Silence Her

by Douglas Fetterly

  Alan took a sip of water, taking a long look at Lishan as he did. “It’s gutsy, you coming out here.”

  “So I understand.”

  “I imagine you’re purposely not taking notes. Probably for the best.”

  “I’m absolutely taking notes—just nothing written. After the treatment I received earlier, I could see no point in handing over to the vice warden anything you might tell me. Say, as to your incarceration, do you think there’s any way I can help you get out early?”

  “By the time you could arrange it, I’d be due to get out. So, it’s probably not...”

  “No prison breaks allowed, you two.” Johnson had just stepped up to the doorway. It was unclear how much he had heard. “You boys and girls aren’t planning anything, now are you? We’ve got room here, Ms. Amir, if you need a place to clear your head for a while. Room and board. I hope you plan to write about our wonderful facility here. Make us look good in that fish wrap of yours. In any case, the party’s over.”

  “I’ve been here just half an hour.” Lishan was not pleading. She was stating fact, making a point.

  “You looked like you were having just too much fun. Besides, Mr. Frazier here has a project to finish, don’t you Alan?”

  Lishan watched Alan stand, expecting that same dejected look she witnessed when they first met. But she was pleasantly surprised. Alan had a little bounce in his step.

  “Whatever you say, VW.” Alan’s words were chipper. When he turned to Lishan, there was an air of confidence that had returned to his face, as though all was not lost. “Lishan, thank you. I wish you well.”

  Johnson had a twinge of the same nervousness that had surfaced when Lishan confronted him earlier. “Guard, take Mr. Frazier back to his duties. Ms. Amir, it’s time for you to leave. We can’t just cater to you reporters all day long, you know.”

  “Of course not. You have incarcerating to do. How else will you make fine, upstanding citizens of these men?”

  The vice warden was a little uncertain whether there was an insult imbedded. Lishan had no doubt, applying her most patronizing voice in thanking the vice warden.

  Passing out through the gate and once again frisked, Lishan was free to go. But where? There was no taxi in sight. “Did a taxi show up here for me earlier?”

  “Oh, yeah,” one of the guards said, suppressing a smile. “You weren’t here, so I told her to just go on home. I hope you don’t mind?” Lishan recognized the rhetoric.

  “Is there a bus?” Lishan felt stupid asking the question.

  “Weekdays only. Sorry.”

  Lishan tried her cell phone, but there was no signal. “I need to call a cab, then.”

  “There’s a payphone next to the VW’s office.”

  Lishan started back through the gate.

  “Do you have an appointment?” The guard and his buddy practically doubled over in laughter. “An…appointment.”

  Lishan just kept walking, trying to shake her head without inviting a large caliber bullet.

  “Five o’clock? That’s the soonest you can be out here?” No point in arguing. She didn’t want to offend the one cabby committed to picking her up.

  As she walked back through the gate, toward the bus stop, she was again frisked. She made no comments this time, which sped up the process. She deduced it was no fun for the guards if she didn’t protest. As she was leaving the guard post, one of them spoke up, “Here’s your notebook. We found it outside.”

  Opening it, Lishan found the only pages left were blank ones. Her previous notes had been ripped out. “Hey…” she started to yell out. But the words stopped before her larynx, replaced with a short laugh. The notes were all about day care. That should keep the VW and the encryption team working overtime, she thought.

  Three and a quarter additional hours in the bus stop shack. At least she had The Economist. Lishan wondered if the magazine ever did pieces on this part of the world.

  She decided to write a few notes while they were fresh in her mind. She doubted the authorities would attempt to confiscate her work, now that she was outside their supposed jurisdiction. Lishan thought it best to be cryptic where Alan’s comments were concerned, just in case.

  25

  The next memory she had was “Aunt Bee” waking her up. “Hey hon. Care for a ride?”

  “I must have dozed. Yes, I do.” Lishan rubbed her face a little. She had a sudden concern for her possessions. Had they been taken during her sleep, however long it was? Everything seemed to be in order.

  Safely tucked into the cab, which seemed nearly an oxymoron, she decided to inquire about the afternoon schedule. “Say, what happened this afternoon? I know I was delayed.”

  “As pretty as you are, I couldn’t just hang out for very long. Lost revenue, you know. And the guards encouraged me not to stay. I hope you don’t mind, but you owe me for that trip.”

  Lishan felt miffed, but she caught her voice in time, realizing the charge was appropriately due. “Hmm. I see your point.” Half to herself, “What time is it?”

  “Five thirty. I know you requested five, but I got slammed.”

  “Five thirty.” Lishan began waking up to the realities of the evening. “No way I’ll make the six o’clock train, is there? And it’s the last train.”

  “I’ve got a couch, if you don’t mind a few cat hairs.” Again, there was that backhand movement with a squeeze to her thigh.

  “That’s a nice offer, but I should get a room as I have quite a bit of writing and research to do.”

  “’Shoulds won’t give you much time in life for fun, you know.”

  Lishan just laughed. “I know. I’ve been told that before. You must know my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Which one?” They shared a hearty laugh before quieting into the remaining half-hour ride.

  As they approached town, the same motel loomed. “I see a vacancy sign up ahead. Shall I drop you off there?”

  It felt as though her stay in the motel was over a week ago, though it was only this morning. Much had happened in the past twenty-four hours. “Why not?”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to stay on my couch? It’s free.”

  Free, my tush, Lishan thought to herself. “It’s a kind offer, but I’ll just stay here and work.”

  “Need a ride in the morning?”

  Lishan wasn’t quite in the mood to further this dance. “No, but thank you. I’ll just take tomorrow as it comes.” Paying for both of the cabby’s trips, Lishan bid her safe journey, with a none-too-soon sigh as the cabby drove off.

  The motel lobby had a seventies feel to it, though it professed flapper fame. Lishan took in décor she hadn’t noticed her first time. The placement of lamps and draperies suggested a former speakeasy, but the presence of plastics and linoleum detracted from the desired effect.

  “Good evening.” The clerk wore smugness in his voice. “We saved your room for you.”

  Lishan quickly replaced her wonder with a laugh. “Why should I be surprised?”

  “Exactly! Customer service, you know.” The clerk’s beaming smile was straight out of the Twilight Zone. “You can thank the gentleman sitting over there.” He nodded toward the couch, reupholstered with a seventies faux fabric.

  “More investigating to do?” Her tone was even as she addressed Beck.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind. I have a report to write.”

  “I must apologize for last night.”

  “Why would you? What would happen to your precious ‘getting what you want’?” Lishan had little interest in spending any time with him.

  “You gave me quite a bit to think about last night.”

  “And what would that be?” Lishan’s features were flat; she had little interest in giving up any ground.

  “Can we at least have dinner and talk? In the short hour I’ve known you, you did me a favor. I can’t continue being a self-centered ass. Pardon my French.”

  Lishan noticed the parallel assessm
ent. “Go on.”

  “We can stop at any moment. Tell you what. I’m going to grab a booth and some comfort food. Come down if you like. If not, I will understand. Either way, please accept my apology, if you can. I hope to see you.”

  Beck gave a short nod with a meager smile and then walked into the restaurant.

  Lishan headed up to her room, having no intention of meeting Beck. She changed into her pajamas, but something was wrong. She could remember when people had been there for her when she made mistakes and how it made a difference. She didn’t owe anything to Beck. On the contrary. Still, perhaps some good would come from listening to him.

  She changed again, putting on comfortable cotton sweatpants and a jersey that gave off a neutral, indifferent air.

  When she showed up at the booth, she was not surprised by the wine and baguette already in place. Sitting down, Lishan picked up a distinct, familiar odor from the cheese.

  “Boerenkaas, I see. The Dutch do make some of the best. The finest cheese shop I’ve had the pleasure of knowing is in Amsterdam.” Lishan noticed the Merlot. Clos du Bois. Good choice, she thought. She sat back, taking in Beck’s face.

  Beck fidgeted with the cheese, then his wine glass. Then he put his hands down on the table and met Lishan’s eyes.

  “Thank you for coming down. I gave you every reason not to.”

  For a moment, there was just silence.

  Lishan broke in, “Shall we order dinner?”

  Relieved, Beck nodded. The waiter caught their body language—their eyes on the menus—following through from his years of experience.

  “Last night, you would not accept me as I was.”

  “Correction. I could accept you, but I would not support you or your conduct, or choose to spend time with someone like you.” Lishan was firm, but not unkind.

  Beck hesitated, then said, “Yes, I understand. Last night, at home, I couldn’t fall asleep, thinking about what I’ve become. Often it takes a catalyst—an event, a person—before change can be attempted. I felt if I could make amends, at least some, with you, it would be a step in the right direction.”

  Lishan just listened, a hint of compassion barely visible.

  An older man, wearing an overcoat and a black leather fedora, came in and took the booth diagonal to where Lishan sat. He was on the other side of the muted yellow glass panel that separated the two rows of booths, lending privacy to both sides. Lishan caught a glimpse of him as he came in but thought little of it in this public place. The man came in to the rear of Beck, staying out of Beck’s sight. Neither Lishan nor Beck could see the microphone he had rested on the ledge.

  “I was spoiled as a child, as a teenager as well. I felt very little love growing up, though. It hardened me. About five years ago, I gathered the courage to sign up for a series of therapy sessions, but when my father found out he hit the roof. That was the end of that. I’m not too far from middle-age. You would think I would have overcome the obstacle, but I chose not to.”

  “Touching,” Lishan said, a little too cold. She heard herself but then decided to recast her approach with a hint of warmth. “Look, Beck, I can appreciate that we are products of our upbringing. But I’m not your therapist. If we’re to continue this conversation, I would rather get back to business first. Then, if my agitation has quieted, perhaps we can talk about why I should suddenly see you differently. You can start by telling me more about who you work for.”

  “That could put me in jeopardy. They always seem to find out when loyalty is compromised. It may be as simple as a look they see in my face.”

  “Your choice. Then where do we go?”

  Beck paused, long and hard. His eyes scanned the faraway walls. When he came back, his words were measured, cautious, at first, but they eased as time went by, as though he had history with many a confessional.

  “The circles I travel in, they…trust me. I have an uncle who had some disgusting business dealings with Jack Conner.”

  “Why disgusting? It’s not that I disagree with you. Just curious.”

  “The opulence in his family, especially Conner himself, gags me. Money is so obviously more important to him, to them, than the products they produce.”

  “Then why do you work in those circles?”

  “Family. It’s good money. Where else could I make eighty grand a year? My uncle was good to me growing up. As a kid, though—how was I to know he was a crook?”

  “Is he?”

  “Don’t quote me. I still love him, just not what he does.”

  “I shouldn’t ask what he does, should I?”

  “No. At least not in reference to my ‘crook’ comment. Officially, he’s an attorney. He presumably meant to do well, to be a reformer, to save the little guy. Perhaps most attorneys start out that way. Maybe they don’t, come to think of it. Anyway, the money was good. Then my uncle Bill Conner...”

  “Conner?”

  Beck smiled. “Jack’s brother. And, yes, Beck…Conner.”

  Lishan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re a Conner?”

  The grimace in his cheeks was evident. “Don’t hold it against me, okay? I’ve felt the burden of it much of my adult life. I was the product of an interracial marriage in the family—a marriage that Conner disapproved of.”

  “You’re a Conner.” Lishan felt the weight of the words. “You know I despise that man and all he stands for?”

  “Yes. I can imagine.”

  Their dinners arrived, giving them a much needed break in the conversation. Minutes later, amid a discomfort that had lasted too long, Lishan broke the silence.

  “Beck, you know I’m a reporter. I can keep your name out of anything I write, if that’s your preference, but can you tell me something about Jack Conner, about the FDA, something you think the public should know?”

  Beck’s face tightened. “I don’t know. That seems too risky. Why should…?”

  The minute he said it, he knew he had made a mistake, but it was too late.

  “Exactly,” Lishan said. “Why should I consider that you are changing, wanting to make that difference people talk about? Same old Beck.” Lishan caught the waiter’s attention. “A to-go box, please. Thank you.”

  Turning back to Beck, Lishan said evenly. “Hold the line. Defend it and the crooks you work for. You’ll make a difference, though not a positive one. Maybe just to your bank account.”

  As Lishan stood, the defeat in Beck’s face was evident. “Ms. Amir, look, I made a mistake just now. I know. I’m only used to deceit, to keeping my walls up. I don’t know how to do this. I should, but I don’t. Please sit down. Talk to me.”

  “Give me a reason to.”

  Beck’s sigh was evident. The road less traveled for him was new. He could only picture his security crashing down around him.

  “Please, sit. I’ll try.”

  Lishan just looked at him, evaluating. Some small point in her shifted. She sat down.

  “I’ve witnessed food companies—don’t quote me just yet, okay?—where someone of prominence in the industry essentially said, ‘To hell with the public. We have stockholders to please.’ So, yes, corruption—and not just from the men. The FDA is culpable as well. There’s a faction of the Agency, including the current commissioner, that likes to run with the good ol’ boys, people who put greed and self-interest above the well-being of the public. And don’t forget the Senate.”

  “Go on.”

  “Senator Libby and Jack Conner have been in each other’s pockets for years. Connulose would never have made it through the Senate and the FDA without Libby’s arm-twisting. You know how much influence money wields. Remember Jerry Mande? He was an executive assistant to Kessler, the FDA commissioner at the time. Mande made a reference to a new labeling law, that it was a complete cave to the food industry. There was a fat substitute called olestra, made by Procter & Gamble. It was touted as a great dieting additive because it contained no fat or calories. The problem was that it caused cramps and diarrhea, and it
interfered with vitamin absorption. When the FDA approved its use, it also required a warning stating the side effects. But the mega food companies strongly opposed any exposure to anything negative about their foods. Several years later, the FDA removed the warning label requirement—a blow to public health and a coup for the food companies.”

  “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

  Beck continued, “Do you remember a case about five years ago in which a young woman had died? It had been attributed to her daily consumption of a large diet drink.”

  “Yes. The FDA was implicated but only after a ‘leak’ suggesting the cola manufacturer and artificial sweeteners were complicit.” Lishan’s eyes lit abruptly. “Hey, that was Conner. Conner Foods!”

  “Do you remember the outcome?”

  “Let’s see. I’m trying to recall if it ever went to court.”

  “No, it didn’t. Do you know why?” Beck seemed steamy around the edges.

  “I should. I think it…”

  “No, you shouldn’t. Sorry for cutting you off.” Beck was getting worked up. “Everybody in-the-know knew it was on its way to court, or at least an FDA review, but then it disappeared from the media. Two reasons, assuming we’re not talking philosophies and greed. One was a strong-arm threat to key individuals by Conner’s henchmen. Two was that the key witness—a scientist working for Conner Foods—died in a mysterious car accident. The papers were never privy to these facts. If they were, Conner Cola’s stock would have taken a nosedive, not to mention Conner would have faced a possible conviction for releasing a toxic substance. Jack Conner is always tinkering with sweeteners and fats that will increase his net worth.”

  After a short stay in the restaurant, the older man stood to leave. As he began walking away from Lishan’s view, she noticed he took a glimpse of Beck and herself before departing. It seemed innocuous, but still it registered a flag in Lishan’s mind.

  “Lishan?”

  She had drifted from the conversation.

  “Oh, sorry. That man who sat down across from us, only about fifteen minutes ago, just took a long look at us as he was leaving.”