The Shut Mouth Society (The Best Thrillers Book 1)

by Unknown

  When Baldwin returned from the single bedroom, she held aloft a brick-size stack of currency. “Money’s not a problem.”

  “Trish, what did your father tell you about this place?”

  “He brought me here when I was seventeen and said I should use it only in an emergency. That I should think of it as my haven in case of trouble.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.” She looked embarrassed. “I didn’t ask questions. I assumed he used it to cheat on my mother. I thought it weird that he took his teenage daughter to see his lair.”

  “Did he show you where he hid that money?”

  “He showed me the floor safe and said one of the keys would open it. He didn’t show or tell me about the contents.”

  “What else did you find in the safe?”

  “Foreign currency, unsigned traveler checks, and this.” She pulled out a .45 automatic she had tucked behind her in the waistband of her shorts.

  Evarts ran his fingers through his hair. “Trish, he didn’t use this apartment for illicit rendezvous. In the intelligence business, we call this a safe house: secure, off the beaten track, hidden ownership, and provisioned for emergencies.”

  Baldwin looked miserable. “My parents belonged to the Shut Mouth Society, didn’t they?”

  “I’m afraid everything points in that direction. S&M League is a bit too much of a coincidence.”

  “A lot of my rebellion had to do with things like this. Hidden apartments, trusts inside trusts, secretive absences, special phones, and an elitist attitude that our family had a responsibility to take care of the people too ignorant to understand the real world. I didn’t understand it, but as I grew older, I eventually came to believe that my parents were basically good people.” She held up the money in one hand and the .45 in the other. “Despite this, they couldn’t have been members of a secret society that kills people.”

  “All secret societies have layers, and each layer keeps secrets from those outside the inner echelons. It’s possible that the Shut Mouth Society is relatively benign, but that a rogue clique wants to take over or possibly stop it from going public.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel better about my parents’ involvement in this?”

  “I’m just saying we know too little to jump to conclusions. The good news is that your father prepared a safe place for us, so we can relax for the first time since this started. Right now, I’m hungry, tired, and filthy. Let’s start our research in the morning.”

  She looked around, and her voice sounded weary when she spoke. “First things first. Let’s get these covers off the furniture, make the bed, and buy a few staples at the grocery store.”

  Evarts thought she looked forlorn. “Yeah, it’s been a tough day. I’m sorry.”

  She walked over to a couch and flung the cover off. “It’s been a series of tough days.” She suddenly began to cry and used the cover to hide her face. As she collapsed onto the couch with her head in her lap, Evarts heard her muffled plaint. “When will this end?”

  His sympathies went out to her, but he had a different question on his mind: How would this end?

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, they got up late and had cereal and bananas for breakfast. Baldwin suggested that they dress more formally so they wouldn’t look out of place at the Athenaeum. Evarts put on the khaki pants and black polo shirt that he had worn into the office to see the chief, and Baldwin dressed in the same outfit she had worn to dinner at the Douglass home.

  The regular bed and the sudden feeling of safety allowed them a sound night of sleep. They had finished their chores the previous evening and then devoured a takeaway pizza in less than ten minutes. When they hit the bed, both instantly fell asleep.

  Baldwin placed her bowl in the sink and looked at her watch. “Let’s walk to the Athenaeum. I’m anxious to get started.”

  Evarts thought she sounded distracted. He wanted to get started but worried about her frame of mind. “We can wait a day, if you want.”

  “No, I need to keep my mind busy.”

  They walked up Pinckney Street into the Beacon Hill neighborhood and then headed right on Joy Street until they got to Beacon Street. She pointed left. “It’s only a couple blocks this way.”

  The ten-minute walk fascinated Evarts. Beacon Hill looked like something Disney would build to give the illusion of a quaint district in a distant part of the world, except here the brick sidewalks and gas lanterns were real and older than almost anything in Southern California. Of course, Disney’s sidewalks would be laid with precision so visitors wouldn’t stumble. These brick paths undulated and required a bit of attention to keep your footing. Evarts could tell nothing from the face of the townhouses that rose anonymously right next to the narrow sidewalk, but Baldwin explained that they were all expensively furnished with antiques and artworks normally associated with museums. When she mentioned that an intact townhouse in this neighborhood could command fifteen million dollars, he thought about the Douglass estate that cost half as much and offered a panoramic view of the California coastline. Evarts couldn’t understand rich city dwellers who chose to cramp themselves into outrageously priced tight quarters with only a view of their neighbor’s window.

  “Do you have the list of law books?” Evarts asked.

  “In my briefcase,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  Evarts thought her tone distant, but he dismissed it as a product of her grief. Maybe she was right about getting her mind busy on something else. “While I work on the code, I thought you might start with William Maxwell Evarts,” he said.

  “Why him?”

  “Douglass said the family didn’t form a secret society until after the Civil War. Evarts lived in that period.”

  “So did others.” Her tone had gone from matter of fact to testy.

  “You said he defended President Johnson during the impeachment hearings. The three seminal events around that time were the Civil War, Lincoln’s assassination, and the Johnson impeachment. One of those events probably drove the family underground as the Shut Mouth Society. I think the impeachment might hold the key.” Evarts walked a few more steps before adding, “On the other hand, perhaps the impeachment interests me because I know the least about it.”

  “I’ve got to start somewhere, so William Evarts is as good a place as any.” Baldwin had returned to her matter-of-fact tone. “The impeachment was a political power play, and this whole affair seems connected with politics.”

  When Evarts got sight of the Athenaeum, he thought it looked more like a sturdy old bank than a library. The gray stone building, adorned with faux Federalist columns and arches, gave the impression of a structure designed to protect something of enormous value. Even in its day, it must have been exceptionally expensive to construct. Evarts appreciated the value of knowledge, but in the age of the Internet, it seemed like an antiquarian idea to elaborately house paper-based books in such an edifice. On second thought, maybe in the not too distant future, books would find a secure home only in a museum.

  Baldwin stopped Evarts on the steps of the Athenaeum. “Let me explain the access procedure. I’ll have to give the guard my real name and show ID, but I don’t have to sign in. Don’t worry. These guards are only interested in getting back to the baseball game or whatever else they’re listening to in their earpiece. Visitors do sign in, but they don’t show ID, so use whatever name you like.”

  “Why haven’t you told me this until now?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have come here.” She pointed toward the Athenaeum. “The answers to our questions lie inside that building. No one knows we’re in Boston, and no one knows I’m a member.”

  Evarts took a deep breath. “Okay, on one condition. If I signal to leave, you don’t hesitate a second.”

  “Agreed, Commander.” She used the same disdainful inflection as she had on the day he first met her.

  Evarts wanted to ask her if she had a problem with him, but she marched up the steps an
d into the building. He had no choice but to scurry after her.

  The interior of the building didn’t disappoint. A chest-high dark wood counter curved around from the entrance to a reception counter. An oriental rug muffled footsteps, and huge original oil paintings adorned the walls. Glass doors separated a beautifully decorated reading room to the left, and Evarts could see an elegant room ahead with rows of bookshelves. He felt relief when he saw the man behind the counter. He looked like an indifferent rent-a-cop.

  “Patricia Baldwin, life member.”

  He barely gave her a glance before checking his computer screen. “ID.”

  She showed him her driver’s license, and he waved them in without asking about Evarts. Definitely a rent-a-cop.

  As soon as they entered the library, Baldwin turned and walked through a narrow hall until she reached a tiny elevator door. She pushed the call button.

  “Where are we going?” Evarts asked.

  “Upstairs to the law stacks. We’ll get a private research room so we can talk.”

  On the third floor, Baldwin went directly to a small room furnished in Federalist antiques or excellent reproductions. As she entered, she flipped a plaque mounted next to the door so it read “occupied.” She immediately opened her briefcase and spread out her papers and laptop on a small table. “Welcome to the Athenaeum.”

  “You seem pretty familiar with a place you said you hadn’t used.”

  “I said I hadn’t used it in years. I did some of my doctoral research in this very room.”

  The small room had two easy chairs along with a worktable and original oil paintings. The atmosphere had been carefully crafted to look refined and soothing.

  Without preamble, she handed him the list of law books. “I think you should get to work.”

  Over the next three hours, Evarts tried seven law books without success. After finishing with one, he would leave the room to replace the book in the stacks and get the next book on her list. Baldwin, on the other hand, pulled several dozen books into the reading room and stacked them on the floor until it was hard to move around.

  Evarts needed a break, so he flopped into one of the easy chairs. “When I visited your office, you kept everything neat.”

  She didn’t look up from the book she was reading. “I am neat. I know what’s in every stack.”

  “Find anything?”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “Have you finished the list?”

  “No. I need to rest my eyes … and I’m hungry.”

  “Later. I want to finish this.”

  Evarts looked at her stacks of books. “That could take days.”

  She reached down to one of her stacks and threw him a book. “Look up William Evarts in the index.”

  He did. What he found made his hunch seem plausible. William Evarts was Roger Sherman’s grandson. He graduated from Yale, where he joined Skull and Bones. He got his law degree from Harvard. He was U.S. District Attorney in New York and led the New York delegation to the 1860 Republican National Convention. President Lincoln sent him on two secret diplomatic missions to Great Britain in 1863 and 1864. He served as attorney general under President Johnson and acted as chief council in the Johnson impeachment hearings. President Hayes appointed him secretary of state, and he later served in the U.S. Senate.

  Evarts looked up to find Baldwin buried in two books. “What do you make of this? It looks like he had the trust of at least three presidents.”

  She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “That’s encyclopedia stuff, surface history. We’ve got to get deeper. Did he influence Lincoln’s nomination at the convention? What instructions did Lincoln give him for the Great Britain missions? What cases did he pursue as attorney general? Right now, I’m checking the Skull and Bones connection, and it looks promising. So far, I’ve identified eight Sherman family members that belonged to the Order of Skull and Bones at Yale.” She looked up and caught Evarts’s eye. “You were in army intelligence. What do you know about the connections between Skull and Bones and the CIA?”

  “Nothing. What do you mean?”

  “There’s been a supposed connection between Yale and intelligence ever since Nathan Hale spied for George Washington. Hale and three other Yale graduates made up the Culper Ring, America’s first intelligence operation. Since then, Yale and spying have gone hand in hand. William H. Russell founded Skull and Bones at Yale in 1832, and ever since then, the secret society has been intertwined with our country’s intelligence operations.”

  “Why do you say a supposed connection?”

  “Because secret societies and intelligence organizations don’t publish minutes of their meetings. It’s all speculation.”

  “Well, it may surprise you to hear this, but army intelligence and the CIA don’t get along.”

  “You must have heard scuttlebutt,” Baldwin insisted.

  “It’s common knowledge that the CIA recruits at Yale, and it makes sense that they would prefer people who have already shown an affinity for secret societies. Where do you think this leads us?”

  “The Shut Mouth Society might be connected to either the CIA or Skull and Bones or both.”

  “Too Hollywood. I think Skull and Bones is a clique of sophomoric snobs who get a kick out of playing stupid games. They like to pretend they’re going to rule the world.”

  “Many of them do rule the world. They’re notorious for helping each other out in their careers.”

  “As do all fraternity brothers. I don’t think we ought to jump to conclusions. Let’s follow the facts we know.”

  “Which are?”

  “The Shut Mouth Society was a loose family alliance until Booth assassinated Lincoln; then they turned into a clandestine society. The Society’s founding family has wielded enormous political power, and we think we’ve identified that family as the Sherman progeny. They have Lincoln documents in their possession, including some encrypted messages. And most important, somebody is killing people to keep something secret.”

  “What about the eight Sherman family members who joined Skull and Bones?” Baldwin countered.

  “If you go to Yale and you’re from a prominent family and you’re not a total loser, then you’ll likely get invited to join the most exclusive fraternity on campus.”

  “Is that an army intelligence officer talking or a descendant of William Evarts?”

  Evarts felt annoyed. “I’m not interested in my ancestors. I just don’t want to waste time following false leads. An inner CIA conspiracy sounds like a bad movie script. I ran into a bunch of those people, and most of them can’t find their way to the toilet without written directions.”

  “Now you are talking like an army intelligence officer.”

  “Touché.” Evarts thought a minute. “Listen, let’s get something to eat. I can’t concentrate with only a bowl of cereal. Afterwards you can pursue the Skull and Bones connection, and I’ll get cracking on the code again. It wouldn’t have been given to us unless it held the key to unraveling this mystery.” Evarts stopped. After a moment he said, “Damn it, I’m getting slow. Somebody gave us those documents, which means that someone is trying to help us. They may have drawn us into a dangerous game, but they gave us clues.”

  “So?”

  “That means good people are out there somewhere. I’ve been focused on identifying the bad guys, but we should also be looking for our allies. We’re going to need all the help we can get, especially if your theory about Skull and Bones proves correct.”

  “How do you propose we find these so-called good guys?”

  Evarts smiled. “That’s easy. Follow your parents.”

  Chapter 21

  Since they had plenty of money, Baldwin suggested the Federalist Restaurant almost directly across the street from the Athenaeum. The high-end establishment catered to lobbyists trying to schmooze state legislators, so the establishment arranged the tables far apart and used partitions between some for additional privacy. The décor surprised Evarts. The
restaurant name and the Athenaeum led him to expect an Early American interior, not a contemporary style using a gray and brown muted color scheme.

  Once they had a table, Evarts excused himself and found a pay phone to call Lieutenant Clark. One o’clock in Boston would be ten o’clock in California. Evarts didn’t like making these calls, so he hoped Clark had an answer by now.

  He returned from the phone and slid into his chair. “The New Canaan police haven’t closed your parents’ case because her purse contained no wallet or keys. For the time being, they assume someone came along afterwards and stole them from the wreckage.”

  “But we know different, don’t we?” She looked ready to cry again, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Sorry. Part of the reason I didn’t want to leave the library was because the research distracted me.”

  “I know, but you have to eat … and you’re right. They took her keys and ID so they could search the apartment.”

  “They won’t get past the doorman. That’s a tough building. Even if you arrive in a ConEd truck wearing all the appropriate gear, they won’t let you upstairs unless you’re on the day-list, keys or no keys. Firemen might gain access … but there better be smoke.” Then Baldwin’s voice suddenly faltered. “Oh shit, cops. They could get in, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “How will they do it?” she asked.

  “Pretend to be New Canaan police and tell the doorman they’re investigating the death of a couple from the building. Probably show a forged search warrant. Search warrants aren’t hard to pull off because most people have never seen one.” He started to reach for her hand but held back. “Trish, they’ve probably already gained access and searched the apartment. Nothing to be done now.” This time, Evarts did reach over and cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry.”