Gaberial was sitting in her cell, reading a trashy paperback the guards had supplied. She checked the book's publisher and found it ironic that it was part of the American Media Corporation's empire. The Independent Press Corp, of which she was a part, had been established to mitigate the influence of the other group. To many, the impact that American Media had was too significant.
With little to do, her mind has been spinning, thinking about the implications of her last session.
She just had her breakfast and was back in her cell once more. She had not returned to New Midian in the last three days, nor had she seen Grey. Her guards had remained as uncommunicative as usual. She did, however, pick up on the tension that was flowing through the facility. Her guards were the best source of it, but even their professional masks were slipping now and again.
She couldn't get into the story. She looked at the ceiling, the book on her chest, as she lay on her bed. It was then she heard the sound of the keys in the door. Sitting up quickly, she waited as the who was here.
The door opened, revealing the head of her guard detachment. "This way, ma'am."
He indicated with his head to the corridor beyond the door. Gaberial stood and walked towards the door, and as she did so, he turned and began walking. She followed, and another guard slotted in behind her.
She was led back to her interrogation room and sat on one of the uncomfortable folding plastic chairs. The room was unchanged from the cameras to the flickering light.
The door opened, and Grey came in. He was carrying a folder on the D tablet and a manila folder. Without greeting, he sat down across from Gaberial and placed what he was holding onto the table.
She got a good look at him; he wasn't speaking, and he looked terrible. He looked pale and drawn, and from the dark circles under his eyes, it seemed he had not slept at all in the last three days.
"Good morning, Ms Sanchez." Even his voice sounded tired. He sat down across from her.
"Morning." She said in return, just watching for the moment. She had to control herself from asking a hundred questions.
"You will be returning to New Midian today. We wish you to continue the sessions." They seem to be ignoring her gathering frustration. Focused instead on what was going to happen today.
She can hold back any longer. "What's happening out there?"
That single question summed up everything she had been thinking about for the last three days. The not knowing was tearing her apart. As a journalist, she needed to know and record the world's reactions to a story.
"I cannot comment on that right now." He said in a tired but deadpan way.
"Bullshit!" Was her angry reply. She could no longer contain the need to know.
"Ms Sanchez!" Grey snapped at her. "I know that you are frustrated being locked up here. But trust me when I say things are on a knife's edge."
This brought Gaberial to silence, and she leaned back to her chair, even though it was as uncomfortable as it was. She had never seen him lose his temper before. She looked him over with a more detailed approach. Everything about him screamed that he was tired, which was obvious. But it was the gaunt, pale look to his face that made her realise that he was under incredible stress.
"Is it that bad?" She was hesitant in asking, but needed to know.
"Yes." His shoulder sagged as he spoke. "The storm started far quicker than we expected."
"In what way?" She leaned onto the table, drinking in every detail of his body language and the words he was saying. Her reporter instincts kicked in, and she was gathering information from him.
"I cannot say much right now as it is an ongoing investigation." He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "The minute we began our investigation, a wall of legal challenges hit us."
"That is not unexpected; both companies are legendary for their ruthless legal teams." She pointed out.
"That is correct. But they were hitting us the minute we arrived at the door." He looked at her pointedly.
It was then she realised what he was saying. "They were waiting for you. They knew you were coming."
"Yes. Either they were preparing for our arrival since we sealed off the site, or someone tipped them off that we were coming." Both were possible reasons why both corporate giants were on the defensive.
"Let me guess, their proxies and tones within the government are responding to their master's call." She spoke somewhat bitterly. She had been on the wrong end of those corporations before I knew the reach they possessed.
"A somewhat harsh statement, but unfortunately correct." He admitted to her.
They fell silent for a few moments, each reflecting on what had been said between them. Gaberial could only imagine the political storm raging throughout the federal government. What would be seen publicly, with only a hint of what's happening behind closed doors. In Washington, D.C., money talked, and both those corporations had ungodly amounts of it.
What could she try to do from here? Her options were limited. She had been thinking for the last few days about everything the Keeper had said to her. As she thought she'd led back again, but this time further, looking up at the ceiling.
"Articles of incorporation." She suddenly said.
"Sorry, what was that?" Grey asked.
"The Keeper said that both corporations were founded between 1895 and 1899. That means their articles of incorporation would be in the state capital records in Boise." She looked at him as she spoke, getting more excited.
"That is, if either cooperation was registered first in the state." Grey pointed out.
"Well, if they were, Bosley would have a better chance of finding the original records. And if they are there, that would further strengthen the evidence of what the Keeper is telling us in the story. I learned from an old hand that paperwork, ancient paperwork, is one of the best ways to find the lead or verification of a part of some story."
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"That might be true," Grey said, looking thoughtful.
It was slightly later in the day than she had been approaching for the earlier sessions. She was carrying her equipment and walking towards the gates, wondering what new revelations would emerge from the session.
The gates were open, and the walls were adorned with various plants and ivy growing up them. The two gargoyle statues looked down at her as she approached. She paused before them, looking at the site before her.
She had not been hooded this time as she drove through the base. She had quietly noted the increased number of rangers wandering around, but there were no signs of the armoured fighting vehicles being brought across the river yet.
That meant that an assault wasn't going to happen yet. However, the signs were there; one was on the way.
She knew it. The soldiers in the base knew it. The Keeper knew it.
She wondered again what his plan was. He had spoken to her and her alone. He could have spoken to the government negotiators, but he steadfastly ignored them. He was playing some game that she was sure of.
But to what end?
This was a question that now burned within her. She was not foolish enough to believe that she was special or chosen in any way. She suspected he had initially decided to speak to her because she was a curiosity; he had even said as much. But why did he continue talking to her?
Did he think he could get out of the assault coming?
No, he seemed instead at peace with the idea. She had met men in the past who knew that a violent end was before them and had made peace with it. He seemed like them.
Was it for chaos then?
Possibly. The revelations alone were causing a storm, and that wasn't counting his very existence. She suspected that some chaos was his goal, but she was sure that he had an underlying objective.
You could feel the eyes of the guards behind her, wondering why she had stopped. She took a deep breath and began forward once more.
She passed through the gates into the courtyard. And found a change.
Two chairs have been positioned in the space. They were wooden and handcrafted. Each looked new and had only recently been constructed, as she could smell the wood polish emanating from both of them.
"I realised I had been quite the bad host." Came a voice from next to her.
She screamed and jumped slightly into the air. "Jesus Christ and all the saints in heaven, will you stop doing that!"
The Keeper had appeared next to her just as she had last seen him with that slight smile on his face.
"I had these chairs commissioned to help make the interview process a little more comfortable." He walked forward and indicated to the chairs, completely ignoring her exclamation and demand. "They should be quite comfortable."
She glared at him as she struggled to bring her heart rate back under control.
"I had noticed your discomfort during our last session. I thought about it and came up with this solution." He seemed happy with his decision.
She looked them over again. "Did Blackstone make these?"
"Why, yes, he did." The Keeper smiled. "It's been a little time since he had a project that didn't involve implements of murder and maiming."
Gaberial thought, what the hell did he mean by that!
She wanted to ask more, but knew that she needed to stay on track and not get distracted. She set up the equipment this time, keeping in mind they would both be sitting. She checked the camera angles and had the Keeper sit on one of the chairs to make sure everything was in frame.
She was burning with questions the whole time, but maintained her professional demeanour until they were about to start when she had to ask. He had also said nothing about her absence for the last few days, as she suspected that he knew what his own ideas on the matter were.
"Did you know about the political firestorm when you mentioned those corporation names and your involvement with them?"
"Has my story triggered some problems outside?" He asked innocently. "I am somewhat cut off from the world at the moment."
She glared at him but said nothing. She knew he was trying to bait her, but more likely mocking those listening to their conversation.
She pressed record and sat down across from him. She sat down in the chair and found it highly comfortable. It was far better designed than the plastic chairs they used in the interrogation centre and around the encampment outside.
"Blackstone is quite the carpenter as you can now tell." The Keeper said, beaming at her.
"This is amazing. The chair has no padding yet is incredibly snug." Gaberial shifted slightly in the chair, getting a feel for it.
If he was going to reply to that, he was prevented by a shadow passing over them quickly. They both looked up as a drone flew above them.
"Well, they are learning now." The Keeper said offhandedly.
"Learning what?" Gaberial asked while watching the drone.
"That the spatial bubble that surrounds New Median is no joke, even after the failed missile strike. That is the first drone that has been up in several days that hasn't crashed into it."
"Before we begin today, I have a few questions to ask you if that is okay." She turned her full attention to him, and he turned his full attention to her.
"Of course, but remember my original warning."
"We both know that they are coming for you. So I must ask you this: What is your goal with the sessions?" She asked the first, most important question burning within her mind.
"That my story is told." Came his answer.
"Is that it?" She pressed, not satisfied with what he had said.
"Yes." He decided to add more as she was not clearly satisfied. "I am old, Ms Sanchez. I do not feel the effects of age the same way you do, but time wears us all down eventually. For 170 years, I have stood watch over New Median. I have seen acts of savagery and moments of heroism. I decided that a record should be produced of it, even if it is never seen; it exists."
She did not respond to his words at first, watching his body language. He was incredibly hard to read, but in this statement, she could only see that he was sincere. She knew that more was going on, and she was part of his plan in some way, but she could not see how or why.
If he had been here for 170 years, then it was more likely that he had planned all of this out in advance. The most substantial evidence of that was the Driver family's disappearance. Grey had been sure that they hadn't just abandoned their homestead in a panic. Everything they have done and destroyed has been deliberate. It screened pre-planning and preparation.
"The Driver family has gone. Their home and business were abandoned."
"That wasn't a question." He said.
"No. You told them to go, didn't you?"
He went quiet for a few moments, looking away deeper into the graveyard. "I knew this day would come. I had known it since the early 1900s. When I took on Herbert all those decades ago, I had to start planning. Back then, he and his family could easily disappear if I needed to, but our society developed and became more integrated, making it harder to disappear people without killing them. This was back in the late 90s, when I decided to have them implement a plan to disappear when needed. When the combined law enforcement raid happened, they knew that time had arrived."
"So you can have them killed to protect your secrets?" She asked.
"No. They were always loyal. I do not punish loyalty; I do everything I can to help it. I ensured that they had access to financial resources to assist them. When the time came, I told them to go and not look back. Well, the time came, and they did." As he spoke, she heard something new for the first time—a tone of sadness. In many ways, the Driver family were his servants or employees; it was hard to tell which. But it seems he was close to them.
"When will they come back?" She asked, surprised by the question that she almost blurted out.
He smiled again, but the sadness was still there as he spoke. "No. Once they stepped through that door, they knew that they could never return. Within a generation or two, they will have forgotten all about me and their ties to this place. That was my instructions to them and the promise I made all the way back at the start."
Gaberial sat quietly, thinking about what he had said. The Driver family was his link to the outside world for nearly two centuries. In theory, that was six generations of them interacting with this place and the one who controlled it. Throughout his story so far, he has actively looked after those who serve him, and he has made it clear he is doing the same for the Driver family.
"Why tell me about United American Oil and American Media? Surely it cost you nothing to stay silent about them and have them work for you in the shadows without us realising it."
His sad smile lingered, but there was also a hint of tension in his shoulders. "The Drivers were loyal. The other two and those who control them forgot that we were in a partnership, and now it is time to reap what they have sown."
"What do you mean by that?" She asked, intrigued and alarmed.
"All in good time, Ms Sanchez. All in good time. First, let us discuss 1900 and the beginning of a new century. The snows were as thick as usual……"
