by Martha Carr
However, massive organizations that are old and entrenched have massive egos. That led Management to believe they still understood him and could therefore use him, all the while keeping watch over him as he toiled away in one of their offices using all of their bugged equipment. Every keystroke he made was recorded and analyzed by their spyware for the thousands of potential security problems.
Over the years he had moved up in ranks and was now the Senior Technology Architect responsible for maintaining the software that directed the Fedwire Securities Service’s business strategy and personally managed the processing infrastructure.
He was a small but very important cog in the pipeline of data that was translated to all of the central banks and beyond.
It was perfect for his unique retirement plan that wasn’t sanctioned by either side.
Mark had grown tired of the cat and mouse game a long time ago. Let the two giants conspire for power, he thought. He had decided years ago to find a way to bow out without death being a necessary element.
He had watched what happened to other Circle families who had tried to maintain their family’s security and their integrity. Their children were slowly drawn into the family business and became part of the war. More than once he had questioned what the difference was between the Management’s recruitment and this insidious pull by the Circle. Neither side seemed to have much of any choice about their lives. Things would be different for his young sons and little girl. It was enough that his wife had left him a long time ago without looking back. She had wanted to be free of all of the responsibility and had left it all to Mark. That was fine with him. He loved being a father but he wanted to make sure his family got a real chance at a normal life.
However, successfully pulling away would require a large influx of cash that could go unnoticed and not get traced back to him or cause too many questions. That was the hard part.
It required staying very close to the heartbeat of Management’s central technology operations and choosing his targets very carefully. But it was imperative to his plan that the Circle not catch on either, till it was too late.
Timed correctly, they were more likely to just cut him loose if they could already see that it didn’t threaten any of their own plans.
The last year, though, had been a bloody one for Management and they were becoming more aggressive. Several of their puppet dictators were murdered although Mark wasn’t sure which side was doing the shooting. He realized he was growing older and more wary and it was time. He decided to put his plan into action.
Besides, unrest always made the large giant restless for reform by force, if necessary. Wars usually followed and new, stricter regulations would be put into place. He had to act now so that his small change in the infrastructure would become usual, routine by the time new eyes would be scanning the records.
He planted into the software accounting code a small error that only randomly occurred, shaving off less than a penny from accounts that were trading money. Any bank on the watch list from the old Soviet Socialist Union, the Middle East or South America was left out of the plot. Once the money from any of those countries rose over $5,000 someone might have noticed and thought it was part of a money laundering plot. But funds coming to or from almost any other country were left out of the scrutiny and the small and steady drain would go by unnoticed amongst the billions of trades.
Trades were set up by Mark to only be done with foreign currencies that were also subject to the fluctuating exchange rates, further masking detection. Monies from the process were then diverted through multiple foreign accounts before winding up in a series of accounts known only to Mark.
If he was successful, by the time he was done he would be able to retreat with a few million dollars. Not enough to warrant the Circle chasing him down but enough to keep his family safe on a Montana ranch near the Canadian border. He was starting to see how it all might even come together by the fall. The money was already stockpiled for the most part but he was making sure he’d found the right piece of property. There would only be one chance to get it right. Everything was lining up perfectly.
“Please, I hope so,” he whispered.
It was easy to get around Management’s detection system. It turned out that they had been right about him all along. He was naturally gifted when it came to the cyber world and he used the inherent weaknesses of technology to his advantage. His growing portfolio spread out over several banks continued to go unnoticed by everyone.
Mark stood in his quiet kitchen and watched the daily message come up on his iPhone. The sun was just cresting the suburban rooftops visible from his kitchen window. Everyone in his household was still asleep.
His day always started early with a wakeup call from a distant numbers station. This morning’s transmission began with Article I, Section 4.
‘The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof.’
It was a warning from an unseen Circle cell. Security had been breached and the Management was aware of an opportunity. The message was brief.
‘Protect Robert, begin Kirchenfenster operation’, was the entire message. So the upper cells knew the two men had made contact. But why was Robert so important?
“Hello, Robert? This is Mark. You still need a ride to the boys’ soccer game?”
They had run into each other two more times since the initial gathering around the coffee cart just one week ago. Once in the hallways of the Federal Reserve and once back down on the plaza. Robert had let loose just enough information to give Mark something to work with if he ever needed an excuse to meet. That was basic training.
“Great, pick you up in an hour.”
Mark set to work on the other half of the message, the Kirchenfenster operation or Stained Glass Operation. Certain top members of the Circle had German roots that went very deep. It was an old plan meant to create mistrust and misinformation and was much more effective than outright aggression. Those who keep secrets and lie as a matter of habit tend to worry too much about who else is lying and when they detect a flaw, they start to question everything and make mistakes. It was a far more effective method to bring down an enemy than bombs or guns.
Mark had no way of knowing how many others were responding to the same message. No one was ever told who received the same OTP or whose iPhones weren’t just phones. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to create confusion but there was an added urgency. He picked up the land line and dialed.
“Hello Fred? How are you? Hope I didn’t wake you. Just wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”
Mark was using Fred as bait. He knew Fred was a weak link and calling him at an irregular time would only make him worry more, become more conspicuous. A land line made it easier for eavesdroppers to more easily listen in, making the rest a lot simpler. It wasn’t fair to Fred but some people are only pawns, thought Mark. Fred had never accepted that death was a possibility and it made him more of a target, not less. Mark was well aware, though that he was just a more arrogant but equally as helpless player, at least for now.
“Okay, well, see you on Monday. Let’s get coffee.”
He hung up before Fred had a chance to vent. That would make him more likely to talk to his wife, make a mistake and continue to be overheard. But Fred didn’t know anything of value. All he could do was speculate about what was going wrong within the Circle and inadvertently plants seeds of mistrust in anyone who was listening.
Step one was done. Step two was a quick search on Google for information about Cardinal Group, the largest credit card company in America and their layoffs in early 2001. He found the article he was searching for and called it up, clicking on ‘recommend’, just as he had been directed. It was a small column that predicted a decline in the stock without giving too many details that pointed out it was from nearly ten years ago. Management would soon wonder who was targeting one of their giant cash cows an
d start to look for answers, misdirecting them away from Circle operations.
The third step required a little funding but that would have to wait for Monday. He gathered up the kids and headed out to pick up Robert and his boys.
“Hello,” he called out. The boys came running happily toward the minivan, piling into the back. Robert got in front, reminding his kids to buckle up and quiet down a little.
“Inside voices, boys,” he said. “Thanks for the ride, greatly appreciated.”
“No problem, we were headed there anyway,” said Mark. “My daughter, Ruthie, is out for pizza with her little friends. You know which fields your boys are playing on today?”
They were headed to a vast open field of ten acres along Pouncey Tract Road that had been developed into a soccer complex dotted by different soccer fields with the occasional refreshment stand. Both men knew better than to try and start a conversation in front of their children. It could place the boys’ lives in danger even under normal circumstances and after the warnings Mark was getting he was taking every precaution.
“I think our fields abut each other,” said Robert. “We can stand in the middle and cheer for both.”
Once the boys were settled along the various sidelines the fathers took up camp between the two fields where they had a clear view of both matches. Mark took out his phone and scrolled through the screens, quickly turning on the low level white noise.
“How are things these days?” he asked, as his son waved to him from the center of the field. Mark smiled and waved back at him.
“Not good. I suppose you’ve wondered about my wife’s death.”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“Carol was not only an expert at sailing, she was also a strong swimmer. My wife was murdered.”
“What did the autopsy show?”
“That she had drowned.” Robert looked down at his shoes. Mark let a little time pass, watching his oldest in the soccer game as the two younger ones ran up and down the sidelines.
“Do you know anything more than that?” asked Mark.
“There was no toxicology report, no blood tests done. Her lungs were filled with water and they stopped at that. But, there were also no signs of a struggle. There was nothing to indicate that she fought like hell to stay alive.”
“Why would they have wanted your wife dead?”
“I’m hoping that I don’t really know the answer to that. If it’s what I suspect we are all in a lot more danger and it’s only a matter of time before I turn up as an accident as well. My wife was an orphan of sorts. She grew up on an orphanage, anyway. Did you know that most of the children who have ever grown up on an American orphanage were only social orphans? They had a close, living relative but not one who could take care of them, or maybe wanted them. That was Carol’s story. Her mother died and her father couldn’t take care of Carol or her two younger sisters. They all ended up at an orphanage.”
Robert’s son scored a goal and was doing a small dance that resembled a chicken. Robert smiled and yelled, “Good job, son!” Mark waited patiently for him to go on with his story.
“Her father dropped all contact when Carol was nine and went on with his life but refused to sign away his rights as a parent. That made Carol and her siblings’ part of this vast, lost generation that had no family to speak of but couldn’t be adopted. That’s when she was taken into the Schmetterling Project,” said Robert, looking up at Mark.
“What are you talking about?” asked Mark, a little too loudly. “That idea was dropped,” he hissed, “a long time ago.”
“No, it was put into action but all references to it were dismissed and then destroyed, or so we thought. One Holocaust was enough.”
Mark remembered the idea from when he first came into the Circle. Even then it was already just a legend of something that was bandied about but eventually discarded as too risky.
“Then how do you know about it?”
“Carol’s maiden name was Baumann. Her father was one of the original twenty.”
Mark glanced back at Robert. “That explains a little bit about why the Circle wants to protect you.”
“So you got an order? I’m not surprised. I know a lot about the grand scheme to collect as many children as possible worldwide. The Circle looked for children who were either tangled in social services or left to fend for themselves and helped them eventually get placed at orphanages. These would become the new recruits to infiltrate every aspect of governments, Fortune 500 corporations, large non-profit organizations. It was devised as a vast web identifiable only by where someone started out in life.”
“But why wouldn’t the Circle want to keep you quiet?”
“Because they don’t know if I left a record and because in some cells murder is still seen as a sin.”
“Lucky for both of us.”
It was a vague reference to the continued influence of both the Anglican and Jewish hierarchy.
The Schmetterling Project was supposed to beat Management at its own scheme but it had also become a lesson in humility.
The Circle had been looking for inroads since its inception and understood the Management’s distaste for anyone they couldn’t use. It was what the original members from the European Jewish community had harnessed to their advantage, that is, until they were detected.
But by then their foothold was so strong the Circle was sure they would be able to persevere. The mistake had cost them well over six million lives, most of them completely unaware of the cause. Management had wanted to be thorough.
“No, it’s not right” whispered Mark. “It’s not possible. Orphanages in this country were closed back in the 1980’s.”
“You haven’t been paying enough attention. Most closed or morphed into rehabilitation centers, you’re right, but the rest were given the new name of residential education facility. They started billing themselves as more of a boarding school for the underprivileged. A new name and an old mission that only the head of each home was aware of. They were told to aggressively stay away from the media and even each other. Drop below any kind of radar. Most stopped taking public money for that reason.”
Mark felt his stomach sour. As cynical as he was, he didn’t want to believe that the Circle was willing to use children just because there were no parents around keeping track. Apparently he had been wrong. It made the mathematician in him start to recalculate all of the other risks.
“Why did you keep paying attention?” he asked.
“Even though Carol’s father burned out from all of the stress, Carol was still a part of that dynasty, which I believe is what put her in the line of fire. That means my children have the same bull’s-eye on them. You see, I don’t think she was murdered just because of her involvement with the Circle. I think someone figured out her background.”
“I’m not sure which one is worse,” said Mark, “both’ll get you killed.”
“And if I’m right, and they have figured it out, there may be other methods for Management to figure out who was raised within the ideals of the Circle.”
“The records at the children’s homes,” mumbled Mark, feeling a chill come over him.
A sudden hush came over the field where Robert’s sons were playing and adults rushed to the sidelines. A parent had collapsed and was lying on the ground as concerned faces all turned toward the growing crowd. The news rolled out over the ten acres quickly as game after game paused and parents called after curious children who were trying to get closer.
“Grab your son, now!” said Mark as he quickly switched off his phone. He didn’t look back as he marched quickly toward his own two boys never taking his eyes off of them. As he got to Jake he grabbed his hand firmly and kept staring straight ahead at Peter. It would only take a moment, he thought. Once Peter’s hand was safely wrapped inside his father’s, Mark turned and scanned the growing crowd in the opposite field.
It has to be a set up, he thought. Robert and his sons were nowhere to be seen. Mark diale
d the number quickly but it went immediately to voicemail. The phone was turned off. He searched the fields for over an hour on foot never letting go of his boys’ hands. He finally had to give up and quietly put the boys in the van, slowly driving up and down the narrow road that wound through the acreage hoping for a sign. There was nothing.
As he pulled out of the complex he saw Richard Bach standing by the entrance pretending to shoot him with a gun, a wide grin across his face. It was all he could do to keep from trembling in front of his boys.
Chapter Nineteen
Norman stood in the parking lot watching Wallis’ car pull out into traffic and saw the scratches in the Jag at the last moment. He thought about calling her on the cell phone, but he knew she’d see it soon enough.
He had come close to telling her over coffee about their neighbor’s demise but saw how rattled she already was and decided to wait until tonight. After seeing the symbol etched into her car he was glad he kept silent. This would only unnerve her further and make her wonder about the significance of the timing. Norman wasn’t ready to tell her.
He checked the trunk and saw that the mat from the back door wrapped in heavy plastic was still there.
“Donald?” he said into his cell phone.
“Yeah, you busy? Something’s come up. We need to talk. No, the usual place. Let’s avoid the office.”
Norman and Father Donald had set up alternate meeting places long ago that were out in the open where they could go mostly unnoticed. It would have been difficult in Richmond to find someplace where they wouldn’t run into someone who recognized them and if it looked clandestine word would have travelled fast. Better to find a haunt close to home that looked like a break from work. The parking lot of Panera’s was a good choice.
