The Wallis Jones Series Box Set - Volume Two: Books Four thru Six

by Martha Carr

“You can’t go storming back into Richmond, Virginia. There’s still a lot of people in Management who believe you were responsible for all of those dead operatives, which is the truth by the way. Despite how hard the Circle worked to blame it on a low-rung Watcher within Management’s own ranks who we all suspected of a few off-the-books murders, not everyone believed us.”

  “I’m going back,” said Fred, in a low, even tone.

  “Oh, I’m sure you are, I have no doubts. But let’s reason this little nugget out just a bit. Give me five minutes before you run off to the airport. I’m as thrilled as anyone at the idea of finally getting anywhere that’s less than a hundred percent humidity year round. It starts to mess with your head a little when they mix in decorations of jolly old St. Nick in a red fur costume. Think about this, you knew Richard Bach. Yes, he’s the local Management director in Richmond, but is he really capable of getting that many people to do his bidding?”

  Fred pulled his arm away and paced slowly back and forth.

  “Isn’t it more likely he would have to use someone else’s name in vain from above him to get everyone so organized? Hell, he’d need detailed instructions in order to even do a decent job of handing out the orders. He’s not that smart.”

  “Back to Clemente,” said Fred.

  “Maybe, probably. But there’s also the possibility that this was a general order from Management to take out Wallis Jones. That this came from the top cells and not from the rogue cell Clemente had created. He had something to say about that too. He said Wallis was of more use to him alive, distracting the two warring powers. He has a point. He wants power at any cost, not revenge. That’s your gig.”

  Helmut knew he had pushed it too far as soon as the blow landed in his stomach, rushing the air out of his lungs. It took him a few seconds before he could get out any further explanation. Fred stood over him menacingly quiet, waiting to hear what else he had to say.

  “That one was earned,” said Helmut, holding his arm up in front of him, still trying to catch his breath as he pressed his hand against his stomach. “We should get back to the States but not Richmond, just yet. Clemente is up to something and Charlie was able to signal me where they’re headed next. It’s New York City and I’ve already booked us a couple of flights. The driver is waiting down in the lobby.”

  “Do you know where in New York?” asked Fred.

  “No, and feel free to give up and go find something else to do, if that’s what you want,” said Helmut, feeling a little exasperated. “I did most of the heavy lifting today. You can be a little grateful.”

  Fred marched off in the direction of the hallway and Helmut waited just a moment to give him time to cool off.

  “Come on Helmut. Never anger a murderous operative bent on revenge,” Helmut muttered to himself. “No matter what side anybody is on. New York City at Christmas time. One of my favorites,” he said, and slowly made his way to the elevator as the lights in the hallway gave off a soft, ‘fzzzzz’ before blinking twice and going out altogether.

  “Fuck me,” said Helmut, giving out an exhausted sigh, as he headed for the stairs and the long walk down to the lobby.

  He took the stairs as quickly as he could and waved at one of the men who were always waiting in the lobby to be someone’s driver. He went to the counter to pay the bill.

  “Thank God we have a little federal backing for this,” he said, as he took in the oversized bill. “This could buy a nice house back in the States.”

  The concierge ignored him as he handed Helmut the bill to sign. “Thank you,” said Helmut giving another salute. He leaned against the counter, dialing the private cell number that he was told to use only when it was absolutely necessary.

  “Hello, can I speak to the owner of this phone? Yes, it’s Helmut Khroll. Hello?” He waited as the Secret Service agent passed the cell phone to the President. “Hello? We’re on the move. No, it’s not done, we missed our opportunity. No, not Richmond, not just yet. We have information that Clemente’s next stop is New York City. We’re headed there next. Yes, I’m staying by his side. Same deal? I appreciate your country’s patronage of my bank account,” he said as the phone went dead.

  Helmut knew he couldn’t quit just yet. After everything that had happened, he understood he was going to need allies for whatever came next. He still wanted to stop Management’s plans to expand into smaller countries, or at least slow them down. Clemente had been right, he thought. No one was heeding his articles, not that Helmut would stop writing them. They were all forming a pattern of something, even if he wasn’t quite sure what, just yet.

  Until he could think of something else, Circle operatives were still the only good option even if Helmut secretly wished there was a way to dismantle all of it. Bring it all out into the open and actually try out democracy instead of play acting. Soon enough, he’d get to Richmond and meet with Wallis Jones and her husband, Norman. Together they could come up with a plan.

  Chapter 4

  “Everything seems shaky,” whispered Wallis Jones. She couldn’t get rid of the feeling. Things had been normal for too long. “How long has it been, six months, eight months?” she said quietly. She knew her husband, Norman and her teenage son, Ned were both in the kitchen on the other side of the house but she couldn’t keep herself from whispering. It had become an unwritten rule in the house to not talk about what happened. Not yet, anyway.

  She heard the screen door off the kitchen squeak as it was pushed too hard and then slam against the door frame, twice. Ned and Norman were leaving for work and school. The sound was comforting to her. She knew they were probably so busy talking and carrying way too much to give the door a second thought. It was so normal.

  “Goodbye guys,” she yelled in their direction.

  “Bye honey,” she heard Norman yell, followed by loud laughter from the two of them. Wallis would need to get to the office she shared with Norman and one other lawyer, William Bremmer, soon, too. It was going to be a long day representing clients with at least a couple of ugly custody fights in court.

  She stepped off the front porch to go tell them goodbye in person. It was a nervous tic that started just a few short months ago. A need to see that they were both safe that would come over her suddenly, without warning.

  “Don’t you do it, young lady,” said her mother, Harriet, from her perch on the glider. Wallis paused for a moment. She had forgotten how easily her mother could see right through her. Harriet had been getting more practice since her stroke had planted her in Wallis’ house for the time being.

  The glider made a swooshing sound behind her. “You’re the only person I know that finds sounds of laughter so unnerving,” said Harriet, adjusting the stiff, tan, leather purse in her lap. It formed a near perfect trapezoid with a hard, gold metal clasp at the top. A pragmatic monument to online shopping. Her mother pulled her cardigan closed in front of her, letting out a shudder. A blanket covered her lap. “May get a little snow, don’t you think?”

  She turned and gave her mother a familiar look. At least familiar going on six months, when the quiet and violent civil war that had been played out in front of the public as an uptick in corporate blowouts or street violence, had finally been finished by the Circle. Some of that finality right in their quiet street. The look was a mixture of anxiety and surrender.

  “Snow is hardly a good enough distraction,” said Wallis.

  “Just wait,” said Harriet. “Half an inch and they’ll be storming Martin’s for bread and milk and the news reports will be talking about how dangerous it is to drive. It’ll be the official start of the Richmond Christmas season.”

  “Soon, the neighbors will power up their Christmas lights that can be seen like a glow in the night for blocks,” said Wallis, knowing it would get a rise out of her mother.

  “Nice try, dear. I look forward to it. You see Sandra Wilkins yard? She’s already decorated that tall pine in her front yard with white lights. Just lovely.”

  “You can’t ha
ve changed this much. That was a stroke, not a transformation,” said Wallis. She fingered the top of the nearest azalea bush that was growing tall enough to cover the front rail.

  “Those need trimming right about now,” said her mother. “Otherwise you won’t get any good blooms by the spring. They’ll be showing their ankles if you don’t.” Harriet smirked and slowly crossed her feet, tucking them back. Wallis was sure she had never seen her mother cross her legs at the knee. Not a good look, she would say.

  “It’s too much effort to be bothered by someone’s idea of a night light for Santa,” said Harriet. “Besides, Ned enjoys it. I’m giving the whole thing a special dispensation and going along for the ride.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day you were more relaxed than I am,” said Wallis, feeling the anxiety creeping a little higher around the edges of her mood.

  “I have far less to hide these days,” said Harriet.

  It was true, thought Wallis. Ever since the real truth about her mother’s role as the other Keeper had been exposed, and Wallis knew her mother was fighting for the Circle right under Management’s nose, Harriet seemed more relaxed.

  “You’re still packing though, aren’t you?” asked Wallis, eyeing the purse.

  “Well, of course, dear. The civil war may be over but relations haven’t improved one bit. You’re still the wayward descendant of both sides, mind you, even if Management only knows half the story.”

  “How did you keep them from finding out your real identity, even now?” asked Wallis.

  “I didn’t, at least not from everyone.” Harriet looked away, watching the trees sway in the breeze. “It’s almost too cold to sit out here. I don’t know why you like this so much.”

  “No one is making you stay out here, mother. You can go inside anytime you want. What do you mean, not from everyone?”

  “There are a few people in Management who seem to have become aware of my real origins.”

  “That you’re a zwanzig,” said Wallis. “One of the original twenty, along with Esther.”

  “No need to point that out. I know all the backstory already. And don’t think there hasn’t been a lot of buzz along the highest levels. False outrage, really. Fortunately, the prize they want, that diary, was moved before they could catch on to who was watching it all these years.”

  “Norman never knew?” asked Wallis. “His father must have known you were a zwanzig. Tom never knew?”

  “Tom knew, of course. He was the Keeper out in front, watching over all the cells. The only one who knew besides Esther. There are so few original zwanzigs left. Age is doing to our ranks what Management has not been able to pull off, just yet.”

  “That was fun seeing Norman’s face when he realized you were both on the same side, all along,” said Wallis, letting out a short laugh despite her cloudy mood. “Mazel Tov,” said Wallis, giving her mother a small bow.

  “Yes, it was worth the price of admission, almost,” said Harriet, sharing a rare moment of laughter with her only child. “I don’t think he’s completely taken it in just yet.”

  “He said it explains a lot,” said Wallis. “But he won’t explain what that means or come up with one decent joke, so I think you’ve got him on the ropes.”

  Harriet let out a sigh. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could be the normal kind of crazy family?” she asked, wistfully. “We’d talk about each other, buy bad birthday gifts, ask nosy questions at holiday dinners and sit through endless lacrosse matches, just because it’s Ned and we can all agree that we love him.”

  “Take out the conspiracy theories and the bullet holes on our tree out front and that would be a good description of us already. See that’s the kind of joke I’m waiting to hear from Norman. Then, I’ll know we’re all okay,” said Wallis. “At least he looks like he’s getting back to his version of normal.”

  “Stop analyzing him, dear. Be glad we’re on the side that has the upper hand, for now. I can still remember a time when all was practically lost.”

  “You had to be one of the youngest zwanzigs to escape Germany.”

  “I was a girl, which made it easier to hide my past and plant me near your father when the time was right. That generation of the Circle came so close to being wiped out entirely but we survived and came up with a new plan.”

  “That damn list,” said Wallis.

  “Yes, the Butterfly Project. Our recruits of Peter Pan’s lost boys being raised in residential education facilities across the country.”

  “Orphanages,” said Wallis. “We are raising children in orphanages as a funnel into the Circle operation. I’m not sure that makes us the good guys.”

  “They have choices, dear. They can always choose another path. That makes us the better side, at least,” said Harriet, pulling the blanket up higher.

  “And after two crushing failures at putting down Management, at least we can try to be the better side a little more effectively,” she said, setting the glider into motion, as she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

  The powers within the Circle that stretched out across the country had been learning how to wield power while staying in the shadows. It had taken several disastrous attempts over the past hundred years but at last the Circle had pushed back their enemy that was known as Management.

  “Did you ever love him?” asked Wallis, changing the subject. She wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping to hear.

  “Who, your father? I didn’t let myself get involved in that idea, especially after you came along and I saw what they had in mind for you. God knows what they have in mind now. Focus on the work at hand, Wallis. Let go of the past.”

  “Said the woman who’s still crushing on a couple of failed English royals.”

  “They knew how to dress and their manners were impeccable, even if the side they chose was a little shortsighted. They were Management, you know, but fortunately were quickly dealt with and neutralized.”

  “Everything makes sense once you know who or what is really pulling the strings,” said Wallis.

  “I’m looking forward to this Christmas,” said Harriet.

  “So, we’re done talking about what’s really going on, I take it,” said Wallis.

  “It’s not one of those conversations that really has an ending. This is the first time since the Circle was created that we have ever held this much power, all across the world, really. Surely, we can finally change things.”

  “May it all continue, if just for a little longer,” said Wallis, feeling her chest tighten at the thought of what Management might be plotting in order to take back their advantage.

  “Let’s put a pin in the whole world conspiracy issue, just for a moment,” said Harriet, “and be grateful for what’s going right.” Harriet shut her eyes and leaned back, gently swaying the glider. She was humming a song Wallis recognized from her childhood. She realized how few tender memories she had with her mother.

  “Maybe we can make some more,” she whispered too quietly for her mother to hear, not wanting to lose the moment. She had come so close to not having the chance to start over, especially after she learned just a little more of the truth about her own background.

  It had only been a handful of months since Wallis had found out her mother was a second Keeper, at the top of the organization, just as her mother lay in a hospital bed, barely alive. The opposition was always hunting Keepers in order to strangle the Circle with just one or two deaths. It was never that simple, even when Carol Schaeffer had her neck so easily snapped and a Keeper had died.

  No one on both sides, except a handful of Circle operatives, knew there was a second Keeper and that was still the case for most people. Even now, Wallis had no idea who had taken on the role of the second Keeper from her mother.

  Harriet was one of two people in the large organization, the Circle that knew the most basic secrets of how it all really worked, and what was planned to come next. The entire organization unfolded from there, connected only at the corners with eac
h layer knowing only what was above or below them.

  Except for the Keepers. They knew every layer of the Circle, every cell, and volumes about the group they pushed against, Management. Those two people managed all of the secrets while quietly keeping a low profile. The Keeper who protected the origin of everything, the diary that could blow apart the story of Management but at the wrong time could also cause chaos, kept an even lower profile. Harriet had been that Keeper from the time she was twenty years old and had accepted the chore willingly.

  Someone new would already be chosen, thought Wallis. Someone out there in just these few months has already pledged their life to protecting the four-hundred-year-old diary. Probably one of the former children from the Butterfly Project. Who else would the Circle entrust with such a powerful secret, she wondered.

  It was hard for Wallis to reconcile that she grew up believing her mother only cared about collecting British royal family tchotchkes and an endless collection of middling handbags. Wallis had even believed that her mother was some kind of villain in the story when things first started to go wrong. Someone who could be a danger to Norman, if she only knew he was a zwanzig.

  That’s how it seemed at first, that her mother was a preening pawn of Management and couldn’t be trusted even in a casual conversation. Wallis had even been afraid for just a moment that her own mother couldn’t be trusted not only with Norman’s life, but her own grandchild, Ned.

  Harriet proved that theory was wrong when she protected Ned more than once, and usually with deadly force from one of the small lady-like pistols she had in her purse at all times.

  Wallis glanced at the beige leather purse her mother held so delicately in her lap.

  “I should learn how to shoot a gun,” she said.

  “What?” sputtered Harriet, shaken from her reverie, the last part of the nursery song abruptly snipped off. “Have you ever shot a gun, even once?” she asked, a sound of amazement and judgment thickening every word.

  “There’s the mother I’ve known and tried to love.”