Rendered Silent

Chapter 18

Monday

I startle when a hand waves in front of my face. Harvey raises an eyebrow at me.
"Where are you? I literally have been giving you a blow by blow of my weekend only to realise I've been talking to myself. Monday blues?"
"Something like that," I say, puffing the air out of my cheeks.
In truth I had been thinking about yesterday. Ben, true to his word, had turned up to church.
Thankfully, not in his uniform, although he had made an effort, dressing in his dark wash jeans which he always complains are too tight.
It had gone fairly well considering, after the service I had introduced him to Pastor Samuel who had seemed genuinely pleased to see me back. Ben had not minded lingering.
"So what did you get up to at the weekend?" Harvey asks again, bringing me out of my reverie.
"Not a lot, I went to church," I reply, absently.
"You're a church goer?"
"Kind of... it's a research thing."
"Really? How does that work?"
"Well, I've been going along and asking questions which have cropped up from the story."
"Linked to William's faith," Harvey surmises, recalling our previous conversations. "What sort of things have cropped up?"
"Well," I say slowly, trying to gather my thoughts from yesterday's conversation, "yesterday we were talking about a verse which spoke about weariness."
I honestly hadn't expected the verse Pastor Samuel had given me to relate to William but it had.
"The concept was that when you accept Jesus as your Saviour you no longer have to carry around the burdens and sins which come with a fallen humanity and a broken world; he gives you a lighter load to bear. Believing and abiding in him."
Harvey gives me a dubious look. I shrug my shoulders, I hadn't fully got my head around it myself.
"William saw and experienced horrendous things but he still believed that God was sovereign. If it wasn't because he believed that in abiding in God would bring justice and peace eventually then what could it have been?"
Harvey nods.
"I see that, I guess, but I don't know if I could get past the fact that it was happening in the first place."
"Which would put you squarely in the same camp as Lacy," I say, returning to my screen.
"But not you?"
His question catches me off guard. Not because I haven't thought about it, but because I have.
"I'm unbiased. I'm researching, not forming an opinion."
"You have no opinion on William's faith? At all?"
I look over at him. He isn't Lacy. It couldn't hurt to slip off the fence temporarily. To voice some of the thoughts that have been going around in my head.
"I admire his faith," I finally admit. "We will most likely never experience how horrendous war is, in fact we will definitely not experience how horrendous war was..." I pause, gathering my thoughts, "William's faith can't be taken for granted in that. It was significant, and it isn't as though he was part of some whimsical movement. His faith is still here. I've met people who would attest to that. People who believe what the bible says. Who live by it. There are people who will die for it."
Harvey nods his head slowly, "I see your point. But aren't you forming an opinion for yourself right now?" he quirks an eyebrow as though he doesn't fully believe me.
I shrug, unsure of my answer now that I've voiced what I think.
"I'm not a Christian," I finally settle on, "I'm just committed to doing accurate research and this is where 'accurate' has gotten me...so far."
Before Harvey can grill me further my deskphone rings.
"You're wanted in Geoffrey's office," Mandy informs me crisply, "someone's come in to speak with you."
"About the case?" I ask a shred of hope splintering through.
"Yeah."
Before I can ask her anything further the line cuts off, I put the phone back on the hook swiftly and grab my jacket.
"Seems I've been summoned," I say, answering Harvey's querying look which turns into a low whistle.
"Good luck..
As I approach Geoffrey's door his secretary nods to me.
"You can go straight in James."
"Right. Thanks."
I knock on out of courtesy before opening the door and going through.
The first thing I clock is the man standing ramrod straight facing the window clad head to toe in green.
Geoffrey looks up from his steepled hands. It appears they have been waiting in silence for me to arrive.
"Ah James," Geoffrey says, hesitating, "this is General Phillips." Geoffrey gives the General a quick glance, and when it becomes apparent that General Phillips is not going to supplement this introduction, I fill the void.
"You're from the army," I state the obvious, "I assume you must be here regarding the story?"
He merely nods in affirmation and looks to Geoffrey. I follow his lead also looking back at Geoffrey.
"What's going on?"
Even as I ask it a sense of unease has wormed its way into my gut.
"There's no easy way to inform you of this really..." he looks at me clearly struggling to formulate his news.
"Okay," I say slowly, full blown panic replacing discomfort.
Geoffrey coughs.
"The General is here, well, he's here to sequestrate all documentation affiliated with or created in line with Private William Smith."
A silence falls in the room.
"You're here to take my work?" my breathing hitches and I try desperately to calm the icy fingers running through my system.
"I'm here to retrieve what belongs to the Army."
"You can't just take my work."
"I'm not, I have been sent via the correct channels with the correct documentation to, as your manager clearly put it, confiscate all records, reports, components-"
"Yes, I think I get it-" I snap.
"-paraphernalia created or collected by the Starcross Times of Private William Smith-," the General continued not to be interrupted finishing his little speech. He leant over the desk, swiping some papers from it and pushed them into my chest. "-including electricals".
"Geoffrey," I turn to him unable to keep the edge of pleading out my voice.
He simply shakes his head.
"I'm sorry James," he whispers.
"My men are already stationed in your office retrieving what we require of your equipment."
My mind is racing trying to figure out how to salvage anything but I just keep coming up against roadblocks. The General breaks into my manic thoughts by holding his hand out.
"Your work phone please."
I hand it over clumsily.
"If we are done here," he nods to Geoffrey before brushing past me.
It sounds as though Geoffrey apologises again but I can't focus on him.
I turn around slowly and start to walk out the office. My legs feel stiff, mechanical. My brain overriding my mind to make them move against their will.
By the time I get back to the office the only thing left is my desk and chair. The guys surround me asking questions and offering words of sympathy. My mind however hears none of it. It is stuck in a loop trying to figure out something I will now never know. What the hell happened in those trenches which would bring rise to such extreme measures.

*

"They took it all."
"I know."
"Of course you do," I laugh bitterly, "who doesn't? Apparently they stormed the place as though we were running a drug den."
"James," Lacy whispers "I'm so sorry."
"I can't hear that word again," I shake my head bitterly.
There is a pause. Lacy remains standing in the doorway.
"This doesn't have to be it," she says tentatively.
"Yes," I all but shout before reining it in, Lacy doesn't deserve my anger, "yes, it does Lacy. It's done. I'm done."
"Okay," Lacy raises her hands in surrender. I know she isn't trying to upset me, but I'm rattled and bubbling with barely contained anger beneath the surface. I feel wounded. All afternoon I'd been on the receiving end of stares and whispers. My own team had attempted to be more discreet, but I didn't want anyone's pity.
Leena advised me to take the week. Which in journalism speak translates to 'get gone,while I scour out a new non-conspiratorial mundane story for you to work on'.
"You want to grab a hot bevvie at Whistle Wind?"
"Are you going to try and strong arm me into talking about this horrendous day?"
"No."
"I don't want to talk about the story."
"I know."
"Or anything to do with anything to do with the story."
"You got it."
I rise from my bare desk and make my way over to her.
"Well then let's get out of here."
Just as I go to move past her to the lift she grabs me round the waist and gives me a squeeze.
I take a deep breath so as to compose myself and not fall apart, Lacy however lets out a heartbreaking sob and I suddenly realise how selfish I have been.
"Ah Lace," I sigh as I squeeze her back.
"I was so excited about helping Angela."
"I know."
"I can't believe she doesn't have rights to his things."
"He didn't list a next of Kin," I reply, still baffled as to how that could have happened.
"But someone found her address."
"Yeah." Another unsolved mystery, someone who wanted justice from the inside?
"They are hiding something."
"I know."
"How are we going to tell Angela?"
"I don't know. Let's not think about it right now. My head feels fried. We need a drink and some food. I'm not sure when I ate last. You down?"
Lacy nods against my now damp shirt.
We make our way down the backstreets both wrapped up in our own thoughts. The Army had the rights to William's things. We know he had parents and we know he had Marnia. So why had they not been listed as his next of kin? How had Angela gotten the letter if his parents weren't listed?
We enter Whistle Wind and slide into a booth by the window. I lean back against the familiar cushioning and look across at Lacy.
"Did Leena speak to you?"
"Yeah. I'm on unofficial leave."
"You're not going to lose your position are you?"
"Are you kidding? This is the sort of drama the newspaper lives for. I've caused a stir. They will just sit me with something mind numbing for a while and I guess we'll see where that goes."
"What about the readers? They are bound to notice the article isn't there. It was popular."
"On my head be it, I guess. I'll have to surf through all the letters of complaint for a while and hope it isn't so strong as for the newspaper to have to rethink my position."
Lacy puts her head in her hands.
"What a mess."
"We'll just have to set up a meeting with Angela and explain the situation as low key as possible. The paper won't run the story any longer. Make our apologies and get out of there. There's nothing more that can be done. We can see if she is around this week. That way we can get it over with and draw a line in the sand."
"I guess so," Lacy turns her head and looks out the window, disappointment clearly etched into her face. I hate that she feels the sting as I do. But we've hit the end of the line.

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