The Organization (22 page)

The officer gave Charlotte a hard shove to walk toward the front door.  She glanced over her shoulder at Daniel on the floor, his blood spilling out further from his body, and then she looked at Harriet.  With no one else watching her, Harriet’s face momentarily revealed her emotions, her eyes filling with tears as she met Charlotte’s gaze.  And then she looked away as Charlotte was led out of the room.

Part II

Chapter Forty

Soft, classical music filled the room.  Harriet had programmed her office computer to play the music at just the right volume so that it wouldn’t distract her when she was busy working, but that it was loud enough to help set others at ease when they came to meet with her.  Somehow, the noise took the edge off those who seemed predisposed towards nervousness.  A bit of psychology could work wonders.

The intercom on her desk sounded as Anna, her assistant, announced, “Ms. Spencer, your eleven o’clock appointment is here.”

Harriet held the button on the intercom and replied, “Please show her in.”

The door opened and in walked a light-skinned black woman in a pressed suit with a starched white dress shirt, her hair neatly parted to one side.  She looked to be in her mid-to-late thirties. 

Harriet came out from behind her desk and extended her hand to her guest.  “Welcome, Ms. Reese.  Thank you for meeting me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Spencer,” she replied.  “And please, call me Erin.”

Harriet smiled politely as she sat back down in her chair, her hands folded on the desk in front of her.  “Please have a seat, Erin.  And you may call me Harriet.  I trust that my assistant sent you the files?”

Erin sat in one of the two chairs across the desk, setting her briefcase in the other chair.  “Thank you, yes.”  She seemed nervous.  Harriet wondered if she should reevaluate her musical selection.

Harriet decided to try an easier topic to warm her up.  “My assistant informs me that you’re a solicitor,” she said.

At that, Erin’s face lit up with a proud smile.  “Yes, I qualified just under a year ago.  I suppose you could call it a second career.”

Harriet returned her smile and said, “Congratulations.  I don’t suppose you have designs on becoming a Member of Parliament?”

Erin laughed self-consciously and replied, “Oh, no.  I greatly respect what you do, Ms. Spencer—”

“Harriet,” she corrected.

“Sorry—Harriet.  But I just don’t see myself… That is, I could never do what you do.”  She flushed and added hastily, “As an MP.  I didn’t mean… That is, I wasn’t referring to anything else.”

Harriet made a mental note. It seemed that Erin knew more about her than she had realized.  She wondered what Charlie had told her, all those years ago.

“I see,” Harriet said.  “Well, back to the task at hand… I understand that you were a friend of Charlotte Parker.”

“I’d like to think I still am,” she replied.

“Indeed.  Twelve years of no contact... and yet you’re still interested in her case.”

Erin looked at the desk as she said, “It was difficult at first.  I didn’t even know what had happened.  I went over to Charlie’s flat and waited outside for a long time before one of her neighbors told me the police had been there, searching the place.  I went to the police and they told me she’d been arrested, but they wouldn’t give me any details.  Eventually, after my repeated inquiries, I found out she’d been sent to prison.  But they wouldn’t tell me where, for what, for how long… and none of it made the news.”

Yes, I had made sure that nothing made the news
, Harriet thought.  She replied, “And now you’re a solicitor.”

Erin’s eyes snapped up to meet Harriet’s as she blurted, “I’ve read the case files now – what you sent me.”  She paused and started again, “I read how Charlie’s fingerprints were on the handguns that had been used to shoot at the Prime Minister, how the suspects – a short, brunette woman and a tall man – were never caught.  I know that her employee code had been used at work to gain entry to the water storage tanks, and her home computer showed a history of searching for terms related to poisoning the water supply.  And I know that, as an American, she didn’t have a chance.”

Harriet nodded and replied, “She was charged with conspiring against the Crown, a charge she didn’t contest.”

“I don’t believe for a second that she was guilty, and I don’t know what happened,” Erin said.  “But the heart of the matter is that although Charlie was involved in, well, let’s say a certain… organization… there’s nothing that can be directly pinned on her.  She didn’t shoot anyone.  She didn’t go through with poisoning the water tanks.  The government imprisoned her because, well, they could.”

“She was never going to poison the water,” Harriet said quietly, knowing that it was more than she should say.  She wanted to trust Erin – not because she came across as being earnest, although she did, but because Charlotte trusted her.

Erin’s voice faltered slightly as she replied, “I also read in the files how you were there that night – when she was arrested.”

Harriet couldn’t allow herself to think back to that horrible night, not right now.  She simply said, “Yes, I was.”

“The files said you worked for the EBC, and that Charlie was giving you information – that she was some kind of informant,” Erin said, her brow furrowed, indicating this didn’t fit with what she knew.

“That’s partially true,” Harriet replied.  “I did work for the EBC.”  She could tell Erin wanted more, but instead she said, “Listen, I asked you here because I think you can help Charlie.  There are things that, you have to understand, someone like me can’t do directly.”

“Help her how?” Erin asked.

“As an educated woman – a solicitor – you must have noticed how things… how the political climate… has been shifting.  There’s been some talk of reunification and reopening the borders.  I believe there’s room for leniency that wasn’t possible before.”  Harriet felt a pang as she added, “She’s served twelve years in prison.  It’s possible to appeal to the Crown to let her out on license.” 

Erin looked hopeful and asked, “You think they’ll let Charlie out?”

Harriet was careful with her tone and words as she replied, “I think there’s a chance.  Nothing more.”  She knew Charlotte’s to be a difficult case.  Charlotte had been given an indeterminate sentence for public protection, meaning they could hold her indefinitely.  With this sentence came a tariff – a minimum sentence that she was required to serve.  In her case, it was twelve years.

“But you’ll help?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Harriet said.  “I’ll be in touch as I have more of the pieces sorted out.”

Erin stood and said, “I’m very grateful, and I’m sure Charlie will be, too.”  Something was wrong.  Erin wasn’t smiling.

“But?” Harriet ventured.

Emotion strained her voice, but Erin spoke quietly as she said, “I have to wonder how it is that you’re here, in this beautiful office – in Westminster – with your assistant, your position… when, from what little I know, you were just as guilty as Charlie.”

Harriet missed a beat before replying, “More.  The guilt doesn’t even compare.” She reached out her hand for a parting handshake and repeated her earlier words, “I’ll be in touch.”

Harriet stared at the door after Erin left.  Her finger went to the intercom, “Anna, cancel the rest of my appointments for today.”

There was a pause before Anna replied, “Yes, Ms. Spencer.”

Harriet looked around her office as if seeing it for the first time, seeing it through Erin’s eyes.  She took in the rich detailing – the oak finishing, the leather, the artwork.  And although her own office didn’t have much of a view, she could slip around the corner to a beautiful conference room with a view of the London Eye and the River Thames.  From the conference room, in daylight, she could gaze at the old bronze statue of Boudicca, the Celtic queen who nearly drove the Romans off the island, in full glory with her charging horses.  Yes, without a doubt she was living a better life than Charlotte.

She pulled open one of her desk drawers to remove a glass and a bottle of scotch. 
A little early for a drink, isn’t it?
she could hear Daniel’s voice in her head.  Pouring herself a healthy amount, she lifted the glass in the air and thought,
To you, my friend.

As she sipped her drink, she used her desk computer to connect to His Majesty’s Prison, Drake Hall.  She entered Charlotte’s six-digit prisoner number, which she suspected was permanently imprinted on her brain after entering it so many times, and Charlotte’s file appeared in projection above her desk.  As always, Harriet was distracted by the image of Charlotte, floating in the air.  The prisons automatically updated their prisoner image files on a monthly basis, so she knew this to be a fairly recent likeness. 

To Harriet, Charlotte was perfect.  Whereas others might notice her slightly crooked nose, her thin lips, or how her ears stuck out just a bit far from the sides of her head, Harriet was more likely to lose herself in Charlotte’s blue-green eyes.  She wanted to reach out and stroke her hair, to touch her cheek, to run her thumb over the corners of her mouth and eyes where she imagined there could be fine lines from smiling, if she ever smiled anymore. She wanted to feel Charlotte’s lean but strong arms around her.  But it was just an image, and Harriet knew better.  She turned off her file.

She wanted the scotch to make her feel numb, but it would take a great deal more alcohol to accomplish that. 

Unable to fight back the memory any longer, she thought of that night.

After she left the house, she had initially gone to 85 Westchester Place, where Daniel usually stayed in an upstairs room.  She thought he would be working.  She used her key at the front door and found the two guards on duty playing cards in the main room.  On the table, where they could both see it, was a small monitor with direct feeds from the front and rear entrances.  She recognized both of their faces, as they were men she had known for several years at least.  They nodded in acknowledgement as she walked past them and down the hallway.  She often came over to work in her office, so it was nothing out of the ordinary for her to be there.

Her pace slowed as she started up the stairs.  Something was wrong.  Why were all the lights off upstairs?  She returned to the two guards and asked, “Has Daniel gone out?”

The older of the two – Ethan – stood and looked concerned as he addressed her.  “He left about an hour ago.  Is everything all right?”

She ignored the question and instead asked, “Did he say where he was going?”

“No, ma’am.  He didn’t say,” Ethan replied.

She rushed back out the door without thanking him.

Daniel and Harriet had been working together for longer than she cared to recall, and she knew his habits.  He was a man of routine.  She went by all his regular places but still couldn’t locate him, and as she checked each place off her mental list, her trepidation increased.

With a few unlikely places still on her list, she headed for the Tube station to go across town.  As she approached the station, she saw the scrolling emergency message on the marquis above the entrance.  She read the words: “Police Alert – Assassination Attempt of P.M. – Westminster and St. James on Lockdown – Further Details to Follow.”

Feeling a sudden panic, Harriet knew she needed to get home and get to Charlotte.  Wherever Daniel was, she would have to trust him to be safe.

Her memory jumped ahead to entering her house that night, walking past the broken doorjamb and hearing the police in her kitchen.  She knew they were there before she could see them, and she had mere seconds to compose herself for whatever she would find.  But no amount of time could have adequately prepared her to find Charlotte, handcuffed, pressed against her kitchen counter, and covered in blood.  Harriet’s heart leapt into her throat as she thought Charlotte was injured, and then her mind registered Daniel’s body on the floor, watching as the police worked on him.  Feeling time passing incredibly slowly, she observed the amount of blood on the floor near Daniel’s body and dimly understood that he was lost.

She heard a knocking on her office door, bringing her back to the present day.  Opening the door just wide enough to poke her head through, Anna asked, “Would you like a cup of tea, Ms. Spencer?”

This wasn’t the first time she had cancelled appointments, nor was it the first time that Anna had seen her drinking scotch in her office.  A true professional, Anna said nothing about it.

“Thank you, Anna, that would be nice.”

“Right away, then,” she said with a duck of her head.

Yes
, Harriet thought,
far guiltier than Charlie.  If only you knew, Erin.

By the end of her workday, Harriet had had Anna fetch her everything she could find on the governor of Drake Hall, a person by the name of Naomi James.  She wanted to know who she was – her background, how long she had been running Drake Hall, and what she did in her free time.  She told Anna to search using her security code, which would give her access to files that any sane person would be alarmed to learn the government collected.

She then dismissed Anna early so she could read the files without interruption.  “Are you sure, Ms. Spencer?” Anna asked when Harriet told her to go home early.  “Shall I run and get you some takeaway?  You’ve hardly eaten anything all day.”

“No, thank you.  I’ll be fine.  See you tomorrow, Anna.”

Anna left, and Harriet pulled up the main file on Naomi James.  She studied her image – mousy brown hair arranged neatly, slender face, dark brown eyes, freckles, and young looking.  She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Harriet checked her birthdate and calculated her age: twenty-eight. 
All right
, she thought,
so she looks a bit young for her age.

Rather than working her way up the ranks, Naomi had been fast-tracked into her position as governor by going through a graduate training program.  She had gone straight from university into the prison service, moving rapidly through several senior postings until she became governor at Drake Hall.  So far, she had a distinguished service record with only the usual early, minor mishaps – a consequence of the learning curve involved in working in prisons.