The Temple Walls
Sometimes, you need to slow down and take a closer look at what you left behind...at what was written on the temple walls.
Co-ordinates: Hillwood: 40°41'34"N, 73°59'25"W; San Lorenzo: 4°55'22"N, 52°19'37"W; Washington DC: 38°53'42"N, 77°02'12"W
Campaign Trails, Authorities Fail
38°53'42"N, 77°02'12"W
August 11th, 18:20
"Our economy is our greatest asset," Helga stated confidently, her eyes levelly meeting the gaze of several prominent audience members, "and what we need is a long-term strategy. If we are to be prosperous - and we should be - then our economy should be powerful," her pause was measured, her shoulders set confidently and her expression unshakably intense, "and with the right policies, the right leadership, we can achieve that."
Helga quirked her lips with the faintest hint of satisfaction at the response she had drawn. Wealthy businessmen and investors alike murmured among themselves, whilst others eyed her with a decisiveness that indicated her triumph. She never found herself growing weary of moments like these, where a grand hall brimming with Washington's elite waited to be charmed and swayed by her well constructed arguments. It hardly fazed her; the challenge of worming her way into people's subconscious, through projecting a meticulously planned public image. Helga had created herself, built her entire life, upon playing her part and playing it well. It was simply second nature by now.
"Uh, ma'am..." a faint whisper echoed from Helga's left-hand side, and a light tap fell upon her shoulder. Helga drew backward from the stand immediately, swiveling to face whoever dared risk their future employment by interrupting her during a conference. Behind her, stood a short and wiry girl, who appeared incredibly apprehensive about having been chosen for the task of being the aforementioned interrupter. "Urgent-" she said lowly, clearing her throat and peering down at a torn section of notepaper, "An urgent phone call for you."
Unimpressed, Helga frowned and motioned shortly toward the extensive audience of wealthy power-players, allowing her building annoyance to become quite clear. Urgent phone calls, in Helga's general personal experience, regularly proved entirely non-urgent within a few moments of deigning to answer them. She was hardly interested in sabotaging three weeks of speech writing, and re-writing, and re-reading - simply to find out one of her staff had pressed the wrong button on the coffee machine, or anything equally useless.
"It's from the embassy!" the small girl quickly squeaked; her expression panicked as she darted her eyes to meet Helga's steely gaze.
Helga's stoic expression immediately faltered, and her brow furrowed with brief contemplation. In the wings, her personal assistant Rick moved forward and Helga nodded, motioning him on, to take the reins.
"Annette has the call." offered a meek voice, as Helga swept from stage and Rick's voice began to fill the void. Trundling along, three steps behind, the shorter girl made a guarded motion in the direction of a slightly taller woman, dressed much the same. She, Annette, carried multiple different telecommunication devices in her grasp, and appeared to switch her attention from one to another at lightening speed.
Helga watched the smaller girl scurry off, somewhere closer to the podium once more, as Annette wordlessly offered the correct phone in her outstretched palm. Thankful to avoid unnecessary conversation, Helga retrieved the cell and scanned the area for a private space. She decided upon the nearby hallway, and moved from the room as Annette tapped at buttons and requested for callers to please hold the line.
"Hello, this is Helga."
Shrill static noises erupted from the receiver initially, and Helga winced. "Oh, Mrs Shortman!" a cheerful voice finally echoed into Helga's ear, the moment the static passed.
"Pataki." she insisted swiftly - attempting to ignore the way her teeth clenched.
Helga waited patiently, "Right, yes." came Candace's apologetic tone, although her enthusiasm did not wane. "I am very sorry for any interruption to your day," she continued on, "uh, I mean your evening. But, Mrs Wayman insisted that I contact you immediately you see- about recent developments."
"Yes?" the answer was swift, but Helga found her breath had momentarily stilled.
"Ohh, right, right." Candace chortled, as though she had forgotten to carry on. Shuffling sounds, from shifting paperwork, blended into the background. "You see, the authorities working for the consulate in San Lorenzo, hmmm... well." her sentence ended abruptly. Helga could hear more shifting. "Without any further information they have been unable to make any further, err, headway with your husbands location..." this time, her voice trailed off slowly.
"Meaning?"
Candace was silent for an uncomfortably extended period. "Meaning that," she began with far less enthusiasm radiating from her voice, "uh, well... until further notice they will terminate their search-"
Helga felt her stomach churn. "They what?" she hissed.
"Ah, Mrs Sh-um, Helga," Candace teetered, attempting placation and failing, "in these circumstances they generally find it best to bide their time, you know... until the person in question makes movement. Say, like visiting an outpost to gather supplies or send mail."
Pushing her back to the nearby wall, Helga pinched the bridge of her nose. "How long will biding time take?" she preemptively slumped onto the nearby bench seat, expecting an unfavorable response.
Candace was shifting, flipping, through paperwork again. "Oh, gosh, well," she replied, sounding increasingly uncertain, "depending on the case it can be anywhere from a few months to... years."
"I don't have years!" Helga bit back immediately.
"Well..." she said, "we could, I mean, Ms Wayman mentioned- maybe you could check letters-"
"Look," Helga began steadily, "the only person he writes to now is his best friend, who coincidentally happens to hate me. Personally, the last time I received a letter was back in high school. Seven years ago."
"I- well..." Candace started, but stopped short in apparent defeat. "I suppose you could bring those in anyway?" she sounded unreasonably hopeful, "You know, just in case?"
Helga allowed her head to rest against her fingertips. She closed her eyes in frustration and exhaled loudly. "Alright." she conceded tetchily, "Knowing him he'll still be stuck in the same place like a loyal little do-gooder anyway."
"Uh.. okay!" Candace regained her cheery vigor instantaneously. Only perhaps sounding slightly confused by the petulant attitude Helga maintained with regard to the man she had married. It may also have logically been, that the girl could not fathom how loyalty could carry a negative connotation. Helga quickly decided to disregard the thought pattern immediately, before she dared attempt introspection. "I'll book an appointment for later this week?"
"No." Helga shook her head, despite the futile nature of such gestures whilst talking via telephone. "I'll have to fly back to my hometown to retrieve the letters," her shoulders rolled back against the cold wall, "I will call once I've found them."
Candace's fingernails could be faintly heard clacking against her keyboard. "Oh, okay Mrs Shor-Pataki." she retained an effortless brightness within her tone, as though none of the prior conversation had been fruitless. "Have a lovely evening. Bye!"
Marriage, Helga thought vaguely as she listened for the final click of Candace disconnecting their call, should be illegal. Depressing silence filled the corridor and when Helga placed the cell phone on the wooden bench, beside her leg, the clunking sound was unnecessarily loud. She fought against the feeling, but ultimately it was useless - hatred flooded her emotions and she basked in her own self pity. If there were anything worse than attempting to pry information from a vengeful Gerald Johanssen - it was the prospect of facing her utterly detestable family.