Liberty

by David Wood

  “Pete Rose?”

  “Nice try. Not only Ben Franklin, but George Washington and several other Founding Fathers.”

  Bones scrutinized the stone. “I can’t make out those words in the middle.”

  “Neither can I, but I think I know what they say. Most versions of this logo don’t contain the words, but their motto is ‘Omnia relinquit servare Rempublicam.’ It means ‘He gave everything to preserve the Republic.’”

  “Sounds like something our friends in the Sons of the Republic could twist to serve their own ends.” At the mention of the Sons of the Republic, Bones open and closed his hands, as if ready to choke someone. “So what do we do now?”

  “Good question. I guess we could try to move it.”

  Attempts to move the stone didn’t fare any better than they had with the grindstone. It simply wouldn’t budge. Eventually they gave up, and Dane stood and stared at the logo.

  “You know that turkey is mocking us.” Bones frowned at the offending bird.

  Dane knelt again and ran his hands over the logo. He could feel the ripples and lines of the carving, but he also noticed an indentation around the outer perimeter. He tried moving just the carved logo, which didn’t work. Then he pressed down on it and he detected about half an inch of movement. A couple of additional attempts achieved the same result.

  “Bones, I have a thought.”

  “First time for everything.”

  “Funny guy. Here’s the thing. Whatever we’re missing here can’t be something someone would stumble on easily. We only know about the relationship between the cross and the logo because of Bache’s letter, but otherwise we’d never assume there’s a connection. We were able to move each of them a tiny bit, but only in a single direction.”

  Understanding dawned on Bones’ face. “So you think we need to move both of them at the same time?”

  Dane nodded. “It’s worth a try. Go over to the grindstone. I’ll start by pushing the logo down and then you see if you can turn the stone.”

  When Bones was ready, Dane pushed down the logo and held it in the depressed position. Bones let out a grunt as he put his back into turning the grindstone.

  With a grunt of surprise, Bones fell forward as the grindstone spun easily. As they watched, the logo under Dane’s hand dropped six inches.

  Then the ground under Dane’s feet began to vibrate, a steady feeling as opposed to the shaking of the minor earthquake he and Bones had experienced a few months back during their training in southern California. A grinding noise accompanied the movement. Dane spun around, unable to place the source of it.

  Until he looked at Bones. Next to the grindstone and the location of Bones’ unexpected face plant, the earth had started bunching up as if an invisible plow were carving a five foot wide furrow. Dane watched with a slack jaw until the sound and the movement both stopped.

  Only a few seconds had passed. Bones jumped to his feet and stared down at the ground without a word. Then he looked up and dipped his chin in Dane’s direction. Dane walked towards the disturbed earth, stopping in disbelief when he reached it.

  A hole in the earth had opened up, about five feet by five feet. The rumbling and movement had been caused by a slab of stone sliding away to expose it. Steps led from one edge down into a cave of sorts with rugged walls that appeared natural in the first couple of meters, which was all Dane could make out before darkness took over.

  Bones was already on the first step with his flashlight out. “Dude, that was awesome. The combination of pressing the logo and turning the grindstone triggered it. How did you know?”

  “I didn’t know. I just asked myself what Indiana Jones would do.”

  “Yeah, all you need is a whip. Mind if I go first?”

  Dane nodded. “I’m right behind you.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The final door proved no challenge at all. The steps had led to a tunnel that was largely natural, though Dane’s light shone on signs of tool-marks directed at widening it. He and Bones both had to duck a little bit to walk through it. It wasn’t completely dry, but it also wasn’t as wet as Dane would have expected if some sort of care hadn’t been taken to keep out moisture.

  After forty feet or so, they reached a large door constructed of wood and iron. Dane expected one more puzzle to solve to gain entry, but Bones simply reached for the huge handle and turned it. It didn’t turn as easily as an average doorknob, but it eventually succumbed to his efforts.

  As soon as the door had opened enough, Bones slipped through.

  Dane moved it further, surprised at how heavy it was. He could tell the door had been carefully crafted to marry closely with its frame to minimize the amount of air and water reaching the room. His surprise at this evaporated when he beheld the contents of the room, replaced by a much greater shock.

  “Whoa! It’s the first Library of Congress.” Bones’ voice contained the kind of tone he normally reserved for moments when an exceptionally attractive woman passed by.

  The room was similar in size to a small bedroom, and unlike the tunnel its walls were made of a combination of wood and iron similar to the door. Like the door, the wood remained in surprisingly good shape despite what Dane assumed was nearly two centuries of wear.

  The walls only attracted a moment of his attention, however. Two of the walls contained shelves filled with books. Dane didn’t move, just standing and taking in what they had found. Eventually he found his voice.

  “We did it Bones.”

  Bones cracked a smile, which reflected something different than his normal combination of mischief and feigned innocence. This smile conveyed pure joy, and Dane couldn’t help matching it.

  “Of course we did, Maddock. I never doubted us. You ready to find us a map?”

  They approached one of the book cases, and Dane carefully put his hands on one volume. As he attempted to pick it up, he could feel the cover beginning to crumble in his fingers, and he immediately let it go.

  “Maybe we better leave the books alone. There were three maps, right? Should be easy to find the one we’re looking for.”

  Bones frowned. “If it’s even here. There were three thousand volumes in the library in 1814 when it disappeared, but there aren’t more than a few hundred here.”

  “Bache wouldn’t have directed us here if the map we’re looking for wasn’t saved.”

  Finding the single group of maps didn’t take long. When Bones reached for one, he immediately withdrew his hand. “If we even breathe on that paper wrong, it will disintegrate.”

  Dane scratched his chin, then peered more closely at one of the maps. “Bones, I may be wrong, but this one looks different.”

  He reached for a map that was thinner and more yellow than the others. He applied a delicate touch and felt something sturdier than either the book cover or the other map Bones had tried to get. Very slowly, he slid it out, holding his breath as he did.

  “Bones, the texture of this feels exactly like Bache’s letter.”

  “Just like I said, they must have used some sort of preservative. Don’t keep us in suspense; open it up.”

  Dane unfolded it, again moving with great care. It was more like a short book or pamphlet than the typical folded style of modern maps. Bones watched over his shoulder. “Dude, it’s a map of Paris.”

  Dane had noticed. He’d chosen to ignore that fact when he spotted the corner of another piece of paper peeking out from the last page. He opened to that spot, and his eye went immediately to the signature on the bottom.

  Benjamin Franklin.

  Neither man said a word as they read.

  I do not know what sort of man is reading this document, but I do know one thing: I am no longer among the living. I hope that you are both a scholar and a moral man, but I must rely on others to place it in a location where that might happen. Perhaps I should have destroyed all traces, but evil flourishes where powerful men hide their actions. I am guilty of hiding this, but I trust that it will be found
when the time is right.

  On the eve of September 16, 1787, seven of us met in secret. The Constitution was about to be signed, but three men refused. Madison invited Randolph and Gerry and Mason to make them an offer that might gain their assent. He asked Hamilton and myself to join him in persuading them of his serious intent.

  We reached an agreement and signed it. We called for the printer. But early the next day, I learned that the agreement had been abandoned. I never learned whether or not Madison had always intended this or if circumstances overtook him. It is of little matter.

  What is of more import is that I did not destroy my copy of the agreement as Madison requested. Future generations deserve to know what we were considering. I suspect Randolph preserved his copy as well, although I have no specific knowledge of it.

  It is either the arrogance or caution of age, but I feel I must add one more hurdle to the discovery of our agreement. I have hidden other clues elsewhere which when combined with the one I give here will provide the key to its location. The clue I give here is this: five hundred copies of the Constitution were printed by Dunlap and Claypoole. Not much of a clue, I confess. But if you find the others, it will be clear eventually. More than just my death must occur before any of these clues will help.

  Our agreement was a dangerous one. I fear that if it is found by the wrong person or at the wrong time, it could provide a basis for destructive action. We who signed felt that our agreement was intended solely as a final recourse in the most exceptional circumstances. Even Gerry and Mason did not want the kind of anti-Federalism it could unleash if abused. Use it for illumination. Those who would use it to rend the Union shall be branded as traitors to all who hold dear the ideals of our revolution.

  Benjamin Franklin

  “Whoa.” Bones breathed.

  Dane couldn’t get his mind around this. A secret agreement literally on the eve of the signing of the Constitution. One that could rend the Union. What could they possibly have done?

  “Bones, this is big.”

  “Bigger than what we learned about George Washington?”

  “Maybe not more interesting than that, but it certainly could have a bigger impact in the here and now. It sounds like we need to find more clues before we’ll know.”

  Bones’ eyes lit up. “Wait. Maybe we don’t.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of clue is the number of copies of the Constitution by itself?”

  “What I mean is, we already found the other clue. Remember in the warehouse?”

  “The warehouse? Yes, the paper said… holy crap, ‘Seek the Creator of the Five Hundred.’”

  “Bingo. They’re talking about the Constitution.”

  “The creator of the Constitution could be one of several guys. Madison is the guy who usually gets the most credit.”

  Bones shook his head. “You’re not thinking literally enough. What we need to seek is the printer of the Constitution. Dunlap or Claypoole.”

  “Bones, that’s genius!”

  “Genius is my middle name. The only downside is that both those guys are long dead. I smell some more research in our future.”

  “After spending so much time underground and getting shot at in snowstorms, I think I’m okay with more research.”

  “Don’t forget making deals with the mob.”

  “We didn’t—”

  They whirled as the door creaked on its hinges. A figure appeared in the doorway, a large pistol in his right hand and his face illuminated by the beam of Dane’s light. Dane had retained a nagging doubt about Bones’ claim of who he had seen in Hamiltonban, but those doubts evaporated as he saw the man with his own eyes.

  “O’Meara.”

  “You’re quite a useful man, Maddock. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve found here?”

  Dane had instinctively let the map drop to his side when he’d spun around, and now he allowed his hand to drift back to the shelf behind him. He prayed that O’Meara wouldn’t notice the movement. He also could feel the tension emanating from Bones, and he worried that his fellow SEAL was about to try something stupid.

  Bones’ voice was light. “Hey what about me? Maddock wouldn’t be nearly as useful without me. Are you prejudiced or something?”

  O’Meara barked something that could have been a laugh. “Uriah Bonebrake. Sure, you’re useful too. Feel better now?”

  “Yep. Nice to be invited to the big kids’ table.”

  O’Meara took a few steps closer and Dane suddenly had doubts about the man’s identity.

  “Who are you? You look a lot like a dirty cop we met back in Boston.”

  “Dirty? My brother was a true patriot, and that takes precedence over anything else.”

  “But now he’s just a bug squished under our boot,” Bones said.

  O’Meara’s gun hand twitched and, for a moment, Dane feared Bones had gone too far too quickly, but the man visibly relaxed.

  “We’ll settle that score later. So, what have you found?” O’Meara waved the gun. “I’d prefer not to kill you quite yet, but I don’t feel that strongly about it.”

  Whether intentionally or not, Bones had provided the cover for Dane to slide the map next to a book on one of the shelves. He had to assume it looked out of place and would be easy to spot, but at least it was better than having it in his hands. Now he sighed. “This is the original Library of Congress.”

  O’Meara did a double take and spoke almost to himself. “The original. . .of course, that makes sense. There was already talk about the need for it when Franklin died, so he must have arranged for his copy to be put in here.”

  Dane broke in. “Franklin’s copy of what?”

  O’Meara regained Dane’s eye. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

  Bones said, “Maddock, I think he means the secret agreement between Franklin and Randolph and several others the night before the Constitution was signed. They already have Randolph’s copy from Hamiltonban.”

  O’Meara shined his light directly into Bones’ eyes, but Bones didn’t flinch from the glare. “So you have concerned yourself with it. That’s unfortunate for you.”

  “How is it unfortunate? You already said you were going to kill us, just not yet.”

  “You make a good point, Bonebrake. So will one of you tell me what you found here, or do I have to start shooting out kneecaps?”

  Dane could see the details of the gun now – one of the massive .50 caliber Desert Eagles favored mostly by certain special forces troops and wannabe militiamen. He had no doubt into which category O’Meara fell. Properly used, the gun would do more than just take out a kneecap, it would effectively result in a lower leg amputation.

  Dane slowly stepped aside so the full shelf behind him was visible. “We haven’t had a chance to find anything yet. We tried to look at some of the books but they are in danger of disintegration. Bones wanted to look at a map of Paris that we found, and I was trying to talk him out of it when you arrived. See for yourself.”

  He gestured towards the spot where he had tucked the map. Dane tried to avoid showing the anxiety that he felt at this gamble. By mentioning the one document he wanted to avoid, he hoped O’Meara would be tricked into figuring it couldn’t be important.

  O’Meara’s eyes moved from Dane to Bones and back again. “It’s possible you’re telling the truth. So tell me what did you hope to find? And how did you know to look here? Assume I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  Dane pondered this last remark. How would he know if Dane lied? Unless. . . O’Meara had been on their trail all along and knew about Octavius. For a fleeting second he worried about Octavius being in danger, but then decided that not only could he do nothing about it now, Octavius seemed like he could take care of himself. He didn’t want to reveal everything to O’Meara, but he’d have to give enough of the truth to avoid getting shot.

  “Cornelius Marshall’s brother had a letter from Richard Bache, Benjamin Franklin’s grandson. The letter gave clues on how to f
ind this place. It implied that Franklin’s secret would be hidden here. Like Bones said, we were looking for the copy of that agreement.”

  The Desert Eagle did not move, but Dane sensed that the man believed him. O’Meara called over his shoulder out into the tunnel. “Smyers, Dantry, Get over here.”

  One man appeared immediately behind O’Meara, holding a more traditional Glock automatic. A few second later following the echoing of footsteps, a second man became visible behind him. O’Meara’s eyes never left his two captives.

  “We’re going on a short hike back to the truck. And before you get any ideas about calling out for help, think about those kneecaps. We bypassed a couple of the barriers and parked well into the woods. I have more men out there keeping watch. We won’t run into any bystanders between here and there, so all you’d accomplish is becoming a cripple.”

  O’Meara moved to one side of the small room, while one of his men stood just outside the doorway and another stood a few feet down the hall. Dane put his hand on Bones’ shoulder, trying to communicate that they should play along for now. He couldn’t determine if the message was received; the rage in Bones’ eyes dominated all else.

  They made it out of the tunnel and up the stairs without incident. One of O’Meara’s men walked about ten feet in front of them, while O’Meara and the other stayed right behind. Dane had to admit the formation was smart and would prevent Dane and Bones from jumping them. Dane had another thought in mind.

  After a few minutes, they had reached some of the boulders that had interested Bones earlier. Dane knew that on one upcoming section, the creek was on the other side. He allowed Bones to catch up and walk next to him just long enough to catch the big man’s eye and give a tiny nod towards the boulders. Bones’ eyes glittered with confirmation that he understood.

  “Back in line. The next time you do that, the response won’t be verbal.”

  Bones dropped back again and Dane kept his head down, feigning submission. All the while he watched the rock formations they passed. Finally they reached one he thought would work.