by Matt James
THE ROOSEVELT CONSPIRACY
(The Jack Reilly Adventures - Book 2)
By Matt James
www.severedpress.com
Copyright 2020 by Matt James
ALSO BY MATT JAMES
THE JACK REILLY ADVENTURES
The Forgotten Fortune
The Roosevelt Conspiracy
The Dorado Deception (Coming Soon)
STAND-ALONE NOVELS
The Dragon
Dark Island
Sub-Zero
Cradle of Death
THE BONES BONEBRAKE ADVENTURES with David Wood
Skin and Bones
Lost City
THE DANE MADDOCK ADVENTURES with David Wood
Berserk
THE DEAD MOON POST-APOCALYPTIC THRILLERS
Nightmares are Born
Home Sweet Hell
Song of Sorrow
In Memoriam
THE DEAD MOON SHORT STORIES
Nightmare at the Museum
Scared to Death
THE HANK BOYD ADVENTURES
Blood and Sand
Mayan Darkness
Babel Found
Elixir of Life
OTHER TITLES
Plague
Evolve
The Cursed Pharaoh
Broken Glass
PRAISE FOR MATT JAMES
"Matt James is my go-to guy for heart-stopping adventure and bone-chilling suspense!"
—Greig Beck, international bestselling author of BENEATH THE DARK ICE
“Matt James is electrifying!”
—Rick Chesler, international bestselling author of ATLANTIS GOLD
“Matt’s novels need a pause button. They do not stop!”
—Lee Murray, award-winning author of INTO THE MIST
“A talent voice in the action-thriller genre!”
—Richard Bard, Wall Street Journal bestselling author of BRAINRUSH
“If you like thrills, chills, and nonstop action, then Matt James may just be your next favorite author!"
—John Sneeden, bestselling author of THE SIGNAL
“Matt James has cemented his place among the finest talents!”
—SUSPENSE MAGAZINE
“Matt James has proven that true adventure is found in the fine line between myth and reality. James walks that tightrope with a master's touch.”
—J.M. LeDuc, bestselling author of SIN
“Matt James is definitely an author to watch!”
—David McAfee, bestselling author of 33 A.D
For “Caca”
My family would be lost without you.
THE ROOSEVELT CONSPIRACY
The Jack Reilly Adventures - Book 2
By Matt James
PROLOGUE
Crook County, Wyoming
19o4
The pressures of being the President of the United States was causing Theodore Roosevelt to second-guess his hunger for election. Technically, it was going to be his first campaign for the presidency. He had initially been elected as William McKinley’s Vice President in 1900. The president had been assassinated a year after winning his reelection, and the White House had been handed over to Roosevelt—just like that.
Physically fit at the age of forty-six, Roosevelt still felt rundown. You would never know it, though. The people—the voters—expected a certain level of gusto from him. He heartily gave it to them too. But he also struggled within. He had been so stressed that he decided to take a secret retreat into the woods—something only a handful of his cabinet members knew about. If Roosevelt did step away from a very public, scrutinous political landscape, he already knew what he wanted to do. He would return to his first love: traveling the world and learning about its history.
Before entering politics, Roosevelt had immersed himself in the past. He vigorously wrote about it too. The president had been a successful author earlier in his life. He planned on writing about his experiences here in the wilds of Wyoming. His focus would be on the up-close exploration of what the local Native Americans called Bear Lodge. The tree stump-shaped rock formation was more wildly known as Devils Tower. It had been misnamed during an expedition led by Colonel Richard Irving Dodge in 1875 because of an error in interpretation.
“This is anything but devilish,” Roosevelt said, staring up at the summit high overhead. “It truly is a wondrous sight.”
“No, this place is not the devil.”
Roosevelt glanced over to his partner. The local was of Lakota blood and knew the woods like the back of his hand. Mahkah’s English was exceptional, considering he had only learned the language a few years ago. A little of it had been taught to Mahkah by Roosevelt himself. Small, English-speaking settlements had sprung up across Wyoming over the last decade due to continued westward expansion. Instead of fighting the inbound families, Mahkah embraced their presence. He was a trustworthy guide, and as Roosevelt had learned over the last few years, a better friend. It was a relationship he had enjoyed over the previous six years.
He respected the Lakotan more than most. Like Roosevelt, Mahkah, whose name translated to “Earth,” loved the land. Nature conservation was something the president was passionate about. He was going to center his campaign around it. He also wanted to protect the people. In his heart, Roosevelt believed that everyone who graced the planet’s soil with their feet was special and worth defending—and not just white Americans. He intended to illustrate that in his next book.
Notepad in hand, Roosevelt roamed the grounds surrounding Bear Lodge with Mahkah never too far away. Jotting down descriptions of everything he saw while he was hiking was dangerous, and if he was forced to admit it, a bit foolish. Twice did he trip and fall—and twice did Mahkah chuckle at his expense. But his friend was there to pick him up both times. To Mahkah, the President of the United States was just “Teddy.”
“You must watch your step,” Mahkah warned.
Roosevelt dusted himself off and laughed. “It’s a little late for that, but thank you for the warning, nevertheless.”
As day turned to night, the two men set up camp near the base of a thirty-foot-tall cliff face. The president took it upon himself to prepare dinner for him and his friend. Gone were the formalities of being the most powerful man in America. Here, Roosevelt was just another man. And he loved that!
“I’m not sure what to do next, Mahkah.”
“What do you mean?”
Roosevelt sighed. “I mean, I’m not sure what to do with the next part of my journey here on Earth.”
Mahkah smiled and placed his hand on his chest. “Yes, ‘Earth.’”
The president rolled his eyes. At first, he didn’t know if Mahkah had understood him. But from across the firelight, he saw Mahkah’s eyes. They were locked in on him—intense. Mahkah knew precisely what Roosevelt had meant. The Lakotan knew everything about Roosevelt, even his plans to introduce what he would call a “National Park.”
Mahkah loved the idea of putting laws into place to protect nature. He had already started lobbying for Bear Lodge and the lands that encompassed it to be the first. Roosevelt indicated he would take it under advisement, though, other than the beautiful view, he had no idea what else the area had to offer. The first National Monument needed to be of a grand scale. The decision was at the heart of his campaign and his victory would depend on it, if he, indeed, ran for president.
Mahkah stood. “Come. I show you something.”
Roosevelt stood and circled around the small fire. Together, they stepped closer to the cliff and paused. It was much darker here—away from the warm flames. Roosevelt looked down and couldn’t see past his kneecaps. The moon provided the only illumination. He looked up at it.
“Good,” Mahkah sai
d. “Now, close your eyes, and speak to the wind. Ask the gods to see it.”
Roosevelt returned his attention to his friend. “Ask them to see what?”
Mahkah grinned but stayed silent.
Trusting his cohort, Roosevelt played along and shut his eyes. He prayed to his God—that He would give him strength and show him the way. The president felt Mahkah slip a sack over his head. Whatever was about to be revealed, he wouldn’t be allowed to see the route. Roosevelt knew the locals were superstitious when it came to their belief systems.
He was directed away and marched onward for half an hour.
“Stop,” Mahkah whispered.
“What is it?”
“Bear.”
Roosevelt tried to tear the sack off his head but was stopped.
“No, you must not.”
“But—” he tried to argue.
“It is a test from the gods,” Mahkah explained, unafraid. “The wind—it warns us not to harm a bear on this sacred earth.”
Roosevelt heard the creature huff and moan. It was getting closer.
“Mahkah?”
The native gripped his shoulder. “Yes, now we can run.”
With his vision compromised, Roosevelt ran like an Olympic sprinter. He was pulled along by his friend, surprised that he didn’t fall at all. His other senses were in overdrive, guiding him along. They skidded to a stop, and Roosevelt was given a choice.
“Jump or fight.”
“Jump?” Roosevelt asked. He had no idea what he was about to leap into—or from.
Neither man had a rifle on him. Roosevelt had left his back by the campfire. If they stood their ground, they would be torn to ribbons by what Roosevelt supposed was a Grizzly.
“Is this still a test?” he asked, reaching up for the sack.
“Yes.”
Against his better judgment, Roosevelt lowered his hand.
“Okay. We jump.”
Together, the pair leapt. They fell for much longer than Roosevelt anticipated. For a moment, he thought they were going to fall forever. The ground appeared beneath them and slowly leveled off, turning into a slide of sorts. The two men clung to one another and tumbled to a stop. Breathing hard, Roosevelt stood and tore the sack away, none-too-happy with Mahkah. He was about to scold the man for nearly killing the President of the United States, but he didn’t. Roosevelt could’ve simply not followed Mahkah’s directions. His adventurous side had gotten the better of him, and it nearly cost him his life. Plus, Roosevelt couldn’t see the Lakotan. He didn’t even hear him.
“Mahkah?”
A light ignited behind him. Roosevelt spun and drew his knife. It was the only weapon he had on him. But there was nothing to fear. Mahkah had only lit a torch.
“What are you—”
“Very dark. Come.” Mahkah turned and moved off.
The pair came to a set of steps. Roosevelt had no idea what to think. He was somewhere beneath the earth, descending an ancient stone staircase. In the dim torchlight, Roosevelt could just barely make out the steps and was surprised to see how weathered they were. This place was old—old enough for the stone to have worn down.
Mahkah said he was leading him to the underworld. Roosevelt was an intelligent man. He didn’t believe that heaven and hell were physical locations.
But this place was.
The steps leveled off into what Roosevelt knew was a yawning space. Even without seeing it, he could feel its scope. Caves were prevalent in the area. It wouldn’t surprise him, in the least, if a cavern had been interpreted as the Lakotan underworld.
“We are here,” Mahkah announced.
“Where?” Roosevelt asked, looking around. He couldn’t see much of anything beyond Mahkah’s light.
Mahkah peered over his shoulder and smiled. “Here.”
He tossed the torch into a pit. The large, perfectly cut circular dugout instantly erupted into a fireball. Within the raging blaze, Roosevelt was astonished by what he saw. “Unbelievable…” He spun in a full circle, his mind in overdrive. He couldn’t dissect it. He had no idea how it had been built. In the dancing firelight, Roosevelt wrote down everything he saw—as well as everything he was thinking. And as he always did, he signed the bottom of every page. It was a security measure of his. There would be no mistaking who had owned this notebook.
“How?”
“We do not know,” Mahkah explained, “but this is why you must protect this land. You must promise me this.”
Roosevelt nodded. He knew what he had to do. He closed his notepad. Its contents were priceless to him. It contained everything he needed to write his new book. But Mahkah’s request was more important. With a heavy heart, the president tossed the papers into the inferno. No one must know what he had found.
He met Mahkah’s gaze. “I promise you. I will protect this land.”
Cascade, Wyoming
Present Day
A bang at the door pulled Nina away from her thoughts. She had been cleaning out her grandfather’s home for the last week. It was plain to see that he wasn’t coming home again. His physical condition had deteriorated to a point where he needed assistance in nearly all aspects of life. As his power of attorney, Nina had decided to sell his place to pay for the medical bills that had piled up on her kitchen table.
She opened the front door and smiled at the young man standing on the other side of the creaky threshold. Chatan “Hawk” Durham was the kindest person she had ever met. He never once complained about her love of the nightlife, nor did he ever expect her to change. Still, even after she had stood him up on several occasions—even going as far as cheating on him—Hawk had come to help when no one else did. He had been the only one of her coworkers or friends to offer. The latter was in short supply. It didn't hurt that they had started sleeping together again. She supposed their current relationship had become more serious than she had intended. This time, they had been together, without interruption, for six months. Nina liked him a lot, but she had a long way to go to fully trust anyone ever again after what his father had done to her when she was a teenager.
“Hey,” Hawk said, startling her. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged and blinked hard. “Fine, why? He’s not dead, Hawk.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped in. Nina threw herself into his arms, and they kissed. She playfully pulled his ponytail, and he bit her lip. Hawk and Nina were an interesting pair. He was of local Lakotan blood. Nina’s ancestors were one of the first white families to settle in northern Wyoming over a hundred years ago. Her great-grandfather had been Cascade’s first mayor.
“Wow,” Hawk said, looking around, hands on his hips, “you’ve done a lot.”
Nina raised a closed fist. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
He grinned and rubbed the upper half of her fully tattooed left arm. “It means you can be incredibly lazy sometimes.”
She halfheartedly swung at him. Hawk allowed her fist to connect with his cheek. For a split second, Nina thought she had hurt him. Hawk couldn’t hold back his smile, though. It sent Nina into a spiral of cursing.
She calmed and stretched her lower back. “Give me a hand with the area rug, will ya?”
Hawk eyed her bare stomach. Between that and her deep, plunging neckline, it was becoming harder and harder to focus on the task at hand. The pair entered the quaint living room and removed the heavy coffee table. They went about rolling up the rank shag carpet next. Hawk tripped on a warped floorboard, and the two went down hard. Nina landed directly on top of him with a groan and a whimper.
“Ow.”
She brushed away a strand of his hair from his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded but winced. “Landed on my keys.”
They sat up and noticed that the floorboard had come loose. Hawk reached for it and was shocked to find that it had come all the way up.
“Oops.”
“Shit, Hawk! Come on, man! I can’t afford to fix the floor.”
; They kneeled around the board and tried to fit it back into place.
“Hang on,” Hawk said, pointing at something beneath the floor. “What’s that?”
Faces squished together, he and Nina leaned over the hole in the floor. A flat metal box was staring back up at them. It was locked. Though, the padlock was small and could be cut without much effort. Hawk retrieved the box and laid it on the floor between them.
“Hang on…” Nina jammed her hand into the pocket of her skinny jeans and removed a keyring. “I always wondered what this thing was for.” She held up a single, small, brass key. Besides the house key, it was the only other one left on the ring. They had sold her grandfather’s car two summers ago.
They both smiled when it fit perfectly into the padlock.
Nina turned the key.
It popped open, and Hawk went about removing it from the box. Like a kid on his birthday, he lifted the lid with anticipation. Both he and Nina were surprised by what they saw.
“An envelope?” Nina frowned. “I was kinda hoping it was cash.”
“Still could be,” Hawk said.
Hawk procured the yellowed envelope and glanced up at Nina. He could tell she wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in the unearthing. But Hawk was. He loved stuff like this. It was all thanks to his uncle, Tatanka. He had helped raise Hawk from a young age and had taught him to respect history and nature. They would camp for days at a time and hike for hours in between.
He pulled a small knife free from his back pocket, carefully cut open the envelope, and removed a folded, slightly charred piece of paper. This discovery had survived a fire in the past. With nothing else to go on, Hawk prudently opened the paper and attempted to read it. Unfortunately, most of the words were either smudged or missing altogether. The fire damage was not just limited to the outer edges of the page. There were holes throughout its body too.
“It’s a letter,” he said, “or a note.”
“Can you read anything?”
“Not much,” he replied. “Here,” he pointed to a line, “I think this says, ‘a wealth of a nation.’”
“‘Wealth?’” Nina asked, scooting closer. “You mean, like, money?”
