The Traitor's Revenge (Wallis Jones Series 2016)

by Martha Carr

  Mark drove straight through the night only stopping a few times to let everyone stretch and use a bathroom. They’d pick the nearest fast food drive-through, load up on gas and get back on the road. He was determined to get on with his own plans as well.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” said Elizabeth as they passed through Ohio. Everyone had fallen asleep in the back. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what the Circle has planned for you? Or have you figured out a story all your own,” she said.

  Mark tried to smile. “You think they’ll give me much trouble if my children and I just keep going?”

  “Unlike our opposition, we really don’t try to take away people’s choices. Your life is yours to decide. Besides, there’s a little poetic justice to someone from the Circle living off of the fat from Management.”

  Mark looked over at Elizabeth but didn’t know what to say.

  “We didn’t know until recently. That was a pretty nice set up you had going. If Management didn’t have a cell operating from within we would never have known. However, as things sometimes work, that traitorous bunch may just be your cover. They’ll never say a word as long as they’re trying to hide their own nefarious doings.” Elizabeth chuckled, “Ah, yes, God is good, I do believe that.”

  “I’m not sure what I believe,” said Mark, as they passed over into Illinois.

  “That’s okay. It’s not a requirement in order to have God believe in you. Thank goodness,” snorted Elizabeth. “Can you imagine how small that pool of people would be, if it were absolutely necessary?”

  They pulled onto the grounds of Guilford in the early morning hours and unloaded the van. Robert and his children were shown to a small cottage where they were able to finally sleep in beds for the first time in well over a week. Mark tried to tell him goodbye but they were separated before he got the chance.

  “It’s better this way,” said Elizabeth. “The fewer the people who have an idea about where you’re headed, the better,” she said, as she took him outside to an Uplander minivan. “It’s used but that just means it’ll blend better. I’d ask you to spend the night.”

  “No, you’re right. I’m ready to leave all of this behind and the sooner the better,” said Mark.

  “You have everything you need?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Let me get my kids and get on the road and then I will be set. Do I need to ask about any kind of tracking device on this car?” asked Mark.

  “You have my personal word,” said Elizabeth. “You are being officially set free. Good or bad, you’re on your own.”

  “I’ll take it,” said Mark. “Succeed or fail, it’ll be completely my choice.”

  “There really is nothing better, is there?” said Elizabeth.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Excuse me.” Wallis was standing in the back of the long narrow glass greenhouse, not sure what to do next. She could see the back of Alan Vitek’s grey head bowed forward in between pots of oversized ferns. “Excuse me,” she said, a little louder. The older investigator jerked around, startled and quickly got to his feet, rustling the deep green leaves. Wallis stayed where she was by the door.

  “Who is that?” said Alan, squinting through the dim light coming in through the narrow windows. “Wallis Jones, is that you?” He waved his arm, motioning to her to come forward.

  “I’m not sure why I came here,” she said. Her knees felt a little wobbly as she slowly closed the distance between them. “This is really your sanctuary.”

  “Well, it’s a quiet place that occasionally has room for more than one,” he said, sitting back down and patting the seat next to him. “Watch out for the geraniums. Full disclosure, I have to admit that Esther said you’d probably be stopping by to see me.”

  “How did Esther know when I had no idea till about five minutes before I walked through that door?”

  “Esther’s a cagey one and she has the advantage of knowing she was in a long battle from the very start. You’ve been able to deny the whole thing for a much longer time.”

  “She said you could put some perspective on all of this for me. Apparently, everyone has been in on the secret way ahead of me.”

  “That was not an accident. You needed people around you that could keep you safe. It was part of the plan.”

  “So, you’re a private eye who meditates?” said Wallis, managing a small smile.

  “It’s okay, a smile is good for you. Besides,” he said, letting out a sigh, “I get that all the time. I don’t think I’m following the prescribed playbook. But, you didn’t come here to get to know me better. You have a question to ask, right?”

  Wallis hesitated.

  “Afraid I won’t have an answer or you won’t like what I say?” asked Alan, squinting in the sunlight coming through the top of the greenhouse.

  Wallis leaned back in the chair and looked up at the blue sky visible through the top of the green house. She took a deep breath and looked Alan in the eye. “How do you just get on with things? Esther said you had figured out how to do it without getting lost in the machinery.”

  “You accept that there’s a lot you won’t be able to control, no matter what you do. And every day I look around at what is mine to do and focus on that. Even more important, I make sure there are people who do know the real me, the whole picture and I can count on them, no matter what. I count you and Norman as two of those people.”

  Wallis put her face in her hands and tried to take a deep breath but all that came out were sudden deep sobs that she had been holding in for weeks and took her by surprise. It was as if a wall had cracked inside of her and the pain and confusion of everything that had happened came pouring out of her. She felt the weight of Alan’s hand on her back as her body shook. He let her cry until she could catch her breath on her own.

  “The truth can be a very difficult thing,” he said, “but just as powerful is the idea that when the truth is set free it does its own work.”

  “What does that even mean?” asked Wallis, taking the handkerchief Alan was offering and wiping her face.

  “Keep it,” he said, smiling. “What that means is you have become aware of some ugly truths about human beings and along with that your own limited ability to even know what they’re up to, much less stop them in their tracks. That is a very frightening perspective. But there are all of us,” he said patting his chest, “and we will keep working together, doing what’s necessary. Each one of us who’s pulled into this fight will never have to do anything alone, again and we will keep doing what we know to be right. Our version of the truth.”

  “But does it mean we’ll always be safe?” asked Wallis, letting out a small shudder.

  “No, it can’t mean that but there’s so much that could go wrong in life to begin with. We were never really safe. You and I are just more aware of the risks.”

  “And then there’s the meditation thing,” said Wallis, blowing her nose.

  “Right,” said Alan, letting out a laugh. “And then there’s the meditation thing. Esther once gave me the best piece of advice right after I hit my bottom with this whole thing. Yes, I had a bottom of my own. She said, if I wasn’t having a little fun, even in the middle of all the chaos, I was doing it wrong and should just go find a beach and stay there. It took me a while to figure out what she meant by that but eventually I got it. Even in the middle of the worst of the fight I’m going to have to look for what I can be grateful for and hang on to that.”

  “On my worst days it’s Norman and Ned, and now, I suppose, all of you.”

  “Well, that’s a good starting place,” said Alan.

  “Yeah, that’s a good starting place,” said Wallis, as a shudder escaped her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Wallis crawled into bed next to Norman and put her cold feet against his leg.

  “What?” He jerked awake.

  “Sorry,” said Wallis, wrapping her arm around his waist. “I thought you were still awake.”

  “So my snorin
g wasn’t giving me away,” said Norman, putting his head back down against the pillow.

  “Norman?”

  “Is this going to be a conversation where I’m going to have to pay attention? I thought we agreed no more of those when we’re in just our underwear.”

  “Norman.”

  He rolled over and sat up. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “You think we’re safe?” asked Wallis. The question still nagged at her a little.

  Norman yawned and scratched his head. “I know I feel much better since you let that bruiser, Alice move in with us. Ow, no pinching. Have you heard how loud she snores? That’s got to be a little scary for someone. She even managed to make Harriet come around a little less often.”

  “Norman, be serious.”

  “Okay, sorry. I suppose we owe your mother something even if we have to pat her down from now on before she can come in that door.”

  “I’m going back to sleep,” said Wallis.

  “I think safety is very, very relative. No, wait, I had a little more. To know the real answer to that I’d have to be able to tell you what’s going to happen next month or even tomorrow. I can’t control any of that,” said Norman.

  “Okay, let me rephrase. You think that they’ll all leave us alone?”

  Norman let out a sigh. “Forever? No, that’s probably not going to happen.”

  “Great,” said Wallis, resting her head on his chest.

  “But I’ll give you this,” said Norman, “right in this moment, we’re all okay. Our son is asleep upstairs and his nightmares have calmed down to one a night. Progress.”

  Wallis lifted her head for a moment. “Really?” she said, surprised. “Did you tell your buddy, Father Donald about this development?”

  “Yes, his response was that it was about time.”

  “What about your brothers?”

  “You know Tom had to go back home when they got him in that walking cast, you know that. Having him so close was raising the danger level to a nice burnt orange. But maybe we can visit him this summer and see what it’s like out there. Give Ned a break from all of his memories.”

  “And Harry?” asked Wallis.

  “Oh, Harry,” said Norman. He stopped talking for a moment and Wallis listened to the sound of his heart beating in his chest. “Harry is another subject I am learning to let go of. I have no other idea what to do.”

  “Maybe that’s enough,” said Wallis. “Maybe that’s how we survive all of this. Living like this between these two giants trying to battle it out.”

  “We survive by taking it one day at a time and remembering to be grateful for what we have right in front of us. That’s the mistake Harry and all the rest of them made. The rest is all optional.”

  “Areed, Norman Weiskopf.”

  “Go to sleep, Wallis Jones. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fred counted the steps up the stairs and out of the tunnel. Forty-five, forty-six. Soon enough, he was standing in the private quarters of the White House, once again.

  “Mr. President, at your pleasure,” he said, as he entered the room. The president was sitting back reading the paper.

  Fred walked over to him and placed the small race car in front of him.

  “I take it this was the source of all our problems?” asked President Haynes.

  “Yes sir, for the most part. We’ve secured all of the information. It’s been very informative.”

  “Are all of the schmetterlings safe now?”

  “The list is now safe and all are accounted for, including our two new ones, Trey and Will. They are proving to be very fast learners,” said Fred.

  “And his father is still with them.”

  “For now, sir.”

  When do we estimate that we will have the first strong wave of graduates in place?” asked the President.

  “The estimate is now just a year away. We have put some of them on the fast track given the urgency.”

  “Fred, I hear you’re taking some time off? About time,” said the President.

  “Yes sir, it was a promise I made to my wife,” said Fred, smiling.

  “Even a smile, this is a new era. Can I ask where you’re headed?”

  “To Montana to see an old friend,” said Fred. “I’m going to catch up and do a little fishing. I’ll only be gone a week.”

  “Did we ever find anyone to replace that old friend of yours at the Federal Reserve?” asked the President.

  “We tried, sir, but Management decided to bring in one of their own. He’s also their new director to oversee the Richmond area operatives. His name is George Clemente, a rising star. He’s a retread from an earlier, darker time and was banished for a number of years.”

  “Management must be feeling either particularly nervous or cocky,” said the President.

  “Our operative inside of Management says that he’s got everyone living by a strict new set of rules. They’ve clamped down for now.”

  “It never ends. When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning, sir. But before that, there’s a new alert that we need to cover. We have reports that the rogue cell within Management is getting ready to make their move. Their farms are going well in Africa and their new trading routes are flourishing.”

  “They’re trying to draw us in, aren’t they?”

  “Yes sir, but we’ve formulated an answer for now. With your approval, we plan to expose two of their key bank accounts.”

  “To let the old Management structure know of their existence. Very clever. What is our risk level?”

  “They are well-financed and have been using some of their funds to arm themselves,” said Fred. “We’ve also found evidence of hundreds of small grassroots organizations they’ve begun across North America with fundamentalist ideas in an effort to create a new structure here.”

  “The weed has grown roots, I take it,” said the President.

  “Yes sir. They could decide to start a campaign against us within our borders but if we do nothing, then the same risks grows even greater with every day.”

  “Then take the action, Mr. Bowers and let us hope that the sleeping giant will be able to contain its own mess.”

  “Yes sir, but if Management is unable to do so, sir.”

  “What is it, Fred, then what?”

  “Then we may find ourselves drawn into a war with our own people, right here.”

  “A new civil war. God help us all.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Go, Fred. Take a break. Surely this will wait another week. When you get back we’ll decide how to deal with them.”

  Sneak Preview - The Keeper Returns

  Harry Weiskopf was reading when he heard the quiet pops followed by something heavy hitting the floor. There was only one cry for help and it had sounded more like a yelp of surprise than anything else.

  He had stood up, wondering if he should prepare himself for something but beyond that there wasn’t much else he could do.

  His room was in the basement and only measured twenty feet by twenty feet. A big square. Many of the houses in Central Florida were built on reclaimed swamp land and relatively few neighborhoods had basements. No one suspected he was there. That’s what made it the perfect prison.

  There were certain geographic features about the house that made the location desirable as well, given its purpose, and kept at least one side relatively hard for someone to casually stroll up and say hello. The house was on a lake, which kept any kind of passing traffic to a minimum. There was also a discreet camera and sensor system that showed when someone was entering the grounds. The inside of the house was wired from end to end as well.

  Sometimes Harry took to talking directly to one of the cameras in the room, giving a lecture on whatever was on his mind.

  He could only reason that there was good insulation and sound dampening material, maybe a good air filtration system for the basement because there were no windows. All the hours he had
to observe the few details he had right around him led him to believe he was breathing air circulated by the filtration system.

  His room was most likely largely isolated from the main house upstairs and had very heavy walls and ceilings reinforced by steel. A guard had even mentioned there was a generator in case electricity went out during the frequent thunderstorms or occasional hurricanes.

  The downside to a lake style house would be that the neighbors would typically be out and would most likely mingle with the people occupying the house. Harry sometimes wondered how they dealt with that problem but he couldn’t get anyone to tell him. He wondered if perhaps an entire family lived right above him.

  The only time he saw his guards, though was when they brought him something or just randomly checked on him. They never said much of anything.

  Maybe they were afraid he’d start yelling for attention and never stop. The thought had occurred to him.

  For the most part, he had noted when they first arrived, for the few moments he was outside that the house blended easily into the neighborhood.

  The basement was completely hidden from the outside world. No windows or obvious doors and the entrance to Harry’s room was hidden inside of the house, accessible inside of what had seemed like a closet when they escorted him inside and shut the door behind him.

  The room, his prison cell buried in the middle of suburbia was bare of anything but the essentials to let him sleep or sit at a desk and all of that was nailed to the floor or the walls. It was like being permanently entombed in a Motel 6 but without the complimentary newspaper at his door.

  He wasn’t to be trusted with anything more than an outdated paperback book or an old magazine and even those were all tagged and numbered.

  Pop, pop. More sounds and feet moving quickly in his direction.

  He glanced at the nearby wall where he had been keeping track of the days by marks, tucked back in a corner. Anger quickly took him over with the thought of how he had tried to pass so many hours knowing there would never be any real change. Not for him, not after what he had done.