Elgin’s Trial
By Mr. J.
Chapter VI: Mole
Walking into the main lobby of Divinex International, LLC, Tracy glances at the white plush loveseats and modernist tables. The fancy digs seem at odd with the concept of a staid, conservative defense firm, yet she’s seen weirder. She clutches her black portfolio as she waves to the young woman manning the front desk, her bleach blonde hair made up in a bun.
“Excuse me, may I help you?” The secretary asks with a note of interest.
“My name’s Tracy Elgin.” The PhD candidate smiles as she consults her ledger. “I’m here for my nine o’clock with a...Frank Ennis?”
The secretary blinks furiously, fixated on the tight beige jacket framing Tracy’s visible globes. Her eyes flit over Tracy’s sculpted curves, feeling embarrassed for checking her out. She blushes, averting her gaze awkwardly.
“Something wrong?”
“No, not at all.” The secretary quips by way of apology. “I see you penciled in here. Lucky for you, you’re the first interview of the day. You’ll find his office round the corner, first one on the right.”
“Thanks. I’m a little early, actually. Mind if I sit down?”
“Sure.” The secretary waves Tracy over to a pair of seats near an oak table.
As she makes herself comfortable, Tracy reads over her C.V., crossing her fingers that there aren’t any misspellings or grammatical errors that may dissuade the owner from hiring her. So much is riding on her getting on as staff. Just as soon as she’s in, she could start making contacts, exchanging intel...tearing Joanie’s killers apart brick by brick, day by day...
“Excuse me.” The secretary interrupts. “I couldn’t help but notice those earrings of yours. Are they H and M? They have to be H and M.”
“I got them at a flea market.” Tracy half-lies.
“Well they’re beautiful. I wish I had some just like it.”
“I wish I could share them with you, but they’re a limited edition piece, very rare. I appreciate the compliment, though.”
Glancing at her watch, Tracy closes her portfolio and sashays towards the corridor, her ass bouncing with each step. The secretary watches with rapt attention, questioning her own sexuality even as she ogles the prospective employee’s ample assets. Tracy knocks softly at the door of Ennis’s office. She waits patiently, her stomach fluttering nervously as she waits to be ushered in.
“I apologize for the wait.” The salt-and peppered haired gentleman eyes the buxom ginger. “You must be Ms. Elgin.”
“That’s my name sir, don’t wear it out.”
With a shake of hands the two settle down at his desk and comport themselves. Frank barely restrains himself as he looks her over, his pants bulging with hope springing eternal. He tries to shifts his thoughts to something other than his erection, yet he can’t ignore the quickening of his heart, beating with desire and dreams yet unfulfilled.
“So, um...” He consults the resume in front of him. “You graduated Harvard with an A.B. in Psychology? How impressive.”
“Yes.” Tracy tosses her hair flirtatiously. “I’m working on my PhD at the Graduate School right now.”
“A go-getter.” Frank licks his finger as he turns a page. “I like that.”
He tries to concentrate on the matter at hand, yet he can’t help but steal a peek at beautiful young woman seated across from him, his eyes drawn trance-like to the green earrings hanging from Tracy’s earlobes. Something about the way they frame her face makes her appear so worldly, yet unspoiled. One can only imagine the tricks she’s learned to please the countless men in her bed. He coughs as he stifles a grunt.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Frank dismisses her question with the wave of a hand. “Flu going around, you know.”
Tracy’s eyes flit around, disgust settling in her stomach as she glances at grainy photos of Frank and a young blushing bride, Frank at a baseball park with a young woman who could easily be his daughter, Frank at a deacon meeting. She bites her tongue and smiles graciously, glimpsing into his wandering eye. As incredible as it is to believe that this otherwise clean family man is the brains behind one of the most vicious human trafficking operations in Boston, it wouldn’t be the first time a person of his ilk cloaked his menace behind a veneer of respectability, and he sure as hell won’t be the last.
“It seems everything is in order.” He breezes through her C.V. “How do you feel about working on a probationary basis?”
Tracy double takes.
“That’s it? You’re not going to ask about my experience or my qualifications?”
“I like what I see so far. Can you come in next week?”
“Sure, sure.” Tracy recovers her senses.
“That settles it.” Frank glances furtively at her. “See you next Monday. Now if you excuse me I have, um, reports to file. And everything.”
They conclude the meeting with a handshake. He stops her mid-stride as she walks toward the door.
“I forgot.” His voice is shy. “You need to take a drug test. Medical’s on the third floor, it’s the first door to your right.”
Tracy walks toward the elevator, shuddering in disgust. The mere thought of shaking hands with that man...her stomach turns at the thought. But she’s had just as many encounters walking around town. At least he had enough sense to be polite. That can’t be said for some of the transients around these parts.
Her first impression striding into the medical wing is one of complete apathy. From the outset, it appears like any other waiting room at the doctor’s office. Women sit nonchalantly as they browse through old Redbooks and Reader’s Digests, waiting for their name to be called. Yet as her eyes dart across the room, she notices something odd about the people. At first she is oblivious, but as the minutes pass, it gnaws at her, making her feel uncomfortable as she takes her place among the gaggle of females.
Every one of them is bald. Not partially bald, or thinning, but completely depilated, not a follicle on their heads. Just as she begins to become suspicious, a nurse calls her toward a pair of steel doors. Following behind, she is startled by the sight of something even stranger than women with alopecia. She hardly believes it at first, but eyes don’t lie.
A barcode, etched on the back of the woman’s neck. A chill runs up Tracy’s spine.
“Here.” The nurse’s voice is robotic as she hands over the plastic cup. “Bathroom’s around the corner.”
Cup in hand, Tracy obliges. She glances at posters of Ennis plastered around the corridor leading to the women’s restroom, smiling widely. His eyes are piercing, almost beatific. She feels as though she’s visiting the home of a depraved despot. She peers into a facsimile of his face as she sits on the toilet, feeling self-conscious even though it’s not even real.
Are his employees aware of the truth, or are they as brainwashed as his conquests? A medicinal mist drifts into her nostrils. Alcohol? Why would they disinfect the bathroom while she’s inside? It doesn’t make sense. She chalks it up to fatigue and an overactive imagination.
Specimen in hand, she drops it off as requested at the front desk. But the visit isn’t half over. The nurse leads her toward a room as she is forced to disrobe as measurements are taken. She blushes as the woman feels her up, remembering the effects of the earring on anyone nearby. She files a mental note in her head to do some serious research on the magic’s side effects.
Tracy’s eyes widen as the nurse produces a large syringe seemingly out of nowhere.
“I thought we were just going to take my measurements.” Her voice wavers.
“It’s just a blood work up.” The nurse reassures her. “Standard operating procedure.”
Tracy rolls up her sleeves dutifully. Yet as the syringe fills with reddish fluid, questions swirl in her head. Why the need for the body inspections and the work-ups if all they need is a drug test? It seems so overkill. Something definitely does not seem right about this place. Confusion reigns supreme as the nurse escorts her back through the corridor, pointing the way towards the elevator she rode minutes before.
“So how did it go?” The secretary asks as Tracy stops to say goodbye.
“As well as could be expected.” Tracy remarks as she heads toward the door. “Thanks for your help.”
“Wait! There’s something I wanted to give you.”
Tracy glances down at the business card in her hand. She flips it over, revealing the woman’s name and her phone number.
“I’m sorry.” She smiles politely. “I’m taken.”
“It’s just that I’m so lonely...” A whimper creeps into the secretary’s voice. “I could use a friend.”
“I wish things were different.” Tracy softens the blow.
“Any chance you’ll change your mind?”
“Not likely.”
Tracy crumbles the card and tosses it into the trash as she walks away, thinking nothing of the matter. Stuffing the humiliation of the day inside, she fishes out her cell phone and dials the number she memorized from heart.
“Hello.” A haggard voice on the other end picks up.
“Is this Matt Lewis? The guy Joanie was with at the garage a few days ago?".”
“Who is this?”
“It’s me, Tracy. I can’t stay on for very long. I just want you to know that I’m in.”
“You’re in?” Matt’s voice is confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m in. I’ve infiltrated Divinex.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Nope. Just a concerned citizen.” Tracy’s voice is clipped. “If you’re serious about listening to what I have to say, meet me at the old grave at 5 PM next Thursday. I’ll be wearing a brown bomber jacket.”
“You mean the one behind City Hall.”
“Yes, that one.”
“Hang on, let me write this all down...”
Click.