by Jana Janeway
“That didn’t strike you as odd?”
“Of course it did. That’s why I remember it.”
As the director had ordered, she moved on, but stayed in the vicinity of the subject. “When former agent Cosker told you that the houses and car were bugged, what was your reaction? What was Jessica’s?”
“I was upset. How could I not be? But Jessica… she freaked out. That they were listening while we were being intimate…”
Shuddering, he trailed off, remembering when the full scope of that information clicked with her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Daniels, I know how mortified you and Jessica must have been, learning that your privacy was violated in that manner.”
“We respectfully object! Leading.”
Annoyed, Craddock blew a sharp breath through his nose. The way the spokesperson for the Registry kept disrespectfully objecting was starting to unravel his last thread of patience.
“Sustained.”
Ignoring Horace’s upholding of the objection, Craddock blurted, “But we were mortified! To have your wife, for even a second, regret your lovemaking?” His gaze fell to his water bottle, focusing on the condensation that had formed. “It’s the sickest feeling in the world.”
“Why did your wife regret your lovemaking?” Elsa knew why, but she wanted him to say it out loud, to officially get it on record.
He glared at Liam while answering. “Because she’s shy! Because we’re not exhibitionists! Those were private moments that should have stayed private!”
“Thank you, Mr. Daniels.” Elsa’s tone was kind but her eyes were stern; a silent message. He needed to rein in his temper. “The plaintiffs have no further questions.”
Continuing his note taking as Elsa returned to her seat, Horace eventually cleared his throat, only glancing at the defendant’s table when he did so. “The floor is yours, Mr. Connoly.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Craddock tensed as the man approached, unnerved and angry in equal measure. This was the part he had been dreading the most. Everything he and Jessica had gone through was about to be undermined, spun differently to support the Registry’s lies.
“Do you need a moment, Mr. Daniels, to calm down before we begin?”
It was a subtle ploy, but Craddock wasn’t stupid. He knew what was being implied. “I’m calm, Mr. Connoly.” He buried his contempt, keeping his tone and expression as neutral as he was capable of. “Ask your questions.”
Without wasting a second, the man jumped right in. “Isn’t it true, Mr. Daniels, that the Registry bent over backwards to accommodate you and Jessica, catering to your every whim?”
“No, that’s not true. Our needs were always met, but there was a lot we were denied. Visiting her brother. A computer. Freedom.”
There was no acknowledgment of Craddock’s response. “Isn’t it true, Mr. Daniels, that you never actually asked the Registry to leave Abdonville, California?”
“Not officially, but we did let it be known that we were ready to move on.”
“Since it wasn’t an official request, isn’t it possible, Mr. Daniels, that the interviewing agent simply neglected to report it to his superiors?”
Craddock sighed; he had no choice but to surrender the point. “Yes, it’s possible.”
Mr. Connoly flipped to the next page in his notepad. “Mr. Daniels, you stated that former agent Cosker told you there were listening and tracking devices planted in your house and car; did he at any time provide you with proof of this?”
“No, but there wasn’t time—”
“Were you aware, Mr. Daniels, that former agent Cosker was assigned to Shea and Stacy Mitchell prior to being assigned to you and your wife?”
Confused, Craddock looked over at Wade, whose face was a blank mask of indifference. “Yeah, he told us.”
“Since former agent Cosker had access to Shea and Stacy, isn’t it possible, Mr. Daniels, that he himself planted the supposed listening and tracking devices, so that he could conveniently find them at a later time?”
“We respectfully object. Calls for conjecture.”
“Sustained.”
Though he was aware of Elsa standing and objecting, and heard Horace uphold it, Craddock’s eyes never left Wade. He didn’t believe what was being insinuated, but he wondered if Wade knew that.
Mr. Connoly didn’t even seem fazed, asking his next question without pause. “You state that your requests to visit Jessica’s brother were refused. Were you not aware of the rules of relocation, Mr. Daniels?”
Craddock was really beginning to hate the way this man kept saying his name with every question. “Yes, Mr. Connoly, I know the Registry prefers limited contact with those we knew from past identities, but it’s not forbidden, is it? Because they’re biologically related, we were told it was possible.”
“And who told you it was possible, Mr. Daniels?”
“Marcy.”
“Are you referring to former agent Marcy Hampton, Mr. Daniels?”
A sudden wave of nausea rolled in Craddock’s stomach. “Yes.”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Daniels, that it was also former agent Hampton who told you that Jessica’s parents were deceased, when in actuality they were alive and well, living comfortably in a house in Montauk, under the protection of the Registry?”
Catching on to what was happening, bile rose in Craddock’s throat, making it difficult to swallow. The Registry wasn’t just trying to discredit Wade. They were attempting to paint all of them as rogue agents. “Yes, but—”
“And isn’t it also true, Mr. Daniels, that you and your wife never once asked the Registry directly for information on the whereabouts of her parents?”
“Because we were told they were dead!”
“Do you need a moment to calm down, Mr. Daniels?”
Craddock was on the brink of losing it. “I know my name, Mr. Connoly. You know my name, Mr. Connoly. Everyone in this room knows my name, Mr. Connoly!”
The man smirked at him, his body turned so that no one else could see. “Take a moment, Mr. Daniels.”
Glaring, Craddock suppressed the urge to punch the smug expression off of his face. “I don’t need a moment. Just get on with it.”
“Very well, Mr. Daniels.” He consulted his notes before continuing. “Were you involved in the illegal overtaking of the Registry’s computer’s mainframe, Mr. Daniels?”
That squashed his anger; fear took its place. “Only in that I knew it was happening. I didn’t really understand it.”
“But you know who committed the crime, don’t you, Mr. Daniels?”
Craddock’s eyes grew wide, darting to and landing on each of his friends. Knowing they could offer nothing in the way of advice, he blurted the only thing his panicked mind could think of. “It wasn’t anyone in this room.”
“Can you give us a name, Mr. Daniels?”
He looked at Mr. Connoly, briefly, before turning towards Horace. “I don’t have to answer that, do I?”
“No, son, you don’t.”
Regaining a bit of his nerve, Craddock set his gaze back on the sleaze in front of him. “Then I respectfully refuse to answer that question.”
That seemed to knock a little bit of wind out of Mr. Connoly’s sails, but he recovered quickly. “Prior to you and your wife leaving the Abdonville, California house unannounced, isn’t it true, Mr. Daniels, that the Registry had given you no reason to doubt their sincere interest in your wellbeing?”
His trying to revisit the notion that the ‘rogue agents’ had poisoned their minds against the Registry brought Craddock’s blood to a boil. “Their sincere interest in our wellbeing? They shot my wife!”
Mr. Connoly spun around and walked back to his table, shuffling through papers until he found the one he was looking for. “We would like to show Mr. Daniels document 22B, submitted by the defense.” As he returned to the witness stand, extending a single piece of paper towards Craddock, the twelve chairpersons sifted through their own copies of the su
bmitted documents, locating the one he’d mentioned.
Irritated, Craddock snatched the paper from Mr. Connoly’s hand, skimming the words printed on the Registry’s official letterhead.
‘Termination of employment; Steve Wenyer, Security Personnel…’
‘Policy: Immediate termination upon egregious infractions…’
‘Discharging firearm without cause, endangering civilians without cause, injuring civilians without cause…’
‘Exact injuries sustained by the victim unknown…’
‘By agreement of management, law enforcement was not called, to avoid unwanted attention and because the victim fled the scene…’
They had covered their tracks.
“As you can see, Mr. Daniels, the guard who shot your wife had his employment terminated for doing so. Had you stayed, you would have known that, and your wife would have received the best possible medical care available.”
“And been imprisoned,” Craddock added, shoving the paper back at him.
“Mr. Daniels, you are clearly an intelligent man; surely you can see what is happening here. The Registry is not your enemy. Are you going to let the paranoid ramblings of a few disgruntled agents influence what you know is right?”
Craddock glared at the railing, fisting the material of his pants, struggling to control his flaring anger. “I know exactly what’s right, and I’m done answering your questions.”
Horace cleared his throat. “It is within your rights to do so; is that your official decision?”
Craddock relaxed his expression, and his fisted hands. “Yes sir.”
“Very well, you are dismissed. The bailiff will show you to the lounge.”
Pushing out of his seat, Craddock grabbed his water bottle before leaving the witness stand, following after the woman who showed him to it when he had first entered the room.
She led him up the center aisle, which was the divider for two sections of now empty spectator seating, beginning between the defendant’s and plaintiff’s tables. It continued all the way to the back, to another set of double doors.
The hallway they stepped into was narrower than the others he had been in, but it was still just as impressive. Marble floors, ornate tapestries adorning the walls, elaborate chandeliers overhead that illuminated their path; the simple door at the end seemed out of place amongst the surrounding grandeur. The room it concealed – the lounge – was even more opulent.
It was like stepping into a reading room at an exclusive club whose only clientele were people of wealth and privilege. Several dark brown leather sofas and black velvet wingback chairs occupied the space within the deep burgundy walls; three cherrywood bookshelves lined one of those walls, all of which held dozens of Kindles, each loaded with hundreds of books.
In the far corner was a snacks table lined with small plastic cups, with air holes in the lids so that the delicacies inside would stay alive and fresh for as long as possible. They even had scorpions, which tended to be expensive since removing their stingers was difficult and often killed them.
“You’ll stay here until the end of session.”
His escort offered a friendly smile before closing the door, leaving him with those whom had testified earlier. A couple of them jerked an upnod at him in greeting, but they all otherwise kept to themselves, as per the rules.
Like it was in that first hallway, there was to be no unnecessary talking in the lounge. There was a guard who stood off to the side to enforce that rule, if needed.
Luckily, the defendant’s witnesses hadn’t been called yet. That made the guard’s job much easier; the absence of adversaries meant tensions remained low, and so the time passed peacefully.
Craddock had helped himself to a couple scorpions and a can of soda, settling into one of the many wingback chairs with a Kindle. He hadn’t really been interested in reading, but for lack of something better to do, he chose a novel at random, using it to distract himself from missing Jessica.
It only worked when he focused hard on the words. When he didn’t, his mind wandered back to her, always.
Back to bright green eyes, sweet smiles, and worried scowls; to screams of pleasure, heated arguments, and frightened tears. With every new thought, every new memory, it became harder and harder to concentrate.
After the next four witnesses for the plaintiff joined them, at intervals of about thirty minutes, the room held steady at nine occupants, not counting their guard. Craddock knew that Marcy, Jeramey, Wade, Elsa, and Kiffen were all scheduled to testify last, before the defendants presented their side, but he didn’t know if they would stay in the courtroom or be asked to wait in the lounge once they were finished.
As the next two and a half hours passed without a sign of them, he assumed the former. By the end of those two and a half hours, he wasn’t even trying to read anymore. He just kept clicking ‘next page’ as he watched the door.
Finally, just as he was entering the final chapter of the book he wasn’t paying any actual attention to, it creaked open, revealing a smug and smiling Jeramey.
“Everybody ready to get the hell out of this room?”
Chapter Thirty-One
As far as flaws in policies go, it was a major one.
“Good idea, bad idea…” Jeramey, half joking but mostly griping, kept a sharp eye peeled for trouble as they moved ahead in line with their trays. “Good idea: feeding the sequestered. Bad idea: feeding all of the sequestered at the exact same time.”
Though the decor was on the same grand scale as every other room in the mansion, the setup was closer to that of a cafeteria. It was a strange mix of elitist country club dining meets public high school lunch period.
Fine mahogany tables instead of cheap folding ones, matching chairs instead of uncomfortable plastic – each of the eight sets, in two rows of four, seated twelve. In contrast, instead of being served, they had to line up mess hall style to get their meal.
Not that the food was anything like the inferior rations found in a mess hall. Everything was of the highest quality, including the selection of Human foods made available to anyone who felt like indulging beyond their dietary requirements.
Craddock didn’t. He just wanted to get through his dinner as quickly as possible so that he could go back to his room, away from the angry glares and hostile atmosphere.
Having members of opposing sides in the same room together when there was no rule about unnecessary talking? Whoever was responsible for that gem of an idea was clearly a moron.
Except for the staff, who would eat later, the only people not present were the twelve chairpersons and Liam Becket, presumably due to their positions within the hierarchy. Apparently, even while under scrutiny, Becket was still regarded as the acting president.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Jeramey was now whispering so that only Marcy could hear him. “Lit match dropped into a gasoline tanker kind of bad.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “I’m watching for it.”
She didn’t have to wait for long. Less than a minute later, a loud conversation at the back of the line started garnering notice.
“…ungrateful, lying bitch. She’s not even here… sends her pathetic excuse for a husband to do her dirty work. What does that tell you?”
Craddock immediately tensed; Marcy nudged Jeramey, who gave a nod in understanding.
“I wouldn’t kick her out of bed, though, if you know what I mean. She could probably use a good—”
The vulgar word used at the conclusion of that sentence was drowned out by the sound of Craddock slamming his empty tray on the counter, purposefully. He couldn’t stop the guy from saying it, but he wasn’t about to just stand there and listen to it. He also wasn’t about to let the guy continue breathing through his unbroken nose.
Fists clenched, he was only three steps out of line when Jeramey was suddenly in front of him, hands on his shoulders to restrain him.
“Don’t do it, man.” Jeramey leaned in, lowering his voice. “I
t’s what he wants. It’s his sole reason for being here.”
Common sense prevailed over anger, barely. “What are you talking about?” Craddock snapped, fighting the urge to push his friend off of him.
“This guy is a peon,” Jeramey explained, quickly and quietly. “Lowest level; expendable. Anyone caught breaking the rules, their testimony is stricken from the hearing. Fighting is against the rules. He’s trying to goad you. Don’t let him.”
Marginally calmer, Craddock shrugged his shoulders so that Jeramey would loosen his grip. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Jeramey stared back at him for a moment, conveying absolute seriousness. “What, did you expect them to accept defeat graciously?”
The question distracted Craddock from what remained of his anger, but before he could respond, the antagonist was back to his task.
“Aw, how sweet. Does Jessica know you have a boyfriend on the side?”
Mocking implications that he was bisexual didn’t bother him; it was hearing his wife’s name come out of that man’s mouth. Tension returned to every muscle in his body, taut and ready for battle.
The dining hall had two assigned guards, both of whom were on alert, but so far they had done nothing to stop the obvious taunts. Evidently, trying to bait someone into fighting wasn’t against the rules.
Everyone else in the room was either smirking, thrilled over the possibility of an altercation, or seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
That was when Wade decided to intervene. With Craddock on the brink of losing it, the volatile situation wasn’t going to diffuse easily.
“Doc…” Wade stepped up behind him, though he avoided any form of physical contact. The slightest touch might very well have set him off. “Think of Jessica. Your baby. It will all be for nothing if you do this.”
