The Iris Collective - Chapter 36

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The Junkie and the Feed

The phone rang over and over for several minutes, but no one—not even a voicemail—answered his call. He knew that would be the case, but even so, he hung up and dialed the number again. He had been calling the Operator’s, Vanessa Brown’s, number every day since the night at the hospital. Not once did she answer in the last two weeks, and he didn’t know what else to do.

After the disaster that was the raid of the Iris Collective’s headquarters, and the loss of William Borja, he had been placed on administrative leave. His career wasn’t over, thanks to Captain Gibson, but it was much worse for wear.

It wasn’t until the early morning hours that an officer, while searching the Collective’s building, had found a dumbwaiter hidden behind a painting in the bedroom of the 4th floor apartment. It led to the basement, which they had failed to search, the door being hidden behind the staircase. Inside the basement was a tunnel, which they could safely assume that Eddie Blake had used to escape from the building and the numerous officers that had been searching upstairs. It was Reid’s operation, and so he was the one to blame for failing to send any officers into the basement. If he had, they would probably have Eddie Blake in custody.

While he was busy bungling the raid, the lawyer for William Borja had walked into the under staffed precinct to demand a private audience with his client. The two men were caught on the security camera walking right out the front door shortly after. By the time that anyone had noticed that the lawyer had absconded with their prisoner, it was too late. They raided the Borja family’s expansive estate the following day, but they were long gone. As was the lawyer. With their resources, there was no telling where they could have run off to. If he had to guess, he expected that they were out of the country before their son’s escape. It would explain why they failed to make an appearance at the state dinner.

The whole thing had all been an elaborate set up, every detail perfect, except for the death of Margaret Ross. As far as he could tell, that was real. He even attended her funeral, from a distance, and watched them bury her to be certain. He couldn’t afford to be seen by the Senator and get himself into even more trouble than he was already in.

To tie everything together, he couldn’t prove his theory that Vanessa Brown was really the codename ‘Operator,’ not without James on his side. The other man had put in a request to transfer the morning after their argument in the hospital, and it was all Gibson could do to convince him to stay on. But the captain made it clear: if Reid made another mistake, even showing up after his suspension with so much as a stain on his shirt, then that would be it. He would be off the force. He hadn’t told Amina. He didn’t want her to worry.

Instead he left the apartment every morning, like usual, and wandered the city. Several times he found himself walking in the area of the Senate office building, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Operator, but she never appeared. Sometimes he wondered if she knew that he was out there, and was staying hidden on purpose. He would, if he were her. He had no idea how he would react if he saw her. She had very nearly ruined him, and anger burned in his chest each time she crossed his mind, which was often. It would be easier to count the number of times that he wasn’t thinking about her on any given day. He couldn’t figure out how she did it, balancing a life in service of the government while secretly helping to run an organization in defiance of it. Either she was the luckiest person he had ever met, or he had underestimated her abilities to a severe degree, maybe both.

She was still on his mind when he returned home that evening, looking forward to the distraction that his family would provide. It was one of the only times when his mind wasn’t occupied by the confounding woman, but the universe wouldn’t be on his side on this night.

“You’re right on time, my love,” Amina said with a smile, handing him one of the plates of hot food that she carried in her hands. She brought the other with her into the living room and sat down on the sofa. Rayan was sitting on the floor in front of her, blowing on a forkful of his own food as he ate at the coffee table. He blew too hard, and the rice on his fork tumbled back onto the plate in front of him.

“See what happens when you blow on food?” Amina admonished.

Rayan grinned, lifting his shoulders to his ears in an attempt to hide from his mother.

“We’re eating in the living room tonight?” Reid asked.

“I don’t want to miss the wedding,” Amina explained, turning on the TV. “They’ve been talking about it all week on the news. It’s supposed to be amazing.”

“Wedding?” He looked at the screen and almost dropped his plate. The reflection of the Operator was staring back at him through a mirror as several women bustled around her, applying makeup and pinning her hair up in a mass of curls on the crown of her head. She didn’t look like he would expect a happy bride to look. Stepping around the couch, he sat down, setting his plate of food on the coffee table as he watched the screen. He had no appetite for it now.

The footage changed to an overhead view of the venue, where guests were arriving in shiny black and white limousines, all the while the voices of two commentators were talking over the images.

“I believe that’s the third cousin of the groom arriving now, yes!”

“As many viewers may already know, the Barron lineage can be traced all the way back to the days of dukes and duchesses in their once native English countryside.”

“Yes, and their cousin, Stephen Evans, has traveled all the way from the United Kingdom with his wife, Elisa, to join in the celebration.”

“So lovely for them to come all this way.”

“Yes, what an amazing gesture.”

He got lost in the broadcast. Guest after guest arrived to fill the many pews of St. Matthew’s. Over one thousand of the richest members of their society, as well as many from abroad. It wasn’t until the pews were full that the last guest’s limousine pulled up in front of the cathedral.

“Is that?”

“I think it is!”

“Ladies and gentleman, President Wilkins himself has just arrived at the cathedral! Did you know he was coming?”

“I had no idea!”

Reid scoffed at the obvious lie. They would have been notified well in advance to expect him there.

The people in the pews stood as Wilkins entered the church. He smiled and waved to the assembled crowd, stopping to shake a hand or two, as he made his way to a pew in the front of the large room. He sat, and everyone in the room followed his lead, settling down into their own seats again. The camera angle changed to show a closeup of the President. He said something to the person sitting next to him, and they both laughed.

The screen changed view again to show Chance Barron walking from a side door near the front of the room. He stepped up to the priest and shook his hand, exchanging a few words and smiles, before moving to take his place in front of the holy figure.

As music began to blare from the television speakers, the camera looked straight down the aisle to show groomsmen and bridesmaids entering from the back of the room. Pair by pair the couples walked down the long aisle—the men in tuxedos, the women in shining silver dresses—splitting at the end to take their places on either side of the altar.

The parade of the wedding party seemed to be endless, until finally the last of the couples finished their journey, and the music changed. The pipes of the church’s organ screamed to life as it began to play a wedding march.

The crowd in the church stood, craning their necks to get a look at the mysterious woman who had captured the heart of the young Senator. If only they knew. She appeared with her father holding her hand where their arms were linked. His cheeks were rosy as he smiled, the image of pure joy. Reid was happy to notice that her features were drawn and pale in comparison.

“Oh, wow,” Amina said with a sigh, “she looks so beautiful.”

She reached over and laced her fingers with his, pulling his hand into her lap as she watched the screen.

He couldn’t deny his wife’s assessment, the Operator did make for a beautiful bride. The bodice of her dress was fitted, sparkling from a mix of pearlescent beads and crystals that accented the sides of her body and cascaded down the front. With just enough skin visible under the mesh between the sections of beading, the top retained a tasteful elegance. She had no sleeves, only small feathered bands hanging off of her shoulders. The beading on the bodice continued down the front of the layered skirts, the fabric falling over her hips without much added volume. The train, with more sparkling embroidery and shining applique in various places, filled the floor behind her and her father. The dress must have cost more than he made in a year.

Her father tried to step forward several times, but the bride stayed in place, her eyes wide.

“What’s happening?” Amina asked as the wedding march was restarted, and the crowd that were staring down the aisle began to whisper to each other.

“She’s terrified,” he said.

“Poor girl. Must be nervous to get married in front of all those people. I couldn’t imagine.”

He relished in the bloom of vindictive satisfaction that filled him to see her in such a state, smirking as her father unlinked their arms and put a hand on her back to push her forward. It worked, and she began to take short, stilted steps down the aisle to meet her groom. What would the women she had saved think of her if they knew it was her in that glowing gown, walking down the aisle to marry a member of the very government she had saved them from. Their holy angel of death, on her way to become the companion of the devil. Would they see her as a traitor, or a victim? A consort, or a spy?

She didn’t acknowledge her father’s kiss as he departed, and her hands shook as she offered them to her soon-to-be husband to hold for the ceremony. She clearly didn’t want to be marrying the man in front of her, but as Amina sighed and cooed at the beauty of the event, Reid wondered if it was his own biases talking. It seemed obvious to him that she was there against her will, or did he want to believe that because of who she was to him?

The ceremony was quick, with a simple reading of the promises of marriage for each of them, and an agreement to uphold them. Then Chance Barron pulled her in for the kiss to seal the contract. Her hands clenched on the front of his shoulders as if she was fighting the urge to push him away. With the ceremony finished, the voices of the commentators came back to gush about the affair.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

“If you mean that dress, absolutely not!”

“Oh, I know! I was torn to shreds when the doors opened to reveal it. A work of art!”

“Had me a little worried there for a few seconds though,” one of the commentators said with a nervous laugh.

“We can’t blame the girl for having wedding day jitters!”

“No no, you’re right. She made it there in the end!”

They both laughed, and the view changed back to the exterior of the church, where a parade of limousines were waiting for the guests to fill them.

“Now the guests will be off to the Barron family estate to attend what is certainly going to be the party of the century to celebrate the happy couple.”

“It’s a shame they won’t allow cameras. What I would give to be a fly on the wall of that party.”

“Me too, darling! Oh, look! Here come the newlyweds!”

The doors to the church opened, and the Senator and Operator hurried down the steps as the guests poured out of the building behind them, cheering and throwing fistfuls of flower petals into the air. The couple crossed the carpet that covered the ground in front of the cathedral, and ducked into a waiting white limousine. The long vehicle pulled away, another pulling forward to take its place, several guests piling into it before the screen changed to the studio that the commentators were broadcasting from.

“Thank you for joining us on this joyous occasion,” the first commentator, a woman with blonde hair and pink glasses, said.

“Stay tuned for the post wedding analysis,” the other added, “but first, a word from our sponsors.”

Amina picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

“Ok little man, it’s time for bed,” she reached down and lifted Rayan as she stood from the sofa.

“No!”

“Yes!” She laughed, hoisting the boy onto one hip. She turned back to Reid. “Are you coming, my love?”

Reid shook himself and looked up at her. She was smiling at him while Rayan struggled with futile effort to escape her grasp.

“I… I forgot to finish something at work.” He stood up and grabbed his plate, taking it to the kitchen and setting the untouched meal on the counter before picking up his keys. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

He left the apartment without waiting for a response.

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