“How many places have you lived?” he asked. It had turned into a game of cat and mouse but Mark wasn’t sure who was the prey. If Robert were really a Watcher he was good at drawing out sympathy and knew a lot about the Circle.
It would be easier to treat him as a hostile and exchange pleasantries hoping he’d slip and give away even the smallest bit of information. If he were friendly to the Circle he could still be full of valuable information that with the right pressure could be removed by either side.
The lapel pin wasn’t easy to come by and if he was really a member of the Circle but had lost his pin and his contacts were dead, he was floating dangerously free of any support with no way to easily connect back to a cell. The Circle had started out with the idea that only one member of each cell would know who to contact up or down the line of command for the two units above or below. The danger had been exposed though when a generation back an entire group was found out and too many links met tragic ends.
However, the system could leave individual members out in the wind, unsure of what to do next but with families to protect. It was possible Robert had been on his own since his wife died. It was also possible that was why she died. If that were true he was taking a risk chatting with Mark at all.
“So, how did your wife die?” Mark gently asked, giving Robert the chance to tell him more.
“Died in a boating accident. At least it was ruled an accident,” he said, looking worn out as he gave a small shrug. “Ten years of sailing without a problem and she dies on a calm lake right before Christmas. I found her entangled in the sail.”
Mark felt his stomach tighten as he held open the door to the building. First this woman, now Ray Billings, maybe others. Something was bothering the Management enough to make them clean house and risk outsiders putting the pieces together. Mark wondered if the missing file held the answer.
“I’m sorry, that sounds awful,” said Mark. “Look, here’s my card. Maybe we can talk some more, later.” If Robert was a Watcher, handing over his card wouldn’t make any difference. If he was a lost member of the Circle then time wasn’t on the guy’s side. Mark would have to try and figure it out quickly and act.
“Thanks.” Robert took the card and reached out to shake Mark’s hand. Mark felt the folded dollar bill pressed into his palm and tried not to show any reaction.
“For the coffee,” said Robert quietly and he quickly turned and headed toward the elevators.
Mark quickly headed for the stairs and the climb up to his fourth floor office. He often took the stairs trying to constantly create patterns that had been known to come in handy at opportune times.
When he was safely behind his desk he unfolded the bill to put into his wallet, carefully taking note of the three-numbered sequence. 8-4-2. He typed the numbers swiftly into his iPhone and sent a query, surprised at the sudden response. The decoded message back was clear.
He had given them an out of date distress code not used since the end of last year throughout the Georgia region. Bring the missing Circle agent back at once. He was valuable property.
Chapter Seven
Wallis heard the sound of a spatula scraping against a pan and knew it was pancakes. There were already plates set up on the island. She sat down on a barstool and took a sip of her only coffee for the day. Cream, no sugar.
“Blueberries?” she said.
“We ran out. I added a little cinnamon and some banana,” said Norman, piling three pancakes onto the plate in front of Wallis.
“I can still psyche Ned out, but I don’t think it’s going to be much longer,” said Wallis. “Eventually, he’s going to figure out what I’m doing.”
“Not as long as you make it part of a competition, he won’t. He gets too focused on the wrong goal and can’t see what you’re up to. Of course, it also means you’re playing with our only off-spring’s head.”
“Wouldn’t that be our reason for having him around?”
“I thought it was free nursing care in another thirty years.”
“Ned’ll figure out a way to get somebody else to do it. It may not be a legal means but I don’t see him wiping off drool.”
“Me neither,” said Norman, “but I figure Ned will either end up living under a bridge or richer than Rockefeller and as a parent I’m very optimistic.” Norman said it without a hint of a smile.
“Did you smile more as a child?”
“Yes, but my mother beat those out of me.”
“Norman! If your mother knew what you were saying, and anyway, it wouldn’t explain Ned,” she said, biting into a forkful. “Teachers have sent home notes asking if Ned is happy, you know that. And I know they’re thinking I’m covering up something or why wouldn’t he smile more?”
“We Weiskopf men keep our strategies very close to the chest.”
“More people would realize you were funny if you would smile a little more.”
“Too many of the people I’m dealing with are too busy listening to themselves talk and at two hundred dollars an hour I prefer to let them run on and on,” said Norman.