Disclaimer: Not Mine.

Chapter 4: Directors and Bridges

Giovanni Gabrelli was a man of words, not actions. He disliked methods of violence, preferring softly spoken persuasion to do its work. Physical force, he felt, lowered the whole reputation of the profession and created problems-and people- that he would rather not have to deal with.

He had risen quickly through the ranks of the Timekeepers, taking a desk job relatively early in his career, his diplomacy skills better suited for office work than out in the field. From there, he had managed to become one of the youngest deputy directors that the Timekeepers had ever had. At the age of 55, he now spent his time managing international and internal affairs and making sure, above all else, that nothing threatened the relatively peaceful stability of the Timekeepers.

Which was why he now had a problem.

In the space of two days, two bodies had turned up, bearing the distinctive trademarks of the Red Petal Killer. Red petal found, the numbers rising with every death, signs of torture. And yet the Red Petal Killer was safely locked up without any chance of being set free. He should know; he was required to make a monthly visit to see her.

He knew that she was aware of what was going on outside the walls of her prison. Earlier that day he had been told that for the first time in ten years, Marie Howard had spoken willingly to the guards that were stationed outside her cell. On the same day that the first victim had turned up in the streets of Dayton, she had asked how the weather was. All was done with a smile on her face. The guards at that time hadn't realised the significance of her question and had dismissed it. When the news had filtered through, they had been quick to place her under high alert. Now the second body had turned up, and Gabrelli was under pressure to do something quickly before pandemic broke out amongst the Time Zones.

There was a knock on the door of the office, "Come in," he said softly, and sat back as Raymond Leon walked into his office, "Sit down," he gestured slightly to the chair in front of him. Timekeeper Leon had always made him wary. He had been a Timekeeper before Gabrelli and had remained a field agent even after the younger man had left. Like many other people, he felt Leon was slightly unnatural. Who wanted to be in danger forever?

Nevertheless, he recognised that Leon was perhaps one of the best Timekeepers in the force. And Gabrelli recognised the usefulness in having a Timekeeper that old in the system. However he also felt that Leon could prove to be a liability. A double edged sword and he hoped that this proposal wouldn't backfire.

"You wished to see me, sir," As usual, Leon's face was expressionless and Gabrelli faltered slightly at the sign of it. How was he going to broach this subject to him?

He shuffled the papers lying on his desk, "You are aware of the new development, Timekeeper Leon?" Leon only nodded slowly, "The second body in the space of two days, wearing the signs of the Red Petal Murders, and then the broadcast that was made late last night," Gabrelli tapped the tabletop, uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading, "Naturally, Marie Howard has been placed under even more security than previously," he looked at the older man, "The Director and other deputies feel that...under the circumstances...that more information is needed. From the source of the problems,"

Leon's face still didn't show any emotion, "Are you suggesting that someone go and talk to her?" he inquired, and Gabrelli nodded slowly, "Ten years ago, it took five months to get anything remotely relevant out of her, and even then it wasn't what we wanted at the time,"

"Which is why we want you to talk to her," Leon didn't appear to react to that, and Gabrelli took that as a good sign and pressed on, "Ten years ago, you managed to catch and arrest Marie Howard. You were the one she confessed to, the only one she would talk to," Gabrelli hesitated, "And of course, you have a lot of personal..."

"The only reason that she confessed to me was because I sacrificed a lot in return," Leon cut through his superior's words, "I doubt she would talk as easily to me again,"

The Deputy Director clasped his hands together, "I believe you would be wrong in that, Timekeeper Leon," he told him, "In all the time that I have been to see Marie Howard, she has never once said one single word unless it was forced from her. She doesn't speak to anyone unless it was for a reason. The broadcast yesterday was directed at you, that I have no doubt," he looked at the man curiously, "You have not visited Month Close State Prison once in ten years?"

"Once, eight years ago," the blue eyed man replied coldly, "I didn't speak to her and I was only there for ten minutes. If I may be blunt, Deputy Director Gabrelli, I do not feel that talking to her will achieve anything apart from give her satisfaction about how easily we do as she asks. She doesn't do anything without consequences,"

"Yesterday morning, for the first time in ten years, Marie Howard willingly talked to one of her guards," Gabrelli said bluntly, "Somehow, she's managed to coordinate two murders from behind bars. Her telephone calls are monitored, any letters are checked thoroughly and she's not allowed a single visitor which we don't have paperwork on. But somehow she managed to make a broadcast, and murder two people via an accomplice. We need to find out how she did it, and we need to find out quickly before another body turns up and the media move their eye in our direction,"

"If you feel that is wise, Deputy Director Gabrelli," Leon stood up, "When should I make my way there?"

"This afternoon," Gabrelli replied, inwardly relieved that Leon hadn't resisted more against this idea. But then, he suppose, Leon had always had the tendency to do what was expected of him. If this was the only way through the case then he would visit the one person that he didn't want to ever see again, "The guards have been notified to your arrival, and are expecting you. They will informed you of the rules that have been set in place," he pulled a file towards him as the taller man walked towards the door, "Timekeeper Leon?" the man looked back, and Gabrelli felt the tips of his ear grow slightly red, "The telephone calls? Have you ever listened to the messages that she's left or even have the wish to pick up the phone?" he felt ashamed of even asking.

"No," Leon answered, "I don't feel that there is any reason that I need to listen to what she has to say to me," Gabrelli looked away from the stare, surprised at the blunt honesty, "And the day that I pick up the phone is the day I forgive her for what she did. I suppose you know the contents of the messages?"

"Yes," Gabrelli stated, "They're in her file; I have to read what her correspondences are every month. Perhaps you should read them. They're very...poignant,"

Leon seemed to show a slight smile, but it was perhaps just the light, "Good day, Deputy Director Gabrelli," he inclined his head and striding out of the office without a backwards glance. Gabrelli wiped his brow. That had gone better than he honestly expected.

How has he ended up here?

Leon stared at the whitewashed walls of Month Close State Prison, silently dreading every footstep that he had to take closer to the person that lied within. How long had it been since he was last here? Truth be told, when was the last time any Timekeeper willingly visited here? The occupants were only those that were deemed a danger to society. Most crimes were punished by time being taken from them. Only certain crimes gave you any time within prison. To visit them was not a job that many Timekeepers relished. And he had been ordered there.

He walked quickly across the tarmac, walking up the steps slowly. He knew he was wasting time being this slow, but he couldn't help himself. Pushing the door open, he walked over to Timekeeper Klass who had the unfortunate occupation to be stationed here, "Are you here for business or personal interest, Timekeeper Leon?" She smiled at him, as he handed her his gun. He looked pointedly at her, "So you're here about the broadcast, and the copycat murders. It's been the main topic of conversation for our residents,"

"What was she doing at the time?" Leon asked, "If every radio was broadcasting the same message then her guards would have heard it on their radios. She would have known when it was happening. What did she do?"

Klass shrugged, "Not much, sir," she replied, "She had already spoken that day so we were keeping a closer eye on her. She never talks to us," she swallowed, "I don't know, sir. She was just lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling. There's more security around her now than there was when she arrived here. No one can figure out how she was able to get it out without anyone picking it up. Everything she does is monitored. Letters phone calls, even her words," she raised his gun, "You'll get it back when you leave here, Timekeeper Leon. You need to go straight down the corridor; it's the door at the end. The guards there will brief and scan you,"

"Thank you, Timekeeper Klass," Leon said, turning and walking away from the desk. He ignored the looks that the other guards gave each other as he passed them. He thought he faintly remembered them from eight years ago. He directed his thoughts back to the main topic at hand, walking down towards the door at the end of the corridor. How had Gabrelli managed to persuade him into coming here? Every doubt that he had came flooding back to him, and he almost turned back. He steeled himself; there was a reason why he had to do this. He had to find out why she was doing this now. Ten years was a long time.

The door opened automatically when he approached it, and he went inside, his eye quickly growing accustomed to the white interior, "Timekeeper Raymond Leon," a guard at a desk said and he turned towards the man. He was reading of a piece of paper, "Occupation: Timekeeper. Age: 73. Marital Status: Divorced twice," Leon mentally rolled his eyes; he really needed to be reminded of that. The guard finally looked up, "Place all personal items in the tray,"

Leon looked at the black tray, pulling out his keys, radio, badge, mobile phone and any other items from his pockets, depositing them, "Stand in the scanner," the other guard told him, and he moved to where he was directed. Now he was here, the quicker this was, the quicker he could leave. The red light scanned over him, "Clean," he stood back, "There are a few rules which you have to always follow when you're in the cell. Do not give her any information about the victims' families. We don't think she knows the details of the latest murders, so don't tell her any personal information about that. Try not to take anything she says personally, she likes messing with peoples head,"

"I am aware of that," Leon answered dryly, "I interrogated her for five months,"

"Then you should have no problem with following the rules then," the first guard said, "If you want to leave then press the green button on the side of the cell. We'll activate the bridge and someone will be there to collect you,"

"Excuse me?" Leon was puzzled, "Bridge?"

"You haven't been here for a while then, have you?" the first guard asked him, and he shook his head, "New security measures implemented five years ago. She's on her own little island," Leon looked at the other end of the room seeing a door and about fifty metres from what he could see was a large drop, there was a room supported without any connection to the rest of the prison. Like an island in the middle of an ocean, "The authorities wanted her to be more secure than her previous cell," the guard explained, "So one of us will come and collect you when you press the button," he looked back at the rules, "Your conversation will be recorded both audio and visual,"

"Don't expect her to say much," the second guard added, as Leon stood in front of the door, watching as a bridge extended itself across the gulf, "Hasn't said more than five sentences to us willingly, and we've been here for three years," the door opened, "I'll wish you good luck,"

Leon walked through the door, hearing it hiss closed behind him. He moved slowly towards the cell, seeing a white clad figure within it. It was, he supposed, too late to back out now. He stepped through into the cell, the bridge receding behind him. Like the rest of the prison, the cell was lit with white light. The walls were made with glass and the furniture within was also clear. He looked around; there was a small pile of books resting on a desk, a lamp glaring over them. A bed was placed against a wall, the covers pulled tightly over them. The whole place was cold and formal, and seemed to fit with the memory that he had of her.

A picture frame caught his eye, and a cold anger washed over him as he saw who the occupants were. He hadn't realised that she had been allowed to keep that photo. There were no other personal items within the room. He crossed over to it, picking it up and studying it carefully, ignoring the woman who was sat beside a table, facing away from him.

"You're late,"

Does anyone know how old Leon is? I know in the film he states that he's been a Timekeeper for 50 years, so I've assumed that he became a Timekeeper at 25.

Next Time: Conversations and Unwanted Memories