The Lost Journal

by Chris Blewitt

  “You, tough guy,” Pierce responded, getting up from his chair. Evan got up as well and started walking around the table.

  “Sit the hell down, the both of you,” Kohler said. “Settle this later.” He watched the two men stare at each other and slowly return to their seats.

  Kohler and Max watched the two of them get in their car and follow the two in the white pick-up truck out of the lot. They all waited in silence, the tension building between the five of them until the car was out of sight.

  “Time to roll,” Kohler said.

  “Try and keep up,” Pierce said to Evan.

  Evan flipped him the finger and the groups separated and got into their own cars, following the two vehicles ahead.

  CHAPTER 20

  The town of Belle Haven was middle class to say the least. A lot of brownstones lined the street on both sides with thin trees jutting out of the brick sidewalks. They followed Willie in his truck and parked outside of his house.

  “Guess they talked it out,” Seth said, nodding to Willie and Arthur as they made their way out of the car, joking and laughing. They followed Willie up the front steps and through the front door and into his home. Hardwood floors greeted them, and Seth stamped his feet on the throw rug like he had rain or snow on his shoes. They took off their light jackets and hung them on hooks near the front door. Willie walked down the short hallway toward the kitchen.

  “I must be the most forgiving son of a bitch out there,” Willie said.

  “Yes, you are,” Arthur replied, “and I thank you.”

  “Well, at my age, it does you no good to hold a grudge after all this time. What are we drinkin?” he asked.

  Arthur smacked his hands together and rubbed them briskly like he was making a fire. “Whatcha got?”

  Willie looked him over. “I got something for you.” He reached under the counter and brought out a dark green bottle with no label on it. “Made this myself.”

  “What is it?” Arthur asked.

  “Let’s just call it whiskey for now,” Willie responded.

  He grabbed two small glasses from the cabinet and poured three fingers worth of a brown liquid. “How about you two?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” Madison said, turning her nose up.

  “I’m good,” Seth replied.

  Willie reached into the refrigerator, pulled out two bottles of water and handed one to each of his guests. He grabbed one of the glasses of liquor, handed it to Arthur and then grabbed the other one for himself.

  “I would recite the Corps motto but I think I forgot it.” He raised his glass, tilted it to Arthur who did the same and said, “To old friends and to new friends.”

  “Semper Fi,” Arthur said.

  They touched glasses and both men downed the drink in one gulp.

  Arthur’s face twisted and he closed his eyes. “That’s terrible!” he said.

  “Ahh, you’ll get used to it,” Willie responded, pouring another shot for both of them. “Let’s go in the den,” Willie said to Seth, “your granddad tells me you have one hell of a story.”

  They entered the small room with framed pictures covering the walls. Most were of a young woman. The ages were progressive through the years of her life. There were a few pictures of an infant, then as a young girl, a teenager, and how she looked at present. There were also three pictures of another woman, older than the first.

  “That there is Rebecca, my daughter.”

  “I thought you never married,” Arthur said.

  “That was years ago. I was married and we had Rebecca.”

  “Was? You divorced?”

  Willie paused for a moment. “Rebecca’s mother died on 9/11. She worked at the Pentagon. Rebecca was only ten years old at the time.”

  Madison put her hand to her mouth and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Willie sat in one of the fabric chairs and Arthur sat next to him. A small table was between them where they rested their drinks. “Ahh, don’t worry about it. That was years ago. I’ll never get over it but I’ve learned to live with it. Without Rebecca, I don’t know where I’d be today.”

  Madison and Seth sat down on the brown leather couch opposite the chairs.

  “So,” Willie said, quickly changing the subject. “What’s so important you have to tell me?”

  “I’ll start,” Seth said. He told the story beginning with him finding the key in his granddad’s attic and ended with them showing up at Mount Vernon that day.

  “So that’s why we were at the tomb today.”

  “You think it’s here?” Willie asked.

  Seth turned his hands over and gave a slight shake of his head. “I have no other reason to search anywhere else. If he moved it from the Ross house, then again from Valley Forge, it must be at Mount Vernon. His uncle gave him the property and he lived there until he died, right?”

  “That he did,” Willie said, leaning back in the chair, in deep thought.

  “The problem is,” Seth added, “where in the world do we look? And how?”

  Willie crossed his legs and took another sip of his drink. “I mean, it could be in the house, but,” he shook his head, “there were so many people in that house back then, it would’ve probably been discovered. Plus, it’s been renovated, gutted, painted over; all kinds of new things have been put in to replace the old stuff. If he put it in that house, it’s probably gone or hidden somewhere really good.”

  “What about the tombs?” Madison asked suddenly.

  Willie looked at her. I hope you’re not suggesting we dig up his grave?”

  “I don’t know what I’m suggesting,” Madison pleaded, “I’m just saying that tombs and graves and coffins don’t go through a renovation process. They put a body in; they never take it out or change the surroundings.”

  “True,” Willie said, leaning back in chair again, eyes gazing on the ceiling.

  “Bushrod’s buried there, correct?”

  “Yep, along with a lot of other Washington family members.”

  “Hey,” Arthur said, “how’d you get this job of yours anyway? What are you doing there?”

  Willie answered proudly, “I am a security guard there. After the Corps, I worked security for a bunch of outfits. I moved to DC with my wife after she got a job at the Pentagon and I took a job for a big law firm. Retired six years ago and was really bored sitting around all day. So, I work there three days a week.”

  “I also hear that you are related to George Washington,” Seth noted, breaking the silence.

  Willie didn’t answer right away but looked directly at Arthur. “That’s for another discussion,” he said softly.

  “So how about you take us back to Vernon tonight?” Arthur asked.

  Willie turned in his chair to face Arthur and put his hands on his knees. “Are you outta your mind? That’s a National Landmark we’re talking about, Arthur. You can’t just go traipsing around in the middle of the night. I’d get fired for one and we’d all be arrested!”

  “Yeah, Granddad, we can’t ask him to do that.”

  Arthur looked around the room, took one last sip of his drink and put the glass down loudly on the table. “Let’s go home then. I’m tired, and if you are all just gonna give up then let’s forget it. This book has been around for over two hundred years. You two traveled all over Philly to find these clues and now you drove three hours to give up? Fine, let’s go.”

  Madison was the first to speak. “Arthur, wait. Willie, I have an idea.”

  Willie started to open his mouth in protest but Madison spoke first.

  “What if we all went there, and if something happens and we get caught, you’re the hero who caught us. You stay dressed in your uniform, and if the cops or anyone else see us, you say you caught us after hours snooping around.”

  “What is my reason for being there at such an hour?” Willie asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Just make something up. You left your phone there and went to pick it up. You were out t
o dinner and just happened to drive by and see us. They won’t care why you were there.”

  “What if you turn on me and say it was all my idea?” Willie asked.

  Arthur leaned in. “Dub-Dub, it’s me were talking about here. I would never do such a thing.”

  “And you’re going to take full responsibility on this? The three of you?”

  Madison looked at Seth who nodded then looked at Arthur who did the same.

  Willie let out an exaggerated sigh. He stood up, picked up his drink and said, “Let’s get something to eat. We leave at nine o’clock,”

  Arthur smacked his hands together and exclaimed, “Hot damn!”

  CHAPTER 21

  It looked like the ghosts chasing Pac-man as the four cars made their way back to Mount Vernon. Arthur rode shotgun in Willie’s truck, followed by Seth and Madison in her car, then a mile back were the Feds in the SUV and the Brits in a rented sedan. There was not much traffic on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, so the first two cars were well clear of the second set of cars as they made their way along the winding road that hugged the Potomac River.

  It was dark on the river, too early in the season to have boats out, or more likely the yachts. Seth and Madison followed Willie toward their destination just a few minutes away. They bought three flashlights with batteries, a crowbar, two cigarette lighters, a shovel, three keychain vials of mace and a thirty foot piece of rope at the hardware store. They had no idea what they’d use them for, but one never knew what to bring when exploring gravesites.

  Willie’s truck pulled off the main road and followed the signs to their destination. He’d never been there so late. They pulled up to the now closed Mount Vernon. Two iron gates spanned the length of both sides of the road in a triangle configuration. Willie positioned his car in the middle of the gate, and pointed his headlights at the padlock that secured both sides. He turned the ignition off, grabbed his keys and exited the truck without saying a word. Willie made his way to the padlock, gave a quick glance around and unlocked the gate. The lock came open with a snap and he pushed the gate to the edge of the grass, giving the cars enough room to pass. He got back in the truck, started the car and led the way in. He parked close to the back of the parking lot, opened his window, and with a wave of his hand, directed Madison to park further away so it appeared they were not together.

  The cars were turned off, headlights doused, and the four of them exited their vehicles and met near the edge of the lot. It was dark, but there were a half a dozen spotlights positioned on twenty-foot poles in the parking lot so they were not in complete darkness. They looked up at the mansion. Two lonely porch lights were on in the back and a couple windows on the first floor had light coming from them.

  “Are you sure no one is here?” Seth asked.

  “No,” Willie replied, “but I think there’s a good chance the place is empty. There are no cars here and there’s no one that lives here. It’s for visitors only.”

  “Then let’s get moving. I wanna start at the tombs.”

  They walked up the stone pathway that interweaved all of the buildings on the grounds of Mount Vernon. As they reached the tomb, almost instinctively, they all turned to look up at the mansion to make sure they were alone. So far, they were. Tiny little spotlights were lit in the ground illuminating the area designated for Washington’s tomb.

  They approached the black wrought iron gates which were locked with a padlock. To the right and left of the gates were the tall white obelisks. They looked like miniature versions of the Washington Monument in DC. They too, were enclosed inside a black iron fence, but Seth brought his flashlight out and shined it on the one to the left and read aloud, “In memory of John Augustine Washington and his wife Eleanor Love Senden. Who’s that?”

  Willie spoke up, “He was the great grand-nephew of George, a famous Confederate army officer. He was the last Washington to technically own Mount Vernon.”

  Madison walked around to the right obelisk and read from the large column, “Within the vault lies buried the immortal remains of Bushrod Washington, an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the U.S. He died in Philadelphia November 26th, 1829, aged 68. By his side is interred his devoted wife, Anna Blackburn, who survived her beloved husband but two days, aged sixty.”

  Between the two towers was a small path that led to the actual tombs. There was an open archway made of brick. Seth shone his flashlight on the top of the opening and read, “Within this enclosure rest the remains of General George Washington.” The gates that encompassed him were locked. He shone his flashlight inside and they could make out two caskets of what appeared to be brushed white concrete or maybe even marble. They were very smooth with ornate designs on the top.

  “Those two tombs are for George and Martha, not what you’re looking for. Follow me, we can’t get in this way,” Willie said. He led them to the right of the vault, around to the side. Willie searched through his vast amount of keys until he found the right one. “This here is a storage closet of some sort. I only use the broom inside to sweep dirt and leaves around the tomb.” Before he inserted the key, he said, “I am not going in with you. You do not desecrate these graves, is that understood?”

  All three of them nodded in agreement.

  “I will be on the other side keeping watch. Once you enter this room, I will not be able to see you. It is a separate room from the tombs at the front. At the first sign of trouble, you get your asses out the back and away from here. I’ll deny everything. I hope you will keep your end of the bargain. Deal?”

  All three nodded—again.

  Willie paused and said, “God forgive us all.” He turned the key and opened the vault door.

  <><><><><>

  It was tough for the Vice-President to sit in the Oval Office listening to the Secretary of State ramble on about some foreign affairs meeting she had with the Prime Minister of Egypt. Jon Castle had more important things on his mind. His phone had buzzed in his pocket twice in the past thirty minutes, and he couldn’t bring himself to answer it in front of the President. He’d also blocked all text messaging to and from this phone; it was one less record of a conversation taking place. Castle had to wait until the meeting was over so he could make his call. His assistant, Kim, sat next to him on the couch and abruptly bumped his knee with hers, jarring him from his thoughts.

  “Jon?” asked President Bowe again.

  “Ah, yeah, I agree,” Castle managed to say.

  The President looked at him with cautious eyes. His tie was off and he was dressed in a canary oxford shirt and navy blue pants. His arms were crossed in front of his stout chest and his face flexed as he narrowed his eyes at Castle.

  “Okay, then, it’s settled. We agree to lend,” he made imaginary quotation marks with his fingers, “the Egyptians two-hundred and fifty million US dollars for the right to place twelve F-15 fighters and an additional two thousand troops along the Egyptian-Libyan border.”

  “I think that’s the right move, Mr. President,” his Chief of Staff said, a thick man with a shaved head and a wrinkled nose.

  “Good, anything else from the land of King Tut?” he asked his Secretary of State.

  “That’s it,” she said.

  Everyone got up to leave the Oval Office when the President said, “Jon, gimme a minute would you?”

  The VP looked at him and spoke softly to Kim telling her to wait outside. He sat back down on the couch and watched as the President stayed leaning against the front of desk, arms still crossed.

  “What’s up, Jon?”

  “Nothing much, sir, just a little tired I guess.”

  He unfolded his arms, stuck his hands in his pockets and casually walked over to the bookshelf in the near corner. He grabbed two bowl-shaped drinking glasses and reached into a miniature refrigerator below the shelf and pulled out what appeared to be a wine bottle. Bowe uncorked the bottle and poured into both glasses a fine white bubbly head that crested over a burnt orange liquid. He handed one to
Castle and sat across from him in one of the chairs.

  “This, Jon, is from a monastery on the outskirts of Belgium. Beer, Jon, not fancy scotch or bourbon or wine. Good old fashioned beer. Brewed by monks of all people. I was given a case by the head monk himself, don’t even know his name. In fact, when I visited the monastery, I was going to buy some to take home. Whaddya know, huh?” He raised his glass and inched back in his chair. “The perks of being the President.”

  The two men took a swallow of beer and the President exhaled. “That is good stuff.”

  “Yes, sir,” Castle agreed.

  “So, you alright, Jon?”

  “Never better, sir. Just tired like I said.”

  “Yeah, this job is tiring isn’t it? But, Jon,” the President leaned forward. “The job is not forever. Know what I mean?”

  “Sure, all depends on the voters, right?”

  “Sure does,” the President agreed. Took another drink of his beer and watched Castle do the same. “You want my job, don’t you, Jon?”

  Castle was caught off guard and it showed in his face even though he tried to deny it. “What? No. I’m perfectly happy as VP.”

  “Sure, who wouldn’t be, except the President, that is. Jon, you’re perfectly welcome to seek my position again once it’s that time. I figure we’ll get re-elected for another term, then four years later, it’s your turn.”

  “Sir, I am—”

  The President put his hand up. “But in the meantime, I expect you to act like a VP and to take your job seriously—no drifting off in my meetings, no looking over at your assistant like you wanna bang her, which, well…I’ll leave that alone. Get your head outta your ass and start being my Vice-President. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” Castle said. He was embarrassed and quickly finished his drink.

  “Good,” the President said. He got out of his chair and Castle did the same. “Good talk, Jon.” He slapped him on the back as they walked toward the door.

  “Good beer too, sir,” Castle said back to him, humoring him, placing his empty glass on the table.