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

by Martha Carr

  It all happened on the day that Wallis’s world had changed if only because she knew more of the truth than she ever thought was possible.

  “Why are you here?” asked Wallis.

  “It’s simple. It’s time we started treating you like more of a Circle operative and less of a hanger-on. I suppose we been trying to respect your wishes all this time and we hesitated to take you fully into the fold. That may have been a mistake.”

  Wallis leaned against the island and glanced at the bullet hole in the wall just behind Madame Bella. “Not a mistake. I wasn’t an operative. I was just a lawyer who lived in the suburbs with her family. I know everyone else had a different story for me but it wasn’t true. My mother did a good job of keeping the truth from me, and I didn’t even know she was doing it.”

  Madame Bella smiled until the creases around her eyes folded into her eyebrows. “Harriet Jones is a complicated woman in the best possible ways. Your mother was supposed to have one role in life and that was to protect the balance of power with the very secret she held. She was the second, and maybe more important Keeper. But then along came you,” said Madame Bella as she took Wallis’ face in her hands.

  “That changed everything. You became the most important thing in the world to her. But, Harriet is a stickler for protocol, and she wasn’t willing to abandon her old role. That made things well, complicated. Somehow, your mother managed to fulfill her role as the second Keeper and protect the secrets as well as protect your childhood.”

  “She did it all at the cost of a relationship with me.” A look of pain crossed Wallis’s face for a moment. “I may have been ignorant of who I really am, or even who Norman really was, and what it all would one day mean but there was still a price that was paid. Pretty steep price.”

  “There wasn’t going to be a simple plan for all of this, Wallis. We all did the best we could, we still are.”

  Madame Bella reached into her pocket and pulled out an iPhone, handing it over to Wallis. “This makes it official. Your new role in life. For better or worse, you’re one of us. You’ll get regular reports that will come across as sections of the Constitution. Most of it will mean nothing but buried in there occasionally will be a message. When times are good, and by good I mean calm and boring, the reports will basically tell you that nothing is happening. Once in a while, in a lifetime, you will get a report that will tell you what needs to be done next. It’s the safest way to transmit information without having to meet face-to-face.”

  “What happens if someone else gets a hold of your decoder ring and can tell what each transmission means?” asked Wallis.

  Madame Bella settled herself into one of the kitchen chairs, her frame filling the entire chair. “You get a new decoder ring every three months,” said Madame Bella with a smirk. “Keep that sense of humor, even if it turns a little dark at times. The method of decoding is called a BIGOTS list.”

  “A BIGOTS list. Helmut mentioned that once to me, a long time ago,” said Wallis, remembering that night outside of Angie Estaver’s house when all she wanted to do was go play bunko with her friends. So much had changed.

  “Have you seen any of the neighbors yet?” asked Madame Bella.

  Wallis looked out the broken window toward the neighbors’ houses. “Do you mean the actual neighbors or do you mean the Circle operatives who live all around me?” asked Wallis.

  Madame Bella raised her mutilated left hand and brushed the hair out of her face. “I can see there’s still some resentment about not being able to choose your own path. In reality, very few of us get that opportunity. We’re shaped by what our parents were or weren’t, or by the time we’re born into, or lousy luck or great fortune. You can choose to tell yourself that you would have a different life if only if weren’t for all of us. Or, you can start to see us as an asset. The grass is always greener where you water it.”

  Madame Bella waved to Wallis. “Come sit by me, let me show you how this phone works. It’s a wonderful tool that will help you to know what’s going on. There are still many things left for you to do. Imagine how the rest of the world feels right now. So many people feel like choices have been taken away from them. They can’t use the money they have in the bank because nobody wants it. Hell, they don’t even want it. Or the other camp can’t collect interest on the loans they had out because the loans don’t exist anymore. Poof!” she said, opening her hand.

  “To them they have fewer choices just because it isn’t like it used to be. But I think you and I see it a different way. It’s all wonderfully wide open. They can choose for themselves, for the first time. Of course, fixing something they never knew about will be hard to appreciate. It’s the same choice we have every day. But it’s a fact of life, let’s get on with it.”

  “I hear the worst of it has been in the larger cities,” said Wallis changing the subject. “Ned tries to hide it when I talk to him. He looks thinner to me.”

  “It’s been more difficult to get everyone through the winter but frankly people who live in cities are very creative by nature. A system quickly popped up to barter for goods and somehow the average person is getting what they need. A lot of that is due to your son and all of his friends in the Butterfly Project. I never suspected when we started that all of those children we thought we were saving would end up saving us.”

  Madame Bella pulled herself to a standing position straightening out her clothes. Wallis realized her friend was getting older.

  “Come on, enough of this house,” said Madame Bella. “Let them finish with the work and erase the old wounds. You’ll still know they’re here but they don’t need to stare you in the face anymore. There’s work to be done and you’re a necessary part. Besides, there are people waiting for you. Like I said, let’s get on with it. Good advice all around.”

  Wallis reluctantly left the kitchen and walked out the door with Madame Bella, glancing backwards at the house she had loved for so many years. Even though she knew they were coming back eventually, she still knew it wouldn’t be the same. So much had changed.

  It’s why Harriet had strongly suggested they not only repair all of the battle scars in the house but also redecorate so that it would be like a new house. Wallis wasn’t sure that could erase the memories of killing somebody on the second floor or watching the deputy sheriff bleed out in the guest bedroom.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and pictured Norman and Ned in the kitchen cooking again. “Not all of it was bad memories,” she said, as she followed Madame Bella out of the house.

  “I hope I can walk back into the made-over house and remember the times when Alice Watkins lived there. Or even something simple like when I first brought Ned home from the hospital. Or even just finding Ned’s figurines underfoot.”

  “That will be up to you,” said Madame Bella.

  Wallis didn’t want to make the past disappear as much is put it in its place. Trying to avoid things is what got her to that night when they all had to escape out the back of the house. No more running, she thought as she helped Madame Bella into the Subaru.

  As they turned out of the driveway she saw Sandra Wilkins standing in her doorway, what had been Mr. Blazney’s doorway, and she gave a small wave as Sandra smiled and waved back at her.

  “It’s possible to bloom where you’re planted,” said Madame Bella. “Even when you’re planted in the middle of two unfriendly giants. Sometimes the only thing a move is, is a geographical cure. Those never last.”

  Father Donald was waiting for them in front of the rectory at St. Stephen’s Church. “You told him we were coming?” asked Wallis, pulling up to the curb.

  “More like he told me to go get you,” said Madame Bella. “Your crowd is very big on meetings. It’s as if they’ve never heard of the internet and just sending an email. I appreciate old-fashioned methods as much as the next person but I’ve never met a group that got so much out of seeing other. I suppose that could be seen as a strength,” she said as Father Donald opened her do
or.

  “Madame Bella,” he said as he held out his hand for her. He leaned over to talk to Wallis and said, “meet us in the bishops room. I think you know where it is?”

  “The one with all the fancy, uncomfortable chairs,” said Wallis.

  “It’s necessary to make sure the bishop never stays too long,” said Father Donald, as he shut the door.

  Wallis parked the car nearby and hurried toward the door as she looked around nervously. She had never gotten over that this was where Norman was kidnapped by Clemente’s men, or that Clemente was still out there somewhere.

  No one seemed to know exactly where, she thought, with a shudder.

  The Butterfly Project had managed to throw a wrench into his master plan of controlling the flow of water. That had to be making him angry and out for revenge.

  She hurried down the long hall past all the portraits of former rectors, down several hallways until she got to the room with all of the old bishop chairs where the brides would gather before they went down the aisle. She opened the door expecting to see the usual suspects, Esther Ackerman, Father Donald, Norman and maybe even Harriet and Alan Vitek.

  But instead, she saw the back of a very familiar head and felt the crush of separation that she had been trying to deny for so many months.

  “Ned!” She shouted, startling everyone.

  Her son and only child, Ned Weiskopf turned and smiled wearily at his mother. He was taller than she remembered and his chin was covered in stubble. She couldn’t remember whether or not that was even possible when they parted. He was standing in front of another young man, someone she didn’t recognize.

  She let that go as she hugged her son tightly.

  “Ned,” she whispered, realizing he was finally taller than his mother. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “There wasn’t enough time to send a secure message,” said Ned as he held onto his mother. Wallis could feel his ribs through all the layers he was wearing. She wanted to ask how he was doing but she knew it would bother him in front of everyone so she resisted the urge. She stood back, still holding on tightly to his hand and just took him in for a moment. She was aware that the room was crowded with other people but she didn’t care. Her son was here.

  “Mom,” he said quietly, “it’s good to see you again. You know Juliette, remember?”

  Standing just off to Ned’s side was the young woman Wallis had last seen in the large meeting room when they had all received their assignments from the Butterfly Project. She saw the look that passed between Ned and Juliette and realized they were more of a couple now. Even at their young age, it reminded Wallis of something that she and Norman would do.

  “I missed a lot,” she said, too softly for anyone else to really hear, but Ned heard and winced. She gave him a quick smile that was more of a grimace as she squeezed his hand. She had forgotten how easy it was for her to hurt him with just a casual remark.

  Wallis took in a deep breath and reluctantly let go of his hand as she took a better look at who was in the room.

  “Helmut,” she said, “and Fred?” They were standing near the windows. Seated around the wall was her mother, Harriet, and next to her was Esther and Father Michael.

  “I’m surprised Tom’s not here,” said Wallis, just as Norman entered the room.

  “Funny you should mention that,” he said as he stepped out of the way and let his older brother, Tom, enter the room.

  “We must really be in trouble if everyone has taken the chance to meet here,” said Wallis. “I take it you have information on Clemente,” she said, looking at her son.

  “In a manner of speaking,” he said giving a nervous glance to Juliette.

  Wallis thought to herself about how much he resembled his father, even in the way he developed his own inner speak with someone who mattered to him.

  Norman would give Wallis the same glance when there were something he had to say but wasn’t sure how it would be received.

  “Mom, I want you to meet Daniel Kozak, George Clemente’s son.”

  Wallis felt the blood rush to her head as she paused and looked at her son’s face, wondering if she had heard the wrong word. She looked over at the young man sitting just off to Ned’s side.

  She could see a slight resemblance to Clemente in his face but he had none of the anger or general frustration that seem to be etched permanently into Clemente.

  “How is it possible that George Clemente could have a son and we don’t know it.” She turned and faced the rest of the room. “What’s going on? How can y’all be sure this is his son?” She said in an angrier tone than she had intended, pointing at him.

  “No one here is new to operations,” said her mother, tersely. “We did the necessary tests.”

  “Twice,” said Esther.

  “We were all as surprised as you are,” said Harriet, “and before you say it, we couldn’t tell you before you got here. Even though we believe we have the most secure lines to communicate on Pastebin, some things are just too precious to take a chance. The movement of Daniel Kozak is one of them.”

  Wallis bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying what she really wanted to say. It was still so easy to revert to the old methods with her mother.

  “Should I just assume there are more secrets to come?” she said.

  “Always, my dear. Most of them ordered by someone above whoever you’re speaking to,” she said, cheerily.

  “It’s one of your best qualities,” said Esther, tapping Harriet’s knee, “you manage not to be glum even in the middle of the worst crisis we’ve ever faced.”

  Harriet smiled and nodded her head. “If I had to wait for all of the crises to pass I’d never even get out a smile.”

  “That’s saying something if the two of you are in agreement that this is worse than when the Circle was almost wiped out over forty years ago,” said Norman, looking at the two zwanzig.

  “Well, dear,” said Harriet, still smiling, “it’s not often that one man has figured out how to control the entire world and come so close to actually pulling it off. Others have tried and some of them made headway but not have done what George Clemente has managed to accomplish.”

  Father Michael let out a grumble and shifted in his seat.

  “We should probably get started,” said Ned, glancing at the Father.

  “Neither one of you looks like you’ve been eating very well,” said Wallis, knowing she was taking a risk.

  “We did okay,” said Ned, grimacing. It was Wallis’s signal that she had come right up to the line and was in danger of crossing it.

  “You’re right, we should get started,” she said. She looked back toward her husband who raised his eyebrows, his small way of giving her a shrug. He reached out his hand and she took it, walking over next to him. They weren’t in charge anymore.

  The Butterfly Project was running the show.

  Father Donald stepped forward and said, “Tell us where we go from here.”

  Wallis watched Ned as he talked about what they had done to draw George Clemente out into the open. She could feel the pain in the middle of her chest reaching out to the edges of great joy and sadness in equal and opposite directions. It wasn’t the first moment she felt the distinct separation between herself and her son and she knew it was necessary. Necessary not only for Ned to go on, but for her. It was time for her to let him go. It was sooner than most mothers but the time was still here.

  “We been able to analyze all of the diaries that Daniel stole from the safe deposit box,” said Ned. “Even though we won’t be able to steal anymore to find out what George has planned next, the patterns give us a good idea of what he might do.”

  “We’ve been keeping a good eye on the news, reading between the lines,” said Juliette. “And we’ve been monitoring the chatter on the internet.”

  “It also helps that we have so many members of the Butterfly Project in high enough positions in government that we get enough of the back story
. We hear that Clemente’s deal with China has become fragile,” said Ned.

  “Given how many backup plans George Clemente has had,” said Father Donald, “you think it’s possible that he had an idea that this might happen? I mean, is he already on to what, plan Q?”

  “I doubt it,” said Father Michael resting his head in his hand. “Fortunately, the man is arrogant. He knew none of us saw the ultimate goal of this plan. We only finally learned of it because he let us. And if he let us, it had to have been far enough along that he was convinced there was nothing we could do about it. He wanted us to know he won. I mean, what’s the point of winning if the other side is never aware of it.”

  “It’s probably what saved my grandson’s life when he stole Clemente’s billions,” said Harriet, smiling at Ned.

  “It’s nice to know that a man can plan a takeover of the world that takes him twenty years to pull off, plotting a civil war, and God knows what else and life can still hand him a crap sandwich of karma that throws a wrench in the whole thing,” said Norman.

  “An unknown son, an entire army of young people, and one dedicated young man,” said Father Donald, “with his parents’ ability and then some, was all it took.”

  Net started to speak but hesitated, as if he was unsure of what he was about to say. He looked to Juliette who gave him a small nod. Shot of courage, thought Wallis.

  “The structure we put into place before the debt was erased seems to be holding,” said Ned. “Of course, not everyone is on board. There are those who are trying to grab power for themselves by inciting fear. But we expected that and we made arrangements to counter it.”

  “A kind of reverse heckling,” said Juliette, excitement in her voice.

  “Right,” said Ned, “we sent people to their rallies, members of the Butterfly Project armed with not only the facts but supplies. The combination seems to be working. We’ve learned something over the years from what motivates people. We learned it from growing up on the different orphanages and how people helped us learn to trust. Now, we are taking those lessons and passing them on. It’s not enough to just share information.”