The Willard

by LeAnne Burnett Morse

  She looked defiantly to Chase for a reaction, but before he could say a word they were both distracted by a commotion at the door. A crowd of people was circling a couple who had just entered. Voices were raised and a few cheers went up. Chase stood and told Catherine to please stay put and he would be right back with her as soon as possible. As he walked toward the guests causing the clamor the crowd parted to make way for the concierge. Catherine’s earlier diatribe was temporarily forgotten as she found herself watching the pleasant looking woman and the man Catherine assumed was her husband. He looked familiar. Of course he did. But it couldn’t be. Could it?

  Just then she heard Edward Chase welcome the man. “General Grant, it is my pleasure to welcome you and Mrs. Grant to the Willard.”

  CHAPTER 44

  TOM KELLY

  1962

  The note was on Willard Hotel stationary and proved the boy had been raised with good Southern manners. Ethan York had taken the time to leave an effusive “thank you” for letting him use the phone to call his mother. They had talked and she had assured him he was doing the right thing by staying at his post and she had reiterated how proud she was of him. She had also asked him to pass along her thanks to the nice man who had offered the use of the phone and shared her opinion that this whole crazy missile thing was going to be worked out just fine because, after all, we are a civilized people, you know.

  Tom had read the note when he returned to the hotel in the wee hours of the morning. After tossing and turning for hours he finally dropped off to sleep around dawn, only to be plagued by nightmares involving sleazy back rooms with smoking Russians and mushroom clouds in the distance. He gave up hope of any rest around nine o’clock and rang for a late breakfast from room service. He didn’t say so, but he had every intention of making sure Edward Chase comp’d it on his bill.

  Over exquisite eggs and less impressive bacon he read through his notes. Today was going to be a touchy day. Once the president and attorney general had gotten over the shock of learning a secret Russian spy ring (Russian, yes, but anti-Soviet, he reminded them) was operating out of Connecticut, a game plan was put into place.

  Tom’s job today would be to make contact with the organization and find out what communication was going back and forth. There was no doubt in his mind they would have their fingers all over it and he hoped to use the access to find the message that could be historically wrong. To do that he needed to know what had actually been sent back and forth eight years before he was born. In 2016, that would have been an easy Google search because a great number of those messages had been declassified. But sitting in 1962 as things were still unfolding, the lack of Internet access was just one of his problems. Thankfully he had a plan to overcome the information vacuum.

  After the meeting in the Oval Office, Tom had seen John McCone furiously pacing the West Wing halls. The hours he’d been locked out of the meeting had only served to torque him up and he made a beeline for the president as soon as he realized the meeting had broken up. Tom didn’t know what the two Kennedys were planning to tell him to get him to back off, but they had made it clear they wanted the Director’s operation to continue as planned and that Tom was to access his alternative organization to see if there was anything to be gained there. As far as they were concerned it was a system of checks and balances and all options were on the table. He couldn’t blame McCone for being furious, but he couldn’t worry about it either. The CIA man was their problem. Tom had his own problems to deal with.

  He made the first phone call using a series of rings and hang-ups before it was finally answered after the fourth ring combination. The connection was made but there was no greeting from the other end, only silence. Tom said “Victoria” then paused and said “Alexandra.” It was the code he had been given to use when contacting Professor Volkov. Victoria was chosen because Queen Victoria was grandmother to Tsar Nicholas’ wife, who was named Alexandra. The code was instantly recognized and a raspy voice came over the line.

  “Hello, Thomas, my friend. I had a feeling I might be hearing from you.”

  “Anatoly, how are you, sir?” Tom asked of the man with a million secrets.

  “I’m old, Thomas—and getting older by the minute. Our two homelands seem determined to find a way to kill each other once and for all. But that’s why you’re calling on my secure line I presume.”

  “It is, Anatoly. But it’s not just for research purposes. Are you certain this line is secure?”

  “As certain as one can be in this life, Thomas. The KGB hasn’t come for me in the middle of the night yet so I assume they don’t know where I am. What’s on your mind?”

  “As crazy as this sounds, I’m calling on behalf of President Kennedy. I’m in Washington and my old script led some people to my door for insight on the current conflict,” Tom said tentatively.

  “Well, my friend, since they are unlikely to call you to talk about movies over a bucket of popcorn it seems your real purpose must have been discovered,” said the professor.

  “Yes,” said Thomas. “But not all because of the script. They thought I might have some anecdotal advice to share, but they know about Back Channel because I filled them in. I’m afraid I got a little overwhelmed by the circumstances and offered more information than I probably should have, but they don’t know who you really are, of course.” He was quiet for a couple of seconds. “Now I realize why you insisted on the contact protocol. I can’t tell them who you are if I don’t know myself.”

  The man who Tom knew as Professor Anatoly Volkov sighed before he spoke. “I knew it bothered you that I wouldn’t reveal certain things, but we’ve been doing this a long time and the reason Back Channel has survived is that we learned the hard way early on that secrecy and compartmentalization is a must. It’s for our safety and yours, but mostly it’s to protect the mission. The mission must outlive us all,” he said.

  Everything Tom had told the two Kennedys was the truth as he knew it. However, he knew that this “truth” was peppered with falsehoods and cover stories to protect the identities of the members of Back Channel. Anatoly Volkov was not his real name. His father was not the groundskeeper at Tsarskoe Selo, although he did work for the imperial family in some capacity and he was the messenger between the Tsar and the world outside captivity. He did request to stay with the Tsar when they were taken away, but Nicholas sent him home to take care of his family and also to safeguard the beginnings of the secret organization. The professor’s parents were mysteriously murdered in their home and the place was ripped apart, but the volumes had disappeared with him when he defected. The defection was arranged and funded by Back Channel. They knew there had been a leak about their existence and that they were all likely to be killed. Safeguarding the mission was entrusted to the young man who would rebuild from a foreign land, the United States. Tom had no idea whether or not the man was actually a professor. Volkov had a series of secure phone lines that appeared to ring in and out of New Haven, Connecticut near the campus of Yale, but he could just as easily be in a mountain retreat in Colorado or overlooking the beach in Miami. Most importantly, the members of Back Channel didn’t know themselves who the other members were. They had aliases and covert means of communication and their individual roles were only pieces of the puzzle. The only person who knew all their actual names was Volkov. The man had lost his parents, his home, and his adulthood to this mission. He would protect it with his life and to that end he carried an ampule of cyanide under his shirt on a thin chain. If caught, he would bite down on the glass and take his secrets to the grave. A special protocol set in motion in case of his failure to check in would elevate a new leader into position. The mission would continue. Until the land of their fathers was restored, the mission would always continue.

  “What do you need from me?” asked Volkov.

  “Is the channel actively working on the crisis?”

  “What do you think, Thomas?”

  “I think you’ve had more mail going
around the world than the post office for the last few days,” Thomas answered.

  “There are a lot of deliveries, yes. From what we can gather the president and the premier are playing a coy game of patriotic pronouncements right now while being careful not to wave either flag too forcefully,” Volkov responded.

  “Anatoly, I can’t explain everything right now, but I have reason to believe there is something in that line of communication that has been sent or will be sent soon that stands the chance of turning the tide in the wrong direction. I need to get into the chain and monitor the messages.”

  “You don’t ask for much, do you, Thomas? You know this isn’t Hollywood where you snap your fingers and a beautiful woman brings you a drink on a silver platter,” the old man said with a chuckle.

  “I know I’m asking for a lot but the stakes don’t get any higher,” Tom said.

  “Can you tell me what you’re looking for?”

  “I wish I knew. I can only tell you I think I’ll know it when I see it. Can you get me in?”

  “This isn’t a fishing expedition for the sake of finding out if it can be done as it was two years ago. Everything is more dangerous now. Besides the obvious, there is also more risk of our operatives being exposed because all eyes are on this communication. They won’t be happy about letting an outsider in under these circumstances. Let me see what I can do. It would go a long way if I had something of good faith to offer them. Just give me something to prove you are as connected as you say you are, something they can verify.”

  “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll see what I can come up with,” said Tom.

  After an impromptu trip to the White House, Tom returned to the Willard and dialed the special phone the attorney general had arranged to have installed in his room. He gave the code. “Victoria.” Pause. “Alexandra.”

  “You have something for me?” Volkov asked.

  “The president has moved back the line of quarantine to five hundred miles,” said Tom.

  “Yes, we are aware of that. I’m afraid that’s not information that will make your case. It’s common knowledge now,” said Volkov.

  “Yes, but are your sources aware that the president has also called for a ‘fast pace?’” asked Tom.

  “Let me check.” Tom heard paper rustling and a minute later the professor came back on the line. “Yes. There is mention of executing at a fast pace.”

  “It’s code, Anatoly.”

  “Code for what?”

  “The highest state of military readiness this country has outside of nuclear war.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Talk to your people, Anatoly. The president has just moved us to DEFCON 2.”

  CHAPTER 45

  CALVIN WALKER

  1963

  Things began to move quickly once all the boxed were unpacked. This group that had seemed like they were just a bunch of outcasts sitting around complaining about the status quo suddenly morphed into an organized machine. Everyone knew where to go and they began to divvy up their supplies. Orders were given and groups of two and three men began leaving the apartment. Calvin could see the dangerous weapons beginning to disperse and he felt the panic rise within him as he realized he couldn’t contain it all to one place for the authorities to handle. He knew he had to move quickly.

  “What’s the plan, Fish? I need to know what’s going down,” he said.

  “You’re with me, Williams. Grab that duffel bag and put everything that came out of this box in it,” Fish indicated.

  “Where are we going? What’s the plan?” Calvin’s voice betrayed his rising fear.

  Fish turned on him. “You do what you’re told! Maybe you did come here to help us and maybe you didn’t. Just because you showed up with some scribbles on a page don’t mean I’m convinced you’re clean. You do what I tell you and I’ll decide when you get in on the action. Understand?” Fish was inches from Calvin’s face and his demeanor left no room for argument, but there was too much on the line to back down.

  Calvin matched Fish’s attitude. “Look here! I came to you and proved I can get access that you won’t have without me. You can’t expect me to be able to get your guys close to the organizers without letting me in on the plan. I’ve got to get back to the hotel so I can blend in with the entourage as they head over to the event. I have to do this my way or you won’t get anywhere near them!”

  Fish dropped what he was holding and grabbed Calvin by the throat. He pushed him up against the wall. “You don’t understand me do you, Professa? You ain’t leavin’ this room ‘cept with me. You think I’ll just tell you what we doin’ and let you run out of here and tell it? You gonna be right by my side this whole day. I know just how I wanna use you. And if you try to rat us out, you be the first one down.” He let go and backed away just far enough that Calvin could barely pass through. He gestured toward a duffel bag on the floor. “Now you pack that bag and be careful. We don’t want nothin’ goin’ off before it s’posed to,” he said, with the most sinister look on his face Calvin had ever seen.

  Calvin did as he was told and carefully placed the homemade device inside the bag. He put the strap over his shoulder and sat down while the others finished loading up.

  CHAPTER 46

  OLIVIA FORDHAM

  1913

  March 2 dawned cold and clear. Olivia hadn’t slept well, but over the years she had found she needed less and less sleep. One of the benefits of age she supposed. A quick peek out the window showed the preparations for the inauguration that was to be held March 4. With modern inaugurations falling on January 20, this was a reminder that it hadn’t always been that way.

  All the preparations she saw weren’t for the inauguration though. The suffrage parade would happen before the inaugural events, and it had been scheduled for maximum exposure. In a city that saw no shortage of marches and events, the organizers had made sure theirs wouldn’t be short of an audience.

  Olivia dressed and met up with Victoria for the ride to NAWSA headquarters. Once there, they were given a comprehensive lesson on the history of women’s suffrage initiatives over the past decades. They learned about Sarah Grimke who had begun speaking out against slavery and later included women’s rights in her messages. They heard about the establishment of female colleges and the arrest of Susan B. Anthony in 1872 for attempting to vote in the presidential election. It was all very enlightening for Victoria and the more she heard the more she was sure this was something she had to do. Olivia feared for her as she watched the rhetoric building its fire behind her young eyes. In other parts of the city final touches were being put on floats and banners. Participants were arriving and gatherings were popping up all over the city. In many a parlor, ladies were talking about the march. Some were dismissive and others secretly wanted to join in.

  On Capitol Hill, James was serving as courier for his brother and the congressman, carrying documents from building to building as they wrapped up their business in preparation for the arrival of the new president. As he walked, he thought only of Victoria. Of the way she looked in that blue dress. Of how her eyes sparkled when she laughed and flashed when she was angry. And boy, could she get angry. He was frustrated with her because he couldn’t understand what she could possibly stand to gain by aligning herself with radicals. She had been taken care of her entire life and she would continue to be. She would become a good man’s wife and raise a family and preside over an important home. Maybe his wife. He was a good man. Why did she need to concern herself with speeches and marches? He could take care of her and those things would never matter.

  Twenty-four hours had not passed since he had met her and he was thinking about marriage and what was good for her. He couldn’t understand what was happening to him. He had plenty of nice, quality girls back home who were interested in landing him as a husband and would never dream of getting involved in something like suffrage. Their husbands would vote for whatever was best for them. But none of tho
se girls had captured his attention like Victoria. Not even close.

  All day he had heard negative remarks about the suffragists and threats of violence and mayhem. The more he walked and the more packages he delivered the more certain he became. If the stubborn girl was determined to take part in this ridiculous parade tomorrow, then he would be there to make sure nothing happened to her. She would probably hate the idea, thinking it terribly old-fashioned, but that was too bad. He had decided.

  CHAPTER 47

  CATHERINE PARKER

  1865

  As it turned out, General Ulysses S. Grant and his wife Julia had come to Washington in route to their home in New Jersey after the surrender at Appomattox Court House. They didn’t have a reservation, but the Willard wasn’t about to turn away the man who had finally done what more respected generals before him could not. This was the man who had stopped General Lee and his Army of Northern Virginia and ended the war. Though the hotel was booked to capacity, Chase had worked his magic and cleared an appropriate suite for the Grants. They were upstairs presently getting freshened up for a meeting with the president. This afternoon Grant would sign the official documents ending the draft and recruiting efforts for the army and sending war-hardened veterans back to their homes and lives.