The Organization (28 page)

Harriet replied quietly, saying, “This isn’t really the place to talk about that.”  She smiled at Naomi to soften her comment and then took a sip of her piping hot coffee.

Harriet led them back down the street toward her building, the noise of the crowd on the sidewalk making it impossible to have any intimate conversation.  She stopped at the entrance and touched Naomi’s arm as she said, “It was really good of you to surprise me.”

“Harriet, I was hoping we could talk,” Naomi replied.  Harriet silently observed that she hadn’t yet taken a single sip of her coffee.

“All right,” Harriet replied.  “But I have to get back to work now.  You understand.”

“Yes, I understand,” Naomi replied, her mouth tugging downward into a frown.

Harriet needed to keep on Naomi’s good side.  She gave her arm a squeeze and said, “But let’s get together soon – my place or yours, it doesn’t matter. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Naomi said, although it was plain that she was still bothered.

Harriet gave her a quick peck on the cheek and replied, “Brilliant.  I’ll be in touch.”  She flashed a smile at Naomi before disappearing through the doors.

#

With her bottle of scotch and an empty glass resting on the piano, Harriet finished playing another song and then reached for a drink.  Well, another drink.  She had lost count of how many she had had.

She hadn’t heard Thomas walk into the room, but he helped himself to a seat on the couch nearby, saying, “Really, I’m amazed that you still play.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be so easily offended, Harriet.  You play beautifully.  I just didn’t think you’d stick with it.  They say it’s difficult to learn to play an instrument as an adult,” Thomas said.

She took a large swallow of scotch then motioned with her glass toward Thomas.  “Would you like some?”

He shook his head no.  He hesitated before saying, “I just wish that playing the piano made you… happier.  Where do you go in your mind, when you’re playing?”

“To the same place I went, physically, last week,” she said muddily, pouring herself another glass.

“Now you’ve lost me,” Thomas said with a hint of a smile.

Harriet looked over at this man whom she had known for so long.  “To Drake Hall.  To Charlie.  Playing the piano makes me feel closer to Charlie,” she replied, knowing that her words would hurt him.

There was no trace of a smile on his lips as he asked, “You saw Charlie?”

Harriet shrugged and took another drink.  She seemed distracted as she said, “It’s a shame.  She and I never did take that trip to Edinburgh that we had planned.  There just wasn’t the time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“About Edinburgh?” Harriet asked dryly.

“About seeing Charlie,” Thomas said.

“It wasn’t a social visit.  We were never alone together, if that’s what’s worrying you,” she said, sighing.  “I attended her hearing.”

Thomas’s eyebrows arched.  “What kind of hearing?”

“With the parole board.  They were deciding whether to release her.  She should find out next week, I imagine.”

“Harriet, Charlie is being released from prison?” he asked.  She couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised or angry.

“It’s doubtful, but yes, it’s a possibility.”  She took a long sip of scotch.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t mention this to me.”  His eyes cast downward, he was quiet for a moment.  Looking at Harriet again, he said, “This is why you’ve been acting so strangely lately, isn’t it?”  She didn’t answer, so he then asked, “So, what does this mean, Harriet?  To the organization, and… to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Thomas.”

“You’re being purposely obtuse.  Don’t insult me.”  He stood and walked over to where Harriet still sat at the piano.  “If Charlie gets out, are you letting her back into the fold of the organization?  Can we still trust her after all that’s happened?”

Harriet felt her anger growing again, an anger that the scotch no longer seemed to dull.  “That woman has served twelve years for us, Thomas.  Twelve years and she hasn’t revealed anything.  So yes, I think we can still trust her.”

“Harriet, I didn’t mean –”

“I know exactly what you meant, Thomas,” she said, an icy tone to her voice.  “But for now, we don’t even know if she’s being released.  Honestly, it’s rather unlikely that she will be.”

His face flushed, he asked, “Are you going to tell the others?”  By others, Harriet knew he meant Zoe, Ethan, and the other members of the inner circle.

“When it’s necessary –
if
it becomes necessary – then yes.”

“I guess that’s your prerogative,” Thomas said, looking like he wanted to say far more than just that.

“Yes, it is,” Harriet replied.  Standing up, she took the bottle off the piano and added, “I’m going to bed.”

Chapter Fifty

Harriet leaned back in her chair, her elbows resting on the arms of the chair and her fingers steepled in front of her, as she listened to Zoe’s report.  Zoe described in detail how she had gone to check out the meeting of a group that could possibly be connected to Joanna.

“But you still don’t know for sure whether Joanna is behind that organization,” Harriet said, growing irritated by how long Zoe’s report was taking.  Normally she would appreciate Zoe’s thoroughness, but her nerves were feeling taxed.

Thomas interjected, “What do they call themselves, anyway?  This organization, that organization… I don’t need the confusion.”  Apparently Harriet wasn’t the only aggravated person in the room.

Zoe looked from Thomas to Harriet and replied, “Sisters and Brothers of the Revolution.  But no, I don’t know if Joanna is behind it.”

Harriet made a mental note that it sounded like a name Joanna would come up with.  She asked, “Did it feel like it could be her?”

Zoe was starting to flush, the pink in her skin rising from her chest up to her cheeks.  “I never met her first-hand, remember.  When I started as a supplier, it was an acquaintance that set everything up between us.  But from what I’ve learned about Joanna over these past several years… yes, it could be her.  I mean, the meeting felt like… well…”

“Yes?” Harriet asked with her eyebrows raised.

“It felt like our meetings.  The Big Circle meetings, I mean.”  Zoe was using their shorthand for how they referred to the large meetings of the SDO.  “But it also felt like how you described how our meetings used to be – back when they were secret and closed, and when any new person would be frisked at the door.”

“Joanna helped to develop that procedure,” Ethan said.

“And then there was something else, too,” Zoe said.  She ran her fingers through her short, bleach blond hair.  “I think they had me followed after I left.”

Harriet could feel the frown forming on her face.  “Go on.”

“I can’t be sure, but I heard someone behind me when I was a couple of blocks from the meeting so I stopped off for a cup of tea.  Someone else arrived soon after me and then I saw him again at the Tube station after I left.  I lost him on the Tube, though.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan asked.

There was a flicker of doubt before Zoe replied, “Yes.”

“We’ll need you to go back, Zoe,” Harriet said.  “Did they encourage you to return?  Do you know when their next meeting is?”

She nodded and said, “It’s this Friday.”

“Good.  Be careful.  This might take some time, but we need to figure out who’s behind these ‘Sisters and Brothers.’”

#

Harriet took a long walk and ended up at 1 Bridge Street where her office was located in Portcullis House, part of the expanded buildings of Parliament. Sitting in her chair in her mostly darkened office, she browsed the notes that Anna had left for her about which constituents needed attention, plus a reminder to look through the internship applications. Harriet felt like she had been neglecting her work lately, that even when she was physically present, her mind was elsewhere.

Harriet called up her diginotes and saw there was one from Erin.  Bringing it into view, she read that Erin wanted to meet as soon as possible.  Harriet sent her a reply asking if she could meet first thing the next morning, and then she turned and stared out her window.  Across the street, the massive neo-gothic building, especially with its yellow glow at night, never failed to put her in her place and make her feel appropriately small.

She looked back to her desk and saw that Erin had already replied.  Erin gave Harriet her address, even though Harriet could’ve have looked it up on her own, and said she would be home all night. Erin asked that if Harriet couldn’t stop by, she would meet her in the morning at her office.

Harriet decided the internship applications could wait.

When Harriet arrived at Erin’s flat, it was late enough that she should have been asleep and it was possibly past Erin’s bedtime as well.  The city had made some improvements, such as sunscreens over the street, which meant that some of the populace had returned to daytime schedules.  She presumed that Erin, like most Londoners, had kept up a nocturnal schedule.  Scientists were still hard at work trying to combat climate change, the only apparent benefit being that political forces saw that they could not afford to go it alone – that alliances with other countries were finally deemed necessarily.  Nevertheless, some Londoners had eased back into a diurnal schedule, and Harriet wondered whether she would find Erin asleep.

Harriet knocked softly on the door with her knuckles, and Erin opened it a moment later.  “Hi, Harriet.  Come in.  Or should I say Ms. Spencer?” she asked dryly.

Harriet entered her flat, observing the modest but homey décor, and replied evenly, “Would you have preferred that I tell Naomi James that you and I knew each other?  That we’re on a first-name basis?”

Erin walked into her kitchen, so Harriet followed her.  Erin went to the sink, turned on the tap, and started filling a teakettle.  “Cuppa?” she asked.

“Please,” Harriet said.  She noted how Erin’s flowing blouse and capri pants were by far the most casual clothes Harriet had seen her in before.

“Milk and sugar?”

“Milk, no sugar,” Harriet said.

“We haven’t known each other very long, really,” Erin finally said as a reply.  “It’s just that we’ve both known Charlie for so long.”  She placed the kettle on the burner and turned the knob, then took a seat at the vintage kitchen table nearby.  Harriet sat down in a chair catty-corner to her.

“I don’t even know if I… know… Charlie, or if I just knew her, past tense, for a while a long time ago.”  Harriet looked away and said, “You probably don’t want to hear about this.”

“I’m sure you’ve known a lot of people.  What makes Charlie any different?  Or isn’t she different?” Erin asked, and although her words were biting, her tone was kind.

“She’s always been different.”  Harriet took a moment to collect her thoughts then said, “Back when I met Charlie, I almost universally met people either through my work at the EBC….”

“Who I’m sure were scared as hell of you,” she said quietly, apparently unafraid to let her feelings about the EBC be known.

“Mostly, yes, you’re right.  And if I didn’t meet someone through the EBC, then I met them through the organization.”

Erin asked, “And what about people in the organization?”

“They were even more scared of me than those at the EBC were.”

“You don’t seem like such a scary person, Harriet,” she said softly, with the hint of a reassuring smile.  The kettle began to whistle and Erin got up to pour the water.  “I can see how people could be intimidated, maybe.  Honestly, I was a little intimidated going to your office, knowing that you’re an MP.”

Harriet replied cautiously, “Well, perhaps it’s not me as a person that scares people, but rather the positions I’ve held.”

“What kind of position did you have within the organization? – Or is that something I shouldn’t ask?”  She brought the two cups over to the table.

“Charlie didn’t tell you,” Harriet said.

Erin cradled one of the teacups in front of her and replied, “Charlie told me you were part of the organization.  Is there something more to know?”

Harriet looked at this woman sitting so near to her.  She knew she had perjured herself and she seemed willing to keep both her secrets and Charlie’s, but it was so difficult for Harriet to trust anyone.  Harriet hesitated and then finally said, “I was – I
am
– the organization’s leader.”

Erin’s teacup started to slip from her hands and she jerked to catch it, causing tea to spill on her lap and a curse word to escape her lips.  Harriet went to the sink and returned with a dishtowel, handing it to Erin.

“Thank you,” Erin said.  Erin patted her trousers with the towel and then, stopping, looked at Harriet and said, “So it still exists – the organization.”

“It’s changed over the years,” Harriet said simply.  “The way it exists now, for the most part, is as the Social Democratic Organization.”

“As in the political party?” she asked.

“Yes.  At least, that’s the visible part of the organization,” Harriet replied.  “Officially, of course, I’m a Labour Co-operative Party member, but my allegiance has always been to the organization.”

“Hence your party’s support for the SDO.”  She placed the dishtowel on the table and said, “I knew Charlie was loyal to the organization.  And I knew you were a part of it.  But… with your being in charge of the organization… that completes the picture of why she wouldn’t give up any information to the police.”

Harriet set her teacup on the table next to Erin’s.  “When Charlie met me, and when we became involved with each other, she didn’t know.  And I didn’t want her caught up in the organization.”

“But you didn’t push her away,” Erin said.

“No,” Harriet admitted.  “Not effectively, anyway.”

“I’d like to be angry at you.  And who knows, maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and all this will have sunk in and I’ll be livid.  But Harriet, I get the feeling that you’ve been punishing yourself well enough for years now.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to wake up angry at me,” Harriet said with the slightest trace of a wry smile.