Death Do Us Part

“Dear Rhea, Thanks for sending us "The Hauling Hunger: Exposing the corruption undermining the Nation’s Nutrition Initiative." We are sorry to say that this submission is not right for The 4thEstate at this moment. This is not a reflection on your writing. The selection process is highly subjective to the need of the paper. Please know, however, that we have read your work and appreciate your interest in the newspaper. We wish you the best in placing your writing elsewhere. The Editors The 4thEstate” This is the twelfth rejection that Rhea has received this month including three rejected full-time job applications, two freelance applications and even one volunteered pledge of time to a no-name community magazine. Since when do people refuse help that comes for free! The world seems to have had enough of her. Yet, she shows no sign of backing off. If only she’d agree to conform to the norms of the industry. After all, they are not asking her to be a conformist. All they are asking is for their journalists not to use their every breath to attack the authority to the point where it feels the need to destroy them to protect itself. Because, everyone knows what happens when one makes enemy of too many powerful people. In a twisted way the people that refused to employ her actually helped her to survive by doing so because the only reason that no one saw her as a threat was because her articles were not being published anywhere. They were too direct and aggressive even for the news corporations that were famous for being defiant and fearless. Yet, they would occasionally buy information from her, anonymously, cause apparently this woman has a way to investigate even the uninvestigable. She has sources in places that are impenetrable for others and has an eye for patterns that often turn out to giveaway mammoth scandals. That is the only reason why she hasn’t been declared bankrupt even after three years of unemployment. That, and also cause the woman can survive even at the hardest of means. It isn’t that Rhea was a deprived and wronged damsel. People have been quite kind with her for that matter. However, at her childish romanticism she deemed everyone who refused to walk the path to destruction alongside her as the ones that were there to deliver her to the pit of obscurity.  Her ex-boss, Mr. Murad had protected her until her very last day in that office and probably for a while after that too. When she was removed from the investigative journalism team to man the editorial section, he knew he was placing himself in front of the firing squad. She stormed into his office and they argued for hours but not once did he mention to her that she would have lost her life before the end of that week had he not stopped her from investigating further into a national scale fertilizer corporation that she was digging secrets of at that time. He was furious when she accused him of being in cahoots with the company. Well, he was friends with the CEO of the company. That is why he was warned beforehand about the impending predicament of this young journalist of his. The CEO and he were sharing late night drinks, at a club that they both frequented, when the CEO “casually” mentioned of Rhea. “One of yours has been frequenting my Y estate plants recently.” Then with a small indifferent frown, he took out his phone, tapped on it once or twice and then handed it to him. The moment he saw the picture on the screen, Murad Knew the kind of hell Rhea has dug for herself. In the picture, the girl was talking to a man who has been found dead just that evening. The news was yet to break but the information reached his inbox just when he was about to leave office for the day. The man was a cleaning staff in one of the fertilizer plants in the Y estate. Murad personally called in the editor to instruct him upon that news before leaving the office. And here he was, looking at that man being interrogated by this young journalist of his, whose questions probably cost him his life.   Murad feigned indifference because he knew if the CEO sitting in front of him notices any hint of emotion, that girl will become a leverage against him and he would not see the end of it. With a nonchalant smile he said, “new blood!” took a sip from his glass then called his editor to take her off the investigative team and give the case to another journalist who he knew had been selling information to the business corporation for a long time.  Although it could not be read in the behaviour of the two men sitting against each other, the CEO knew that Murad was doing him a huge favour and that a time would come when he’d have to return the favour. However, for now he could show his gratitude by calling off the assassination of this measly journalist. He called his assistant, who was sitting at a table not so far away, and asked him to give a call directly to the assistant of Rory Korlin, one of the senior members of the leading crime families of the country, to ask his men not to act on the “request” that he had recently made to him. Waiting for a second he added “and compensate them, generously, for any inconvenience that this might cause to them.”  The rest of the time they were together Murad had a faint smile on his face while inside, his mind was running faster than electric current trying to assess the depth of danger this little journalist of his has exposed herself to. The next day, just to cover all ends Murad shifted Rhea to the editorial team for until he decides on how to use her without allowing her to invite danger again. He was significantly mad at her too for having to let go of such a meaty story because she was too reckless. Had she been forthcoming about her investigation from the beginning they could have had taken better precautions and by the time the news was released, the company would have had lost all its power. It wouldn’t have had the ability to threaten him at that time. If not for her lack of experience and overconfidence, he wouldn’t have been forced to cower down to the unholy threats of the CEO. To remain calm and to not fire the girl instantly he had to remind himself, “for now her life holds the precedence over the number one readership.” And imagine the nerve of the girl, accusing him of corruption and conformity for saving her ass! He wanted to scream at her, cause she reminded him so much of his younger self. She was the same as his twenty-years-old self; the same devil may care attitude, indifference towards authority and an idealism that was enough to get a man killed, only a little fiercer probably.  She was grumbling about how she would have cracked the case in a week or so had she not been interrupted to which Murad pointed that the case has been handed over to a way more experienced hence capable journalist. She begged, whined, patronised Murad to get the case back and when none of it worked she sneered defiantly, “unless you find another me to work on it, forget about the story, cause you don’t have the likes of reporters that would risks as much as I do to get you the Intel that I have acquired. And you can forget about getting it from me cause I was never instructed to work on the case. I was doing it out of my personal interest! So officially I’m not bound to share the result of my investigation with the company.” She thought she had finally cornered him by refusing to share the information.  Listening to this, one side of Murad’s lips raised a little. As if he could use the information even if he had. He has just traded the story for her life. In a contemptuous tone hiding his obvious protectiveness, he said “Oh I know the likes of you very well! You’re the same century old saviour of the world complex wrapped up in a shiny new package.” Then pausing for a moment he added, “You would be assisting Cloe on the employment series, read through the Carter files alongside the submitted articles and jot down your suggestions but don’t be mistaken, Cloe will call the shots.”      ***  It was those generous opportunities, that Rhea saw as obstructions to her freedom, polished her skills and let her be one of the bests in business. By the time she left her job, she was one of the highest paid journalists of that time. Despite the constant conflict of interest, her work was respected and her contributions were acknowledged. Yes, her writing would be censored and occasionally she would be compelled to write flowery praises for the people she’d rather not but if it was up to her she’d make enemies of everyone she sets her eyes one for the sake of the “truth.” It was her stubborn resistance to compromise that compelled her to quit at the prime of her career. She arrogantly told herself “I don’t need so much money. I am a journalist, a purveyor of truth. If I don’t have the freedom to tell the truth, then what use is so much money of!” This money that she so carelessly scorned was the only thing that bought her the freedom to not cower before every unholy demand that has been thrown at her, in the last three year. But, the ice under her feet has gradually grown thinner in past eight months as the companies have stopped buying information from her even anonymously. She had been surviving on small teaching jobs, giving away language lessons, but her temperament does not agree with academia, or any organised work setting for that matter, so she doesn’t seem to be able to keep any job for more than half a month. And the home loan that she had taken when she was still employed is hanging like a ticking time bomb over her head now. If it wasn’t for her thrift the EMI of the loan itself would have caused a hell lot of trouble and she and her father would have been compelled to give the house up and get back to their old family house which had been a constant source of torment for her family all their life. Her mother suffered and died in that house. She could not let her father go back to live there. However, now she probably will have to. The EMI has been pending for two months, and the three months’ time that she had asked from the bank to clear the due is almost over too. And her bank account has $96 in it. So finally, for the first time in 26 years of her existence, Rhea has stepped off her high horse to do whatever it takes to survive. She has applied to all the companies that she had rejected in the whim of her youth, called every individual that could pull a string to get her a job except her former boss and did all the biddings of those that could get her a job. Still nothing worked until one morning, a week before the due date of her pending EMI p*****t; she saw an ambiguous advertisement on the newspaper and decided to take up the invitation of walk-in interview that featured in it.