Chapter Twelve B: Agony in the Office

Pol paced back and forth in her office. It was nearly ten o’clock Sunday night and the questions in her mind were nearly numbing her with indecision. Aaron had called her as soon as her plane had touched the ground in Washington DC. She had only minutes to talk to him since he had just boarded the last flight out to DC. He wouldn’t get in until nearly midnight, but he told her that he had evidence that her Uncle Alex was to blame for the Mercury in Lake Michigan, and that it was he who had killed the Great Lakes Bill by getting it moved to Commerce. Now as she waited in her office for Aaron to arrive, she found it hard to believe that kindly uncle Alex had been the one who engineered this environmental catastrophe.

Aaron had been adamant that she should call Homeland Security immediately, but every time Pol picked up the phone to make the call she was assailed by doubts. Perhaps the Mercury in the Lake was part of the architect’s plan. Perhaps she shouldn’t interfere and was in this position specifically to intercept any attempt to disclose what was going on.

How was she supposed to know which path was the right one for her to take? Alex had introduced her to the Architects, convinced her that she was one of them. How could he be working against them if he was one as well? Was he? There were always those who were not one of them that were still close to them. They couldn’t hope to do everything themselves. In fact, they were not supposed to receive anything more than elemental instructions to inspire and lead, not to do. It was the world that was supposed to do the work, not the architects.

She should call Alex. He would know what to do. Her hand was on the phone when she realized that she was effectively cut off from him as well. She could play the entire conversation they would have without lifting the receiver. He would deny or justify. Tell her that she should trust him and that he would explain everything later. They would visit the architects together and all would be understood. Above all, you can’t trust the people. That is why you are here, to guide and lead and inspire. Let me worry about what actions to take.

Guide, lead, and inspire. What kind of a leader would allow the plant to be poisoned? She should call Homeland Security right now like Aaron had suggested, but how could she turn in one of her own? There had to be a way to end this agonizing indecision. She had never experienced anything so debilitating.

In the end, she argued with herself until she slept, fitfully at her desk. The phone woke her up.

“Pol, this is Aaron. I’m at the front of the office building, but you know I can’t come up without an escort. Can you send someone down to meet me?”

“I’ll be right there, Aaron. There is no one else here at the moment.” She hung up and went to the entry of the Rayburn Building to escort her guest up. After duly signing him in they walked up the stairs with polite questions about the conditions of the flight and the lateness of the hour. It was 12:30 in the morning. This was going to be a rough night. When they got to the office it was very different than Aaron had imagined. He expected that the staff would have been called in and that at least one agent from Homeland Security would be waiting. On the airplane he had carefully copied the content of his storage card to his laptop and then burned a CD. Now there were three copies and he would shift it to electronic storage as soon as he had a connection.

“Where is everyone?” he asked when they were in Pol’s office. Rather than answer, she kissed him. He did not resist the pull of her lips but when the kiss had broken he looked at her curiously.

“I needed to remind myself of something,” Pol smiled hesitantly. “Now the questions. First of all, I didn’t call anyone in. Secondly, I didn’t call Homeland Security. I couldn’t. I have to see your evidence first. You understand that I want to believe you, in fact I do believe you, I just can’t believe this of Alex Jasper. I’ve known him all my life.”

“So has your great-grandmother,” Aaron said.

“Aunt Hattie?” Pol corrected absently. “Thank you for telling me about her condition. I called on my way from the airport. She seemed so at peace. Told me everything would be all right now, I’d see. By the way, she really likes you.” Aaron hemmed a little.

“It may be because I told her you believed her,” Aaron said sheepishly. “I know that wasn’t my place to do, but it was so important to her. I don’t think she is going to last long. But before I left she told me about Alex.”

“I will forgive you for telling her that I believe her because she is probably dying, but you can’t expect me to accept her stories with the way she feels about Alex.”

“You know?”

“Only that they’ve never gotten along. She objects to my calling her Aunt in one breath and him Uncle in the next. But I’ve never found out why she objected so strongly to him. He was very close to my mother as one of her teachers. Retired by the time I got to know him, although he didn’t seem that old. He’s in his eighties now, though and still doesn’t seem that old. You would think that she would like him since he…” She cut off her story as she realized what she was about to say.

“Since he validated her story about the Lover long ago and your relationship to her?” Aaron filled in.

“No, not that part of the story. He insisted that one of the architect’s messengers would never have gotten involved with a local woman. He was more interested in the fact that I was chosen by the architects.” Pol finished quietly. “But that is not the point here.”

“No,” said Aaron. “The point is that Aunt Hattie believes he is a fraud. Whoever you have met may or may not be part of this group of “architects,” and whatever they’ve told you to do may or may not in the best interest of your constituents.”

“Aaron, you don’t understand and I can’t explain it to you,” Pol said. “I would end up in the same kind of laughable state as Mad Aunt Hattie.”

“Is that it?” Aaron asked incredulously. “Is that why there is no Homeland Security officer waiting here to look at this evidence? Are you so afraid that what you think about the Architects might be wrong that you can’t act?”

“Aaron, back off,” Pol interjected. “I have never been in a position of doubt before. I know that the plan is in the best interest of the earth. I can’t discern if Alex’s role is part of the plan.”

“That’s because you know that the plan may be in what they perceive as the best interest of the earth, but that the people on the earth might be disposable. You’d stand by and watch millions die if you thought that a thousand years down the line the earth would be better for it.” Aaron was fuming. Somehow he thought that Pol would incensed that Alex would do something like this. He thought she would put the people above the architects, whoever they were, who were calling the shots in her career.

“Show me, Aaron,” she said. “What evidence do you have that Alex is involved in this? I’m trying to figure a way to save the workers their jobs when the steel industry collapses because someone, probably inspired by you, broke a news story about Mercury poisoning in the Lake. You are quick to judge my faith in people that I’ve known for years and expect me, based on a few kisses to believe you instead. Show me.”

“Pol, I don’t expect you to believe because I love you,” Aaron said quietly. “I expect you to believe because every fiber of your being tells you that it’s right. Here. I’ve put everything on this CD. Let’s plug it in.” Pol went to her computer and logged in, then hesitated.

“I don’t want this recorded on the network yet,” she said. “Show me on your computer.” Aaron logged onto his own laptop and slipped the CD into the drive.

“I hired a private investigator to find out why they were dredging in the Harbor. I knew from our visit that there was no Kudzu in the Lake. Don’t ask me how, I’ve never understood it. I’m surprised that you didn’t know it right away as well. When you took me out to the Dunes it was as if I could see every detail of the Lake’s geography. There simply weren’t any foreign weeds. There was, however, a leaking container of poison. That’s all I knew. That, and that if water kept leaking through the channel they’ve dug, there is likely to be a city-flattening earthquake in southern Lake Michigan. You showed me all that in the visualization you led me through.

“She, my private investigator, followed a couple leads I had including one from the County Auditor that there was mercury in the water and found that all of the steel mill’s mercury was accounted for. That means that releasing this story could only damage the mill. Then she donned scuba gear and actually dove off the shore near the Steel Mill. She was able to mark the exact spot where the canister is located. You can see the photo that she sent. She noted the markings which bear the exact same serial number as the canister locked safely in the mill’s laboratory. That got her suspicions up, but when she surfaced, it was yards away from a meeting that was taking place on that very secluded strand of beach. She lay in the water and was able to hear snatches that said payment was made and player one could leave any time. She took these pictures. I had a database already prepared of images of people we assumed would be key players in anything that happened in and around Burns Ditch. That included the harbormaster, and the executive managers of several industries stretching all along the Lakeshore. This one matched. He’s general manager of the Hoosier Steel Mill that’s located right next to the harbor.” Aaron kept moving through the evidence on his laptop showing Pol images and tracking her reaction which had not varied from intent interest since he’d begun.

“But it was the other guy that seemed to be the boss, making the payment. It was early morning and getting lighter as the time went by, so she had to submerge when it looked like they were turning toward the water and she lost a lot of the last part of what was being said. But as soon as they were on the move again, so was she. She moved through the woods to her car and was waiting when the player two left the parking lot. She followed him into town where he stopped at a truckstop outside LaPorte. She was able to change out of her gear and get a cup of coffee and still be in a good position when the guy came out of the restaurant. This is the picture she shot.” Pol gasped audibly as Alex’s picture came up on the screen.

“That’s still just a possibility,” Pol said. “Alex lives near Michigan City. She might have picked up the wrong car.”

“I would consider that a possibility, too,” Aaron explained. “But Susan is a professional, trained by army intelligence in the first Iraq war. She followed Mr. Jasper all day. Right to Twelve Oaks.”

“That’s still reasonable,” Pol began. “He often comes out there to visit.” She cut off as Aaron played the recording that he had taken on his cell phone.

“Beating the pulp out of him is not likely to be the right decision,” said the first voice.

“Too late for that. The order has been given already,” said a second voice.

“But it’s not going to go away,” said the first.

“Bury it,” said the second.

“Look, it was easy to kill the Great Lakes Bill. I just needed to call in a few favors. But dumping mercury in the Lake had to come to the surface sometime. And the steel mill has already accounted for every drop they’ve stored. I wouldn’t be surprised if Homeland Security is involved now that they ran that story.”

“Whatever possessed him to pass on that kind of information?” the second voice asked. “He knew it wouldn’t do his employers any good, or anyone else. We’ve reached a critical point in this plan. He’s got to be taken out of circulation and everyone pulled back. They can’t possible locate that canister before it’s too late.”

“Wasn’t there any other way to do this?”

“No.”

The recording beeped and ended. Pol’s reaction was not what Aaron expected. He expected shock, maybe even anger, but Pol had gone rigid as if paralyzed by what she heard.

“Pol,” Aaron began. “I’m sorry. I know how fond you are of Alex Jasper.”

“It’s not Alex,” Pol began. “I mean, yes, it is his voice. Yes he has to have been the one that killed the Great Lakes Bill. But it’s the other. Couldn’t you hear it?”

“Sounded like a mean son of a bitch,” Aaron said. “Other than that I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s more than mean,” Pol said. “For lack of a better word and at risk of sounding like a right wing platitude, it was evil. It is not the architect.”

“How can you be sure?” Aaron asked. “You told me yourself that you’d only met the architect once.”

“Aaron, I know you were there and you heard at least part of what was going on. Yes, I was in the church the night of your accident. I dragged you out of the sanctuary when you’d passed out and Alex brought the chair and rang the bell then left while I called for help.” Aaron was surprised that Pol was telling him this. Now he had to wonder exactly how much of what he remembered of that night was real and not hallucination as he had first thought. “Think Aaron,” Pol said. “You heard the architect’s voice. What was it like?” Aaron closed his eyes and tried to focus on the hazy, drug-and-pain-influenced memories of that night just six or seven weeks ago.

“Well,” he began, “the voices were confused part of the time—almost like there was a chorus. But when she spoke she…” He cut himself off abruptly and looked up at Pol. “The architect is a she,” he said. “And there was none of the same choral backup like I heard before. This is almost like it was taking place in an isolation chamber.”

“Exactly,” Pol responded. “The creature that was talking to Alex is something completely apart from the architect. What can he be thinking? And why would they meet there?”

“Pol,” Aaron said apologetically, “I came in here thinking that we should go to Homeland Security. And I still think we should send them the info on where to pick up the canister. But before we turn over the rest of the evidence, I think you should meet with the architect. I don’t know who she is, but you have to be confident that this is right. If you can’t point an accusing finger and believe what you are saying, then nothing we send to Homeland is going to make a bit of difference.”

“I don’t know how,” Pol said simply.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know how to contact her. Alex set it up the last time. All I had to do was show up.” Pol’s frustration was cut short by the phone ringing. “Who would be trying to reach me here at this hour?” she asked as she punched the speaker phone on. “Hello?”

“Representative Stamos, this is Warren Memorial Home calling. We’ve been working our way down the list of numbers that you left us for emergency. I’m glad we’ve reached you. I’m afraid we have sad news for you. Your aunt has passed away. She died peacefully in her sleep about an hour ago. The nurse on duty was in the room when she passed and said that she just took a deep breath and then went still. The doctor was called, but I’m afraid that she was too frail to revive.” Pol was still and Aaron could hardly breathe. He realized how dear Aunt Hattie had become to him. A tear ran from his eye as he listened to Pol calmly confirm arrangements for her great-aunt/grandmother and indicate that she would be there tomorrow afternoon to see to things. Then she disconnected.

Suddenly a flood of tears fell from her eyes and a great sob overwhelmed her as she threw herself into Aaron’s arms. He was overcome with grief himself.

“Oh Aaron, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I should have told her myself. Thank you for putting her at peace before she died. I do believe she is my great-grandmother. I know it is true.” They held each other tightly as they wept, trying to console each other for losses that were strangely different for each of them, but very much the same in their impact. At last Pol raised her eyes to Aaron’s and looked at him for a long moment.

“I guess we will meet with the architect after all,” she said softly.

“I thought you didn’t know how to contact her,” Aaron said puzzled.

“I don’t. But she always comes to funerals.”

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