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 dialed 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.
“You had to wear the collar?”
“It’s company policy,” said the priest, “kind of like being a Rockette.”
“Episcopalian humor, no doubt,” said Norman.
“Which is why we get along so well, Mr. Weiskopf. We both have these highly developed frameworks for what’s funny that involve the longer view of anything.”
“I assume you’re referring to eternity.”