Page 80
“What did you do?”
“Nothing too drastic. I’d never be the emotionless robot they seemed to want, so I started going to them with requests. They were small at first—better-quality food, more reading material. Things that wouldn’t cause too much trouble to do.”
“And they didn’t get angry?”
“Oh, they got plenty angry. Beat me a couple times, locked me up, starved me. I didn’t back down or stop. That impressed them. I managed to improve the lives of the people there, minuscule though the gains were, but it also saved my life. They appointed me as the house manager, which basically meant that people came to me for their complaints and needs. That took some of the responsibility off them, and they liked that.
“I did that for a couple of years. Then, when this house opened, I was assigned to Kingsley.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Almost three years.”
Realizing she was sitting on the edge of her chair, having moved up while listening to Smith tell his story, Serena scooted back. She had so many more questions—about his responsibilities, about what he had seen throughout his years—but she knew she had only a finite amount of time to learn everything she could about the Wren Project.
There was one thing she couldn’t resist asking, though. “If all of this were to go away tomorrow, and you were set free to do whatever you wanted, what would that be?”
A light entered his eyes, and for the first time, she caught a glimpse of the young man behind the facade that had been forced upon him. “When I was ten years old, a group of us were sent to a horse farm. It was supposed to be punishment and hard labor for disobeying a house rule. For me, it was paradise. In between shoveling excrement and cleaning out stables, I got to spend time with the horses. I loved their spirit and their gentleness. It was the best experience of my life.”
She didn’t imagine he’d had a lot of “best” experiences in his life. She made a vow that once they were all out of here, Smith would have the chance to fulfill that dream of working with horses. He could start in Francine. Her uncle Scott had several horses and would welcome him with open arms.
Knowing they had limited time and Smith was risking everything, she said, “We’ll make sure you get that chance again.”
His eyes went even brighter. “Really?”
“Yes. I promise. Now, tell me as much as you know about the Wren Project. Who’s really in charge? Where are they located?”
“That’s a big question with a lot of answers. First, it’s not the Wren Project anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. It’s WREN, all caps, and stands for World Renewal Equal Nations.”
That was big, and the name change showed exactly what they were working toward. While the rest of the world looked upon the Wren Project as a charitable organization that saved lives all over the world, they were, in fact, looking for power, wealth, and total control.
“Also, they’re everywhere. In every country, state, city.”
She nodded. That was something they’d already suspected at OZ.
“There are several houses, like this one, where people are being held—training, waiting, researching. That way, whenever a need arises, the solution is at hand.”
“Is that what happened with Jenson Mosley? He was needed elsewhere?”
“Yes. A man in Italy—Franco Bianchi—needs a new heart. He was in poor overall health, and they needed to wait until he was physically able to endure a transplant. Kingsley took Dr. Mosley and held him here, allowing him to do some research and prepare. Bianchi was recently declared fit enough, so Dr. Mosley has been sent to a private hospital in Switzerland, where he will perform the surgery.”
“What will happen to Dr. Mosley after he’s served his purpose?”
“They’ll likely keep him in a similar facility and use him when necessary.”
“But he’ll never be able to go home or see his family again?”
“No. That’s never in the plan.”
Kingsley had told her that, but it was hard to reconcile that they would expect people—highly successful, driven individuals—to just accept captivity as a way of life.
“What else can you tell me about WREN?”
“They’ve been around for over a hundred years.” His eyes took on a faraway look as he began to recite what sounded like a business brochure of various accomplishments and movements. Many of the things he mentioned Serena knew of because they had been notable and newsworthy. Some were good things, and others were awful, horrific events that only the most powerful or sadistic people in the world would employ—kidnappings, murders, government takeovers or total collapses.
When he finally finished, her head was full of names, events, and outrage. “How do you know all this?”
A slight smile tweaked at his mouth. “Mr. Kingsley is somewhat of a blabbermouth. He has no friends and trusts almost no one. But he trusts me. He’s told me things that I’m sure would get him severely punished if anyone knew.”
