Howe nodded. “Intriguing. I… take it you have a place in mind?”
“Yes,” Will and Hope both said. They glanced at each other, looks of surprise on their faces. Hope gave Will’s mind a gentle touch, and a look of understanding covered his face.
Howe didn’t seem to notice. “We will make sure that you have a third copy in your possession at signing, then, and I’ll remain ignorant of your secret location until such time, as any, that I need to know. Now, there are various mechanical steps involved in transferring your assets over to the Trust. Alternatively, you can opt to transfer everything in the event of your deaths to designated charities or other beneficiaries, which can then expend the money toward their stated aims in perpetuity.”
Will shook his head. “No. Things change too quickly. Even if there’s a charity, or several charities, that we like today, they may completely change in a few years. No, we need a way to ensure that the money that survives us—” he paused, gulping “—continues to work in ways we’d find satisfying.”
Hope nodded. “We figured we’d set up a trust, as you’re suggesting, and give the Trustee the ability to spend the money over time in line with our beliefs, just as we would have done if we’d still been alive. We’d write everything down, of course, explain how to decide if an opportunity matches the goals we have.”
“That’s a rather large amount of responsibility, especially given the amount of money in question,” Howe noted, stroking his chin. “Perhaps you should look to appoint a team of people to provide assistance to the Trustee, or even a team of Trustees?”
Hope sensed that Will was about to disagree, and used Energy to silence him. Forgive me, she thought. But this is critical. “That makes sense, Mr. Howe. In fact…” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “The approach used to store copies of the documents? Why not do the same thing for our team? Three people. One would be a member of the family or our designated appointee, who would handle the primary bits of decision making. That person would be our Trustee. One, frankly, should be you, or the person you designate to work this case. You’ll know us very well by the time it might actually matter, and can ensure that everything happens as we’d like.”
Howe paled. “I…. fear that may look suspicious. If I’m crafting the documents, and the documents say that I’ll have control over the money…”
“You won’t have final say on anything,” Hope said. “You could just act as an advisor to the Trustee, who would make the final decisions. In practice, might you help a lot? Yes. Officially, will you have control? No.” She looked thoughtful. “But you raise a good point. What if there’s suspicion that the Trustee or you—sorry, the advisor—is having a… problem?”
“Problem?” He caught on quickly. “Like… an attempt at extortion?”
“Exactly,” Hope said. “If there’s an effective extortion attempt, there needs to be a way to shut everything down. That would have to be someone else, a third person, who could stop it. Nobody would know who that person was, other than the Trustee and you—sorry, the advisor. That third person would be a… a… hidden advisor.”
“Who would that be?”
“You mentioned concerns about suspicions raised about you having too much control over the process already, Mr. Howe,” Hope said. “Let’s just say that this secret person will reveal themselves to the Trustee in a manner that eliminates all doubt about our wish to have them participate.”
Will looked puzzled at this, but Howe nodded, thoughtful. “Very intriguing idea. We’ll have to work through it in more detail.”
They spent the next several hours wrangling over the details and language, covering a variety of topics, including the approach Howe would use to retrieve the hidden copy of the will for verification. With promises to meet again in two weeks, the Starks left the office. Hope called Eva to let her know they were on their way, and soon afterwards they were waiting for the great concrete gate to lower into the ground and allow them entry to the neighborhood.
Eva looked tired and haggard, and it was clear that Smokey had been having a great deal of fun in their absence. Hope stared at the overturned plants, the chairs lying on their sides, and the muddy paw prints throughout the house.
Hope scowled at the dog, and then glanced at the clock and at Will. “Don’t you have a meeting with Michael Baker?”
Will, who’d started scooping excess potting soil back into overturned planters, looked up. “You’re right. But the house is a mess…”
Hope waved him off. “I’ll take care of it. The maid is coming tomorrow anyway. Go meet with Michael Baker, and have a good time.”
Will looked doubtful, but finally left for the garage. He climbed into the modest sedan featuring the same bullet-proof glass and armored sides as his limousine, and drove off. He enjoyed the occasional excursion without a heavy security presence.
Hope grinned as he pulled away. She turned back and laughed at Smokey, who stood panting, wagging her tail, as if expecting a reward for her hard work.
Instead, Hope suddenly collapsed to the ground and burst into tears. No amount of comforting by a shocked Eva or Josh, or wet doggy kisses, could console her. She cried until the tears were exhausted. Hope then wiped her eyes dry, stood up, and looked around.
“Well, let’s get started on this mess.”
Eva and Josh looked at each other. Neither understood what they’d just witnessed.
While they cleaned, Will made his way to the meeting with Michael Baker. The Pleasanton Athletic Complex had been completed years earlier, not long after Will had purchased the land that would become the De Gray Estates. The complex featured a large building capable of handling a half dozen basketball games or volleyball matches simultaneously, along with outdoor tennis courts, a swimming pool, a driving range, and four baseball diamonds. Will and Hope donated funds to handle all of the operating expenses for the facility, and also covered the costs for officials, supplies, and uniforms. It wasn’t cheap, but it was an expense they barely noticed, and one which provided a great deal of happiness to the residents of Pleasanton.
Especially the children.
Will parked the car, stopped the engine, and climbed out. He’d made the journey without noticing the presence of the invisible man who’d ridden along with him.
Adam exited the car as well, following Will. The Trust was partially formed. The Trustee would be the man Will was about to meet. Adam needed to make sure that Michael Baker knew something that no one else did.
Baker was directing a collection of four-year-old boys, including his son, in a series of drills on one of the baseball diamonds. He saw Will and walked over, and the two men shook hands. He glanced at the youngsters with a wry grin. “They aren’t putting pressure on any major leaguers just yet, but they’re having fun.”
Will laughed. “That’s the important part, right?”
“Exactly.” They watched as one of the boys tried repeatedly to pick up a ground ball with his glove, finding the mitt empty each time he looked inside. Baker chuckled, and then nodded at the man who moved to show the youngster the proper technique. “John there is going to take over as head coach of team six. Jason was transferred out of town, as you know, so we’re happy to have someone willing to handle the vacancy.”
“Volunteers are difficult to find,” Will agreed. “So, how are the finances?”
“So far, so good. We only had to replace one base and one tee from last year, so our equipment budget is in good shape.”
“Good,” Will said.
Now, Adam thought. He nudged his way into Will’s mind, and directed the conversation from there.
“Michael, do you ever think about what the next great technological breakthroughs might be?”
The police officer frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Technology made all of that—” Will waved in the direction of downtown Pleasanton “—possible. But what’s the next great innovation?”
“Wouldn’t you be the one to know that? Not to sound rude
, Will, but what does this have to do with baseball?”
“I’m researching things, privately, that would make your head spin, Michael.” Will paused, grimacing. “Things that would change the social order in this world on a degree not seen since… well, ever. And I’ve heard of people who want to stop me from doing that. They’re far too comfortable with the status quo to allow me to succeed.”
Michael frowned. “Will, you seem a little… off. Are you feeling okay?”
“They want to silence me, Michael. But these changes? They’re important, they need to happen, and I won’t let them stop me. These changes are what I want to see, what I dedicate my life to achieving. Exsisto change vos volo obvius universitas. Do you know what that means?”
“It sounds like Spanish.”
“It’s Latin, actually. It means be the change you want in the world. Don’t be afraid to do something difficult, Michael. The greatest challenges we face help us to influence events around us, and in doing that, we make the world a better place through our efforts. Don’t let fear of what others think, or what others might do, deter you. Don’t forget that phrase. Ever.”
Baker’s face did little to hide his confusion. “O…kay, Will. I’ll remember. But… can we talk about baseball now?”
Adam removed the mental lock on Will, who seemed instantly back in control. “Absolutely, Michael. So, the real reason I called you out here today is that I was thinking of hiring a pitching coach for the older kids. What do you think about that?”
Adam, still invisible to the two men, walked away.
Everything was on schedule and on plan. It was time to move on to the next phase of their operation.
XIV
Test
2028 A.D.
“Do you really think this is wise?”
Will sat behind the wheel of the jet black, antique, 1995 convertible sports car, revving the engine, his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. He looked at Hope as the engine purred and rattled the ground around them, and offered her a weak smile. “I’ll leave the top up so no one sees me. I swear.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you just admit you want to drive the car?”
“It’s not fair to send other people to do my work for me,” Will replied with mock innocence. “I should handle these things myself. Besides, we really don’t want anyone seeing the car with Millard.”
Hope shivered internally. His words were a near match to those he’d offered in explaining his decision to face the Hunters in 1994, the encounter that most believed ended with him dead. He was extremely consistent in his philosophy in that regard. “Well, if you put it that way,” she said slowly, “then I guess I should move out of the way and let you go. But please, be careful. I don’t want Lance coming back to tell me you drove the car off a bridge or something.”
Will winced, sucking in his breath, and Hope, eyes wide, stammered out an apology. “I’m so sorry, Will, I…”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Will replied, his face flushed and his eyes wide. “It’s just… I don’t really want to think about… that.”
Hope nodded. The car crash had been the formative event of his young life, a day he remembered with absolute clarity even ten centuries later. Today, it was the realization that he’d been so near death that affected him. But after living so many centuries, what stayed with him was a powerful sensation that someone was watching over him, protecting him, ensuring that he lived when physics stated he should have joined his parents in being zipped into a body bag that day. He’d asked her during his visit to the bunker several years earlier if she’d been there, having deduced that the presence he’d felt so many years earlier had been that of his wife.
Will revved the engine once more and smiled again, though with less enthusiasm than before. Hope returned his smile, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and stepped aside. Will moved slowly down the driveway toward the entrance to the De Gray Estates, and from there he’d meet up with his security team convoy. The convertible, filled with the supplies Millard Howe would need to carry out the terms of their will, would be the means of conveyance for the lawyer to reach the site of the “secure data center” where the documents were stored without risk of alteration. Will didn’t know that “secure data center” was a euphemism for a little used Alliance safe house, a site that would be used only as transfer point for the location of the actual document handover.
Hope headed back into the house. She’d been unusually tired lately, and wondered if the mental fatigue of masking her son’s massive ability had something to do with it. Josh had more than enough power to break through her defenses even now, and that power grew by the day. Yet he never tried to do so. Even at the age of four, Hope was communicating with him telepathically, behind the outward veil of silence that shut him out from his father and the rest of the world. She used those conversations to impress upon him his uniqueness and the responsibility that came with such power. He needed to practice keeping himself under control. He did well, but she reminded herself that Josh, despite his intelligence, was still a young child, not yet at an age where self-control and self-discipline were well-developed and practiced. It would take only slight lapses in her concentration, or his, to cause trouble. Will had been surprised one day to find that a massive tree had fallen in the woods behind their home. He suspected that the trunk had rotted away, and was thankful nobody had been hurt as the tree fell to the ground. In reality, Josh had watched Smokey’s comical, futile efforts to catch a rabbit, and as Hope momentarily startled at the dog’s frantic barking, she dropped the Shield. When Josh laughed heartily at the scene, the release of Energy toppled the centuries-old tree.
They used it as a teaching moment, an example of what Josh could do if he lost control. She was frightened to think of what her son might do, without any malicious intent, if he lost control when got older and his power was more developed. That fear scared her to tears on a regular basis, immobilizing her with panic.
Whatever the cause of her fatigue, she had work to do. With the telepathic bond she held with her son, Hope could travel freely about her house, and she carried the equivalent of a baby monitor app on her phone to allow her to keep a remote “eye” on Josh if she needed to visit her Alliance neighbors. She’d swing by to visit Judith and Peter in a bit for the first tests of the newly installed cloning machine. Timing during that day, drawing ominously close, was critical. They needed to know without question the minimum amount of time required to create clones from living people.
Hope had her role to play in testing that process today.
She donned a running outfit, brushed out her golden blond hair, and wrapped it in a ponytail before heading downstairs. She watched Josh for a moment, marveling as the boy coordinated obstacles for Smokey to traverse in search of a prized tennis ball. Her joy was muted because Young Will could see nothing of this. His memories made clear that Josh had made no sound and showed no signs—in Will’s presence—of connecting to anyone before Will left for his journey through time. He’d be ecstatic to see Josh like this, though, running around, laughing, and chasing the barking dog through the house. But it wasn’t meant to be.
She took a deep breath, a wave of guilt and fatigue sweeping over her, but she managed to quell the strong urge to break down in tears once more. It was the fatigue of protecting her son, she reasoned. That was one of the many reasons she dropped the Shield on Josh when Will left each day; any break from the strain of Shielding her powerhouse child was a welcomed relief.
She planted a kiss atop Josh’s sandy brown head, exited the house, made certain the door was securely closed, and trotted down the driveway. She focused on inhaling the fresh air, feeling the gravel crunch beneath her feet, enjoying the light breeze that scattered her hair behind her. By the time she reached the front of the neighborhood, a glistening sheen of sweat covered her.
Hope walked to the door leading into the guard station and knocked. As soon as she saw the door handle turn, she started to dance awkwa
rdly on her feet.
The door opened, and the on-duty guard stood there, staring at her. “Mrs. Stark? Is there… something I can do for you?”
He was young, only twenty or twenty-one, she remembered. He’d moved here only a year or two ago, and they’d hired him to be part of their security crew. His work ethic was exemplary, and Will had taken a strong liking to him. Hope had held periodic conversations with him as well, and agreed with Will’s assessment that Mark Arnold was an exceptional young man.
She tried not to think about the manner in which he’d die in less than two years’ time.
“Could I get the key to the bathroom?” She accelerated the urgency of the dance to match her rapidly delivered plea.
Mark nodded, and after disappearing into the guard station, he returned with the key.
She jabbed her hand at the key, in an apparent desperate need to reach the locked facility, and in her haste to take it from him jabbed the key forward in a slashing motion. The point dug into his skin, and a small crimson trickle flowed from the wound. Mark cursed, dropped the key, and seized his wrist with his uninjured hand before holding the wound to his mouth.
“I am so sorry!” Hope gasped. She bent to seize the key. “I’ll be very quick and then help you stitch that up.”
“Ish naw big dil,” Mark said, slurring the words over his bloodied hand. He pulled his hand away from his mouth and repeated, more clearly, “It’s no big deal.”
Hope nodded briskly and darted out of the station to the free standing restroom. It had been built primarily for the guards, but separate from their stations to remind those on duty that even calls of nature required them to ensure proper backup. It also provided residents a place to refresh themselves if they opted to tour the community on foot. As most of the residents were—to Mark’s eyes, anyway—quite elderly, the outdoor facility got little use from those paying for its upkeep.
Preserving Will Page 20