Chapter 2A Chapter by Amy Downtown,
Victoria June, 1984 Carina sat in front of a typewriter,
her fingertips click-clacking as they typed out a document. A silver nameplate
read out her name in engraved letters. She was sitting in a tiny law firm, on a
sleepy strip of Victoria. It had been a long week, with a case she had
fatefully lost in media attention thanks to poorly picked witnesses and one
hell of a vicious defence attorney. Thanks to her antics, she’d
unleashed a maelstrom of rumors surrounding herself, the trial, and the
reputation of Rommel. She shuddered. Hopefully, he wouldn’t file suit for
defamation. Another controversial trial was the last thing she needed, and she
definitely didn’t want to see it from the other side of the courtroom. Of
course, she had deserved everything that happened, making such a grandiose show
in the trial. But she had never anticipated so much backlash. In just one week she had to burn
fifteen letters that attacked her on her conduct, speech, outfit, and failure
to win. Most of which accused her given statistics as unproved libel. A few
strange letters congratulated her on a few things, including her sudden rant,
fiery prosecution, and the last letter was a facetious marriage proposal from a
young man in Ontario. This
better be the last time I try to survive a trial through painkillers, she
thought bitterly. Her temperature only rose as the trial continued. Even worse,
almost everything had gone wrong in that trial. Well, except for one thing, but
it mostly likely didn’t change a thing, anyway. Just another lost cause. Still, I wonder if anyone knew what I was
talking about… She huffed. A week of nonsense and
now she had to type up a letter of apology to the judge, who was unfortunate
enough to deal with her antics. Growling as she made a mistake, she tapped her
nails on the table and fumbled for correction tape. She raised her head to the sound of
chimes " someone was entering her law firm. It was a man in a well-tailored suit
and a briefcase. He looked young, maybe fresh out of grad school, with
almond-shaped black eyes and sideswept black hair. She narrowed her eyes; there
was something familiar about him, but she wasn’t sure what. He extended his hand. "It's my
pleasure to meet you again, Miss Rossi. How have you been?" His voice was
surprisingly deep and formal, as if he was treading carefully on his words. "That's Dr. Rossi," she
said, whipping off her reading glasses and standing up. "And I don't
believe that we've met." "My apologies. But I'm certain
that we've met before. Are you sure that you don't remember me?" He leaned
in closer. She studied his face, and glanced at
everything from his Oxford shoes to his dark eyes. Where had she seen him
before? "You're that juror that spoke
up," she said slowly. "You're from my last trial." He grinned. "That's right. I
knew you would remember." His conduct was too warm for her liking.
“Well, thanks for that,” she muttered. “I um…had a fever that day.” “It’s no problem, Dr. Rossi.” He
laughed. “Though you should see one yourself.” She gave a rapt laugh. “Already did,
now that you mention it. Just call me Carina.” “I see. Well, Carina, it's good to see
you outside the courtroom.” “Yeah,” A bitter smile rose to her
face. “Thanks for letting me lose, though.” The man chuckled nervously. “Sorry
about that. It was a group decision. We wanted to let you win; it was just
that...well…” “There was no evidence,” said Carina
heavily. He grinned with a toss of his head.
“You got it.” There was a pretentious air to his
voice that made her skin prick, but she ignored it. Just a kid trying to impress me with his etiquette skills. At least he
has some. She gestured to the black leather sofas next to her desk.
"Why don't you sit down?" "Actually, there won't be any
need," he said, raising his suitcase. "There's something I have to
discuss with you, uh, Carina." She raised her eyes. "Excuse
me? If you'd like to schedule an appointment, you can"” He looked right into her eyes.
"This isn't about hiring you, Miss Carina. Actually, in a manner of
speaking, it is, but not within the confines of the law." He was out of order, but something
about his last statement shook her. "What do you mean not within the
confines of the law?" "It might, be, as you can say,
a very private matter?" She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not
available for any private negotiations." "I am the only one negotiating
here, so if you can give me a moment…" She shook her head and knit her
eyebrows together. "Listen, I'm not here to hear any pitches, and I'm
quite busy with something else, so if you could please just get to the point or
kindly leave my office--" "There's something you said at
the trial that intrigues me," he said quickly. "There are happenings
in our vicinity that even laws cannot control." Carina kept her mouth clamped,
waiting. "Can you explain to me why you
said that?" he continued. "Along with your entire performance during when
you mentioned the crime rates...and the surge in disappearance?” Her shoulders stiffened. "There
isn't anything to explain, is there? It was just something I said, something
general that anyone could have made an assumption about." "Hm." He looked on, not
seeming to believe her. Carina's eyes narrowed. "And
what's it to you anyway, what comments I make in court?" "Nothing, except...it was all
true." Carina blinked and widened her eyes.
"Still, such a sudden thing for
you to say in court. Is there a story behind this?" His question was so unexpected that
it caught her off-guard. "You're a sly kid. What makes
you think there's a story behind this? He laughed. "First, you know as
well as I do that there's a motive for anything. Second, I'm twenty-four years old,
and employed, I'm hardly as much of a child as you are." She raised her eyes; he was older
than he looked. "And you?" Carina jolted
when she realized he was asking for her age. Rude, but what was the point in denying him an answer? "Twenty-nine years young,"
she snapped. "I wouldn't have guessed a day
over twenty-six." "Don't flatter me." He chuckled, and for some reason it
made her ears flare up. She gripped the sides of her table and faced him. "If
you don't mind me getting to the point, why are you here?" "Exactly what I said, Miss
Carina. I'm curious about what you said that day at court. About your motives
to speak up, your facts, and how it all concerns you." Carina's mouth was a thin frown.
"Why do you want to know?" "Well, for one thing, I've done
a little bit of research myself. You had a few things mixed up, but for the
most part, you're right. He opened the briefcase, and
displayed the contents for Carina to see. It was perfectly organized research
investigation, with neat stacks of newspaper clippings, reports, and even what
looked like blood and water samples. "Constant unaccounted
disappearances, hate and race crimes from mysterious sources, upsurges of
gang-related activity, disappearing minorities, and for some reason, they're all
linked together." He lowered the cover on his briefcase slightly.
"Yet the rate of crime diminishes year by year. You know something
sinister is going on, do you, Carina?" Carina felt faint, as if last week’s
fever was bubbling up again. "Mister…" she paused, realizing she
still didn't know his name, "There are cases like these everywhere." He smiled with his teeth. "Call
me Robin. Carina, this is British Columbia. Even in the ghettos, we can't
expect plots of families to disappear altogether." His fingers touched a
graph that was attached to a folder. "With an emphasis on newly-arrived
foreigners and minorities. A utility source, if you ask me. Do you know what
this means?" Her eyes widened in fear. "What
do you know?" He stepped closer to her. "That
there's something going on, that no one else is realizing." She stepped away. "Stop. I
still don't know what you want from me." He snapped the suitcase shut and set
it to the ground. "To join forces. You're an admirable, strong woman, Miss
Carina. I'd love to work with you as a team." Carina's breath caught in
her throat, and she could see Robin's eyes glint. She recognized that look in
his eyes. Was it ambition, or idealistic determination? "We can change things, together. We
can bring justice to those monsters toying with other people's lives, our lives"figure
out what's really happening and put an end to it all." He was charismatic, but he was
unbelievable. She shook her head. "You can't expect me to go on a wild
goose hunt to figure out the truth." "I thought justice would mean a
lot to a lawyer like you." "You have me wrong," she
snapped, rubbing her temple. "I'm a prosecuting solicitor. I analyze
evidence and send criminals to jail, with the longest sentences I can give
them. Playing "detective" has nothing to do with my job!" "Well, that's exactly what I
want you to do, then. Your job's no different than it was before. Analyze data.
Catch the criminals. Then destroy them, but in court. I would myself...but it's
out of my hands." Carina paused, not knowing want to
say. "So you want me to…" He extended his hand to her.
"Join me, tell me any information you come across, and administer justice
when we catch them in the act." Carina didn't take his hand. She
looked at him, her eyes hard. "But there's more to it, is there? What's
all this to you?" His hand dropped and his face
furrowed. He spoke slowly. "Everything I've ever worked
for depends on finding out the answer, and I need all the information and leads
I can get." His eyes flashed. "I need to know what you know too. I
know you didn't come to these conclusions by mere research on your own. There
was someone who told you, or at least someone who hinted what was happening to
make you find out for yourself, wasn't there? I need to know everything you
know, and who you got it from. It's the only way we can compare research and
figure this out." So that was the catch. He wanted her
information. "I don't reveal my sources in
court, Mister," she said coolly. "And I don't expect to change." For a moment, a dark look crossed
his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Someone close to you
was affected, is that right?" Carina almost fell over. "How
did you know?" His eyes looked distant and glanced
away. "It's the same every time." He shuffled his hands into his
pockets. "For me, it was my father. He left when I was fourteen to find
more information, and, well, he never came back." "I'm sorry." Her voice
sounded so automatically that it felt unfeeling. He glanced at her. "I'm not going
to expect you to tell me everything. But if there’s anything you know that can
benefit me or my organization…” He searched for words. “We’ll be able to make
good use of that info. Find ways to change things and do damage control. If you
won't help me, you can at least help me on my way?" Her eyes locked with his; there was
something about the hungry look in his eyes"something she saw in herself the
last time she had hope. Where had that hope disappeared to? He straightened up and picked up the
suitcase. For a split second, Carina didn’t
want him to go. Thoughts buzzed in her head. She could call him back and ask
him more information, or maybe talk longer. Arrange another meeting. Ask him
what he meant. Ask him about…her. But
she knew it was hopeless...She couldn't do anything. Carina turned away and faced her
desk, grabbing her arms. Suddenly, she felt someone lean over her neck and put
a hand on her shoulder. She felt a cold trickle up her spine, and his breath
tickled her ear. "There's a phone number on the card
that I'm going to give you," he whispered." Call them and say that
Robinson Marrit referred you. You'll find out anything and everything you want
to know that we know already. This is the only chance you'll get, so I suggest
you use it well. Welcome to the Counter Cause." She felt his arm slide over her
chest and put something on her desk. She shivered as his hand graced the
exposed part of her collarbone. Then, just as she turned her head, he had moved
away, walking out of the firm. For a moment, she could do nothing
but gape after him, as he walked to the curb and entered a sleek black car. He
looked at her one more time, gave a nod, and drove off. Her face flushed and her eyes
narrowed. She shook her head and then massaged her forehead with her fingers.
It was all so fast. It was ridiculous. How could she place her trust on a man
that she had just met...and walked away? She glanced at the card and gingerly
picked it up. She scanned it, frowning. What could it be? Surely, it was another
lost cause… She moved toward the wastebasket,
ready to drop it in. She hesitated. For some reason, her
arms couldn't let go of the card. Maybe it isn't. Maybe…they can help
me bring her back. Her arm trembled and lowered. But
how can you know? How can you trust him? He's the only one that's ever
mentioned it. But you can never let anyone find out, or… "We can bring justice to those
monsters toying with other people's lives, our lives," he had told her.
"Figure out what's really happening and put an end to it all." "How did he know?" she
whispered. "How did he know that it took you away?" In a moment of weakness, she
faltered, and with a shaking hand, she placed the wrinkled card into her breast
pocket. She slumped back into her chair,
feeling lethargy take hold of her limbs. She looked at her document again, but
decided to put it off for later. There was too much going in her life already.
With a glance at a faded picture in a wooden frame sitting on her table, she
shivered, and placed her head on the cool wood of her desk. Five minutes passed, and she raised
her head again, unable to stop thinking. She took the phone from the receiver
and gazed at the card until the letters blurred in her mind. She started dialing. © 2012 AmyAuthor's Note
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Added on June 15, 2012 Last Updated on June 15, 2012 Tags: noir, crime noir, film noir, crime, invictus, femme fatale, canada, investigation, british columbia, victoria Author |