"Because he was Pryce's man, that's why!"

There usually was never a raised voice in a Chancery meeting. Yet there I was raising mine. And I had the gavel. This gathering of the New Gilead Council was in crisis, and I had inherited it. Just last week I led the Council in concert with Calhoun, Lawrence, and Waterford. Now all three were gone. Depending on what my remaining brothers would do in the next few days - depending on any alliances which some of them might form, this Chancery was mine. To lead. Or not. Acting-High Commander Putnam.

But why would anyone want it? At this time! In an unimaginable crisis. Even among the righteous Sons of Jacob, there are those who ride the chaos of a free-for-all, looking for a hidden route to the top. They are the ones to watch for.

Last night, a cargo-jet had left the airport filled with Gilead's children, accompanied by a handful of traitorous marthas. It had happened on my newly minted watch.

It's hard to imagine a worse crime against our righteous State. Add to that, around the Council table are notable empty seats, just when we need all hands on deck. First among equals, Pryce is gone. Long gone. His stamp is on this Council and he's not here. Commander Calhoun is reported to have been murdered. Child taken. Commander Waterford and his wife are in custody in Canada. The National Chancery in D.C. has in the past week been (in unprecedented fashion) eclipsing our local Council's authority in securing their release - but this latest crisis has outpaced even that.

It's made us here in old Boston seem weak. It makes me seem weak. Our own local sovereignty as a District of Gilead is under threat. D.C. is making an issue out of High Commander Winslow's disappearance. I've privately told my brothers that that whore house was going to erode us from within.

Add to all this, Commander Lawrence's seat is empty. Arrested. Cushing long-since gone. Deeds gone. Given that I am now the nominal head of Chancery, most certainly the current chairman of Council as well as its Executive, I wish I knew why Lawrence was in prison and not here. It's the kind of thing a real High Commander would know. The Eyes of God report him and his household under arrest. For what cause, I currently do not know. No matter, my personal assistant will find out. (If not, then we know where we stand, and I send the signal to Naomi to get out with Angela. As long as our household Guardians remain loyal, that is.)

Which brings me back to yelling. I am not known for outbursts, not here. It was two years ago in this very Council (then with a full quorum) where I'd been humbled by my brothers. Appropriately disciplined. I confess it. As such I felt no permission these days to hold my brothers' subsequent behaviours to account. I had sinned with our then-handmaid, that little one-eyed whore.

The less said about that the better. Even after that, then-high Commander Pryce had kept me as his deputy here in Council. He said I was an example of true contrition. Then Pryce himself had been called home to the Lord. A black day for Gilead on a number of fronts. Commander Cushing had seized control, until Waterford had exposed him as a criminal - especially for his premature salvaging of the whole Deeds' household. (Which explains all these empty seats at Council.)

Oh yes, 'yelling'. I continued calmly now that my brothers had quieted down. "Commanders, please listen. Our numbers are depleted. I agree, no one more than me asks every minute, 'What would High Commander Pryce do?' Believe me, I wish he was here."

"But he's not. Is he. So it is, I repeat: we need Blaine back."

At that my personal assistant came into chambers, walked around behind, whispered into my ear, "More reports are coming in, sir. I can give you a summary, but the High-Eye will be calling you in 10 minutes. In your office, sir. He has an update on Commander Lawrence."

My personal assistant. High Commander Pryce's nephew. Ultra competent. Loyal. Works 20 hours a day. Pious. He has an eye for trouble coming my way, well before I see it. That assistant was Pryce's last gift to me.

So I interrupted the whisperer with the gavel. "My brothers, I am calling for a one hour recess. I'm sure many of you will spend that hour trying to come up to speed with what has befallen our righteous Republic. When we return, I expect support….."

".…..that Commander Blaine be recalled immediately. He'd been Pryce's man." I stood with gavel in hand. I finished with, "Deeds, Pryce, Cushing, Calhoun, Lawrence, Waterford. Our numbers are depleted at the very time our District needs leadership. Not to mention Winslow. Get Blaine here!" At that I banged the gavel and left the chamber by the left rear door, assistant in tow.

I'M NOT SURE HOW TO SAY THIS

The High-Eye of God on the phone spoke way too fast. I asked him to slow down. I motioned to my assistant to pick up the extension and make a note of the flood of info that the Eyes had collected. On the most important level, the significance of them calling me was clear - they were accepting my authority.

"It's early, sir," the Eye of God said as he started again. "During the Guardian sweeps yesterday, a Lexington martha was found hysterical in the street near Commander Lawrence's residence. She was transported to headquarters where she was interrogated. She'd drugged her mistress, and the Commander's daughter was missing. Kiki. It was not until this morning that the Guardians sent officers to Lawrence's house."

I asked, "Why the delay?"

"It was your own order, sir," the Eye said. "Late last evening when it had become apparent that children were missing from Commanders' homes, you ordered extra protection for those homes which had children. Lawrence's had none."

By all that's holy, my brother Commanders were now hearing this very same information in their own offices as they were coming up to speed. Too late for me to do anything about that.

"But, sir, there's more," the Eye continued. "We estimate that from 60 to 70 Commanders' children were flown out from the airport to Toronto, sir. A handful of marthas accompanied them."

What!? "Wait a minute, what are you saying?"

There was no change in his voice's level as he continued. "Some sort of conspiracy coming out of Commander Lawrence's house. We've got him and his household in custody. His marthas, but no one can find his handmaid."

"Commander Lawrence?" I said into the telephone. Were they serious? Just this past week, Commander Calhoun and myself had been at his house, strategizing about the Winslow disappearance as well as Fred and Serena's bizarre trip to our northern border. A trip which had ended in disaster for both them and a propaganda nightmare for Gilead. So much so that the D.C. Chancery was imposing in areas I thought had been reserved for the Districts. All of Gilead was in flux.

At that my secretary came in from the outer office, telling me and my personal assistant, "Sir, I have Commander Blaine on the other line." I motioned to him to have the Commander wait. I whispered, "Don't lose him, keep him on!"

Our Council guidelines required that the presider, me, give my brothers ten minutes notice of a meeting's beginning. The button I was supposed to have pressed to begin the countdown was well at hand. Possession of the button was a symbol of presiding authority. Every day I expected it to be missing, and I really would have to get the signal to Naomi. But today it was not going to be pressed until I could speak with Blaine.

"One final thing," the Eye said. "I have to go. Info from the field is streaming in, and it's hard to sift through. But there's one final thing before I go. Lawrence's handmaid. Yes, I said handmaid. We're getting from Lawrence's marthas at interrogation that this was mostly a martha conspiracy, but there are now six, maybe seven handmaids missing, including Ofjoseph. Lawrence's marthas point to Ofjoseph. We're diverting resources to find her and those handmaids."

But despite saying he was in a hurry, he was not hanging up. There was just silence at his end.

So I broke in, saying, "Are you finished?"

"No, I'm not. I don't know how to say this." That may have been the most chilling thing he said, that an Eye didn't know how to say something. But then I discovered why. He then suggested something beyond a line we in Gilead had ever gone.

"Give us permission to bring in the Founder Aunts. Lydia, Helena, Elizabeth and Vidala." The silence on the line continued. I was just about to slap the button to call us Commanders back into Council, but removed my hand. Even more so than my decision not to guard Lawrence's house, I had the feeling that the next words from my mouth were going to play big in my longevity.

I sat silent for a moment. Then I said, "Do it. Bring them in. Find out what they know. But no salvaging. Got that? No one is to be executed. No one. Got it? I want everyone alive."

"Are you sure, sir?" I assured him that I was. What I was not so sure about was that I was the kind of leadership material that Pryce had been. He'd done this stuff so effortlessly. Then again, he'd had the good sense to have been killed in the first salvo in the disasters currently plaguing Gilead.

"And listen," I concluded with the Eye, "Don't assemble a team to go after the handmaids. That's Commanders' purview. We'll handle it here. I'm about to assign that task to a Commander."

I hung up before getting either his assent or his outrage. At that I pressed the 'ten-minute button'. It then occurred to me that I'd forgotten Blaine, who I'd just been talking about. I was losing it. My assistant went wide-eyed, "Sir, you have Commander Blaine waiting!" Holy mother of God, he was still on the line.

At least what I was to say to him had to be short. I'm not even sure why I said some of the things to him I did. I was now, officially, making this up on the fly, with Council set to convene under my gavel in mere minutes.

He never said much at the best of times. I'd known of his relationship with Pryce even before Blaine was attached to the Waterford home. After Pryce's death, particularly after the Baby Nichole debacle, he'd been transferred away, given a Commandership of his own, although a field-one. The Chicago campaign needed people like him in leadership.

Except, I told him in the few minutes I had, that we now needed him in this Chancery. "Son, I need you far more than Pryce ever did."

He balked. It would take a day or two as it was to get back here from Chicago. "Sir, with respect," he said, "Chicago is not going well. It's a bad time to shake up leadership here."

"Can't be helped, son." I told him about the conspiracy to kidnap children into Canada. I told him about the Lawrence household, as well as the sheer number of Commanders who have been killed recently. I told him that Lawrence's handmaid was on the run, suspected of this plot against Gilead's children.

I perhaps should have been more inquisitive as to why that changed his mind. But there was no time. "Son, I've just had a report that this was more than a martha conspiracy. Lawrence's handmaid, Ofjoseph, seems to have been central. You remember Ofjoseph? She was Offred when you were Waterford's driver."

My secretary stuck his head back into my office, "Sir, you're needed in Council!" It turned out, everyone else was there except for me.

So I barked this last thing to Blaine before hanging up, "I want you back here ASAP. I'm going to give you full authority to assemble a team of your choosing, to find Ofjoseph - and also what appears to be another half-dozen of her handmaid conspirators. As a Commander, you'll be independent of either the Guardians here or the Eyes. You can assemble your own squad. We need, I need…. to know what just transpired. I need them alive."

"Why me, sir?" was his question.

"Because it's what Pryce would have done," was my answer. I hung up, with assistant in tow strode towards the Council chamber. Soon, I was to have two of Pryce's prodigies around me. Naomi called it my security blanket. Pun intended.