The Keeper Returns (The Wallis Jones Series Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  “The mission was successful and the threat has been eliminated,” said the Vice President.

  “I’m still not entirely comfortable with our methods,” said the Senator, an older man who had been named the Leader of the Senate regardless of whether the Republicans or Democrats were in the majority. As long as the Circle was able to hold on to an edge, they kept appointing him. His integrity was his best quality but could get in the way of backroom deals sometimes.

  “Duly noted,” said the Vice President. “Someone ought to be, but it changes nothing. We could not afford to draw any attention to what we were doing.”

  “What became of the shooter?” asked the Secretary of State, an old friend of the President’s.

  “He’s been moved to a secure location and after enough time will be declared insane. We’ll get him through the channels and eventually release him with a new identity. No one will ever know that he was following orders.”

  “Does the President know yet?”

  “No, he’s still in surgery. He’ll know soon enough. The wound was a little more dramatic than we anticipated but the President will be fine, in the end.”

  “Who will tell him?” asked the Senator.

  “We have a protocol set up for the more difficult news,” said the Vice President. “We don’t discuss the details, as you are well aware. Gentlemen,” she said, looking at each of them as she spoke, “we are too far in to be quaking at the means. The young aide is dead. He has been taken care of and a very dangerous threat is gone. We are very fortunate to have found out we had someone from Management growing in our midst before he was able to do any real damage.

  “We still don’t know that’s actually true,” said the Secretary of State.

  “No, we don’t know, not completely but we will find out. For now, the mole is dead, and the others, including the President will recover. Well done, gentleman, and with no one in Management realizing we have a mole of our own. This was the only way if we were going to accomplish both tasks.”

  “What now?” asked the Senator.

  “Now, we feed the other side a little misinformation to keep the idea of chaos going for as long as possible. Until we can detect who is in that super cell within Management that’s trying to take over, none of this is done. Not even close,” said Reese. “We still have a long road ahead of us if we’re going to restore some kind of balance.”

  “Is that the best we can hope for?” asked the Senator.

  “That is the game,” said the Secretary, “and today we made sure we were still in it.”

  “If our person on the inside is still alive by tomorrow then we’ll know for sure that it has all worked,” said Reese.

  “What a horrible game,” said the Senator. “May God forgive us all.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Your mom coming to get you?” asked the coach. Ned Weiskopf stood on the green turf of the lacrosse field next to his gym bag and backpack, wondering if at last he had found something he might be good at doing that was considered a legitimate sport.

  He was one of the smaller seventh grade boys and had not yet turned thirteen, officially making him a teenager. He saw those as two large marks against his chances of at least making a few more friends before he got to high school next year. These days that was what he wanted more than anything.

  “Yeah, she should be here any minute. Sometimes she gets caught in court.” Ned looked around nervously. He wasn’t worried that Wallis wasn’t coming as much as he wanted to make a good impression on the coach and he wasn’t sure in this moment exactly how to do that. He rolled his lacrosse stick in his hands, nervously pulling at the leather straps, trying to remember if that was the right way to tighten the pocket where a round, hard white ball could be cradled.

  The coach turned in a circle, scratching the back of his head.

  “Maybe we should give her a call,” said the coach. “Pickup was supposed to be a half hour ago and I have to go lock up. I don’t like leaving kids out here alone.” Ned started to protest but the coach cut him off. “I know you guys are getting bigger and can take care of yourselves, probably better than I can now that I got this bum knee. But you see, you’re my responsibility and I kind of like you, kid.”

  Ned felt his face flush at the compliment.

  “I’ll be okay for a few minutes, coach. It’s okay, you can lock up here. We’re in the suburbs, what could go wrong?”

  “Yeah, right,” laughed the coach. “Well, I shouldn’t be long,” he said as he started to walk backwards, waving his clipboard. “You got your cell phone, right? Don’t move from this spot, even for your mother, without coming to tell me. You got a lot of potential, kid. We don’t want to waste that on something tragic this early in the year, you understand?”

  Ned nodded and tried to stand up straighter, still rolling the stick in his hands.

  “Practice actually cradling the ball while you’re waiting,” said the coach, “like I showed you.” Ned watched him disappear into the building. He turned and looked out toward the street, shading his eyes to see if he could spot his mother at the stoplight far in the distance.

  Other cars came in and passed the field, heading for the parking lot closer to the building. Ned noticed a black SUV up the hill in the elementary school parking lot next door. From his vantage point he could see it idling on the edge of the property.

  After the coach walked away the car finally pulled out into traffic and neatly turned into the middle school’s driveway, pulling up alongside the large, open field.

  Ned felt his muscles tense as he gripped the stick harder. Something wasn’t right.

  He looked toward the door where the coach had just entered and down at his bag where his cell phone was buried, mixed in with his books. He thought about grabbing his phone but didn’t want to have to explain to his parents that he wasn’t scared, even if he was a lot of the time.

  Once something really bad happens, it’s a lot harder to act like it couldn’t happen again.

  He tried to look like he could be menacing and at the same time not in a panic as he watched the backseat door open.

  “Uncle Harry!” he yelled in surprise. He felt his body relax just a little. “What are you doing here?” He took a couple of steps toward the car. “You’re supposed to be dead?” Ned felt his head lighten as he tried to figure out how his dead uncle had just appeared in front of him.

  Harry got out and waved at Ned as he looked over toward the street and then back in the car. Ned saw him vigorously nod his head and turn back to face him.

  “Hey, Ned, how’s my favorite nephew?” asked Harry.

  “Do Mom and Dad know you’re alive? Where have you been?”

  They were both having to shout a little to be heard over the width of the field.

  “You know all that nonsense from two years ago,” said Harry. Ned felt the anxiety rise in his throat.

  “I got caught up in it and was kidnapped, held this whole time in some little prison. I just got out, came straight here. Came to pick you up. Your mother said she would be too late. Everyone’s all excited to get together.”

  “You were kidnapped? By who?”

  Ned remembered how confusing everything was two years ago. Nothing that happened seemed normal or real. His uncle’s death had seemed just another part of a horrible time. Seeing him again made Ned think for just a moment that maybe something good was about to happen.

  “Why didn’t Dad come with you?” asked Ned.

  “You ask a lot of questions, Ned,” said Harry. “I got answers but you’re gonna’ have to give me a little time. I haven’t been exactly hanging around a lot of people lately,” he said a little louder.

  Harry started waving at Ned to come closer as he glanced toward the street again. Ned followed his gaze wondering what he was looking for down the street.

  “Is someone else coming?” asked Ned, still not moving any closer.

  “No, no,” said Harry, trying to laugh.

  “Wh
o else is in the car?” asked Ned, trying to look into the dark backseat from where he was standing but he couldn’t see anything. The sun was starting to set and the car was too far away.

  “Some lawyers looking into a case for me. I’m thinking of suing a few people. They said they’d give us a ride on their way to dinner. Come on, Ned, don’t want to hold them up, do you?” said Harry, giving a nervous hiccup.

  Ned always thought of his uncle as a nervous sort.

  “Okay, hold on, I have to tell the coach,” he said gesturing toward the school. “He said to let him know when I was leaving.”

  Harry hesitated like he was listening to another conversation in the car.

  “Sure, sure, let’s ride over there. It’ll save us time. Come on, we can run over and tell him and then get on our way. Bring your stuff. We have a lot of catching up to do. Come on, come on.”

  Ned looked around at the school and then the street. He thought about making the coach wait even longer and how much he wanted to stay in the coach’s good graces.

  “Okay, sure,” he said, bending down to get his backpack. Sitting just inside the open backpack was his phone. He pulled it out and slipped it into one of the pockets on the leg of his pants and lifted the backpack, all at once. “Can you help me with the gym bag?” he asked, wondering why no one was getting out to help him with all of his stuff.

  “It’s a lot of stuff,” he said, as Harry walked toward him and gave him a quick hug, and Ned tried to hang on just a little longer. Harry let go after just a moment and passed him, walking toward the bag still on the ground.

  “Go get in the car, I’m coming,” said Harry, without turning around to look at Ned.

  Ned got closer to the car and the front door quietly slide open and a tall man in a suit and dark shades quickly got out and tried to take the backpack from him. Ned knew there was something wrong the moment he saw the expensive suit and shades, and how confidently he moved. No one like that had ever hung around his Uncle Harry.

  He tried to pull the strap of his backpack out of the man’s hand and had thoughts of yelling or running toward the building. The coach could be trusted. He would help him out, Ned was sure of it.

  But the man used Ned’s grip on the backpack against him and gave a hard tug, pulling Ned closer and practically lifting him off of his feet as he shoved him in the back seat. Ned saw his Uncle Harry running back toward the car, the gym bag sitting abandoned in the field.

  “Get in,” the man barked at Harry, who gingerly pushed at Ned’s leg to make room for himself as he got in and shut the door. The SUV made a donut in the grass as the tires squealed and Ned heard the sound of four doors automatically locking all at once.

  He tried to twist around and caught a glimpse of the coach running toward them, waving his arms frantically. Ned thought it was really nice of the guy to run on that painful knee just to try and save him.

  He turned back around and looked at the other men in the car. There were three other men, all dressed in similar suits and his Uncle Harry in a typically, ill-fitting suit that always looked like it could fit at least one more man inside of the jacket.

  “Now, Ned,” said Harry, gently tapping Ned’s knee, “we’re just going for a ride and then we’ll drop you off at home. There are some very important people who’ve been wanting to talk to you about some pretty big stuff.” Harry practically stuttered as he got out the words.

  “Uncle Harry, what are you talking about? You’re supposed to be dead but you’re not. You say you were kidnapped and you want to go meet some people. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  Ned could see that he was sweating profusely even though the temperature was quickly dropping and there was a chill in the air.

  “Uncle Harry, what are you doing?” asked Ned. His voice came out in almost a squeak. He wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or annoyed.

  “I don’t know what your dad has told you but we haven’t been getting along very well these past few years,” said Harry. The man in the front passenger seat looked back at Harry.

  “I know you,” said Ned. “You’re Mr. Bach. You’re Leslie’s dad. Where’s Leslie?”

  The driver turned and looked at the passenger who shrugged.

  “Ned, Ned,” said Harry, “look at me. We’re going to just have a talk. Richard Bach is one of the lawyers on one of those cases I mentioned.”

  “You left my bag back at the field,” said Ned, getting angry. “My dad is not going to like this at all. What do you mean, past few years? Dad thought you were dead. That makes it hard to get along with anybody. Does Mom even know you were picking me up?” The words all spilled out quickly.

  “Your parents don’t want to tell you the truth, Ned. At least, not all of it and you’re getting older. You should be able to decide for yourself. It’s not fair. They shouldn’t get to make all of your choices for you. I know what that’s like,” whined Harry, patting his chest. “I’ve had a lifetime of it.”

  Ned could see that the car was turning away from the direction of his house.

  “You’re not taking me home. Where are we going?” he asked, trying to twist around in his seat. The large man next to him put a hand on his shoulder, twisting him back around to the front.

  “There are some people who want to meet you. There’s a meeting nearby with a lot of people gathered and they all want to meet you. They’re very excited. Just relax, we’re almost there.”

  Ned elbowed the man next to him and felt a shock of pain in his arm as the tip of his elbow knocked against something metal.

  In that moment, he realized the man had a gun and something had gone very wrong. He slowly turned toward his uncle and looked at how nervous he was.

  “You don’t want to be doing this,” said Ned. It was more a statement of fact than a plea.

  Ned tried to reach over his uncle for the door but the other man pulled him back hard and shoved him against the seat.

  “No roughing up the kid,” yelled Richard Bach. “Clemente won’t like it and I’ll make sure he knows it was you.”

  The man let go of Ned’s arm. Ned sat back and tried to take in what was happening.

  “Are you kidnapping me?” he asked quietly. Harry gave a small nervous laugh and kept looking out the window, not looking at his nephew at all.

  Ned wondered if he was going to live through the day. He thought about the lacrosse bag back at the field and everything he was still trying to figure out, as his shoulders sagged against the leather seat.

  It wasn’t like when he was in elementary school and everyone was surprised at how quickly he caught on to computers or how well he could take something apart and put it back together. Now, most of the other guys just said it was weird and the girls ignored him for someone taller.

  Ned felt himself tear up at the thought that he’d never get to prove everyone wrong. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on where the car was going, counting the seconds between turns but he kept slipping back into thoughts of what he was about to lose.

  No one at school really likes me, he thought, but they would have, eventually. He was sure of it.

  It didn’t help that everyone talked about him behind his back, pointing at him for two solid years as the kid whose grandmother killed some rogue cop. Ned was sure that if he’d been cool to begin with then that would have just made him seem more romantic but as it was, it seemed to make him a bad luck charm.

  This proves it, he thought, as the car turned again. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three. He kept counting in his head, trying to sort through his life for something good to hold onto and believe things sometimes turn out okay.

  Even his old friends were a little reluctant to sit with him at lunchtime, like something just might rub off and rob them of whatever fragile social standing they had been able to put together.

  His old friend, Paul Whittaker still stuck by him. That was something at least.

  Ned tried to look out the window to get a better idea of where they were going. He
had lived in Richmond all of his life.

  The man next to him was blocking his view. He kept counting and wondered if his dad would be mad that he didn’t even try to make sure no one took the lacrosse bag. The equipment had been expensive.

  He thought about his dad and bit his lip, willing himself not to cry.

  The lacrosse had been his father’s idea, which made Ned a little more open to the idea. Lately, his mother had been signing him up for things left and right without even asking him if he wanted to do it. The wall climbing was the worst of it but the welding class wasn’t too far behind.

  Just because he had once mentioned that welding together car parts would make a good totem pole. “Why,” asked Wallis.

  “Native Americans worship totem poles, we worship cars,” he had said, daydreaming as he looked out the window. He wished he was back in the car with his mother.

  By the next week, Wallis had found a community college class that let younger kids sign up and Ned was registered and had a pair of heavy gloves and a welder’s mask all his own.

  After that he tried to say less and less to his mother. He felt a pang in his chest.

  He hadn’t even been paying that much attention when he let that story slip. He was really thinking about Leslie Thomas’ birthday party and whether or not he’d get an invitation. It was one of the first parties that would include boys and girls at night with no games. Just music, dancing and standing around talking.

  He wanted to go that party just as much as he was hoping he could avoid the whole thing. Ned knew that just because he got an invitation didn’t mean being at the party would go well.

  It didn’t matter. He never got an invite and instead had spent the night at the movies with Paul, stuffing himself with popcorn. He told his dad about what happened and Norman said that Weiskopf men were late bloomers but when they finally got their act together, everything came together pretty easily.

  “Someday, a lot of those kids will work for you,” said Norman, “and the rest will want to know if you also want fries. You’ll see. In the meantime, your mother has a point.”