by Bob Mayer
Her head swiveled back and forth as a half-dozen figures in camouflage, holding M-14 rifles, stepped out of the surrounding trees.
“Mine’s bigger,” Ducharme said. “This is Army turf.”
The Surgeon remained still.
He took a step closer. “Un-cuff Tolliver.”
The Surgeon gestured and one of her men did so.
“Now,” Ducharme spoke slowly, sensing the Surgeon was on the edge. “Give the rod and disks to Tolliver.”
The Surgeon took a step toward Ducharme, hand still inside her cloak. He brought the muzzle of his weapon up. “I will put a round straight through your eyeball and blow your fucking brains all over the inside of that hood.”
She stopped, breathing hard, practically hyperventilating.
“The disks and rod to Tolliver,” Ducharme ordered.
The Surgeon’s other hand moved and from an interior pocket, she pulled out a leather bag. She held it up.
“Switch hands,” Ducharme ordered, needing to get the bag in her sword hand. Disappointment crossed her face, but she did so.
“Don’t get in my line of fire,” Ducharme warned Evie. She hurried forward. Burns also headed over. Evie took the bag and Ducharme’s finger caressed the trigger, but the Surgeon did nothing.
“Took you long enough.” Evie looked about. “Who are the soldiers?”
“Third Infantry.” Ducharme kept his focus on the Surgeon and her men. “Weapons on the ground.”
They reluctantly complied.
“Master Sergeant,” Ducharme called out. The same senior non-commissioned officer who had confronted him on his visit to Arlington stepped forward.
“Sir?”
“Secure these people. I’m sure Agent Burns will be back for them. As soon as you have them secure, leave some guards and follow.”
“Roger that.”
“Did you bring what I asked?”
The Master Sergeant gestured and a soldier came forward carrying a large kit bag.
“Put it on the helicopter,” Ducharme ordered. As soon as it was on, the Huey took off, disappearing into the night sky.
“Where are we going?” Evie asked.
As the 3rd Infantry soldiers cuffed the Surgeon and the six mercenaries, Ducharme finally lowered his submachinegun and looked at her. “What happened to your face?”
“It’s not important,” Evie said, but her hand went to the red skin on her cheek and rubbed it.
“Do you know where the last five disks are?”
“’No one’s and everyone’s’,” Evie said. “I’ve been thinking about it, but it’s kind of vague. I don’t have a historical reference.”
“They’re here,” Ducharme said.
“’Here’?” Evie looked about. “You mean Arlington.”
Ducharme nodded. He looked from her to Kincannon, to Burns. His motley team trying to save the country. He turned to his right and headed toward the trees separating them from the National Cemetery. “Let’s go get them.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“They’re moving, sir.”
Turnbull got in the passenger seat of one of the Suburbans and looked at the GPS display on the dash. A small red dot, representing the bug he had planted on Tolliver during the few minutes he’d had her was moving from Ft. Myer into Arlington. He nodded. “Very good. Let’s roll.”
***********
Ducharme led them out of the trees onto a road. Arlington House was to their left. Evie was at his side and Kincannon was on one flank with Burns on the other.
They made their way deeper into the cemetery. Gardens of stone appeared on both sides. They reached an intersection. According to the signpost, the road they were on, Wilson Drive, made a sharp left. The road continuing straight was now named Memorial Drive.
There was a glow about a hundred yards to the left front. Memorial. Ducharme continued straight. A large circular structure appeared. A series of colonnades compromised the outer rim. Ducharme led his team through the entrance into the Amphitheater. Rows of benches lined the interior, facing a small covered platform.
They went down the center aisle and to the side of the platform. Exiting the Amphitheater there was a broad series of steps down to a brightly lit plaza with a single marble sarcophagus and three marble slabs in front of it. Marching in front of it was a soldier in dress blues with an M-14 at shoulder arms.
“The Tomb of the Unknowns,” Evie whispered.
Ducharme glanced at her. “It’s the perfect place to hide something you want protected. Since 1937 the Tomb has been guarded non-stop, 24/7, 365 days a year.”
“But someone is buried there,” Evie said.
The Sentinel came to the end of his twenty-one paces—equal to the twenty-one gun salute. He halted and turned, facing the tomb, remaining perfectly still for 21 seconds. Then he turned back the way he come, went to shoulder arms on the side facing away from the grave, remained still for the same amount of time, and then began his next twenty-one steps. There was a deep simplicity and gravity to it.
“Not in all the graves,” Ducharme said.
***********
The 3rd Infantry had left two men as guards. A sign of over-confidence in Lily’s opinion. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and she was seated on the metal edge of the Blackhawk’s cargo bay. She waited until the guards’ focus was outwards, then jammed her left hand between the edge of the co-pilot’s seat and the frame of the helicopter.
She took a deep breath, then abruptly leveraged her arm, cracking the bones in her hand. The tearing of flesh and splintering of bones shot pain up her arm, refreshing her. A couple of the mercenaries heard and turned to stare at her, shocked expressions on their faces—they certainly weren’t getting paid enough to do that. Pausing only to take another deep breath, she pulled her right hand, with all her strength while forcing the left to hold in place. The metal cuff scraped skin, compressed broken bones, cracking them further, and then the loop of metal was free of her left hand.
Checking to make sure the Army guards were still looking toward the surrounding woods, she strode over to the pile of weapons and retrieved her wakizashi. Her left hand was on fire and dangling uselessly, but her right gripped the handle of the sword and drew it. She was on the first guard, sliding the blade across his throat before he was aware there was a threat.
His dying gasp caused the other one to turn. She swung her sword. His head tumbled into the snow as blood still pumped out of the severed stump of his neck and the body slowly collapsed.
Tucking the bloody sword under her arm, she pulled the cuff keys out of his combat vest and turned to the mercenaries.
***********
“Halt! Who goes there?” The sentry swung his weapon from shoulder arms to at-the-ready.
“Colonel Ducharme, Sergeant Major Kincannon and Special Agent Burns from FBI.” Ducharme stepped onto the Plaza. The guard seemed uncertain what to do. Not many infiltrations on the Tomb of the Unknowns.
A voice called out authoritatively from the left. “At ease, sergeant.”
Ducharme recognized the voice of the Master Sergeant from the 3rd Infantry and so did the sentry, who lowered his weapon and snapped to a position of port arms. The Master Sergeant came up to Ducharme. “I’ve gone along with you this far, but I can’t allow you to violate the grave of one of the Unknowns.”
Ducharme nodded. “I’m not asking you to violate a soldier’s burial place. I need to look in an empty grave.” The Master Sergeant understood right away, but still hesitated.
Kincannon stepped forward. “This is important.”
The Master Sergeant looked doubtful, but nodded. “All right, sir. Do no damage.”
“Thank you,” Ducharme said. He walked toward the sarcophagus, Evie following. There were three marble slabs laid even with the plaza spread in front of it. He knelt in front of the center one. Kincannon hung back with the others.
“The Unknown from World War One is buried underneath the sarcophagus.” Ducharme then n
odded toward the slab to his left. “That’s the Unknown from World War Two.” He gestured to his right. “The Korean War.”
“And this one?” Evie asked, pointing at the one directly in front of him.
Ducharme reached down and ran his fingers across the words etched in the marble. “It reads: ‘Honoring and Keeping Faith with America’s Missing Servicemen.’ It used to read ‘Vietnam’ along with the dates of that war.”
“’Used to’?” Evie asked.
“The Unknown from Vietnam was exhumed in 1998 and the DNA was tested. He was identified and returned to his family. The tomb was left empty.”
“’No one’s and everyone’,” Evie said.
“Exactly.” Ducharme pulled a short crowbar out of his vest and slid the edge underneath the lip of the marble. He caught the edge and then put all his weight onto it. The slab didn’t move. Evie knelt next to him and added her weight, her body pressing against his. Stone rumbled and the slab lifted. Hooking his fingers underneath, Ducharme grunted as he lifted the slab higher and held it in place. An empty crypt.
Except for a black bag.
“Grab it,” Ducharme told Evie.
Evie didn’t hesitate, trusting that he would hold the heavy stone. She reached in and retrieved the bag. Ducharme carefully lowered the slab back into place. Still kneeling, he turned and faced Evie who had the leather bag open. She pulled out five disks. Retrieving the rod and disks from the suitcase, she unscrewed one end. Checking the numbers, she slid the five remaining disks on and replaced the end. She looked up at Ducharme.
“We have the Jefferson Cipher.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lily deployed the six merks among the colonnades of the Memorial Amphitheater, weapons at the ready. She plugged in the headset for her satphone and pressed the earpiece in her right ear—her broken hand precluding text messaging. She hit the speed dial and the phone was answered immediately.
“Yes?”
“Mister Turnbull, I have Ducharme, Evie and the others in my sights. They’ve retrieved the last disks of the Cipher. We can take them out now.”
“I want the Allegiance,” Turnbull said.
“If we get the Cipher, we can get the Allegiance,” Lily argued. “And we can finish off the next generation.”
“We’re still missing a piece,” Turnbull said. “There’s a Key phrase to set the Cipher. Hold off. We’re close.”
Cursing to herself, she used her bad hand to signal for the six merks to hold in place, enjoying the pain, hating the order. Her good hand twitched on the handle of her sword.
**********
Evie got to her feet, holding the Cipher tight to her chest. With Ducharme at her side, they walked over to the others. Everyone was in the shadow of the Amphitheatre. A solemn tableau in a solemn place.
Evie held up the rod and disks. “The complete Jefferson Cipher.”
“And?” Kincannon asked dryly.
Evie was startled. “It’s an original. Thomas Jefferson made it. It holds the secret to finding the Jefferson Allegiance.”
“It only holds the secret,” Kincannon said, “if we can use it.”
“Well—“ Evie paused, her burst of pride subsiding—“we need the phrase to Key the—“
Ducharme put an arm across her shoulder. “Can I have a smoke?”
Evie swiveled her head and stared at him in surprise. Of all things to be asking right now. “I don’t smoke any more and—“
“A smoke, please,” Ducharme said. “Please, Evie.”
Evie reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarette case. “It’s just gum.”
Ducharme smiled at her, his arm still around her shoulder. “Read me the saying on the case once more.”
Evie didn’t have to read it. “’A blood of patriots and tyrants’.”
“A mistake by the engraver, right?” Ducharme didn’t wait for an answer. “Except it isn’t a mistake. How many letters are inscribed?”
Evie swallowed hard as she counted, already knowing the answer. “Twenty-six.”
“That’s your Key,” Ducharme said.
With shaking fingers dialed up the saying.
ABLOODOFPATRIOTSANDTYRANTS
She turned the Cipher in her hands, searching line by line, her stomach twisted in a knot, then she halted.
UNDERWESTSIDEJEFFERSONSTONE
She handed it to Ducharme, a wave of relief washing through her body as it all came together.
“’Under west side Jefferson stone’?” He looked at her. “What stone? The Jefferson Memorial.”
“No.” She pointed to the east, toward the bright lights of Washington DC. “The center of the country.”
Ducharme’s face tightened. “You go with Kincannon. Get the Allegiance. I have something to do.”
Evie was surprised. “What?”
“We need to make a clean sweep of things. Once and for all.”
She blinked. “Lucius?”
Ducharme nodded. “Lucius. I trust you to get the Allegiance.” He disappeared into the dark.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Huey landed next to the amphitheatre and Ducharme climbed into the cargo bay. It took off in a flurry of light snow. He grabbed a headset. “Twelve thousand feet.”
“Roger that,” Pollack replied.
Ducharme unsnapped the kitbag the 3rd Infantry had brought and began to get ready.
************
“Status?” Turnbull asked.
Lily immediately replied. “It looks to me like Tolliver knew the key phrase. She dialed something up.”
“Get it from her. I’m almost there.”
Lily was going to add that Ducharme had left, but the line was already dead. She heard the chopper power up and then fly away. Ducharme could be dealt with later—Lily put that in the background, a desert to be savored.
************
“We’ve got company,” Kincannon announced.
Evie looked up from the Cipher. Silhouetted between the colonnades of the Amphitheatre were a half-dozen armed figures. And stepping into the light featuring the Tomb was a short, slender figure carrying a sword.
“Our friend, once more” Kincannon muttered, bringing his MP-5 to the ready as the Old Guard readied their M-14s. “This aint gonna be pretty. Some itchy fingers all around. Someone tries to scratch an itch, we’re gonna have a blood bath.”
“Hold your fire,” Evie said.
“No shooting,” the Surgeon yelled over her shoulder, but she kept coming. The merks who had begun moving forward, stopped, keeping a tactical separation. The weapons were trained on the members of the Old Guard. It was a relatively even standoff for the moment. Except for the Surgeon’s insanity.
The Surgeon had her Japanese sword in her right hand. The left dangled uselessly, deformed. As she got closer Evie could see the deranged look in her eyes.
************
Ducharme passed the last strap between his legs and snapped it into place. Then he squatted, tightening the harness as much as he could. He took a deep breath and glanced out the window in the cargo bay door. Washington DC was twelve thousand feet below and offset several miles, the Washington Monument brightly lit, a clear point of reference. To the east, from this altitude, the first hint of dawn was on the horizon.
He glanced once more at the computer screen, committing the target to memory.
*************
The Surgeon was heading straight toward Evie, arm rising, the lights shining toward the Tomb making her seem to grow in stature as her shadow lengthened.
“Our killer,” Burns said, stepping next to Evie. Kincannon also stepped forward.
“Get back,” the Surgeon snarled, her focus on Evie and the device in her hand.
“Ma’am,” Burns said, tipping his Fedora with his left hand. “You’re under arrest for murder. You have the right—“
The Surgeon halted, pointing her sword toward him. “Shut up or die.”
“Let’s add in resisting arrest,” Burn
s said as Evie heard a distinct click. Burns’s right hand snapped forward in an underhand throw. Evie dropped the Cipher Wheel and began charging forward as soon as Burns’s arm moved. The Surgeon swung the sword and there was the clink of metal on metal as her blade hit the switchblade he’d thrown, knocking it aside. Evie was on top of the Surgeon a split second later, grabbing the arm holding the sword and applying pressure on the nerve.
The sword fell to the ground as the Surgeon shoved Evie away. The Surgeon took a quick glance at the sword on the ground, then shifted into a defensive position, arms up, mangled hand dangling.
“Come on,” the Surgeon said, a look of anticipation on her face.
************
“All right,” Ducharme said into the intercom. “I’m out of here.”
“Good luck,” Pollack said.
Ducharme took off the headset. He slid open the cargo bay door. Freezing air swirled in and he felt the bite of the cold.
He stepped out into the darkness.
***********
“You’re mine,” Evie said, getting upon the balls of her feet and approaching the Surgeon. Everyone around them was frozen, waiting for this to play out.
The Surgeon charged, snapping a kick at Evie’s jaw. She deflected it with a middle block and, anticipating, blocked the punch from the Surgeon’s good hand. Evie kept the momentum from the second block, swinging a backfist toward the Surgeon, connecting on the side of her head and following it with a turn kick into the woman’s side.
The Surgeon staggered back, gasping in pain and even more so in surprise.
**********
Ducharme free fell, arms and legs akimbo for a thousand feet, then pulled the ripcord. The chute deployed, snapping him upright. He grabbed the toggles and quickly oriented himself to the grid of downtown Washington. He found the convergence of roads on Dupont Circle. He pulled on a toggle, turning in that direction.
