Walls Came Tumbling Down

Several of the screens turned white and grew an Old English 'L', with a small 'i' after it. Near stood looking at it for a few long seconds, with Rester poised to react, before the connection was made. As he waited for her to speak, Near shuffled over to the south-east section of his large floor. This area was already prepared and fully functional. He plucked out the painted Barbie Doll and placed it beside a plastic figurine of the eponymous hero of 'Dexter's Laboratory'. Near surveyed it critically. The Barbie Doll wasn't right. Linda was much fatter than that.

"Near?" She spoke sharply, in crisp, clipped tones, which she only did when she felt guilty. "Are you there?"

"Yes, Linda." Near eyed the rest of the pattern. Mello had not long been moved into the doll's house. They all seemed to be flitting between one faction or individual member; encircling each other like stars in orbit.

Linda plunged on, like there was nothing untoward about this call's timing. "You need to know about an incident at Wammy's House. Luigi's with me. Apparently two Irish intelligence agents came around, asking about Fenian. They called him by his real name. We've been unable to locate him."

"Oh?" Near queried blandly. He already knew. He assumed that Luigi didn't know that the Wammy's House security cameras also fed into Near's system. He had watched it happen. He had already refreshed his memory of both the domestic and foreign policies in Ireland, along with their national concerns, both speculated and confirmed. He had instructed Rester to prepare a list of their Irish contacts; then had allowed his chief officer to conduct an off-the-record conversation with one of their more discreet informants - a diplomat based in Dublin. Near was well versed now in the current, largely behind the scenes state of Irish political affairs. Since 11.34am, he had also had a satellite trained on the cottage that Fenian shared with Kiana, on the outskirts of Leam, Oughterard, County Galway. It had now been dark there for several hours, but no lights nor chimney smoke were seen. Fenian's car had been there all along, but Kiana's Land Rover had not once been seen. Near had agents en route to see what they could find.

Linda's tongue clicked. "So we just thought that you should know."

"Thank you very much for telling me, Linda."

When she spoke again, she sounded much more friendly. "Is there anything that you would like us to do?"

Near considered it. "No. I don't think so."

"Maybe you could call the G-2 and find out what is going on." Linda was picking bits off a big, fluffy, pink jumper that looked like it had strands of silver hanging all over it. Near could see her doing it on the Wammy's House security camera, as she was making this call from inside the kitchen. Near tried to imagine why. The kitchen was a very strange place to be calling from, especially when all of the kitchen staff had gone home. But the camera was trained on the door, which led from the kitchen to the garden, so he couldn't see the whole room. Perhaps Luigi was boiling some eggs. "Near, are you still there?"

"Yes." Near replied, with a faint frown. He had not told her that he wished to terminate the call. She had no reason to suspect him gone. "L will not be calling the G-2. That is a stupid idea. If L calls the G-2, they will know that L could only have got the information about the visit from The Wammy's House. That would confirm that L is connected with the Institution." He saw Linda bow her head, with her shoulders hunched right up. She had stopped picking at her pink jumper. "It is better to wait until the G-2 contacts L."

Linda breathed loudly. "Yes, of course. That was silly of me."

Near contemplated his doll's house again. It fascinated him that Mello was just two rooms and a corridor away from Linda and Luigi. Though none of them could walk through walls, so the actual distance between the parties was substantially longer. He wondered if they knew about each other's presence. He asked, "Who is in the Institution from the fourth generation?"

"Me, Luigi," Linda hesitated, looking away from the camera. Luigi had to be there. Boiling eggs. "Mello is here, Near. But he's in the infirmary. We haven't seen him, but Ann says that he's doing fine."

"I doubt very much that Mello is doing fine, whatever Ann might say. She says that out of a desire to stop you worrying. Linda has been a snappy, angry bitch since Jonny died, but that is a front. It stops her getting hurt again. But underneath that mask, Linda wishes everyone was happy and looked after. Ann also wishes this, so she lies to keep Linda happy. Mello is not fine. He has been shot twice and his husband has been arrested."

Linda's mouth had been open. She closed it now to gasp, "What did you just call me?"

Near reviewed his words. "A snappy, angry bitch." He watched her wriggling about on her seat.

"Do you realise that you are being very rude?"

"It would be more rude, if it was said about the true Linda, hiding underneath the mask. It is not rude to speak the truth about a mask." Near twisted a lock of hair around his index finger and peered at the Barbie Doll. He should order a pink jumper for it.

Linda blew into the microphone. "No, Near. It's still being incredibly rude."

"Then I am sorry." Near smiled.

"Your apology is accepted." A shadow fell across Linda's face and one of her arms. Near deduced that Luigi was now standing between her and the light. "Near, do you know where Fenian is? Or could you help us to find him? We're worried that something has happened to him, as he is not answering his calls."

Near carried the Barbie Doll over to a large box of doll-sized accessories. "No." There was no jumper. He knew that without looking, but there were small elastic bands. "It is not likely that Fenian's corpse would send the G-2 to Wammy's House. That would only be true if Fenian died and Kiana survived. She might tell them, though I see no reason for her to do that." He arranged the doll's hair into bunches. "It is much more likely that Fenian himself went to the G-2. He has always shouted a lot about not wishing to be a part of our organisation. This scenario is also unlikely, because Fenian is too chicken-shit to do that." Near turned to survey the lone figurine at the very edge of the group. It was unsatisfactory, but this tableau had been assembled in a hurry. He had made do with a wiry Nac Mac Feegle figurine, correcting the wrong nationality by printing the Irish tricolour flag onto paper. This had been wrapped around the toy. It looked like an angry Scotsman in a tube. It would need to be replaced. "Unlikely, but not impossible. CCTV showed us Fenian and Kiana driving onto the ferry at Holyhead, in Wales. Then they drove off in Dublin, in the Republic of Ireland. This positioned him in the same city as the headquarters of the G-2."

Linda's eyes were very wide. She shook her head at the presumed Luigi. "What's his motivation though? He left on good terms with most of us and he had already applied to leave. It would be peevish to kick back now."

Near had placed Linda back inside the kitchen of the doll's house. He lay on his belly in front of the Nac Mac Feegle. "What was in the package that Luigi sent to Fenian, that was picked up at the General Post Office in Dublin?"

No sound came out of the speakers, but Linda's lips were moving on the screen. Near stared at her. She was half turned away, so it was difficult to lip read. He scowled. Rester took advantage of the lull in conversation to turn in his seat. "Near." He indicated the e-mail. It had arrived in a priority inbox known only to a select few individuals or countries. The Republic of Ireland was not amongst them, yet this purported to have been sent from the Department of the Taoiseach.

"Would you please give me a background report on this man?" Near instructed. He was about to say more, but then Luigi finally found the courage to speak to him. "And the Taoiseach." Near hurriedly added, over the initial 'erms' of his foster brother. Rester nodded and began his work.

"Yes. Quite. Erm, hello Near." Luigi coughed. Near waited without replying. This was just Luigi warming up. "I posted a package to Fenian, yes. Er, I sent it in response, that is to say that Fenian requested, on the day that the Resolution was ratified. Erm." He was showing on the camera now, leaning in to speak. "It was just what was allowed. That is what, er, the Resolution said he could, well, see."

Near glanced at Rester, who minimalized his browser to access the documents. Within a couple of clicks, the Wammy's House Resolution was displayed on the screen for Near to scrutinise. "What did Luigi send to Fenian?"

"Erm." Luigi's voice shook. "His hard-copy of the Resolution, as, er, we all have got. The, erm, form that Hal had, well, already prepared, for Fenian to, er, dissociate himself from Watari. Yes." There was the sharp thud of an egg shell smashing on a table stop. Luigi rolled it. The shell cracked all of the way around. "And his details."

Near's eyes darted from article to article, mentally ticking the items off. He frowned. "What are the details?" He could hear Luigi floundering. "Which article allowed these details?"

"Twelve!" The word burst out of Luigi like it could save his life.

"Luigi has nothing to fear, if the rules of the Resolution were followed. There is no reason for Luigi to be nervous."

In the background, Linda murmured, "Agreed."

Near read the article. 'All records and archived materials relating to each child must be kept in a secure location. At 18 years of age, and thereon, each child has the right to access these items; ask for further information; seek support in i) issues arising; and ii) detection in seeking or verifying further information from external sources.' He re-read it. "Did Luigi send everything on record or in the archives regarding Fenian? Copies or originals?"

"C-copies." Luigi stammered. "Most of it was, er, on the computer anyway. I, um, printed it out. Photocopies were made, as it were, from hard-copy, er, materials."

Linda asked, gently, "He's not broken any rules, has he?"

Near frowned. "It does not matter. It was foolish of us to not ask for a Secrecy Agreement, but there is nothing in the archives that can't be faked. Details of where we came from, which we all know for ourselves; school grades; medical history. It would be easy to make up any of those things and produce it as fact. He can say that this is him and this is a record of his life at Wammy's House, but he cannot prove that. A child, in Word, could invent this." His eyes flickered down to the next article, which did require a Secrecy Agreement in order to leave the system. "Luigi sent Fenian a Secrecy Agreement."

"Yes, er, y-yes I did. It was stapled to the, um, form that Hal had, er, prepared."

Linda spoke kindly, "It's fine, Luigi. Just relax. You haven't done anything wrong."

Near kept on staring at the Resolution. Something was bothering him and he didn't know what. Once he had read through the whole thing three times, he discounted any irregularity in the terms described. He determined that there might be some typo or missing punctuation or some mixture of words and phrases that was triggering his Asperger's Syndrome. He read the whole document frontwards and backwards, quickly, five times in succession, and still did not see it. He spoke up. "It was envisaged that access to records be in Hal's office, with Hal supervising. The first access was through the post. It is not an unlikely scenario. That could have been discussed."

"What's done now is done." Linda intoned, in a sing-song voice. "He can't really use it to prove anything, unless they break into Wammy's House and compare handwriting or style against the archives of the other children. Or match it against his own original copies in there. Still that proves nothing. He could have hacked the system and stolen that information. We could have him for identity theft and attempting to impersonate a Letter." She laughed.

Luigi appeared to calm somewhat, as he placed his own Resolution copy down on the table. Near saw the corner of it poking out of the bottom left hand corner of the screen. His finger stilled on a loop of hair, then twisted faster and faster, until he suddenly darted across the room and crashed through an in-tray. Papers flew in a shower about him. Classified documents; hand-written originals; anything that could not be trusted to cyberspace. He found his own copy of the Resolution and tore it out of its clear plastic photo-frame. This was different to that on the screen. This one had their signatures along the bottom and the Wammy's House for Gifted and Talented Children crest at the top. They had never had a crest before. The children had designed one, which Linda drew, especially for this.

Near returned to the corner of the room and sat beside the doll's house, with one leg curled under him. He rested his chin on his knee, pulled right up into his chest. Now when he looked at the Resolution on the screen, certain lines jumped out at him, darker, more bold than those around them. Linda was chattering away through the speakers, but it was only about Irish artwork and monks, so he could afford to fade her out. Near's mind raced through scenarios until, with a mental fanfare, he found one that fit, then he raised his hard-copy Resolution into view and slotted in the final piece of the puzzle. "Ah."

"Did you say something, Near?" Linda asked, brightly. Near triple-checked and he was sure. "I'm sorry, Near. I'm talking on and on and you're a busy man. Want us to say goodnight and let you go?"

"Linda. Luigi." Near slumped until he could peer into the windows of his doll's house. "Follow a scenario with me, using the Resolution. You are a child, a toddler, when you are brought to the Institution. When you are 18, you wish to learn who you are, because you do not know. What could you do?"

Luigi pointed to the paper and Linda said aloud, "Article twelve." She shrugged. "But that's not specific to toddlers. We can all do that. But we've already discounted it. It can't be used as evidence."

Near plucked the puppet of Matt from the toy set of Near's HQ and placed him in the warden's office at Wammy's House. "I agree that it cannot be used as evidence. Not on its own. But our scenario is an eighteen year old trained detective. He has read the information. Also being eighteen, it is likely that he will invoke his rights under article 7. He may leave the Institution armed with the information about his origins." Near used his fingertips to fly the Matt puppet in a trajectory to the floor. "He flies to his home country and he seeks out those people who might remember him, or his parents, or the events that orphaned him."

Luigi breathed, "Collecting hard evidence."

"Eventually he may have enough to say that this happened. It is likely that he can prove, from eye-witness statements, that a child like this did exist and no longer appears in the record. At the most, he is asking witnesses to recall 18 years ago. It is unlikely that a baby would enter the Wammy's House. It is very possible that he is asking them to remember just a few years. Less than a decade." Near brought the Matt puppet to eye-level. "However, this person cannot easily prove that they are that child missing from the record. Not easy, but not impossible. The state ombudsman would hold records detailing the inheritance of the orphan. The financial settlement, guaranteed in article 23, makes it the responsibility of the Institution to hold that inheritance in trust, then return it at eighteen. The inventory of one may be compared with the inventory of the other." Near scowled. "That is not how I would do it. Article 12 told me who my parents were and where they died. If they were buried, is it not a simple matter to dig them up and to take a DNA sample? Or, if they were murdered, their DNA could already be stored on a database. A match proves that I am the child that existed, then disappeared from the record."

"Near." Linda interjected. "It doesn't matter. Look at article 13. No country will risk losing the assistance of L. And anyway, who would think like that? Wammy's House is the best thing that ever happened to me."

Near waited. Luigi gulped, "No." He pointed, drawing invisible lines under sentences with his chewed fingernail.

Linda sighed, "Ok, so the nation would only get excommunicated if they use the repatriation of their individual to protest their citizen's right. It's not a blanket threat." She frowned. "But it is, because official or not, you're not going to look too kindly on any nation trying to sue you." She scrutinized all of the articles. "Besides there's still a missing link. This person can say what he or she likes, but who is to say that they were ever at Wammy's House?"

Near brought his Matt puppet right up to the Resolution. "You have in your hand the Resolution, Linda."

"Yes."

"You have in your hand the signed confession, Linda."

"Oh shit."

Near propped Matt and the Resolution both on the roof of his toy Wammy's House. "The signed confession, which gives right of access to all of the evidence leads; and right of passage into the outside world. This gift is awarded to those who have just been trained in all the skills that they need to use them."

Luigi stammered, "W-why are there no, erm, Secrecy Agreements at any of the, um, steps along this way?"

Near turned his head to glare at his Chrissie doll, which was an orange haired troll, pressed into service. "Chrissie made the case that those refusing to sign the agreements would have to be denied the ability to leave Wammy's House as an adult. She stated that would lead to unlawful imprisonment."

"She went on for days." Linda sighed. "If I'm honest, I agreed just to finally shut her up." Neither man commented. "Are we saying that Chrissie is in cahoots with Fenian here? Creating the circumstances for Fenian to..." Linda frowned. "No, it still makes no sense. Fenian was fine with the rest of us being detectives. He doesn't hate what we do. He hates that he was part of it, when he wanted to be an Irish pot-holer."

"Doesn't matter." Near sank back down to look into Wammy's House's windows. "Didn't matter when or who. It was there ready and waiting for someone to notice and do it. Only those in a position to notice the sequence of events, in order, would notice. It was likely, but not inevitable, that it would be Fenian. Fenian always said that he was leaving. It could be any one of the fifth generation, or the sixth. Only then would we know and we would trace it to the source. The person who suggested this. The person who devised the format of the Resolution by writing the first draft. The person who wrote article 12." Near swept Matt from the roof of Wammy's House and dropped him back into his HQ prison cell. "Matt!"

"I don't suppose," Linda ventured, "that it could all just be one big coincidence?"

"No." Near snapped. "Matt told me outright, on the day he accepted the position of Watari, that he had made his plans for that moment. I thought he meant in creating the Resolution." He held the document up to his face. "And I was right. Matt did this."

Linda gasped. "He planted the seed right at the beginning of the very first meeting. He suggested that any one of us had a case for taking this to the High Commission of Human Rights in Geneva. He even had us look through to see what we'd prosecute Wammy's House on, in our own individual cases."

"Yes." Luigi had his head in his hands. He could just be seen on the edge of the screen. "And I said he could not be bothered to do it for himself. He must have been laughing. He must have been laughing so much. He said it was to get back at, um, Roger. He said it at the, er, time of these meetings. Outside. I, well, mentor a couple of, erm, students in sciences. Matt said it in front of them. They told me."

Linda sighed, "Well, Roger's gone now. It can't hurt him."

"Y-Yes." Luigi shook. "Yes, y-es it can. We all chipped in to write this. It will look to Roger like every one of his prodigies signed their name to this. That, erm, everyone hates him."

"No it won't." Near stated, matter-of-factly. "We will just tell him that it was Matt alone. Then he will know." He caught Rester's glance towards him, with information waiting on the screen behind. "I have to go now. Goodnight."