The Keeper Returns (The Wallis Jones Series Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  By Monday, the operation was reaching its logical conclusion. Someone was found on their bathroom floor, foam around their mouth, their body contorted by the last moments when they had gasped for air.

  Someone else was found still, lying in their bed and it was assumed at first that they had died peacefully in their sleep. Only a few were at work where there were witnesses who saw how quickly they seemed to be deteriorating until they found it harder to breathe or to talk. Ambulances were called and doctors tried valiantly to save them but without an idea of what was causing this, it was all too late.

  This went on for a week.

  Maurel kept coming into work every day, doing her job, chatting with her coworkers, waiting for the order to execute the virus. Finally, on the following Monday the order came through.

  She waited until everyone was taking their lunch to key in the code that would unlock the virus from where it had been waiting in the system. It didn’t take long for Kroton to start to freeze and then stored documents to crumble like sand as if they were real instead of virtual.

  Maurel called the IT department and reported a problem. They said they would be there as soon as possible. They had a few other problems of their own but it wouldn’t take more than an hour. “Okay, then I’m going to lunch,” she said.

  She put her communicator on ‘away’ and took only her jacket and purse, as if she was headed out to grab a bite to eat. The rest would have to stay behind for the Management cronies to sift through for clues. They wouldn’t find any.

  By the time November was over, there were hundreds of deaths all over the country. Even some that were being reported worldwide. The national news was abuzz about the South African businessmen who suddenly dropped dead in Angola but the media quickly tied it to the rebels.

  George Clemente knew what was happening. He could see that there were leaks throughout Management and they somehow added up to his careful plan to take over was failing on a catastrophic level. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  George Clemente was tired of taking phone calls from worried Commanders who were reporting that they had lost too many officers to continue in the field. A mild annoyance had taken over his mood and stayed. It had never occurred to him that the Circle was capable of an unprovoked assault and it left him feeling energized and frustrated, till it formed an anger that was taking over his ability to think clearly.

  His first thought was to take out the entire neighborhood surrounding Wallis Jones and her family and send a message to Circle operatives everywhere. But that would only incite fear among the outsiders who knew nothing of the Circle or Management. He would be pegged as a terrorist and it would only make it easier for the Circle to leak that George Clemente was a long-suspected terrorist responsible for everything the Circle had actually done.

  It would tie everything up for them rather neatly. It was the only thing stopping him from giving out the order to retaliate.

  Of course he had known that the Jones house was surrounded by Circle agents. He wasn’t sure who they were or where they lived but it was to be expected. It would have been the first thing he would have done under the circumstances. There was too much to protect to leave it to chance and it would have been too difficult to keep track of the family without living next door.

  Management had tried to move into the neighborhood but without luck, further confirming what he suspected about the area.

  Ironically, it made it easier for him to give the order to storm the house and kill Wallis Jones, knowing that there would be few or no witnesses who would report a gun battle to anyone but their superiors. Both sides were still trying to maintain a veil of anonymity, even if it was in the middle of a war.

  Clemente had to calm down, think for a moment and let his emotions drain out of him till he could see just the information being presented.

  He wanted to see his strategy win out more than he wanted revenge. Truth was, he didn’t care who had been killed, only that their death jeopardized his goals. Given a little time and some luck, he wouldn’t even remember their names. They were soldiers after all.

  The attempt on Wallis Jones’ life had ended badly. Not only was she still alive and without a scratch but he had lost two of his best snipers. The whole thing seemed to have set off the Circle but Clemente couldn’t be sure what exactly it was that had set things in motion and led to such a deadly assault.

  Wallis had become a target the moment he found out that the proof they had sought of their organization’s true start was known by her entire family. They could dismantle most of Management just by leaking the truth if they had proof that William Reitling never existed.

  It was worse than learning that the brat, Ned Weiskopf was the last known descendant.

  In the end, Clemente knew that he could use Ned for his own means, just like he was using Harry and get some pleasure out of knowing that the Circle had a part in destroying themselves. Wallis Jones was going to be another story.

  If only he could see past this temporary glitch.

  He had to take into account that the Circle apparently had a good bead all along on the mid-level superiors within Management. His arrogance at thinking Management was so invulnerable had made them lax at keeping a low profile. Clemente couldn’t say the same thing about the Circle and knew that it would be impossible to identify enough people in similar positions in the opposition.

  Killing a lot of people to affect change wouldn’t work, so figuring out the one person that might do the same would have to be just as effective. Clemente settled on Ned Weiskopf.

  His own people would object but he would explain to them that it would appear as if someone within Ned’s own family had pulled the trigger. His uncle, Harry Weiskopf.

  Key members within the Circle would be thrown and hesitate while Management would see it as a rallying cry. It was so simple, thought Clemente as he smiled.

  Thank goodness the grandmother was in the hospital. She was the only one who had the right idea, thought Clemente and was always on guard for intruders. The rest of them were so busy trying to maintain a normal lifestyle that they left holes that could be filled with opportunities. Clemente planned to use one of those. Perhaps he would just get lucky and be able to kill Wallis Jones, the Black Widow at the same time.

  Tom Weiskopf was worrying over the same problems as George Clemente but from an entirely different angle.

  He knew that their bold move would bring some kind of retaliation but given all of the circumstances it would not be an obvious twist. He had actually come to the same conclusion as Clemente and knew the most vulnerable target.

  “I have to get to Richmond,” he said to the detail that had accompanied him to Mark’s house in in the mountains of Montana. “Now.”

  Mark was glad to hear him say he was leaving. It would mean his family was safer and he could get back to what was left of the life he was trying to build.

  “We can get a message to the right people,” one of them said, “and they can carry out your order. It’s too risky to try and move you again, much less head straight into the worst of the battle.”

  Tom sat down on the cot set up in the hidden safe room. “Give me the room,” he said. He needed to think. Everyone filed out quietly, following orders, except for Mark. He hesitated at the door.

  “I have another idea, if you’re open to hearing it,” Mark said. He was used to having to find solutions that didn’t follow the usual routes in order to keep someone he loved, safe.

  “Let me start with, you can’t stay here. I’m sorry but my family comes first and every day you’re here, you threaten their existence and that can’t happen.”

  Tom didn’t answer him but just nodded, looking weary.

  “But there is someplace else you could go that they wouldn’t be looking for you or Ned and might provide the necessary cover.” Mark thought about the route he had taken out of Richmond when he had made his own flight ahead of Management to try and stay
alive.

  “We both know that the Episcopal Church maintains a kind of modern underground railroad to get people out of harm’s way. You could go into it and head for the Midwest. It could work. No one is looking for you, specifically. There’s a squad out there hunting for the Sergeant because they believe he has important information but they don’t seem to know exactly what it is.”

  He paused and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He knew how important this was to everyone, even if he didn’t want to be a part of the Circle anymore. A certain balance had to be maintained and as long as there was Management, there needed to be something like the Circle.

  If they were all to survive, then for now, this man had to survive.

  “They don’t know who you are, either. You’re the Keeper,” Mark whispered. He said it with a certain amount of reverence. There were always stories about the existence of a Keeper at the top of the food chain and who it might be, or at least what they might be doing. Some insisted that there was more than one and they divided up the roles but no one was sure.

  “You are, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Tom rose slowly, grunting from all of the travel over rough terrain and the lack of sleep. He put a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I want to thank you for giving us shelter. I’m afraid we took advantage of you, clearly, by presenting you with a problem that you couldn’t turn away. But you’re right, we can’t stay here. That’s the beginning of a good idea.”

  “But has a few flaws, I know,” said Mark, noticing that Tom never answered his question.

  “This part of Management, they appear to be very determined. Just disappearing won’t make them stop looking for us. And even though they don’t know they’re looking for me,” he said, giving Mark a wink. “They will be looking for Ned, my nephew. He is the one that I need to protect. He’s my family,” said Tom, trying not to think about his older brother. “They also have another asset we need to reclaim,” he said. “My brother, Harry.”

  “I thought he was dead. It’s what I had heard. You must be relieved,” said Mark.

  “Not exactly. We were the ones holding him. Harry is the one who almost got you killed. He betrayed us all.”

  Mark felt a burst of anger and clenched his fists. “Why was he still alive? You would never have let someone else cause so much death and then walk away,” he snarled. All of the respect he had felt just a moment ago was gone.

  The guards who were always with the Keeper appeared at the door but Tom waved them away. “I’m alright, please leave us alone,” he said. “You’re right but we didn’t exactly let him walk away. I’m sorry. I’m human too. I couldn’t bring myself to kill my brother so we locked him up in what we thought was a secure prison that no one knew about but the uppermost cell.”

  “Then you have a leak.”

  “Clearly. That’s part of the problem we’re facing right now. Who to trust so that we can get out of here and successfully move Ned and his parents. This isn’t Harry, you know. He’s not this smart, I’m sad to say, I suppose. He’s weak. All of the harm that he seems to constantly cause, it’s because he’s weak and selfish and trusts whoever promises him what he wants.”

  “Which is?”

  “To feel like he matters,” said Tom, “and sadly, he keeps looking for a way to matter from other people. In a way, that has led us all here. Fortunately, Harry doesn’t know the identity of the Keeper,” said Tom, trying to manage a smile. “But he could be used and he needs to be retrieved, if possible.” Tom tried not to wince as he said it, knowing that Harry had to disappear again, even if this time it meant his death. Too many other good people had died in his place already.

  “But first things first. I need to find a way to get to one of our children’s homes. It’s a good idea. Ned will blend right in while we try and pinpoint this poisonous cell and destroy them. How do we do that?” he asked, looking at Mark.

  “You’ll need a diversion. Something to distract them away from this goal long enough to move Ned and so they don’t pick up on the trail.” Mark thought of Robert Schaeffer and his boys that he had deposited at the children’s home in the Midwest and he wasn’t willing to just lead Management straight to their door and put all of them in danger.

  “Do you even have an idea about who it is in Management that has started this war?” asked Mark.

  “I have an idea, a very good one, which also gives me the start of a solution.”

  Reverend Michael was an elderly minister who had been part of the Episcopalian underground transport for as long as he had been ordained. He had been recruited from the start and groomed to be a part of an old Order. His assignment was always in the South where he was born and raised, making it easier for him to blend in with a crowd and his movement to go relatively unnoticed.

  Southerners don’t take well to outsiders who have no family ties in the area and would always wonder what someone was up to, creating exposure. Reverend Michael had been moved around different parts of the South till he witnessed the last Keeper, Carol Schaeffer’s death in Savannah. He nearly died as well from the beating he took from George Clemente.

  After that, his Order, the Episcopal Order of the White Rose gave him a lighter load. They were also keeping an eye on the growing war and when the Keeper sent the order to help him and his nephew move safely across the States, they reactivated more of the underground that moved through a select number of homes and older Episcopal churches and seminaries. That also meant calling on Reverend Michael to rejoin the fight. He was glad to get the news.

  Reverend Michael had his suspicions about who was behind the new mayhem in Management and he had voiced his opinion more than once to his bishop.

  “It’s George Clemente,” he said. “He’s still alive and he’s trying to take over. God help us all if he succeeds,” he said, shaking with anger and fear. His bishop had given him a glass of water and told him to calm down. There was no proof that Clemente had ultimately survived that day in Georgia when the Reverend had fought him off with the only thing he had been holding, a 1928 Book of Common Prayer.

  Reverend Michael still used the prayer book every day, despite the broken spine and stains. It was to remind him of the dangers that awaited all of them if they ever dropped their guard again.

  “It’s George Clemente,” he repeated. “Please, I am begging you, tell the others along the chain. The only way to kill this snake is if we hunt him first.” The Reverend’s right hand spasmed in pain along the ropey scars and the inflamed knuckles where Clemente had managed to almost cripple him. He could barely hold a fork in that hand anymore but it was worth it. Clemente had to be stopped.

  The bishop had not been as sure as Reverend Michael. After all, the hospital had said that George Clemente didn’t survive his wounds. He hesitated, not wanting to embarrass the older minister who had served them for so long and so well. There was plenty of time to pass on the message if things got worse.

  “It will be alright,” the Bishop said to Reverend Michael, trying to comfort him. “God is in charge of all of us.”

  “That doesn’t mean the evil among us cannot cause great harm.”

  The Reverend knew what Clemente was capable of doing and wasn’t willing to wait and trust that everything would turn out alright this time. There had been too many close calls and too many people like Carol Schaeffer who didn’t survive the Church waiting for the natural order to restore itself.

  When he asked for a brief sabbatical to go and visit family, the Bishop reluctantly gave permission and even said it was a good idea. It had been much too long since the Reverend had taken any kind of vacation and family was just what he needed. The war could let go of one of its oldest servants and they could talk more when he got back.

  Reverend Michael was never a fan of lying and tried to comfort himself with the notion that the Weiskopfs were the family at the center of the Circle that he had sworn to protect. He didn’t agree with the Bishop’s last statement but instead, thanked him for letting hi
m go. The Reverend wasn’t anticipating a return trip this time. He knew it would take everything he had to locate Clemente and finish him off and he didn’t expect he’d survive the effort.

  It would be alright, though. He’d lived a good, long life of service and this would be his last act even if no one else but God accompanied him on the journey.

  He packed a small bag and took a taxi to the airport so that no one would see his plane was not heading to his sister’s house in Florida. He would be in Richmond before dinnertime. The two men had tangled enough times for Reverend Michael to know exactly what Clemente would try to do to next.

  “It’s George Clemente,” he said quietly, massaging his hand. “I know it is, and he will be near the boy.” He took his seat on the plane and shut his eyes. He would need his rest if he was going to track down George Clemente and finish things, once and for all.

  Wallis Jones looked out of her bedroom window at the quiet street.

  “I won’t do it,” she said. “We are not running.” She turned to look at Norman. “It goes against everything we have been trying to do,” she pleaded. It wasn’t like her. But once again, she was not sure of what she wanted to do next.

  “It’s become too dangerous,” said Norman. “Tom would never ask us to do this if he didn’t believe it. I’m not risking Ned’s welfare. Not again, I’m sorry. We need to move quickly and get him out of harm’s way, just for a little while. I need you to go along with this so that he doesn’t think it’s worse than it is.”

  “You mean, that we are not a team.”

  “Yes. That we don’t agree. Even if we don’t, you and I know that somehow we’d work all of that out later, but Ned doesn’t. We can say that we’re visiting for a little while.”

  “As we drive like hell down the highway, switch cars, meet people we’ve never seen before and stay on a campus full of children who don’t really have an intact family. This will fool Ned into thinking what?”