The Truth Seeker's Advocates

“Where is it?” Jamie frantically rummaged through her cluttered desk in her untidy apartment.

“Where did it go?” Jamie could feel her heart rate elevating. Rain slammed into her window and poured down in a golden shimmer reflecting the street lights. The smell of wet asphalt seeped into the room.

“They couldn’t have taken it!” Jamie’s wet, tight black curls kept falling into her face as she proceeded to rummage her apartment.

All of a sudden, loud banging breaks out at the door. “Open this door right now!”

The man behind the door banged on the door so hard the hinges rattled.

Realizing with relief that her notebook was nowhere to be found, Jamie ran to the door. “Who is it?” She opened the door just a sliver.

“Cut the crap Jamie, you know very well who it is.” Two men in suits burst through the door scanning the room immediately. Jamie did in fact know who this was; Mr. Gerard’s nasty journalist henchmen and her co-workers, Brock and Michael. Brock was slim and so pale it looked like his skin has never seen light. Michael was a shorter, bearded man with a permanent sneer. Michael searched the apartment dumping her bookcase and flipping over her desk.

“Hey!” Jamie shouted, “What are you doing?!”

Pale-faced Brock stepped right up to Jamie. He grabbed Jamie’s arm aggressively, she knew it would leave a bruise on her sensitive dark skin later. She could smell copy paper and disappointment on his black suit.

“Where’s the notebook?”

“I don’t have it!” Jamie snapped.

Brock rolled his eyes so hard his head followed with them. “Then where is it?” His breath reeked of stale coffee.

“I don’t know! If I did, I would've published every single page in it. The world would be rioting at Gerard Post for the lies you’ve been feeding them! I know everything, the toxins in the paper, the billions in foreign transactions, the mysterious disappearances of certain people, and every slimy bribe from big corporations to control what gets printed! The world already knows something is wrong, now I have the evidence to confirm it!”

With annoyance, Brock threatened Jamie through gritted teeth. “I swear Jamie, if you publish a single page from that notebook, Mr. Gerard will destroy your career and make sure no one hires you. You’ll be finished in this industry. No one will believe a word you publish anywhere. We can easily make you look like a compulsive liar and you’ll lose all credibility.”

“I don’t know where it is!” Jamie ripped her arm from his grip and took two steps back.

“I don’t care where you get it from, you have 24 hours to get it to us. And don’t try to escape, we will be watching you.”

Brock stormed out the door. Michael followed closely behind knocking over a floor lamp, the light bulb shatters upon impact with the floor. As soon as they slammed the door behind themselves, Jamie ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to calm herself down. Her heart was racing, where could her notebook have gone? If Gerard Post doesn’t have it, who does? What would happen if she didn’t find it in time? Gripping the sides of the sink, she stared into the mirror with water dripping from her face. Closing her eyes, focusing on the patter of the rain and the cars driving through the puddles outside, she slowly calmed herself down. A faint knock is heard at the front door, just barely audible. Jamie ignored it, then she heard it again. Cautiously walking to the door, she asked, “Who is it?”

Someone on the other side of the door speaks quietly, almost a whisper, “Someone who knows where to find what’s been lost.”

Curiosity surges through Jamie’s veins. The person slides a small piece of paper under the door. The paper has an address. Beneath the address, “Make sure you’re not being followed” was written in large letters.

Jamie opens the door only to find the hallway empty. She snatched her jacket up off the couch, stuffed the paper in her pocket and started down the hallway. Around the corner she could hear the two men on the phone requesting follow-up instructions. She stopped and slowly tiptoed back to her apartment. She made her way to the window and climbed down the fire escape ladder. The moment her feet hit the ground, she took off running as fast as she could down the wet ally.

As Jamie approaches the address on the paper, she observes the windows that were blocked off as if the building was abandoned or condemned. The building wasn’t too old, it looked like it would’ve been a nice mall at some point or another. She pulled on the boarded glass door, it slid effortlessly without a creak. As she made her way onto the tile in the foyer, she could hear voices. She followed the voices up the dormant escalator to the second floor. A handsome man and an attractive woman stood next to the entrance of what looked like the storefront to an old Bed Bath & Beyond that was once in the mall. Noticing Jamie, the man and woman abruptly stopped their conversation. The woman was dressed in a classy burgundy velvet blazer, slim jeans and pointed black pumps. The man was, what you would call, “dressed for success” he looked like he was a person of great importance. Jamie felt intimidated by their class. She was wearing tattered sneakers, a Mickey mouse T-shirt and her curls slumped down onto her face from running through the rain. The man stepped forward.

“Miss Jamie Mitchell, how nice it is to finally meet you. My name is Simon Williams” He gently stretched out his hand.

“This here is Laura Bloomberg, you might have heard of her journalism feats about the pipelines in national parks and the colonies in space.”

Jamie’s eyes widened staring at miss Laura, “THE Laura Bloomberg?! I am such a huge fan of yours! I followed every one of your articles where you exposed the restaurant giants! You are a revolutionary! You’re why I started writing in the first place!” Jamie blushed and clenched her wet jacket.

“Well Miss Mitchell, funny you should say that, I’m actually a huge fan of yours.” Laura returned the favor.

“Huh?” Jamie became awfully confused.

“That’s right Jamie” said Mr. Williams, as he ushered her and Miss Laura to the entrance of the abandoned store. As they walked through the vast room, Jamie saw hundreds of people on computers with headsets taking calls and typing away. There was also what looked like a science lab in the back left corner. Large monitors were displayed on the walls with security footage and navigation maps. The wall on the right was completely stacked from floor to ceiling with books. The back wall was made of large black lockers with round dials.

“We have been watching you for quite some time Jamie; since the moment you were let go from your last job for your transparency and began working at Gerard Post. You see, we are a privately funded non-profit organization of lawyers, judges, teachers, journalists, computer programmers, technicians, scientists, doctors, and honest businessmen fighting for the truth to be revealed. We strive to expose corrupt men and women of power and force them to take responsibility for their actions. Tax-paying citizens by day, revolutionaries by night. You always hear about corrupt government officials, bought out cops, and dishonest corporations; but you never hear about the other guys. Advocates for truth, crusaders of the light web, witnesses of reality, that’s who we are. The moment anyone aggravates any of the big guys, they fall on our radar just as much as on theirs, if not more. We’re not into politics, we’re into people.”

They approached the large wall of black lockers at the back of the room with large dials. Mr. Williams approached locker twelve, flipped around the dial and twisted in the combination. When he opened the locker, he pulled a little overused black notebook from it and handed it to Jamie.

“My notebook!” exclaimed Jamie.

“We apologize for abducting your property miss Mitchell, but we couldn't let it get into the wrong hands. With your permission, we would like to use the information that you have collected in that wonderful little black notebook to expose Gerard Post. You are in great danger doing it alone, but our team of professionals will expose them on a massive scale and most importantly it will be anonymous.”

Jamie looked down at her little black notebook, the pages were worn and smudged with ink. Every page was covered in information, notes, and citations in a beautiful organized manner. Admiring the history she had with this notebook, she handed it back to Mr. Williams.

“Do it.” she grinned.

“You’ve made a wise decision. The world will never be the same, Jamie. It’s for the better.” Mr. Williams snapped his fingers and a man ran up to him and handed him a black bag. Mr. Williams handed the bag to Jamie.

“In this bag you will find $20,000, this is for you to lay low and get out of town for a while. Things will get gruesome around here and you will be the first person they will come looking for. Also, you will find a phone in there for us to keep in touch. You are not to contact anyone but Miss Laura in case of an extreme emergency. Oh, and one more thing...”

Mr. Williams hands Jamie a brand new crispy little black journal. “Don’t stop writing.”