotte could tell by the way Erin said it that even she wasn’t convinced of her own words.

Charlotte shook her head.  “It’s not just that.  They’re not just… sympathizers.”

Erin reached over and took her hand, “Tell me.”

Charlotte bit her lip and looked at Erin, feeling emotion rise up in her chest.  “They’re… uh…”

“They’re terrorists,” Erin said quietly, waiting for confirmation.

“Rebels, not terrorists,” Charlotte replied.  “There’s a difference.”

Erin watched her and then asked, “Is the difference just in what you call them, or are they not part of the larger Euroskeptic group that’s been terrorizing – sorry, rebelling against – the government?”

Charlotte counted as she took one, two, three breaths in and out before she replied, “Actually, Harriet doesn’t even like the word rebel.  They just… call it the organization.  They’re just a group of people committed to a cause.”

Erin’s voice was still quiet but Charlotte could hear the tension and strain as she asked, “And this group of people – are there rewards for their capture?  Have they committed crimes against the government?  Might you be detained by the police if caught in their company?”

The guilt was evident on Charlotte’s face, but even still she replied, “You know that everything you said is true.”

Erin pulled her hand away to run her fingers back through her hair, a nervous habit.  Lines shown on her forehead as she asked, “Are there rewards for your capture as well now?”

“No, no rewards for my capture.”

The lines disappeared from Erin’s face as she let out a relieved breath. “And you’ve committed no crimes against the government?  No aiding and abetting public enemies?”

Charlotte broke eye contact. “I’m not sure how to answer you.”

“How deep are you, Charlie?” Erin asked.  “Have you been working with them?”  Her voice was almost imperceptible as she asked, “Are you a terrorist now too?”

“I’m not a terrorist, Erin.  I’m not even a rebel.  I just… I help, sometimes, when I can.”

“This is all because of Harriet, isn’t it?” she asked, her words coming out clipped and fast.

“Not all.  You don’t know what they’re really like.  All that nonsense we hear on the news is just propaganda,” Charlotte said, finding herself defending a cause that she didn’t even know if she herself believed in.

“So they’re not violent?” Erin asked, the skepticism heavy in her voice.  “Charlie, I told you that you can talk to me, and you can….”

“So you’re not going to turn me in, then?” Charlotte asked.

“That’s not even funny,” Erin said.  She sighed and took Charlotte’s hand in hers again, squeezing it.  “But I told you before that you need to be careful, and I don’t know what to do but to ask you, please, for your sake, find a way out.”

“But Erin, I don’t want out,” Charlotte said.

“Of course you do,” she replied.  She looked at Charlotte hard for a moment before saying, “You get how these things work, don’t you?  They’re all the same.  They take advantage of people like you.”

“Excuse me?” Charlotte blurted, leaning back in offense.

“No, Charlie, listen.  You’re lovely and clever and I wasn’t trying to say otherwise.  But they take advantage of newcomers who have something to prove.  And you’re expendable.  You don’t know the hierarchy of the organization – you probably only know one level above you.  So without that kind of… sensitive information… without knowing the people at the top, they can ask you to help, as you put it, and it’s no skin off their teeth if you get caught.”

Charlotte wanted to laugh at the idea of being expendable because she supposedly didn’t know the people, or rather, the person, at the top.  “You’re wrong, Erin.”

“Well, let’s just both hope so,” Erin replied.  “Anyway, come here, you,” she added, pulling Charlotte into a hug.  “Let’s just hope I’m wrong.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Another workweek passed while Charlotte was lost in distraction, thinking about things that she’d learned, thought, and done lately.  Erin had a sound moral compass but she felt an unwaveringly strong pull toward the organization.  Or perhaps she was mistaken and it was really just a pull toward Harriet.

Charlotte frowned as she dressed at her work locker one morning.  Was Harriet not telling her the whole truth about her relationship with Thomas?  And did she need to worry about what Joanna and Daniel had said about some people not believing that Harriet was committed to the organization?

Joanna came into the locker room and opened her locker, hanging up her lab coat.  “All right, Charlie?”

“All right,” Charlotte replied and finished dressing, made sure the contents of her locker were neatly arranged, and closed her locker door.

“Hold up a minute,” Joanna said.  Joanna’s eyes flitted to the two other people in the locker room.  They chatted with each other, oblivious to how Joanna and Charlotte were waiting for them to leave, but finally ambled out the door.  Joanna looked again at Charlotte and said, “There’s a meeting this morning. 0900 hours.”