GUILT
That first handmaiden had paid the price. As had Eden. I had been a bitch to Eden, she being all of 15. Fifteen. It's just not that simple to say that I blamed Gilead, or what had been "done" to me. I could have chosen differently so many times and did not. I hate that I was not the Che Guevera Gilead now claims I was.
There were a lot of Marthas who chose differently back then. Jeezuz, they were running a smuggling operation out of Jezebels, something that even Nick had been in on. That's where Mrs Waterford got her alcohol and smokes. Through the Martha-network. Marthas ran an underground femaleroad, as they called it. I'd wanted so much to be a badass in that, I was mainly a self-serving coward. There were so many others who deserved to go up the CN Tower for free, not me. And it's me who could. And I've not.
Mrs Waterford's trial would be first hurdle, so said my lawyer. I'd be asked what I'd directly observed in the Waterford house. Because this was a war-crimes trial - Jeez-louise! war crimes! - there would be opportunity for me to be deemed something like an "expert witness", so I'd be able to comment on stuff that I thought had been happening without directly observing it.
The lawyer said that it would be perhaps tougher on me than on even Mrs. Waterford. Strangely, it would be rougher because I'm not the one on trial. As the accused, she had rights, I didn't. They would cut into me on cross-examination because I'm free afterwards anyway. Mrs. Waterford's lawyer did not have to disclose her plan, she'd just begin to attack/question me. So I'd have to prepare for anything, I'd have to sit through a mock cross-examination. My lawyer tells me that he'll get my words on to the record, but when the Waterford lawyer took over, all he said was, "fasten your seatbelt, Lassie, it gets bumpy from here." He said that with a mock Scottish accent. That was his bedside manner. Great.
OTHER ASYLUM SEEKERS JUDGING ME
Once when Emily and Syl came over, it was awkward, because we weren't to talk about them as a couple. I avoided them, anyway.
Syl particularly. She scared me. Emily and Syl's marriage was a taboo subject. I don't get that. They're married. They have each other, and should take advantage. They did't. They're still living apart, and they had a son! (Some of us don't have sons, not any more.)
But they will judge me. Syl kept saying, "Rita, no one is making you testify. They'll burn the Waterfords without you." I didn't know about that. Part of me wanted to be a part of what burnt them. I'm the only one who knew some stuff. The lawyer said that the prosecutor planned to put the Commander in the witness box after me, anyways.
Me, I was a minor cause célèbre. Me! Apparently my profile was inflated way beyond what was real. Not as big as the Commander's, even in Toronto he was still Le Grand Fromage. The big catch.
They're giving me profile in both the Waterford's capture as well as the escape of the kids. WTF!? Mrs Waterford's lawyer would probably use me, me!, to blunt the Commander's damage against his wife.
Short story: Gilead was pinning the rescue of those children on me. According to them, I was the genius who'd engineered Baby Nicole's kidnapping. Me! I was fucking Che Guevara. My lawyer said that I'd be cross-examined on how I'd betrayed the Waterford's into their stupid trip to Canada, deprived them of "de facto diplomatic protection." I'd coerced them. Me. I'd engineered baby Nichole's rescue. Me. I'd done what!? Right, coerced the Commander. There were a few Marthas down south I'd love to throw that in their face!
Although it's technically possible to visit, I was also supposed to stay away from the Waterfords. No sir, this was not Kansas anymore. I could pay them a visit, them in their jails. Even before testifying, but I won't. I can't even have coffee next to a Serena look-a-like without pee'ing myself. Luke said it's not much of a jail, each of them separately had the same room-size that Luke, Erin, and Moira had combined. And they had Nichole. Then there was me on their couch, too afraid to sleep at my place. Mrs Waterford got newspapers and pizza delivered. Do Canadians know they're paying for those monsters?
Erin was talking to me, though. Just started again. Out of the blue. Now she won't shut up. But she won't go out with me. Not alone. I deserve that.
THE AMERICAN AGENT TUELLO
What's so damn important that three of us need to be there, me, Luke and Moira?
This time there was a Mr. Tuello. Both Moira and Luke had met him, he had something to do with Commander and Mrs Waterford's jailings. Moria said that he'd been the American agent who she'd told to go 'fuck himself'. Great. Moira's mouth had pre-soured this meeting.
This time, there was a bare table, the three of us on one side, and Mr. Tuello on the other flanked by a Canadian military-type guy on his right and a woman in a suit on his left. No files, no notes, no paper, just their neatly folded hands on the table. The woman in the suit had been Canadian Security Intelligence, sort of like the old CIA in the old times, although they told me that Canada had no equivalent. Does Canada have spies or what?
Luke, ever the guy, talked first, even though the invite was plainly to me. Don't get me wrong, I was glad those two were with me. Moira took no shit, not from anyone. She had even once been briefly jailed after an encounter with the Canadian immigration minister, the guy who was ensuring our safety as asylum seekers! Well played, Moira, well played! That mouth of hers used to kiss her mother's. That was her version of gratitude to Canada for seeking asylum! But Luke, he's such a guy.
Was this their polite way of rounding me up, to be sent back? My lawyer had said that in the extremely unlikely event of that, they'd be in touch with him first, and he was not there. So I piped up, a little more polite. "Mr. Tuello, what's so urgent?"
"This is Staff Sergeant MacLean of the Canadian Forces Security Branch, and this is Agent Abernathy of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. Hi Moira, Hi Luke. Rita, I've met Moira and Luke, I'm Mark Tuello and for today's issue I speak for the US government, in exile. I'm conducting this meeting because, well, you are my people. I'm responsible for you."
Wow. We're 'his people'. I feel better already. He'd have got me a cot at the holding centre.
Luke just couldn't keep quiet. Luke wanted Tuello to return the binder he'd amassed about Fred Waterford. "I want my stuff back." I'd not heard of that. Mr. Tuello said he would look into it, but that Luke's visit with the Commander (that I had heard about, at length) had not exactly ended well, and there had been a lot of chaos. Some of the chaos had been of Luke's making, according to Mr. Tuello.
Yup, that's our boy! Big man, but now it's on record that both the Commander as well as me could kick his ass.
GILEAD SYMPATHIZERS/GILEAD INTRIGUE
Then Mr. Tuello got to the point. "Rita." He stopped, then asked, "Can I call you Rita?" I nodded, so he continued. "Rita, yesterday Staff Sergeant MacLean and Agent Abernathy here contacted me about an unauthorized presence of Gilead security personnel here in Toronto. We want you to know that three of them are now in custody, and the D.C. Council of Commanders in Gilead have already requested their repatriation. A fourth person, from Canadian Armed Forces, is also in custody."
The three of us sat dumbfounded. Did Tuello really just say that? Tuello continued, "We thought briefly about letting your lawyer know first, and we will. He'll get all the information we have. Even though we have strong reason to believe that you, Rita, had been their target, we also are now 100% sure that any threat against you has been neutralized. Both CSIS as well as the Canadian Forces security people have done their jobs. Admirably I might add."
Target? I asked him, "what does that mean?" I was surprised as to how calm I probably appeared now that the Guardians back at the holding centre were coming for me. No nightmare this time. Turns out I'm not paranoid, not when they were actually coming to get you! This was the "normal" in Canada everyone said was to my benefit.
Tuello told us that the Canadians were not interested in keeping these Gileadens in their possession, but that the Canadian government also wanted to be sure as to the precise nature of their mission before their deportation.
Moira piped up this time: "You haven't answered Rita's question."
Tuello admitted that he had not. He then said that the men had had equipment with them consistent with what amounted to a kidnapping. "It's clear that one way or another, they did not want you testifying." Moira shot back, "What the fuck does that mean?" Tuello also had reason to believe that if they'd been successful, that they'd have crossed back into Gilead, ironically, near the forested area on the border where the Waterfords themselves had been caught.
The military guy piped up: "A member of the Canadian forces was in league with them. A known Gilead sympathizer. These people, fortunately, stand out. Especially in the ranks." What did he mean, "especially"? We stared at him as he paused.
"Last month he went on leave, and had spent the last leaves with his parents in Halifax. He yaks too much with his buddies about Gilead. Military police reported this time he did not arrive home. His car was then spotted at the Quebec border abutting the disputed area, disputed between Gilead and the Americans. We used to call it "Vermont". The next day he, the car and three others were spotted here in Toronto."
We just sat there. I said to no one in particular, "this is a lot." Moira wanted to know if anyone in their house - herself, Luke, Erin or even baby Nichole had been targeted. Tuello then said, that they'd not have been after Nichole. "They were after Rita, we're sure of it." To that, the woman from CSIS said, "As Mr Tuello said, they were trying to prevent you from testifying against Mrs. Waterford."
I couldn't think. Both Luke and Moira demanded protection. For the whole household. Moira said, "Hell, we don't want our apartment block blown up. Do something!" We were told that Little America was perhaps the safest place in all of Canada for us, including safer than out West or up North. The resources were here. Little America was filled with people who were a known quantity to each other. "It's relatively easy for us to watch," said the woman. "These arrests are a case in point."
Out of everything, this probably hit me the least. It was something to be fatalistic about. It was normal. I'd survived the holding centre, Gilead as a Martha, I'd survived the exodus to Canada with the children. That one should not have happened, not in a million years. We should have been shot in the woods around the airport. But we had something to do, so we didn't worry, we pushed it forward. What could I do now against roving hit squads? Yes, fatalism was the order of the day on this one, it was normal.
Besides, I was now officially out of reasons for panic attacks.
