by K E Lanning
***
Lowry left Chavez’s office, descended the stairs to the sidewalk, and walked toward the corner to wait for a Robocab. Her heart thumped a staccato as she realized a black car was shadowing her. She walked faster, and the car accelerated.
Is Chavez right?
Lowry started running, but the vehicle sped up and passed her, coming to a halt in front of her.
The passenger window opened, and Edward yelled to her. “What’s wrong, Lowry?”
Lowry grimaced at him, exhaling in relief. “You scared me, Edward. I thought someone was following me.”
“I was on my way back to the Justice building but caught sight of you—do you need a ride?”
“I’m supposed to catch a Robocab at the corner.”
“I can take you back to your hotel.” Edward peered at her with a doleful look on his face. “Look, I’d like an opportunity to say I’m sorry. Is that okay?”
Lowry shrugged. “I guess.” She got into the car but sat staring forward with pinched lips. “It’s the Marriott on Wisconsin Avenue, if you know where that is.”
He nodded and said to the car, “Marriott on Wisconsin.”
Lowry cocked her head. “We’re not quite up to the current technology with auto-vehicles in Antarctica.”
“The insurance companies mandated them here. This car is a federal version, so the driver has some control.”
They started back to her hotel. Edward glanced at Lowry and said, “I really am sorry about the other day, Lowry—sometimes my passions take me places I shouldn’t go.”
Lowry looked at Edward and noticed a raised bruise on his head. Chuckling, she said, “Looks like I beaned you pretty good.”
“Ha, ha,” he said, brushing his hair over the bump.
“Well, you know the saying: ‘An apple a day keeps the hard-on away.’”
Theatrically, Edward grasped his chest as if a dagger had gone into his heart. “You struck me to the core.”
They both laughed, and then Edward touched her arm briefly. An awkward silence fell between them. Lowry tilted her head away from him, pulling out her phone and checking her messages.
Edward cleared his throat. “Well, how do you like Ms. Chavez? Did she tell you that we went to Yale Law together?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She’s very intelligent.” He turned to her. “I don’t want you to be nervous about the trial, Lowry, and I hate to say anything against Mr. Halder, but I warn you that he can be an asshole sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
With a wig-wag of his head, Edward murmured, “Okay, most of the time.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Even if he’s as hard as nails—everyone has a backstory, Lowry, including me.”
He stared ahead and then exhaled. “I met Mr. Halder through an internship, and he helped me out of a jam during my senior year at Yale.” Edward glanced at her. “I don’t want to go into details, but let’s just say it involved the police. He was able to get the conviction off my record, or I would have been toast trying to get a position at a law firm.” With a slight shake of his head, he continued. “He’s not all bad, Lowry.”
Pursing her lips, she said softly, “But he also has you by the collar, Edward.” Lowry looked at him. “Did you ever consider that perhaps he saved you for his own reasons?”
“What difference does it make? He saved me—that’s what counts.”
“Halder has an agenda, and that’s what counts with him.” She tilted her head. “What is Halder’s backstory?”
He shrugged. “The only thing I’ve ever heard is that he was adopted after being abandoned by his birth parents.” He tilted his head at her. “Halder and I both had a rough start in life, but we turned it around.”
“Edward, selling your soul to the devil isn’t ‘turning it around.’”
His lips twisted, and then he exhaled. “I did what I felt I had to do to survive.”
They turned onto Wisconsin Avenue, a few blocks from the hotel.
Edward rubbed his jaw, and with a smile, he snapped his fingers. “Say, I can help you if you want to practice your testimony. You just tell me what questions you expect Chavez to throw at you, and I’ll ask you, and then you can respond.”
Lowry stared out the window, chewing the inside of her lip, amazed that he would think her so stupid as to fall for his subterfuge. Squinting, she shot him a look. “You were sent by Halder, weren’t you?”
Edward reached his hand out to her. “I may be employed by Halder, but I’m just trying to help you—why would I trick you into disclosing your testimony?”
“’Cause you’re an asshole slut.”
“Okay, fine, never mind.” The car stopped in front of the hotel. “We’re here.” With an amorous gaze and melting smile, he picked up her hand. “Hey, let’s let bygones be bygones—have dinner with me tonight?” Edward bent down to kiss her fingers.
With a flicker of a smile, she extracted her hand, opened the door, and stepped onto the curb. “I need to be able to keep my food down, so no thanks, Edward.” She slammed the door as he gestured for her to wait.
“Lowry!”
With a dismissive wave over her shoulder, she strode into the hotel.
When Lowry reached her room, she called Ms. Chavez. “Ms. Chavez, I wasn’t sure who to call . . . but I just thought you might want to know that Edward picked me up near your office and gave me a ride back to my hotel.”
“Lowry, wait a moment—let me call you back on a different line.”
The phone rang, and Lowry answered, “Ms. Chavez?”
“Yes, I wanted to be sure we were talking on a private line. Go ahead.”
“I’m pretty certain that Edward was trying to smoke out my testimony.”
“I’m not surprised.” Chavez paused. “Lowry, I’m going to send a car for you tomorrow morning; it will be parked in the back parking lot, so go out the rear entrance of the hotel. There will be a maroon car waiting for you with my husband, a police officer who happens to moonlight as a security guard.”
“Wow, do you think that’s necessary?”
“Maybe not, but sounds like they’re sniffing around—let’s make sure you’re testifying tomorrow.”
>
Billions of humans moved inland, like locusts laying waste to the land. Religious leaders cried out that this was the second great flood, calling all to repent.
Real estate values skyrocketed, and cropland disappeared. Regional wars and riots for food and land ensued as people fought for survival.
“Don’t kill him; he’s my only child!”
CHAPTER 21
Lowry’s alarm rang the next morning. She knocked her phone off the nightstand, sending it spiraling on the floor. Groping under the bed, she captured the phone and turned off the alarm. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, realizing with a groan where she was—in a hotel in D.C.—and more to the point, this was the morning of her testimony.
Yawning, Lowry got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. She started a hot bath and moved back into the other room, pressing the button for coffee. She dully watched the cup fill as she sat on the edge of the bed with a robe wrapped over her shoulders. When the cappuccino was done, she returned to the bathroom, sipping the hot liquid.
Lowry placed the cup on the side of the tub and slid into the steaming water. She submerged herself, letting her body float in the warm water. In a few minutes, she sat up, smoothed back her wet hair, and drank the rest of her coffee. Then she closed her eyes, massaging her temples in an attempt to relax her mind. But nervous thoughts of the impending trial ricocheted inside her head.
Despite the quandary that her testimony might influence the outcome of the trial—for better or worse—the other side of her mind fought against the fear of the potential consequences hinted by Halder for her family. She sighed. Today was lose, lose, no matter what.
Lowry finished her bath and glanced at the clock. Her court appearance was at ten; she had to hurry. She
jumped out, dried herself quickly with a towel, and blow-dried her hair. She dressed in the only suit she owned and looked in the mirror. I guess I’m presentable. Despite her shaking hands, she downed a second cup of coffee and half of a scone before her stomach revolted.
She swept the crumbs from her clothes and brushed her teeth mechanically. Exhaling, she shot another look into the mirror, pointing at the pale face staring back. You can do this. She murmured to herself, “This is just like debate class.” She grimaced—hadn’t she gotten a D in that class?
Lowry grabbed her bag, opened the door, and glanced along the hallway before she scooted for the back stairway. She flew down the stairs and cautiously looked out of the glass doors to the parking lot behind the hotel. A maroon vehicle was sitting near the curb, and it flashed its lights at her. She opened the hotel door and walked to the car.
A man waved to her, got out, and opened the back door for her. “Lowry Walker, I assume?”
Lowry nodded as she crawled into the back seat.
“Arnold Chavez at your service.” He closed the door behind her, walked to the front of the car, and got in. He said to the car, “Federal Courthouse.” The car moved off, and he turned to Lowry with a grin. “It will be over soon, and don’t worry. I’ve heard rumor that my wife is a decent lawyer.”
The car started off, locking the doors as they moved onto the avenue. At the next intersection, the car veered to the right.
“What the heck?” Mr. Chavez said, pushing a button. In a clear voice, he repeated, “Federal Courthouse,” but the car continued down the road away from their destination. With furrowed brows, he turned to Lowry. “Something is wrong with the auto-car.” He chewed his lip. “I’m calling my wife.” Mr. Chavez punched in his wife’s number, but an error message came up, saying his call couldn’t go out, and his phone went dead.
The car sped along the road, traveling from the expensive neighborhood surrounding the new D.C. center through a transitional neighborhood, and exited at a sign for Rock Creek Park. They drove along an inlet with seagulls flying overhead and passed into a woodland area. Deeper into the park, the trees became sparse, and they entered a ramshackle shantytown.
Lowry blinked in astonishment at the thrown-together shelters built from scrap boards and plywood and topped with old corrugated metal roofs. They passed a hut sporting a car windshield for an awning over the door. She had read about the thousands of people forced from their homes, fleeing the rising water like rats. Makeshift slums rose from the debris of wrecked buildings that had washed up on the shoreline, filled with desperate people living desperate lives—fighting to survive in a world that had abandoned them.
The car came to a standstill in the middle of the slum. People shuffling on the matted grass stopped and stared at the vehicle. Lowry bit her lip, watching the children gape at her with their dirty faces and torn clothes. Smoke rose out of chimneys fashioned from old metal pipes, and clothes hung on lines strung in the trees. A mother was cooking a small animal over a fire. Lowry felt nauseous at the sight of dead seagulls hung on the rooflines of their shacks. The odors of humanity permeated the camp, mingled with the pungent smell of fear.
Minutes ticked by as Mr. Chavez, cursing, tried to get the car to start. Lowry swallowed hard as men circled them like mongrel dogs. More joined, tightening the ring around the car. With furtive looks, they sized up the risk–return of attacking the occupants.
Mr. Chavez pulled a gun out of his coat pocket. “I don’t want to use this unless I have to.” He watched the men edge closer. “Lowry, if they breach the car, run toward the west,” he said, pointing out the window to the left.
Lowry moaned. “My god, what’s happening?” She swept her eyes over the men in tattered clothing surrounding the vehicle, who were murmuring as they gathered the nerve to attack. Gaunt faces with tragic, sad eyes drifted around the car, revealing not only hunger but also the fear of hunger. What would it be like to not know where the next meal would come from? And all due to an unforgiving ocean that had destroyed their lives.
She squinted at a face in the back of the crowd that reminded her of one of the miners on Antarctica who had been injured and unable to work—no money to ship out and no money for food. The mining community had helped his family, but she remembered the shame on his face as he shuffled down the streets. Her heart turned from abject terror to sympathy.
These poor people.
She chewed her lip and drew money out of her purse. She opened the window, and the stench of the place seeped inside.
“What are you doing, Lowry?” yelled Mr. Chavez.
Lowry smiled and handed a bill to a man nearest her window. He gazed at the money, and then, with a little smile, he nodded. She gave another to the next man, and so on, until she had nothing else to give. The faces in the crowd around them softened.
Gesturing with her hand, she said to Mr. Chavez, “Let’s give them the rest of our money.”
He hesitated but then handed her his wallet. She handed more money out, waving two of the children over to the car to give them the last two dollars. The kids asked her where she was from, their eyes growing wide when she told them Antarctica. Waving goodbye, she closed the window. At that instant, her phone rang, but no number came up on the screen.
Bewildered, she answered. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Lowry.” Elliot Halder’s face appeared on the screen, and he asked in a velvety, cold voice, “Having a nice ride?”
Lowry kept her face passive and replied carefully, “It’s a beautiful park, Mr. Halder.”
He blinked and was silent as he digested her words. Then, his icy smile surfaced. “That shantytown is a little taste of what life might be like if Jean-Luc gets off because of your testimony.”
“I guess you’ve never seen the mining station on Antarctica, Mr. Halder.”
A man in filthy clothes started banging on the window and holding out his hand. Lowry shrugged and shook her head. Latecomers to the party approached the car, but these men were not the down-and-out—they were mean to the bone. The leader of the gang shouted and kicked the man beside her window to the ground. Groaning, he crawled away, and the gang members surrounded the car.
Mr. Chavez said quietly, “This looks like a criminal gang. They probably run the shantytown.” He looked at Lowry and handed her the gun. “Save yourself, Lowry.”
The men grasped the car and rocked it back and forth. Lowry gasped as she was thrown from side to side, and she braced herself with her hands.
Mr. Chavez yelled at the men, “We gave you all of our money!”
The gun fell to the floor, and the phone, with Halder’s grinning face on the screen, slid back and forth across the seat. In the midst of the uproar around the car, Lowry heard Halder say, “Isn’t this fun?”
Lowry screamed as a bat smashed through the side window, shards of glass showering over her. A dirty hand reached in, but she whacked it with her water bottle. Mr. Chavez grabbed the man’s arm and wrenched it across the front seat, bringing the weight of his body down onto it until the bone cracked. Shrieking, the man jerked his busted arm out of the car and rolled on the ground. With a yell, another man rushed at the broken window. Lowry groped the floorboard in front of her to find the gun.
Abruptly, the car started and accelerated forward, bumping one of the men off the car and slammed him into the dirt. The car made a sudden U-turn and picked up speed as it re-approached the group. The men shouted and leapt away from the car barreling down on them. A gauntlet of bottles and rocks peppered the car as they zoomed past.
Breathing hard, Lowry stared out the window as they left the park, returning to the road back to the central D.C. area.
Mr. Chavez reached back and patted her arm. “Are you okay, Lowry?”
Halder’s face stared up at her from the seat of the car. With an arrogant smirk, he said, “I hope our little chat was productive. See you soon.” Then he hung up, and the screen turned dark.
Lowry breathed a sigh of
relief. They were headed back in the direction they had come from. With trembling hands, she gave the gun back to Mr. Chavez.
He put the gun back into his coat. “I guess we just witnessed the power of the federal government. Let’s hope we really get you there this time.”
Lowry nodded silently, clenching her hands on the seat as they drove through the streets. She heard seagulls cawing and gazed out of the window at a flock flying over the car toward the coast. “Why hasn’t the government provided help to those people in the shantytown?”
Mr. Chavez sighed. “The merging of the governments of Canada and America has been a nightmare. Coupled with the sheer number of displaced humans, there’s not enough money to cover the poor souls falling through the cracks.”
They pulled up in front of the federal courthouse, and he said, “I’ll wait here until you get inside.”
Lowry opened the door but paused, looking back at Mr. Chavez. “Thank you for trying your best to protect me.”
Mr. Chavez nodded, and Lowry got out of the car and climbed up the marble steps. At the massive doors, she turned to wave at him and, with a deep breath, entered the building. She passed through the metal detector, and a security guard motioned her forward to be checked in. Once she was signed in, she was directed to the waiting room adjacent to the courtroom where the trial was being held. Her legs shook as she sank down onto one of the chairs.
Ms. Chavez came into the room, her face deathly white. “My husband just told me what happened. I know Elliot, and I can’t believe he did this.” She put her hands on Lowry’s shoulders. “If you don’t want me to go into the line of questioning on possible other suspects, I wouldn’t blame you, Lowry.”
