When Clara went into work the next day, she found, to her surprise, the customers all staring at her. She felt rather discomforted by this, and asked Angela why they were doing it.
"Because of your interview of course", replied Angela. "It's gone viral."
"You've got famous, Clara", smiled Lily.
Angela then pointed to the TV screen: Clara gasped as she saw that the CNN reporters seemed to be talking of nothing else but the interview, discussing its content, how it chimed with previous allegations against Trampler, and what it might mean for President Crawley. Also mentioned was the White House response: a terse statement had been released denying Clara's claims, and dismissing Holly as a reporter with a well-known grudge against the President. It was also mentioned that Holly's White House pass had been revoked, on the grounds that she had left the Washington Post and so her existing pass was no longer valid, and that Holly had responded by pointing out that she had left the Post a week earlier and had still been able to use her pass afterwards.
Throughout the day, every customer Clara served brought up the interview: most were supportive, expressing sympathy for her ordeal, complimenting her on her bravery or remarking that they had always thought there was something dodgy about Trampler. Clara felt embarrassed by these comments but also appreciative. But there were also a minority who took a different view, who called her a liar or an attention seeker, or who asked why she had suddenly decided to attack the popular Crawley. One man called her a "Republican whore": Clara tried her best to ignore most of the insults, but this remark so upset her that she had to be comforted by Angela.
When the day's shift ended, Clara was glad to find Devi waiting for her outside, as was always the case now. Devi beamed with pride when Clara told her about the impact of the interview.
"This is just the beginning, Clara", she said. "This thing'll snowball, and there's nothing Crawley or Trampler can do to stop it. This'll get real big, and the authorities'll have to take action sooner or later. Justice is coming, Clara."
It didn't take Clara long to realise just how right Devi was. Almost every day it seemed, women's rights campaigners staged demonstrations supporting Clara and demanding that Trampler be brought to justice. When Clara got time off work, Devi and Angela encouraged her to speak at one of the rallies: Clara was reluctant, but eventually agreed.
The march set off on a warm Saturday afternoon. Clara and her friends walked at the head of the demonstration: Devi and Angela between them held a banner proclaiming "JUSTICE FOR CLARA". Clara felt daunted at the prospect of having to give a speech. All too soon, it seemed, they reached the place, opposite the White House, where Angela had spoken at the Black Lives Matter rally. This is it, thought Clara, who now felt positively terrified. Angela embraced her.
"Be strong, Clara", she urged. "It'll be all right. And you must do this, for justice."
"You'll be fine, Clara", said Devi, stroking Clara's hair. "Nothing to worry about."
Clara smiled weakly, and, as slowly as she could manage, climbed up the steps to the rostrum. She constantly glanced down at the paper she was holding, containing the words she had written, with considerable help from Devi and Angela. She finally reached the top and looked around: she was both nervous and pleased to see that a large crowd had gathered. There must be thousands of people there, tens of thousands, maybe even millions . . . She looked at the placards the marchers were carrying, with slogans like "#METOO", "BELIEVE THE SURVIVOR", "ARREST TRAMPLER", "I BELIEVE CLARA" and - the one which heartened her the most - "DEMOCRATIC WOMEN FOR CLARA". She took several deep breaths and began her speech.
"Thank you all for coming here today. It was just two months ago that Dave Trampler entered my life. I never wanted him, and now I wish I had never seen him or heard of him. But he did come, and he raped me, insulted me, called me bitch, looked at my social media accounts, stopped me from going out at night, or from seeing my girlfriend. Then, barely two weeks ago, I was kidnapped from outside of my apartment as I was walking home from work. I was tied up in a van, and driven off to Virginia in the dead of night. I had to listen to Trampler tell me he was going to kill me, and then I also had to listen to him dig my grave while I was still in the van."
There were gasps of horror and angry shouts from the crowd. Clara could not clearly hear what they were saying: she was in tears. It took about five minutes for her to gather herself, but then she continued, with a heavy catch in her voice.
"Somehow - I'm not sure how - I managed to persuade him to let me go, but he then drove the van towards me, still Hell-bent on killing me. I ran, he drove the van into the grave he had dug for me . . ."
Loud cheers came: Clara smiled and waited for the tumult to die down.
". . . he then ran after me, but I somehow escaped."
More loud cheers, and chants of "Clara! Clara!" went up from the crowd. Clara simply could not take it in: these complete strangers were supporting her, cheering her, even chanting her name. She briefly wondered why, but she was just glad that they were on her side: that was all that mattered to her.
"So", she went on, "a van driver gave me a lift back home, and I went to the cops, but they wouldn't believe me, made some horrible sexist jokes about me."
The crowd booed angrily.
"They wouldn't listen to me, they wouldn't give me justice", Clara repeated, "so that's why we're here today, to call for justice. I want Trampler to stand trial, in a court of law, and then we will see who is telling the truth. Once again, thank you all so much."
The crowd burst into loud applause and more chants of Clara's name. Clara smiled awkwardly, then hurriedly made her way back down the steps, and flung herself into Angela's arms. There was no need for Angela to say anything: her warm, tight embrace was enough comfort for Clara. When Angela eventually released Clara from the hug, Clara found herself face to face with the smiling Devi, who hugged and kissed her, telling her:
"You were so brave, Clara."
Clara responded by fiercely kissing Devi.
The next day that Clara was in work, a knock sounded on the door of the County Line and a short, stocky man with dark hair entered.
"Excuse me", he announced, "does Ms. Clara Hewson work here?"
Clara froze in fright. "Who is that man?", she whispered to Angela.
"It's Richard Russell, the District of Columbia Police Commissioner", Angela whispered back.
Feeling slightly encouraged but also wary, Clara spoke, in a halting voice:
"I'm Clara Hewson, sir."
Then, unsure of how this would sound, she asked:
"How do you know where I work, sir?"
Russell smiled at her.
"It was mentioned in your interview with Holly MacIver", he replied.
"Why are you here, anyway?", demanded Angela.
Russell looked affronted, but his tone was respectful.
"I'm here to speak to Ms. Hewson about opening up a police investigation into David Trampler."
Clara's heart leapt, but Angela was still frowning.
"And how can we trust that you will investigate it? Do you know the horrible things your cops said to Clara before? Do you know that your cops killed my brother and molested my sister?", she said: she spoke the last sentence with a lot of emotion.
Russell spoke very slowly in reply, as though carefully trying to find the appropriate words.
"I'm very sorry to hear about that, Ms . . ."
"Angela Brown."
"Ms. Brown", Russell continued, in the same cautious tone, "I know what happened to your brother and your sister, it was truly sickening. I won't deny that the MPD has very serious issues with corruption and brutality, and I'm truly sorry for what happened to your family. That's why I'm trying to make a difference."
Angela looked slightly put out by this response: she had clearly not been expecting it. After carefully scrutinising Russell's facial expression, much as she had done before with Devi, she spoke again, more politely but with a sceptical tone in her voice:
"But is it really possible to make a difference? We've heard these promises over and over, and nothing ever changes."
"I won't deny, Ms. Brown", replied Russell, "that it's not easy, and I know from my own experience how entrenched resistance to reform is within the MPD. But I assure you I am determined to achieve it, and to do justice in this particular case. That's why I have brought these two officers with me."
He stood aside and indicated a black man, of medium height with a goatee beard and a friendly smile, and a Hispanic woman, tall, well built and brown haired.
"Ms. Hewson", said Russell, "may I introduce you to Officer Elbert Grundy and Officer Florencia Rodriguez, two recent recruits, part of my reform policy, of diversifying the MPD's recruitment. Also as part of my policy, I have lifted the prohibition on new officers from patrolling on the front line while they train. They are ready to interview you, if you are willing"
Much of this statement went over Clara's head. She wondered whether to accept Russell's offer: she could not forget the last time she had spoken to the police, and knew that Angela would object if she accepted. On the other hand, this was an opportunity for justice, and she just had to grasp it. She nodded.
"Are you sure, Clara?", asked Angela.
"I am", said Clara determinedly.
"If she wants to, she should be allowed to", said Lily. "These cops might just turn out good, you never know, Angela."
"Well, I think that's settled then", smiled Officer Grundy. "So if you're OK, Clara, we'll do the interview in there, shall we?"
He pointed to the backroom.
Clara agreed to this, and led the two officers there. She was still nervous as the interview commenced, but she soon realised that Grundy and Rodriguez believed her story. It was hard for her to relive her traumatic experiences yet again, and Rodriguez kept probing her for details such as exactly how many times Trampler had visited her apartment, and how long she had been in the van, though Clara noticed she looked visibly uncomfortable when she did so, and Rodriguez solemnly explained that such details were essential if Clara was to be believed by a jury. Grundy proved to be kind and empathetic, offering sympathetic words when Clara found it difficult to go on, as was often, and when the interview ended Clara felt a great sense of optimism.
The day after the interview, Grundy and Rodriguez were sitting in a car on Pennsylvania Avenue, with Rodriguez at the wheel, as close to the White House as they dared to without the risk of attracting suspicion. The Sun was setting, creating a brilliant orange light: but more importantly for the two officers, they knew that Trampler would soon be leaving work.
Eventually, they saw their quarry appear, striding confidently down Pennsylvania Avenue, whistling to himself, seemingly oblivious to anything around him. Once Trampler was nearly level with the car bonnet, Rodriguez nodded to Grundy, who quickly and quietly stepped out of the passenger seat, handcuffs at the ready, walked round the bonnet, grabbed Trampler's arms from behind and forced him into the handcuffs, while simultaneously Rodriguez opened the door on the driver's side, stood up and announced:
"David Ronald Trampler, you are under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Ms. Clara Hewson on July 4th 2032. You have the right to remain silent . . ."
"Get your fucking hands off of me!", screamed Trampler. "I'm the White House Chief of Staff!".
"I don't care if you're the Archangel Gabriel", replied Grundy cooly.
Rodriguez opened the back seat door, and she and Grundy together bundled a struggling Trampler into the car: he was a strong man, and it took every ounce of effort by both of them to force him in. Rodriguez then drove off, with Grundy sitting next to Trampler in the back, doing his best to read him his rights, but struggling to make himself heard over Trampler's expletive-laden protests. Once Trampler tried to kick out at Grundy, and the police officer was forced to brandish his gun: only then did the arrested man give up the struggle. They took him to the station, where he was formally charged, but he refused to answer any of the questions put to him.
Clara felt very proud when she came into work the next morning and Trampler's arrest dominated the CNN news coverage. She did not need to be reminded by Devi, when they met at the end of her shift, that this was because of her. Grundy and Rodriguez interviewed witnesses, and they took Clara with them to the Piedmont Plateau, so she could identify the upturned van in which she had been bound, and which Trampler had attempted to kill her with.
But as welcome as these developments were to Clara, they came at a cost. When casually checking her Facebook account the evening after Trampler had been arrested, Clara was horrified to see the comments that had been posted there: "I'll kill you fucking bitch", "I'll bang you you stupid whore" and "I know where you live" were just some of the messages posted. When she tried Twitter, it was much the same: "You fucking lying bitch", "You should be shot" and "Trampler will have his revenge". Surely, she thought desperately, Instagram would be fine: but instead she came across such messages as "You fucking dyke", "I'll rape you more than Trampler ever did" and "I'll stab you all over your stupid little body". In despair, Clara had no choice but to delete the social media accounts that had always been a great pleasure to her.
But that was not the worst of it. When Clara was in work one day, Angela tapped her on the shoulder and silently pointed towards the barroom television: there was a breaking news story about a video on the Internet showing Clara and Devi making love in Clara's apartment the previous night. Clara was so horrified she let go of the glass she was holding: Angela had to swiftly stoop and catch it.
"Why . .. who . . .", gasped Clara.
"Isn't it obvious who did it, Clara?", Angela asked her.
Clara looked at her puzzled.
"Crawley did it", Angela continued. "He wants to smear you, to discredit you, for telling the truth about his Chief of Staff. That's what the establishment always does, Clara, they threaten, they bully, they blackmail and they smear all those who expose them."
Clara said nothing, but flung herself into Angela's arms for comfort, which was somewhat awkward for Angela, as she had to place the glass that Clara had dropped onto a nearby table in order to hug her back. Clara knew Angela must be right: if Crawley was capable of sanctioning a murder attempt, he was certainly capable of this. She felt angry at Crawley and at her mother for siding with him and Trampler.
"How would he know where I live, though?", she asked eventually, in a small voice.
"Trampler must have told him", said Angela gently.
Clara did her best to carry on with the day's work, but it was not easy. The blackmail video dominated the rolling news coverage: thankfully the video itself wasn't shown on the TV, but there was almost non-stop discussion of it, and of a statement from the White House refusing to comment on it. The customers also constantly brought it up, most of them sympathetic, others mocking. Clara tried to turn her face away whenever they mentioned it.
Finally, the day's work was over, and Clara, Angela and Lily were able to leave the County Line. Devi was there, with a furious expression on her face. Clara ran to Devi, who gave her a reassuring kiss.
"I assume you've heard about that goddamn video?", said Angela to Devi.
"Yes", replied Devi. "Holly and I have investigated it. The trail leads straight to the White House."
"Why am I not surprised?", sighed Angela.
"I don't think any of us should be surprised any more by Crawley's dirty tricks", answered Devi, her voice full of contempt.
Angela nodded.
"But I would also like to ask you something, Clara", said Devi, stroking Clara's cheeks. "I was thinking, now that Crawley knows where you live, he could make other nasty videos of us. Even if we manage to find and take down this one, he could still put another one up. But he doesn't know where I live . . ."
"You mean, I could live with you?", asked Clara enthusiastically.
"Of course", replied Devi. "It also makes sense for us, as a couple, to live together, and I can more easily provide for the both of us. Only if you want to, of course . . ."
"I most certainly do", said Clara. She had not felt more excited since the night when she and Devi had first made love.
"Next up: they'll announce their engagement", proclaimed Lily in a mock-pompous voice.
Clara smiled broadly at this: Devi did her best to smile as well.
Angela placed a comforting hand on Clara's shoulder. "You'd like that wouldn't you, Clara?", she said. "To live with Devi."
"Definitely I would", answered Clara.
It took about a week for Clara for transfer all of her belongings over to Devi's apartment: she could not afford a removal van. Though at times Clara missed her old apartment, this was more than compensated for by being able to spend every day with Devi. They lived reasonably comfortably off the combination of the money that Devi's parents had given her, the significant advertising revenue from truthtellers.org, and Clara's wages. They made love almost every night, to the enjoyment and satisfaction of both. Clara was also able to fulfil her longstanding wish of them getting into Devi's bath together. She also gained a new friend: Holly's house was only a couple of blocks away, and Clara and Devi were frequent visitors to her, and she to them.
Excitement was building as 50,000 people packed into the hall in Alexandria, Virginia, eagerly anticipating the arrival of President Crawley: Clementina among them. Many of them held placards proclaiming "Crawley 2032", "Free Trampler", "Down with Clara" and "Women for Crawley": Clementina herself held one of the latter. It wasn't long before their hero emerged into the conference room, striding towards the podium to loud chants of "Crawley! Crawley! Crawley! Crawley!". Clementina jumped up and down, waving her "Women for Crawley" placard. Crawley beamed and waved enthusiastically at his supporters: when he finally reached the podium the chanting continued for several minutes, and he had to raise his hand to silence the crowd.
"Thank you all for coming", he smiled. "So great to see such a turnout, such support for me from the American people. Your support has never been needed more, when we see an innocent man slandered, arrested, thrown into prison on false charges."
Loud cheering and applause from the crowd, including from a woman, carefully placed in full view of the television cameras, holding a "Women for Crawley" placard.
"Here! Here!", shouted Clementina.
"A fake news story", continued Crawley, "concocted by a reporter who, as you all know, has always had in for me and for this Administration, what for I don't know. Day after day it seems, she kept on at me, asking stupid questions, writing fake news articles."
Loud jeering and catcalls from the crowd. Crawley smiled briefly and went on, with increasing anger in his voice.
"And now this horrible, disgusting fake news reporter has come up with her biggest lie yet, a stupid story from a silly young woman about my Chief of Staff. And not just any young woman, but one who just happens to be the girlfriend of this lying reporter's intern. Is that just a coincidence?"
"No!", shouted the crowd.
"Certainly not", answered Crawley. "You might almost feel sorry for Ms. Clara Hewson", he added, in a tone of mock sympathy, "manipulated by her girlfriend and that other woman, but for the fact that she has told a horrible pack of lies about my Chief of Staff and started a rigged police investigation against an innocent man. I've no idea why, maybe her girlfriend encouraged her to get revenge on Dave out of jealousy, or maybe she made it up herself, who know, folks, who knows."
There were angry murmurings in the crowd, and loud shouts of "Clara sucks! Clara sucks! Clara sucks!", met with an approving smile from Crawley. Clementina shuffled her feet uneasily: of course I know Clara is lying, she thought, but you don't have to attack her like this.
"So", concluded Crawley, "I will direct Edward Grover, the US Attorney for the District of Columbia, to stop this fake prosecution in its tracks. And, as for what will happen to Ms. Hewson once justice has been done, well, as I said, who knows."
The crowd roared and gave Crawley a standing ovation, chanting "Four more years! Four more years!". He stepped down from the podium, smiling and waving as he left the room. Clementina joined in the cheering, though still troubled by the nature of his attack on Clara: it's all right, he's just feeling understandably upset about Trampler, she thought, he wouldn't act like this normally.
Holly wrote a scathing article about the rally on truthtellers.org, noting "the disturbing similarities between Crawley and another Northeastern property developer who began his rise to the Presidency 16 years ago", and denouncing "the long-term debasement of our politics" and "attacks on the rule of law". She also wrote with some alarm about how indifferent the rally's attendees seemed to be to their hero's corruption.
Clara watched a clip of the rally on TV at Angela's apartment the following evening: she was horrified and frightened by the attacks and threats made against her.
"They're as bad as each other, both main parties", said Angela scathingly.
"That's not quite true, Angela", said Devi fairly. "I mean, this is horrible, there's no denying it, but Holly tells me there are lots of grassroots Democrats, especially progressives, who didn't like the speech and have come out and called for the investigation to be respected. Attorney Grover has refused to stop the prosecution, and more than half the Cabinet, including Vice-President Joyce Liu, has backed him, they've made Crawley step back from his threat by threatening to resign. Nothing", she concluded, smiling at Clara, "can stop the wheels of justice from turning, Clara."
But it was not the revolt in the Democratic Party that gave Clara comfort. It was Angela's compassion and consideration, Lily's joviality and cheerfulness, and, above all, Devi's love and loyalty that fortified her to carry on supporting the prosecution of Trampler, despite everything. In particular whenever she felt in despair she would look down at the necklace that she always wore, and it gave her a powerful sense that she was not alone.
