by Martha Carr
“Bologna slicing is when you take a very small amount, usually less than a penny, continuously out of very large accounts as they make transactions. They make so many transactions they don’t even notice the penny falling off into someone else’s pocket. Your dad used to work for the Federal Reserve, right?” asked Ned.
“Your dad stole from the Federal Reserve?” asked Trey, letting out a whoop of laughter. “Dude, that is serious bank. How much did he take?” He sounded excited, bouncing in his seat.
“Shut up Trey,” said Jake, sounding hurt. “He stole from Management. At least I think that’s what he was doing.”
“So, how does that help us?” asked Juliette, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Ned?”
Ned had gotten distracted for a moment watching her move.
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t know without seeing the papers,” said Ned. “Can you take some pictures and send them to me? Put them in a file and add to archive like I showed you before. Use the AES-two-five-six for encryption when you’re making the archive. Then send it through my drop box. That should keep us all safe.”
“What does any of this have to do with George Clemente?” asked Trey.
“He used to be pretty big in Management but even they got tired of him,” said Jake. “But I heard Dad say that Clemente had a pretty big war chest. That’s what he called it. How did he get that money?”
“Maybe your dad was keeping track of him,” said Ned. “Worth looking into it. If those are money trails that lead to Clemente then I definitely have ideas. We can steal right back from him.”
“Now you’re talking,” said Trey, letting out another whoop.
“Can you send that to me tonight? We don’t have a lot of time.”
Chapter 16
Wallis stood at the doorway in the long, curving hallway outside one of the smaller ballrooms at the Jefferson Hotel, listening to the hum of the crowd just on the other side. She knew most of the people by name and a few she had even helped with one or two divorces. Richmond, Virginia was a small town.
It was wise to be careful what you said about who because a lot of the time you were probably talking to someone’s cousin. In Richmond that still mattered more than whether or not allegiance was with Management or the Circle. At least, most of the time.
This crowd though had two rows up front of the elite of Management. They had come to hear from the prodigy who could help them regain their lost stature by finally using her birthright to their advantage.
Wallis looked down at the brown suit she was wearing, hoping it was conservative enough. She ran her hands down the front of the skirt, straightening out a wrinkle. Normally, she never worried about what people thought of how she looked. Her style was a mix of conservative with an edge. A brown suit cut closer to the body. Just enough to say she had a mind of her own but was buying within a budget.
This was her part of the deal.
Not a deal, she reminded herself. A demand if she wanted Norman to live beyond today. She was going to walk out there and do the one thing she had been avoiding since she found out about her twisted history. She was going to lay out her family tree and take responsibility for it, even if part of the story she was about to tell was a lie of sorts.
“Hello Wallis.” Richard Bach came idling up to her, his sneer that passed for a smile firmly planted on his face.
He thinks he has me where he wants me, at last, thought Wallis. She realized she still didn’t care what he thought. He was a bug just waiting for a windshield.
“Richard,” she said, giving him a curt nod.
“I’m introducing you. Anything special you want me to say?” he asked. His smile spread even further across his face, deepening his dimples.
Wallis had gone over what she was going to say with Harriet. Who better than the woman who had been at the center of bringing the two societies together in one family. Besides, Harriet knew how to manipulate a crowd, especially if Wallis wanted to throw out the bait without them seeing a sharp and painful hook.
“Say my name, and leave it at that. I can do the rest.”
His smile seemed to fade just a little as he cleared his throat.
“You know, Wallis, I could be of help to you if you weren’t always trying to prove something.”
Wallis gave him a cold, hard stare letting the seconds tick by till he started blinking nervously and turned on his heel. “Stupid bitch,” he sputtered as he fumbled with his tie and stumbled into the ballroom.
It was not the usual meeting spot for Management. That was further west in the suburbs of Henrico County at the Baldwin Funeral Home. A crowd of well-dressed people could easily gather there without anyone taking too hard a look at who was there out of respect for the somber occasion. Someone was dead, people were grieving over their loss.
But today was more of a rebirth and Management’s upper crust wanted something grander to reflect what they were all determined to have come next. A resurgence and new recruits to fill the deserters and the dead’s old posts.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” he said. “I know some of you have come from a great distance and it’s an honor to have so many regional leaders gathered in our great city. It’s not often that we are all together, especially for a happier occasion and especially after the past couple of years.” Richard paused for effect, letting the murmur die down in the crowd. Wallis watched him from the doorway, admiring with a small touch of horror at how easily he lied and made it all seem believable.
He must believe it, she thought. She swallowed hard and said quietly, “I can lie just as well. I can do it for you Norman.”
All she could think of was Norman, wondering where he was, and how he was doing. Her mind drifted back to their wedding day. It wasn’t what she wanted to think about as she was about to step on to the long narrow stage, which was usually shared with a small band and large sprays of flowers.
They were married over fifteen years ago at this same hotel, the Jefferson Hotel, on West Franklin Street, in the heart of where the moneyed had lived and partied at one time. The hotel was perfectly situated near the Commonwealth Club on one side, which still only admitted men, and the Woman’s Club, which still hosted the Cotillion. The hotel opened in 1895 with marble floors throughout and a grand staircase that everyone in Richmond liked to say was the one Rhett carried Scarlet down. Alligators once swam in the indoor fountain and Elvis Presley used to stay there whenever he passed through town.
It had the right combination of quirky sensibility and old guard’s idea of glamour to make everyone happy.
It was Wallis’ concession to Harriet who wanted to let everyone know they were somebody.
The hotel was also where her favorite teacher from law school had gotten married in a small ceremony in one of the ballrooms with the reception in the same room. Wallis and Norman had agreed they liked the simplicity and didn’t want people to have to travel from their ceremony to the reception.
We were more interested in making sure everyone was comfortable and had a good time. All of those out of town guests, thought Wallis. We planned everything together.
It was a slap in the face when she heard where the meeting for Management would be, given she was fighting for her husband’s well-being.
She blinked back tears, making herself take in deep breaths. It occurred to her that George Clemente’s spies had to be in the audience. Her speech would probably be streamed to him live. There was no room for errors.
The crowd in the small ballroom was getting restless. Richard was reciting the bylaws for Management, emphasizing every other word. Wallis saw an elderly man in the front row roll his eyes. This won’t be easy, she thought.
Wallis looked at the part of the room she could see and thought about her wedding. We stuck to the traditional route of not seeing each other until the ceremony, thought Wallis, picturing Norman standing not too far from where she was now, gazing back at the entrance, at her. He looked at her with such love that day. When she g
ot to the top of the aisle and her father put her hand in Norman’s he had leaned forward and whispered, “I’m here for you. It’ll be okay.”
Think of something else, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment and shaking her hands, trying to put herself back in the present.
“Talk about the origin story,” she mumbled, repeating what Harriet had drilled into her the night before as they sat in the kitchen, practicing what she’d say. What was it her mother had said to her last night?
“Everyone loves a good origin story especially this one for this crowd. It’s like you’re talking about their lineage, their great-great grandparents,” Harriet said. “Emphasize how hard working and inventive the original founders were, especially William Reitling.”
“The one man who never existed,” said Wallis.
“Say something often enough for long enough and they do exist. Ask anyone in that room tomorrow,” said Harriet. “He exists more than anyone else in the village who came up with that name. They’re long dead, no one talks about them. They might as well have never existed. William Reitling has songs about him. George Clemente is using him as a recruitment poster. Who’s less real?”
“This is my mother, ladies and gentlemen,” said Wallis, the strain showing on her face.
Harriet had given out a sharp laugh. “I’ll admit I’m not going to win any mother of the year contests, and good thing. You don’t need your hand held right now, no matter how much you want to disagree with me. It won’t get Norman back.”
“But it will help me from not feeling so alone,” said Wallis. It had slipped out of her mouth and hung there in the room between them. Wallis didn’t want to wound her mother, not anymore but she was tired of trying to keep the anxiety down just enough to function. It was taking all of her efforts.
Harriet drew her mouth into her characteristic thin line. It was her way of saying she was hurt and angry without having to say the words. A much more polite way of taking her own swipe at Wallis.
But then, she did something different.
She opened her mouth to say something but shut it again just as quickly, and tried again, still with no words coming out. Wallis waited for the barrage of words, or worse, her mother would quietly get up and go upstairs, leaving Wallis to figure out this speech by herself.
Norman’s life depended on her getting this right.
Harriet had started to get up, rising slowly, still recovering from the stroke.
“Don’t go, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” said Wallis. She was searching for the right words to get Harriet to stay. Maybe I can get Esther over here, she thought, the panic starting to fill her entire body as her heart beat faster.
Harriet had taken small, mincing steps backwards from the table, pushing the chair out of the way with her legs as she held her weak arm against her side.
“Come on, Mom, please,” said Wallis, starting to cry. “Stay,” she said, her chin trembling. She couldn’t stop herself anymore.
Harriet came over to her daughter and lifted her hand to smooth Wallis’ hair, looking into her eyes as she smiled. “I deserved that,” she said, “and I didn’t. That’s how parenting goes,” she said softly.
Wallis had never known Harriet to say anything with so much tenderness to her or anyone else. It wasn’t in her normal bag of tricks and had caught Wallis completely off guard. She had watched intently to see what Harriet might do next.
Harriet kissed the top of Wallis’ head and whispered into her hair, while holding the side of her face. “You are my daughter that I treasure and I know you can do this horrible thing you have to do. You have my icy blood in your veins,” she said, and she had pulled back far enough for Wallis to see she was smiling. “I’m the original Black Widow, after all. Where do you think you got that from?”
Wallis had laughed, surprising herself as she felt just enough of the tension ease in her shoulders.
“I never taught you how to be warm and fuzzy but I’ve given you years of examples of how to lie when necessary and be a bitch with a smile. That’s what you need tomorrow. You take my voice in your head when you’re standing up there and you will be fine. You and I, we have a long history of hoodwinking these people. This is just another day at the office,” said Harriet.
Wallis had reached out and hugged her mother around her waist, burying her face in her mother’s chenille robe, taking in the scent of Chanel Number Five.
“Our family business is espionage, dear, with a dash of royalty, I like to think,” said Harriet. She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve that had the initials EW and WS entwined on it.
“That’s the mother I know and I do love,” Wallis had said, letting her mother dry her face with the royal knicknack.
“So, without further ado, please welcome Wallis Jones to our meeting,” said Richard Bach. The sound of her name snapped her back into the present moment and what she needed to do. She let out the breath she was holding and started walking toward Richard, forcing a smile onto her face. A different kind of courtroom, she thought. You’ve done that hundreds of times.
Wallis took the two steps up to the stage and walked to the podium without acknowledging Richard Bach’s presence. She knew how to read a room and could tell no one respected him. A cold shoulder would set the tone she wanted to project and poke a sharp hole in Richard’s ego.
“Hello distinguished guests. My name is Wallis Jones and I’d like to welcome you to our great city. Although we are small in numbers, we are important in the cause,” she said, looking from one side of the room to the other.
“After all, this is our capital where the first family lives,” she said, keeping her back as straight as possible with only the smallest smile to let them know she could be friendly, if necessary.
Wallis saw Julia sitting in one of the back rows with her husband, Sam. Julia gave her a small wave but Wallis kept speaking, letting Julia slowly lower her hand. There was no time to take care of Julia today.
A memory of walking down the grand staircase at the Jefferson pushed into her brain. I wanted lots of flowers, she thought. I chose Sahara roses and cymbidium orchids with some greenery. I remember tearing up when my bouquet was delivered to my suite. It was just so much more beautiful than I had even imagined it to be. I had a custom gown designed to look like Walter’s mother’s gown. I was so proud that I had designed my dress to floor length for the ceremony and then snapped under into a tea length for our first dance. A little surprise for our guests.
Not now, thought Wallis, focusing on the people in the first few rows. She scanned the room, smiling at the cell phones people were holding up to film the event. It was news that the prodigy was finally stepping forward.
One of those phones had to be a live feed to somewhere near Chicago, thought Wallis.
Then it finally occurred to her. Norman may be able to hear me.
“I was married in this room,” she said, putting down her carefully prepared notes. “That’s right, in this very place over fifteen years ago. It was magical. There was a five piece swing band where I’m standing. I can’t remember what their name was anymore. I’m sure my husband, Norman would remember but he was not able to be here with us tonight. That’s okay, we work as a team. Tonight it’s my turn to represent the family. And that’s what we’re here to talk about tonight. Family. Family is important at times like these when we need to come together to pool our resources. The best solutions come out when everyone participates.”
I love you Norman, she thought.
Wallis saw the audience start to smile and settle back in their seats. They were warming up to her. Only Richard Bach was sitting sullen and moping in his chair off to the side.
She wondered if it was a mistake to have left Harriet at home.
“After I got ready upstairs in one of the suites, my maid of honor and I took the elevator down. While we were waiting for the elevator I looked out from a small balcony on one of the upper floors and saw some of the guests below, walking toward th
e ballroom. I think I even said out loud, ‘all of these people are here to see me’. I never felt so important in all my life. I remember my father, Walter met me at the top of those famous stairs out in the lobby.”
A few of the snowy white heads in the front rows started nodding at the mention of Walter’s name. Good, thought Wallis, they remember him.
“As I reached the grand entrance with both doors opened wide, and I started walking toward my groom, everyone stood up and I felt this euphoric wave rush over me as if I was stepping through a bubble that covered this entire room. I definitely don't remember much about the ceremony afterwards other than my legs felt a little numb.” A small ripple of laughter went across the room.
“The best part, and we planned this so precisely...we had a bag piper start playing, Scotland the Brave at the exact moment we had our first kiss. It surprised most of our guests and that’s how we exited the ceremony. There's a big tradition with my family and the pipers.” A lie, thought Wallis, but a good one. “It was my absolute favorite part of that day. It just makes me smile to remember that. Our dinner and reception was elegant but full of laughter. Our first dance,” she said, smiling at the memory, looking out at the upraised phones, making sure to smile into each one of them, lifting her chin.
“We practiced so many times but I got so clumsy nervous that I ended up laughing throughout the entire dance. Many of our relatives and close friends still talk about our wedding. Some of you were probably there,” she said, opening her arms to the crowd.
“One of the best weddings I ever went to,” said an elderly gentleman sitting in the front row, near the aisle. He raised his hand as he said it, exposing a large Christophe Claret watch on his wrist. People craned to get a good look at him.
Someone important, thought Wallis. She smiled at him like they were old friends and shared a bond that could only come from a shared legacy and time.
“The food was spectacular, a few people enjoyed many a drink. It was the start of something wonderful, something magical,” she said. “Only made better by the birth of our son, Ned, a few years later. I believe most of you have also met him, as well. He is a wonderful young man, extremely bright and doing just fine,” she said, her eyes wet with tears.