The Lost Journal

by Chris Blewitt

  Since the small opening in the ceiling was closed, it took him a few moments to find it. He raised his arms and pushed it open and to the side of the floor above him. Seth jumped up and grabbed a hold of the floor and called out Madison’s name but he received no reply. The room was dark and she was gone. He pulled himself out of the hole and replaced the cover. He decided to take the pouch out of his jacket and remove the note. He took off one of his shoes, placed the note in, and then replaced his shoe on his foot. He left the pouch in the corner of the room and opened the door ever so slightly.

  Seth heard voices coming from outside but they seemed to be in the distance. He heard men asking where he was and Madison replying that he was here just a moment ago. He took a look outside and saw through the trees that they were standing near the slave memorial. He opened the door all the way, stepped outside and closed the door. He crept through the woods and circled around the back of the group. When he got close he said, “I’m right here.”

  All of them gazed at him with wonderment.

  “Well, well,” Max said. “What’d ya find, mate?”

  Seth held out his hands and said, “Nothin.”

  “Come on,” Evan chimed in, “you’ve been gone this whole time and found nothing?”

  “Search him,” Max said to Evan.

  Evan walked over to Seth and started patting him down. He reached into his jacket pockets, felt his jeans pockets and found nothing.

  “He’s clean,” Evan said.

  “Ah, Christ,” Max said, “Now what?”

  All of a sudden, Max heard his name being called from a distance. He turned in the direction of the tomb and listened. “MAX!” a woman called. He recognized it was Chloe.

  “Over here, round back!” he yelled.

  Chloe appeared through the trees jogging, her red hair bouncing off her shoulders. She stopped and caught her breath before saying, “Cop car just pulled in.”

  “Shit,” Kohler said. “Let’s go Pierce.” He grabbed him by the jacket and pushed him toward the exit and they ran off.

  “Good luck explaining yourself,” Max said to Seth. The three Brits ran off in the same direction as the Feds.

  “I’ll handle this,” Willie said. He walked toward the exit and they followed him out.

  “Well?” Madison asked Seth.

  “I didn’t find whatever Washington hid,” he said.

  “Damn, all this for nothing,” she responded.

  “I did find something though. We’re closer,” he said.

  “What? What did you find?” she asked.

  They walked quickly down the path. Willie stopped and told them to keep going and then joined in behind them.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” Seth said.

  They got to the bottom of the hill and saw a police officer looking in Madison’s car with a flashlight. He saw them approach and put his hand on his gun.

  “It’s all right officer,” Willie said, opening up his jacket to reveal his uniform. “Mount Vernon security. I got everything under control.”

  “What’s going on?” the officer asked.

  “They were just looking at the tomb. They claim they drove all day from Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh I think they said. When they arrived, the gates were closed. I was doing my nightly drive-by back to my house and saw the car parked here. They said they were related to someone buried up there and wanted to see the grave. No harm no foul.”

  The officer was suspicious but didn’t see any real threat. He bid them good night and told them to come back in the morning when the park was open. They waved at him as he drove off.

  “Thanks Willie,” Arthur said.

  “What’d you find?” Willie asked Seth.

  Seth took off his shoe and lifted out the folded note and handed it to Willie. He opened the note and put a hand to his chest.

  “Jesus H Christ,” he said.

  Madison grabbed the note and with Arthur reading over her shoulder she read it out loud. “If you are reading this, you have followed my trail very well. Unfortunately for you, I left what you are looking for in the hands of a new generation. This will ensure the safety of the document that my uncle kept hidden all these years. The safest place for such a document lies with my Uncle George’s only child by blood.”

  “That’s it, another dead end,” Arthur said.

  “It’s no dead end,” Willie replied.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Remember when I told you I was related to George Washington?”

  <><><><><>

  The President had to keep his nose clean in some respect. After his closest agent Brent had told him about Kohler and Pierce, he knew he needed to make a move. He remembered Kohler, that was for sure. What Kohler had on him could ruin him. The President wanted to now return the favor and bring about a little fair play.

  After the call he received, he had Brent contact the Mount Vernon Police Department with an anonymous tip about some vandals on the property. The person that tipped him off was owed a favor, what he could only guess. He was sure it could be handled by someone on his staff. A position in the White House or an aide to an important political figure was done all the time. Favors were a part of the political process.

  Brent called him shortly thereafter informing him that the police checked on the estate and found that there was a security guard on hand and a couple of tourists, nothing to write home about. Something or someone had gotten away, he thought. The vice-president was up to something. If he was snooping around, there was no telling what he would turn up, but the president had more ears and eyes in places than the VP had and more allies too. Plus, the caller from earlier was on his side.

  <><><><><>

  “Ever hear of West Ford?” Willie asked.

  They were back in separate cars on their way to Willie’s house. It was after eleven but with this latest revelation, no one was tired, not even Arthur. Willie poured two more drinks for himself and Arthur, and Seth and Madison asked for water. They moved back into the living room and sat as they had hours before.

  No one responded to the question Willie asked.

  “West Ford was born on the Bushfield Plantation back in 1784. He was a slave, as most if not all Afro-Americans were in that time period. More importantly, he was a slave on the plantation owned by John Washington, George’s brother. George frequented his brother’s estate and West Ford served as his personal attendant. George took a liking to the boy and often brought him out riding and hunting.”

  “George owned slaves?” Madison asked, much to her chagrin.

  “Most certainly, my dear. All white landowners owned slaves back then. George was not a big proponent and in fact asked in his will that slaves be freed. West Ford came to live at Mount Vernon and was actually granted his freedom in 1806. He married his wife and raised their four children at Mount Vernon. He was so well liked that Bushrod willed him one hundred sixty acres of land near Mount Vernon.”

  “Wow, pretty good for a slave,” Arthur said.

  “Damn good at that,” Willie replied. “He eventually sold that land and bought over two hundred acres nearby. He divided the acres between his four children and they each lived there. When he died at the ripe old age of seventy-nine, there were articles written about the man with such distinction. This was in 1863. He was buried in the tomb we were just at.”

  “Get outta here!” Arthur exclaimed, and then downed his drink.

  Willie took a sip of his own drink. “Yes, it is true. Most of the slaves were buried in the circular grove we were at today, but West received the royal treatment along with others from the Washington family.”

  “Why was a black man in that day given such preferential treatment?” Madison asked.

  Willie smiled at them all and leaned forward on his elbows, cradling the glass between both hands. “Because West Ford was George Washington’s son.”

  Tick – Tick – Tick

  That was the only sound in the room coming from the clock on the mantle.
After ten ticks, the two hands reached up together and the clock struck midnight, jarring them all from the news that was just bestowed upon them.

  “You shittin us Dub-Dub?” Arthur asked.

  He chuckled. “No, I’m not. Now, no one wants you to believe it, and everyone has tried to deny it and cover it up. Some historians claim it was his brother John’s son, but family members disagree. A slave woman named Venus confided in John’s wife Hanna and told her that she was sleeping with George when he came to their plantation.”

  “I need another drink,” Arthur said. He went into the kitchen grabbing Willie’s glass on the way and poured them another splash of the wicked concoction that his friend made.

  “I thought it was reported that Washington was sterile?”

  “Well, that’s an unproven rumor,” Willie said. “Maybe they wanted to cover the fact that Washington had a child out of wedlock. A black child at that.”

  “Then what? How did this not all come out?” Seth asked.

  “Oh, it has come out. The story broke in 1998 and it was covered in news reports, magazines and newspapers, then it just fizzled away. There was a book about it a few years ago by some relatives, but it wasn’t talked about that much.”

  “Why not?” Seth asked.

  “Because people in high places don’t want you to learn the fact that the father of this country was sleeping with a black slave and had an illegitimate child. That’s why. And who would believe it?”

  “So Ford’s children, what happened to them?” Madison asked.

  “They had two boys and two girls. I think they were military men back then. Then their children had children and so on and so forth.”

  “Wait,” Arthur asked, “how do you know all this? Wait, no…”

  Willie leaned back in his chair and smiled at Arthur.

  “Oh!” Madison said, “No way!”

  “What?” Seth asked.

  “It’s true,” Willie said. “I am related to West Ford, he was my great-great-great-great-grandfather.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The Deputy Prime Minister of England was up at five am just like every other day. He jumped out of his lonely bed and stretched his arms high over his head. He flipped on the television to see what the London Exchange was primed to do that day. The Japanese market was having a solid day which meant London should parallel their success. He threw on black gym shorts and a gray t-shirt that hugged his tight torso and collapsed onto the floor of his bedroom. He didn’t open the shade of his bedroom but instead relied on the glow of the television.

  Keeping in shape was a priority for him, and he busted out fifty crunches followed by fifty push-ups. He got up and went over to his closet door and opened it. On the top of the door was a pull-up bar. He grabbed it and knocked out thirteen pull-ups until he felt the burn. In the corner of his massive bedroom was a treadmill. After putting on socks and running shoes, he fired up the treadmill to level 8.0 and was flying through five miles in less than thirty-five minutes.

  After he showered and dressed in a tailored Armani suit, he poured himself a to-go cup of coffee, grabbed his laptop bag and headed out the door. His driver was already parked out front of the building, as he was every day at precisely 6:30 am. The man opened the door for him and Greg Bannister entered the car.

  At age forty-two, Bannister looked thirty-two. Not only was he in impeccable shape, he had a full head of light brown hair, did not need glasses or contacts to cover his brown eyes, went tanning once a week to maintain a slight hint of color, had a manicure once a month, and also whitened his teeth twice a year. All of this contributed to the fact that he was voted as the second most eligible bachelor in Britain, behind the Prince of course. Bannister didn’t care. He made enough money and got laid whenever he wanted.

  The Deputy Prime Minister position made him second-in-command of Great Britain, behind the Prime Minister, Alec Wood. Wood was in his late fifties and was popular with the Liberal Democrats in the country. Bannister played the role of supporting Wood, but as soon as he had his way, Wood would be out of office, sooner rather than later. The thing about being the Deputy PM was that your role if something ever happened to the PM was not guaranteed. In America if The President of the United States died or was impeached, the VP automatically took over. In Great Britain, if the PM could not perform his duties, the cabinet would decide his replacement. Even the Queen of England had been known to express her support in favor of one candidate or another.

  Bannister had his laptop open in the back of the car and picked up his personal cell phone. He dialed Max Church’s number and waited a few seconds for the connection to go through.

  “Max here,” he heard on the other end.

  “What’s going on?” Bannister said.

  “Right now we’re sitting on our duffs in a cold car outside a house.”

  “Whose house?”

  “Some security guy from Mount Vernon. The kid, the girl and the old man are inside. We followed them here after the cops were snooping around Mount Vernon. We had to get outta there.”

  “Did they find it?” Bannister asked.

  “Don’t think so,” Max responded. “The kid was gone for a little bit but we searched him and didn’t turn up anything.”

  “Stay on them.”

  “We are, don’t worry.”

  “It’s my job to worry, Max.”

  He ended the call and looked out the window as the sun was rising above the hills to the east. The weather man on the TV this morning said it was going to be sixty and sunny in London. A perfect day.

  <><><><><>

  “So you never heard of this so-called document before?” Seth asked Willie.

  They were still seated in the living room. Madison had moved to the floor with her head propped up on two pillows. Arthur was drifting off, and Willie was tired of all the questions. It was late and everyone was exhausted.

  “I’ve heard of it Seth, that’s why I was looking for it until someone swiped it from me,” he said, glancing over at Arthur who stirred.

  “But no one in your family ever talked about it?”

  “Never,” he said. “I’d have known too. We talked about that journal all the time. If someone in my family had the document in question, I’d have it right next to me.”

  Seth put his face in his hands and leaned over so that he was looking at the ground. He was emotionally invested in this now. There was no walking away. He looked to his left and saw that Madison was out cold. Across from him, his granddad was snoring away.

  “I have a spare bedroom upstairs for you and Madison, if you like,” Willie said. “I’ll pull out the couch for the old man here.”

  “Let’s just review this real quick,” Seth said.

  Willie sighed but said okay.

  “George Washington did something or knew something that he was not proud of that he kept to himself. Remember the journal, it said, ‘It is with great displeasure that I am writing this. Let me tell you that I did what I did under great duress and for the betterment of the country and my family’.”

  Willie nodded, “Then he hid the document or whatever it was in the Betsy Ross house, correct?”

  “Yep, and he gave the journal to Bushrod who deciphered the journal and went to the Ross house and moved the document to Valley Forge. But, he changed his mind and he thought this document was so important, he wanted to bury it with him. Then, he found out that his Uncle George had a child named West Ford. He thought this secret must stay in the family so he left it with West Ford.”

  “That’s about the gist of it. Time for bed,” Willie said, getting up from the chair. He nudged Arthur who got up and went to the bathroom.

  “Damn,” Seth said. “What did West Ford do with it?”

  “That,” Willie said as the night came to an end, “is the million dollar question.”

  Sleep came quickly for Seth although his mind was racing. He’d woken Madison and they went upstairs and crashed in the guest bedroom. It had been a long d
ay, and this was Madison’s second night in a row away from her own bed, Seth’s third since he spent the night on Madison’s couch. The bright morning sun did not even wake them and everyone slept until after eight o’clock. He left Madison half-sleeping, half-awake and went downstairs. When he stepped into the kitchen he was greeted by Willie who was making coffee and discovered his granddad still sleeping on the pull-out couch in the living room.

  “I’ve been thinking Willie,” Seth began.

  “Don’t hurt yourself kid,” Willie replied.

  “Since no one in your family ever mentioned this document, is it possible that West Ford gave it to someone else? Or, better yet, buried it with him?”

  Willie was pulling coffee mugs and sugar from the white cabinets and milk from the refrigerator. “Anything’s possible, boy. I just don’t think it’s with the family anymore. And, if it was so important, why bury it? Why not give it to someone of importance? Remember, Washington died in 1799 and West Ford died sixty four years later. A lot can change in that time. What I think, is that this document or whatever it is, did not go to the grave with West Ford. It was too important.”

  Seth nodded. Willie poured two cups of coffee and pushed one across the counter to Seth who added sugar and milk.

  “So,” Seth began, “let’s assume West Ford received this document from Bushrod who said, ‘this is very important and I want you to have it’. Ford reads the document and hides it away. Then, he’s on his deathbed, right, just like George was and realizes, ‘Hey, I gotta pass this thing along.’”

  “Yep, now who does he give it to then?” Madison asked, coming through the hallway into the kitchen.

  “Morning, miss, can I get you a cup?” Willie asked.

  “Sure, thanks,” she replied.

  “So who does he give it to Madison?” Seth asked.

  She took the cup from Willie and added a drop of milk. “Well, I think it would have to be someone who was near him on his deathbed, right? Wife, kids, brother?”