by Gillian Zane
“Ms. Hail.”
“Cassidy.” Leave it to Drake to slip back into the super formal routine.
“Cassidy, you have a minute?”
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“After lunch today, what George said about the text messages got me thinking. I checked in on the case to see if the police had petitioned for Pete’s cell phone records. And they hadn’t. They had only gotten Cassandra’s which confirmed that she did text Pete that night about being at a party. He had also texted her repeatedly that night, with no response.”
“So, Lauren was lying?” I asked.
“Maybe, or Cassandra was misleading Pete. That could be the motive we’re missing. She was somewhere else, or with someone else, and Pete found out.”
“That doesn’t ring true,” I frowned.
“You never really know people, Cassidy. They always surprise you.”
I stayed quiet. The sad part was I couldn’t tell him what the truth was. Had I met someone else that night? Was there another man? I couldn’t say because I still couldn’t remember.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. So, is that why you called me? To tell me Cassandra was probably cheating on Pete?” My short walk to my access point was almost over. I looked around me with suspicion, a sudden feeling of being watched creeping up my spine.
“No. I got in touch with a contact at Pete’s cell carrier. I couldn’t get his transcripts without a warrant, but she could tell me the last place and time his cell phone pinged off a tower.”
“When? Where?”
“About six hours from here, small town, and it last pinged the day after he missed his shift.”
“And then what?”
“Nothing. No cell activity.”
“So, what? He ditched his phone?”
“Maybe, but I have a feeling there’s more to it. Up for a road trip, Cassidy?”
“Yes indeed.”
12
Permanent File Notations
To get to the bungalows where all the operatives lived, I had to walk past Persephone's ‘throne’. The bungalows dotted the hills that ringed the area and Persephone had set up shop right next to the common area of the compound, rendering the pool and surrounding facilities useless. No one wanted to bring attention to themselves, so everyone retreated to their personal spaces. It also didn't help that everyone was burdened with an extra heavy caseload.
Persephone wasn't always in residence, and for the last couple of days she had been thankfully absent. I had been able to retreat to my little house and soak up a little downtime after my daytime working hours. I only reappeared when I had to report to work the next morning.
My evening hours were spent doing research or reading. I had taken to studying religion. The old myths, obviously, fascinated me. I thought if I learned more about the old beliefs I could place myself within their structure and get the big picture of what was going on. If Persephone, and supposedly Hades, were the rulers of this domain, it didn't hurt to know all about them. It wasn't happy reading, especially if this was who was making the rules. I didn’t go as far to do research on the goddess herself, not knowing how much I was monitored and how that would look to the PTBs, or if she, herself, was taking note of everything we did in our free time. I was getting paranoid, but when you were dealing with vapid and inherently selfish deities, you never knew what was possible.
Speak of the devil and she shall appear. I made it ten steps into the courtyard under the shadow of her raised dais before I heard my “name” being called from on high.
“Celia, a moment.” She waved her hands like fluttering birds.
“Cassie,” I muttered under my breath.
“Yes, yes.” She shook her head as if remembering a name was beneath her. “I hope you are wrapping up your case. I have another one that I think would be right up your avenue.”
“Alley,” I corrected without thinking.
“Stupid idioms.” She rolled her eyes again. “English is such a brazen and rough language.”
“You have another case for me already?” I tried to pull her back on topic. We could be here all night if she got distracted. Persephone had no issues with idleness, just when we were idle. Currently, she lounged on an overstuffed and oversized chaise, her servants hovered nearby with glasses full of some pink concoction and a plethora of fruits and chocolate piled on a silver serving tray.
“I do, and it’s a spectacular endeavor too. I think you’ll enjoy it, especially with your penchant for overthinking things,” she chuckled and popped a grape in her mouth.
“I still need to finish up with the Lori Kay case.”
“Your new case starts Monday, and if you haven’t finished up with your current one it will be a strike against your record. Permanent file notations of incompetence I would think.” She looked at the sky with a sad little smile as if there wasn’t anything she could do.
“And what does that mean exactly? Permanent file notation?”
“Why the more negative notations you build up, the longer your time served will be, Celina…didn’t anyone explain this to you?”
“No, no one explained this to me.”
“Oh, pity. I guess you’re glad you now have me. Brandon wasn’t into conversation, or explaining things,” she smiled again and made a shooing gesture with her hand, which seemed to be her signature move. “Monday,” she called as I was descending the stairs.
I tried not to let Persephone's words stress me out. I was learning to compartmentalize well. Focus on the now. Focus on what I could. I couldn't research myself. I could dwell on the adoption issues, or finding Pete, at the moment. So, right now I would do my research. I would go to work tomorrow, and hopefully wrap up the case. If the video didn't pan out, I would think of something else. Even if I had to send the video to everyone myself. Tonight, I was researching the legend of Lethe, one of the five rivers of the underworld that was associated with forgetfulness. If this was true to life, was I forced to drink from the river Lethe? Or maybe there was a goddess Lethe and she made me forget? Why would that happen, what was the end goal?
This could explain a lot of things, especially why I didn't remember my life. But, why? Why would they want me to forget my life? And who made me forget? It seemed like every time I found something, it didn't answer a question, it only added three more questions to my list.
My phone beeped that it had a text message and then another three consecutive pings followed, signifying a few more texts. While in my house I was synced to my house computer so I called it up on the screen next to the Wiki page for Lethe.
Kranston to five unknown recipients: OH HOLY BABY JESUS! U gotta see dis!
Kranston: No words.
Kranston: NSFL
Kranston: {Video File}
Unknown 1: DAFUQ
Unknown 2: Kranston whos on this txt? I don’t know 2#s.
Unknown 1: Is that Charles n LK? Gah - my eyes!!!!!!!!!!
Unknown 3: SENDING THIS TO EVERYONE
Kranston: Oops
Unknown 4: Who is this?
I felt a sudden euphoria as karma was delivered to both Lori Kay and Charles. It might not have been original, but it got the job done. Now for the nail in the coffin. I had to make sure that Lori Kay's husband got this file.
I set up a quick anon account with a few swipes of my fingers. I mocked the original text thread and called up both Lori Kay’s and her husband's numbers. I blocked out Kranston's number and the numbers he had included on the thread and then forwarded it to both Lori Kay and her husband in a group multimedia message. For shits and giggles I included Charles on the thread too. I sat back with a smile on my face after I hit deliver.
Karma. Served.
I felt great. Invincible. On top of the world. And I had a whole five days before my Monday deadline. Eat that, Persephone.
My phone pinged again. I called it up.
Unknown 3: Sent to company phone dir. need a beer, meet ya out at Mick’s??<
br />
The message went to the entire group. Wonder who had the balls to do something of that magnitude? I wasn’t even going to be working there tomorrow, but I still used an untraceable account. This person was going to go to work tomorrow and have to face an entire company they just sent a sex tape to.
Kranston: OMG you did not, Lauren! You’ll get in trouble too.
Lauren: Used a burner. Not as stupid as I look.
Lauren had done it. She was someone who had a burner phone lying around? That was odd. I got up from the sofa. I felt like having a beer too. My curiosity was now on overload.
13
Karma’s a bitch
“Wonder what’s gonna happen to them?” Kranston said, sipping a pink concoction that he called a Pink Elephant. It reminded me of Persephone's drink and I couldn't look at him when he took a sip.
“With any luck, both'll be fired.” Lauren was about five drinks in and she had a slight slur to her speech. My mojito wasn’t doing anything for me but making my breath stink.
“That was ballsy, Lauren. Whatcha doing with a burner phone hanging around?” I asked.
“I’ve got a cousin in jail, he calls on that phone. Thinks the NSA is tracking his calls.” She laughed like it was a stupid thought.
“Don’t they record calls made from the prison phones?” I asked, not understanding her logic.
“Yeah, but he’s got some theory about how the NSA will figure out the patterns in his speech. I don’t even know the thought process behind it. Sometimes it’s easier to just not fight the crazy, right?” She laughed but looked at me, annoyance playing across her countenance. My curiosity was not welcome.
Kranston’s phone had been beeping all night and he glanced down as another text came through.
“Helvik sent out a press release. Seems someone posted the vid on the company’s Twitter feed.”
“Damn,” I said and took a big swig of my drink.
“Karma’s a bitch,” Lauren cackled. Her laugh was almost manic and I choked on a piece of mint because of her phrasing.
“That she is, and Lori Kay got a dose of well-deserved bitchy karma.” Kranston clinked his glass against Lauren’s and then patted me on the back when he noticed I was choking.
"You alright?" he asked and I nodded. My throat was sore after swallowing the wayward piece of mint.
“Why is she a bitch if Lori Kay got what was coming to her? Wouldn’t she be more like…I don’t know…an angel? Like an avenging angel?” I managed to croak out. I didn't want to be a bitch. Maybe the mojito did go a bit deeper than usual.
“What?” Lauren looked at me incredulously.
“She’s definitely a bitch.” Kranston said emphatically. “In a good way.” He did the sign of the cross like Jesus had anything to do with karma.
“’Cassidy’s got a point, though. Why a bitch? And why female? Like females are the only ones who hold a grudge and do underhanded things as payback?” Lauren frowned.
“Well, yeah, guys just punch you in the face,” Kranston smirked.
“Bullshit,” Lauren fired back. “Even karmic retribution is sexist. Like a girl’s got nothing better to do than sit around and think of creative ways to fuck with people.”
“You’d be surprised.” I signaled the bartender for another drink, not liking where this conversation was going.
“What’s that?” Lauren asked.
“I think Kranston’s got it figured out, if you’re being gonna be a stereotyping, judgmental type. Guys, they resort to physical retribution, girls think up suitable punishments. A guy does you wrong, you punch him in the face and then pee on him.” That mojito had been a bit strong.
“Pee on him?” Lauren snorted.
“Yeah, c’mon, you never saw an action movie? The bad dude beats the crap out of someone and then pees on him for added emphasis.”
“That’s nasty. I’ve never peed on anyone.” Kranston shook his head.
“Like you’ve ever punched anyone,” Lauren retorted.
“I have.”
“Your brother doesn’t count.”
“It was my cousin.”
“Same difference.” Lauren flicked a cherry at him and they both fell into a fit of giggles.
“Now, women…our revenge is always a bit nastier. Why punch them when you can slash their tires, or post their drunken pictures on social media…” I continued with my point.
“Or post a security camera in a known hook-up area and then send the video to the one guy in the company who can’t keep a secret,” Lauren said, all mirth gone from her voice.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Karma’s definitely a girl.” Kranston looked from me to Lauren. "But you know it was the IT department, and they are all guys."
"Which are easily led...by...?” Lauren said.
"Girls," Kranston laughed. "You should see the way Bill follows Cassidy around like she's got cupcakes stuck to her posterior.”
"Posterior," I snorted and then covered my mouth as the two laughed at me.
"Yeah, they didn't come up with that on their own," Lauren agreed.
"Must have been karma." Kranston held up his glass. "To karma."
We clinked our glasses together and took a big sip. If they only knew she was sitting right here with them.
“Wouldn’t want to piss her off,” Kranston added. I might have been mistaken but Lauren’s cheeks pinked in a flush.
I technically didn’t have to go to work the next day, but I had left a few things I wanted to collect and I was also curious about the aftermath of the karmic retribution. Might as well enjoy my handy work.
The office was buzzing when I sat at my desk. I didn’t have anything personal here, what was the point, but I grabbed the book I was reading that I had accidentally left in my drawer. I could have gotten another, but this one had a cute bookmark I had picked up from the coffee shop that said, “Drink Coffee, Read Books, Be Happy”. I liked that bookmark. I shoved it in my purse and then got up to make the office rounds.
Check in at the coffee station. I passed by accounts payable where they were always ready to chat. Poked my head into IT, who were all very solemn and paranoid, which wasn’t like them. I moved on quickly, not wanting to make things worse. As I walked the halls, there was one thing that was universal- everyone was talking about the video. I got back to my department and noted that Lori Kay hadn’t come in and neither had Charles, or at least they hadn’t reported to this area.
The going consensus was that we were all clueless as to what was going to happen to them. Until about ten a.m. when there was an announcement over the PA from HR. I didn’t recognize the voice, but the announcement was chipper and excited. Our clients had donated a breakfast spread and they would like everyone to come down to the big conference room to get a plate. It was mandatory to show appreciation to the client.
I recognized the ploy for what it was. This was a common corporate tactic, especially when there was going to be a high-profile firing. It was supposed to be for the person being fired, but really it was so they wouldn’t make a scene. If people gaped while they were being led out of the business, their box of belongings in their hand, they had more of a chance of going off the deep end if people were gaping at them. Embarrassment led to people doing weird things.
I stayed put. So did Lauren and Kranston. Can’t fool us. By staying we had front row seats to the Charles show. We were there to watch Miriam lead a browbeaten Charles to his office, followed by two security guards. Miriam allowed him to pack up his things while a security guard stood watch. Another guard went to Lori Kay’s cubicle and with Miriam’s assistance began to put stuff in a provided box. Lori Kay wasn’t going to be allowed to pack her own desk, or she wasn’t brave enough to show her face at work today?
I watched with emotionless curiosity as Charles exchanged heated words with Miriam. Their conversation was unintelligible from this far away, but his aura fading from red to a dark mahogany and black in places transmitted how angry he wa
s. Would the actions I took lead him onto a darker path? My target had been Lori Kay, but Charles had been caught up in the mess with her. Then again, he was just as culpable, probably more so than her.
She was only helping her career by trading sexual favors with her boss, but that boss knew she was married and still let her, using his so-called power over her to get what he wanted. Who was more at fault? The cheating wife or the knowing exploiter? Lori Kay was a bitch, but Charles was reprehensible for encouraging it. I didn’t want to portray Lori Kay as a victim, but she could easily be placed in that category if you looked at it from a different angle.
Lori Kay's sabotage and knowingly making moves to get her coworkers fired didn't let me give her any kind of credit. She was culpable. So was Charles. Who was more so wasn't my concern. But it allowed me to accept that he was also getting what he deserved.
From the looks of Charles’ aura, his firing was not enough to even out his bad behavior. It pulsed with even more negative energy, ripe for more karmic intervention. I closed my eyes and felt that negative energy as if it were a thick aroma in the air. I breathed it in, almost feeding off of it. His negative energy wrapped around me and I pushed back angry thoughts. He was angry. Very, very angry. It was easy.
His thoughts swirled with darkness.
He shouldn’t be fired. This was all a plot to get rid of him. Lori Kay had pushed him into doing it in the copy room because of the stupid lock. He didn’t even like her; she was a manipulative little bitch. Could suck dick like a champ, but a bitch. It was her fault. She should be fired. Not him. She had been after his job and it backfired. It had to have been her that posted the video.
“This is tragic,” Kranston whispered and my eyes shot up, focusing on what was going on in reality and not in Charles’ head. We watched Charles place both hands on his desk and give in to the emotions that were manifesting around him. Head down, fingers gripping his desk, he screamed. It was a loud bellow that resonated through the cubicle farm that separated us from the glass offices lining the edge of the building. From the corner of my eye I saw one of the other marketing assistants, half her body hidden behind a support post, with her phone out, obviously recording. She was recording Charles’ reactions.
