Chameleon by Cidney Swanson Page A

something? You need us to testify?”
    I nodded. “If we go to the media and explain how he operates by showing what we can do , the CIA or whoever would know what they’re up against. We take away his secret advantage.”
    Sir Walter raised one tremendous eyebrow, glared at me. “No indeed, child. Think it through. Expose yourselves and how long do you think your family members have to live?”
    I flushed, my heart skipping beats as I contemplated the fury I’d been ready to unleash upon Dad and Sylvia.
    Sir Walter, pulling at the goatee upon his chin, sighed and continued. “You’ve both done well to conceal your true natures and keep yourselves hidden from Helmann. If he knew of you, you would be forced to follow him, or refusing that, he would consume you like the bloated spider he is. He has no tolerance for others like himself over whom he can exert no control.”
    “He killed Pfeffer,” Mickie whispered. “Because he couldn’t control him.”
    “Precisely,” agreed Sir Walter. “Imagine, if you will, the power and cunning of one who has spent his life, his considerable life, studying first–hand within the circles of popes, emperors, and monarchs such as those who created this cathedral.”
    The arc of his gesture took in the whole of the impressive structure, and I felt off–kilter, as if by gazing upward, I receded, grew smaller.
    “Imagine such a one without a moral compass beyond the need to dominate others; you already know that he has the ability to avoid undesired confinement; imagine such a one possessed of infinite wealth—”
    “Stolen, no doubt,” Will murmured.
    Sir Walter nodded as he led us back towards the entrance.
    “He is protected beyond anything you can imagine by layer upon layer. His ability, he keeps secret from all but his inner circle. You must understand: he terrifies everyone who serves him. He always knows things he shouldn’t know about them; though many of his key employees have never seen him in person, yet he knows them intimately. He overhears conversations that he couldn’t possibly have been party to. He acts on this knowledge just often enough to keep his employees in abject fear of what he might do or say next.”
    “He spies on them.” Will’s voice dripped contempt.
    “He is rarely solid,” said Sir Walter. “As recently as sixty years ago, he appeared in visible form for an entire day every tenth day. Now, he averages one appearance of three hours only every fifteen and a half days.”
    “Twice a month?” Will’s eyes grew large. “He’ll only age three days a year at that rate. For someone who doesn’t bat an eye about killing people, he sure is scared of dying.”
    “Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes,” said Mickie. “Pfeffer used to quote that.”
    Sir Walter smiled. “John Donne. I admired him.”
    “As in, you knew him?” Will asked.
    Sir Walter nodded and made to exit, but before leaving the cathedral, he dipped his hand in the basin to cross himself. Mickie followed suit, and Will, whispering to me that it had been awhile, also crossed himself.
    I dipped fingers in the shallow bowl, crossing myself for the first time since Mom’s death, and hastily wiped my fingers dry against my jeans. The gesture was hollow: I felt overwhelmed by dark thoughts about Helmann.
    Our group re–united outside Notre Dame, and we received a handful of Métro tickets for our Paris stay along with our daily five–euro lunch allotment. Then we descended together into the Métro , exiting at the Place Charles de Gaulle/Étoiles beside the Arc de Triomphe.
    Sir Walter had disappeared at some point, but I’d been pre–occupied with thoughts of Helmann taking over the world, and I’d missed his exit. I recognized an old feeling: the way I could make the outside world muffled and dulled by pulling inside myself. I’d done that for years after losing Mom and Maggie.
    Only, I didn’t want to live that way anymore. I grabbed