The Traitor's Revenge (Wallis Jones Series 2016) Page 4

Everyone was looking in one direction except for a man or woman here and there who were carefully scanning the crowd. He knew at once they were probably looking for him and even more importantly, his two children. It was too risky to wait around and see if he was wrong. He had to act fast and move out of the Watchers’ lines of sight if they were going to have a chance to keep on living.

  Mark had yelled to him to get his children as he turned to look directly at his own children. There was no time for Robert to tell him he wasn’t circling back and would have to reconnect somehow at a later time.

  He grabbed the older twin, Trey hard near the elbow and kept walking till he reached Will and grabbed on, making a sharp turn and weaving his way through the edge of the crowd. He wanted to blend in as much as possible and make his way toward the closest exit as a piece of a small stream of people rather than one man pulling along two boys in soccer uniforms.

  They had walked up the rolling hill to the main road where Robert had seen another parent, a woman from the same team trying to make a hasty exit ahead of the crowds. He explained to her that his car wasn’t working and he needed a ride home. They didn’t live too far from the fields. He knew that his nerves would be written off as frustration over a stalled engine.

  It was a calculated move to head home first. There was a chance that Management was already at the house and waiting for him but he had to take the risk and gather what he could before they hit the road.

  The other mother quickly offered to take them all home, asking her own son to get in the back and move all of the books and sports gear out of the way. Small town Southern manners could still be counted on in a pinch.

  “Don’t get any of that mud on my seats, boys,” she had cheerfully sung out, trying to ease the mood for Robert. Trey and Will sat quietly in the back trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Robert had followed protocol as the boys got older and started teaching them about some of the other lessons in life that were a unique necessity for them.

  He just hadn’t expected to be putting the lessons into action so early or without Carol.

  Robert had met Carol in college and at the time was blessedly unaware of any real conspiracies beyond some small controversy over the grading curve in advanced calculus and an old history lesson on Watergate. Carol had introduced him slowly to the idea of larger groups grabbing power with a much more organized and global system that was handed down through family lines by taking him to a few small, open Circle meetings.

  That was his first introduction to following protocol.

  At first he thought they were one more campus group trying to push an agenda of good will or spirituality or some other vague plan designed to believe in the goodness of everyone. But over time he began to understand they didn’t have a specific agenda as much as one clear idea.

  “We are part of a circle,” Carol had called it, “that is trying to keep the ability to choose in the hands of as many people as possible. We’re not trying to tell them what to choose.”

  “You mean like the democracy we’re already a part of?” he had said, with more than a little sarcasm.

  “Yes and no,” she answered. “It’s an ideal that a lot of people believe in but even the existence of the idea is under a constant threat.”

  Her whole being came alive, Robert had thought, when she talked about being a part of something that gave so much to so many people all over the world.

  “People who disagree with each other,” she said, “or have no education or they have a list of degrees or piles of money or are struggling to pay the mortgage. They all deserve a chance to believe in being fiscally conservative or welfare for the masses or stem cell research or whatever else it is and argue and compromise and argue again. We all have the right to try and fail and try again. No one should be able to take that away from us. Otherwise, it’s all just fate and then no one is safe.”

  “Does choice or fate really need to be in any of this?” he asked, testing out being a college student and his newfound sense of independence from everything.

  “No, but it’s all a little too much to stomach without the idea that somehow, something bigger is involved.”

  Robert was worried more about how this was going to affect his chances of getting Carol into bed than he was interested in any big theories on government, conspiracies or democracy. It all seemed like a lot of posturing by some over-educated college students.

  “How did you get involved with any of this?” he asked, and was surprised when she cut him off and said all of that would have to be explained later.

  It took time but eventually he began to see all of the little connections that created a kind of road map of each member of either side as they went from childhood to college to career. He used the little pins of stars or flags that were everywhere as a starting point to meet someone and under the guise of getting to know them he began to form a pattern out of their lives. He had even tried to buy a flag pin at a local jewelry store without telling Carol just to see what would happen and was surprised when two guys he barely knew from a fraternity started trying to recruit him. They said they had heard about his interest in getting ahead and were interested in helping him out. Some of the people he had been getting to know from the young Management team had already earmarked him as a potential asset. He had tried to ignore the slur they used about Carol being Jewish.

  Carol had been so angry with him that she stopped speaking to him for a week.

  “Do you not understand that it isn’t a game? There’s no out, do you get that?” she yelled. He saw her face turning red just before she slammed the door and left him standing there by himself. He was sure they were over till she showed up at his dorm late one night, weeks later and said she was sorry for all of it. She had made an enormous mistake involving someone else and she had no right to do it.

  He had missed her so much by then he’d have signed on to anything to have her back. It took some convincing that he was in for the long haul but eventually she had given in and agreed to marry him at last.

  He had looked back at that beginning more than once and wondered if he even cared about the Circle at all in those days.

  Carol had explained that there was a little more to staying with her than just a ring and a walk down an aisle. It was rare for outsiders to be brought in as spouses but exceptions were made, particularly for anyone from the original twenty. They put him through a few years of training and helped shape the rest of his college courses and then his career. He had asked Carol more than once how this was so different from what the other side did and finally she had sat him down and said, “One side constantly grows this enormous army invisible to even those working or playing next to them so they can control the message and in some twisted way keep themselves safe from ever having to think or act. They don’t want to risk losing a life that has fewer questions and nicer stuff and they see it all as an estimation of numbers. Only so many will end up with this easier life and the others who don’t were unfortunate and on the wrong side of the statistic. The other side, the Circle, is trying to grow an army just as large and just as invisible so they can preserve the right to let everyone else live a life full of possibilities and choices and interruptions and failures and unexpected surprises. We give in to the idea that some will get more than others and I can’t tell you exactly who that will be or what they will look like but it’s possible that we’ll all be okay. Now, you choose which one you want to see survive. Frankly, choice only exists in the places where we aren’t trying to control all of the questions.”

  He had loved her so much in that moment.

  Now she was dead. Robert had stopped talking about dreams or options after they found Carol. He still hoped there were a few choice left that were his but it was too painful to think about what choices might have led to her drowning.

  He turned and looked at his sons curled up, peacefully sleeping. Tears were mixing with the snot from his nose.

  He wiped his face on his sleeve, trying to hold ba
ck the waves of grief that would come over him at inopportune times and threaten to stop him dead in his tracks. Carol is gone, he thought to himself, and there’s nothing I can do about that right now. I have to protect my boys.

  That’s what matters most, despite what Carol had made him promise, almost on a daily basis, every year they were married.

  Somewhere out there in the small Southern city was Carol’s thumb drive with the names of her sons on it. He had to get it back before the wrong people had confirmation of just what was happening and who was involved.

  “All of those people I grew up with at that orphanage, my home, would be in danger. Their entire families would be at risk. Don’t let that happen,” she’d insist. “Protect them like they were your family because to me, they are my brothers and sisters and I owe them all my life.” Her words kept echoing back to him in the cold, empty apartment.

  Chapter Six

  Wallis sat back in the pew, letting her bottom slide over the polished northern red oak until the curve of her back fit itself effortlessly against the gentle camber that someone had slowly carved out a long time ago. Helmut and the Reverend were sitting in the pew just in front of her. Wallis looked up at the large, circular Rose window in the front of the church wall, situated just behind the two men. The window held long glass petals of color each displaying a child performing a different virtue. They were all formed around the most inner circle of a stain glass modern depiction of a mother and her beloved child. Wallis wondered how painful the entire scene of parental devotion might be for the throngs of children who sat here gazing up at the window every year.

  “Do you think it’s possible to really know how to miss what you never had?” asked Wallis. Helmut turned to look back at the window.

  Wallis rested her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands. Never in her life had she felt so defeated without someone to turn to and ask what it all meant.

  “Wallis,” said Father Donald, “we need to talk a little before Norman inevitably comes busting in here. There are a few things you need to know.”

  Wallis lifted her head. “You mean, like what’s that list all about?” She looked at Helmut while pressing down gently on the side of her pants to see if it was still there. The thumb drive was safely in her pocket.

  “The BIGOT list,” said Helmut, nodding his head. “That’s a good place to start.”

  “You’re not going to like a lot of what I’m about to tell you,” started Father Donald, “but I want you to know that I was the one who told Norman many years ago to say nothing to you.”

  “Norman is responsible for what Norman decides to do,” said Wallis, letting her voice slide into her best attorney tone. “He’s not your puppet.”

  “That is very true and a great observation. Norman is no one’s puppet and he made that clear when he turned away from his family heritage as a young man and then sealed it by choosing you as his mate. You, of all the people in the entire world. There wasn’t a more controversial choice. I wasn’t surprised by Norman’s desire for a more normal existence but I was a little reluctant to go along with what appeared to be such a reckless coupling. You have your own way of doing things and when paired with your family tree that makes you an unknown component.”

  “What are you talking about? Do you have that much of a problem with women who work?” asked Wallis, trying to move so her shoulder wouldn’t ache so much.

  “No,” said Father Donald, smiling a little, “and either way I don’t have any kind of a problem with you. But to choose to live his life in such close proximity to those who would wish him dead if they only knew his lineage was a little surprising. So contrarian, which I suppose is the definition of Norman Weiskopf’s personality.”

  “What do you mean, Norman’s lineage? And who do we associate with that would want Norman dead?” Wallis asked the question slowly, aware that the answer was going to sting and take away just a little more of someone she loved. She just wasn’t sure who it would be or how much would remain when they were finally done.

  “Norman is a hero,” said Helmut. “It’s much harder to stay and just live your life among the enemy.”

  “What?” asked Wallis.

  “Wallis,” said the Reverend gently, “There are people who are seen as royalty because they took power on a battlefield in some long ago time and then squashed a crown down on their heads. They keep their crowns by any means necessary and justify the mayhem they cause by painting the world as a bleak place that is in dire need of control by human beings. There are others, though who are made into royalty by those around them because they did their best to spread the power around to the masses and resisted ever seeing themselves as special,” he said.

  “It’s as if mere mortals have to find a more divine reason to follow anyone rather than just sound reasoning,” said Helmut.

  “You are all talking in riddles. What are you trying to say?”

  “Wallis, my dear, your family is a part of the original members who tried to take the power and put the crown on their own heads. No, no, it’s alright. Don’t pull away. You have to hear me out,” said Father Donald.

  “You are all crazy,” she hissed.

  “No, we’re not. Your father, Walter was part of a long, unending line that began hundreds of years ago and is now affectionately referred to as the Management.”

  “Liar!” yelled Wallis, trying to stand. The pain from her shoulder made it too difficult. “Liar! How dare you say things about a man you never met. My father was never a murderer. He would have never harmed anyone. No, no,” she cried, “and to think I almost believed all of this gibberish.” She slid out of his reach. It was a comfort, just for a moment, to think that she had fallen prey to a false plot made up by crazy people. Crazy people usually came in small numbers and could be avoided or put away.

  “No, I’m not lying and I’m not saying your father was an active participant,” said Father Donald.

  “But he was,” said Helmut.

  “Not helping right now,” said the Father.

  “Not going to help to lie to her so that she can just find it out later. Besides, I have a feeling she’d try and find out on her own and all of that prying will only put her in more danger. We need to keep her alive. We’ve already seen how shy Management is to approach anyone in her family, well, until today. It’s an asset we can use.”

  Father Donald took a good look at Wallis. “Good point, I would think. Wallis, you can’t make all of this mess just about you. There’s too much at risk. You’re being enormously selfish. Normally, I’d come at all of this from a gentler angle but I just don’t have time. Look, you are part of what Management sees as a dynasty and the way those people value DNA makes you some kind of human Holy Grail for them. They had high aspirations for what you might some day do in the organization.”

  “But Harriet put a monkey wrench in the whole thing,” said Helmut.

  “My mother, my mother knows?”

  “Of course she knows,” said Helmut. “Walter had to get permission to marry her. She was deemed acceptable and compliant. Boy, were they wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Wallis.

  “Your mother surprised everyone when she refused to let you be brought up with any knowledge of Management. She put her foot down when you were just a baby and said she’d take you out herself before she’d let that happen. She knew it was powerful leverage because at least in Management’s eyes there weren’t a lot of direct descendants left from the original founders. You were a precious commodity to them and they badly wanted control over your upbringing but Harriet got in between them and you.”

  “There were rumors that she actually tried to end her life and take you with her once when you were ‘das kind’, a small child,” said Helmut.

  “How did you know about that?” Wallis stopped herself. She had never talked about the incident when she was only four years old and her mother had made a half-hearted attempt to drown them both by driving the car into a re
tention pond. She only remembered it as snapshots frozen in her mind, no matter what she did to forget. Her mother left for a long rest that summer and her grandmother took her place for a few months. After that, no one ever mentioned it again. Norman didn’t even know about that summer. She had learned to gauge her feelings after that and watch others to detect their true intentions.

  “Wallis,” Father Donald interrupted, as he gave a withering glance at Helmut, “can you imagine what it must have taken to convince some very determined and powerful people not to just take you away? Say what you want about all the rest of it but your mother stayed out of a love for you.”

  “You may as well know, there were members who encouraged your father to find a way to help your mother onto her heavenly rewards,” said Helmut.

  “When? I don’t believe you. It’s not true.”

  Father Donald rolled his eyes. “Have you noticed how often you’ve managed to startle her in the last five minutes, Mr. Khroll? Perhaps we could let the more gruesome details out a little later?”

  “No, I want to know. I have a right to know,” said Wallis.

  “It’s one of those things that once you hear part of it you have to get the rest,” said Helmut, shrugging his shoulders. “Walter genuinely loved your mother, loved you too. But he was weak and didn’t know how to stand up to anyone. I think he was relieved that your mother took such a bold move and yet everyone lived to tell about it later.”

  “Did you know him?” asked Wallis.

  “No,” said Helmut, “I’d be what’s considered persona non grata but I’ve interviewed quite a few people who did know your vati. Walter was trapped under a mountain of expectations that were attached to him by an umbilical cord. Poor sap never stood a chance. But Harriet, now that was the one with the balls. Imagine how far she had to take things to let them know she was capable of killing her beloved child.”

  “Lovely,” said Father Donald. “Can I have the story back, now? I have to impart just a little more.”