by Steve Berry
He grabbed the notebook and wandered into the front parlor, sitting in one of the rocking chairs. His mother’s house had contained a parlor, as had her mother’s, so he’d included one even though the room was hardly ever used. Pauline called it a waste of space but indulged his whim, decorating it in proper Tennessee fashion. They hadn’t visited the house much while in the White House since the Secret Service would have demanded too many security changes. He’d always known that, once out of office, this would be his home, so he’d wanted it to remain inviolate.
And it had.
Now it was his alone.
He stared down at the notebook in his lap, the circle and cross visible in the leather. “It’s a wheel cross,” Diane had said. “Or a sun cross. An ancient symbol of the sun, for good luck.” Last week Alex had been here, in the house, during their last visit together. He’d been glad to see his old friend, but they’d talked little about politics and more about doing some hiking and fishing. Not once had Alex mentioned retiring from the Senate. Not a word about something monumental. No comments, either, about marital discord. And Danny had sensed nothing wrong. Misdirection? Possibly. But anyone who managed to get elected multiple times to the U.S. Senate knew how to keep things close. Was it none of his business? Maybe. But he and Alex had been friends. They’d shared a lot. Apparently not everything. Still, who was he to criticize. He’d never once mentioned his feelings toward Stephanie Nelle, though he had told Alex that his marriage to Pauline was over.
He had to know if Taisley’s fears were justified. It still amazed him that Alex had maintained a six-year connection with another woman and no one, not even his wife, had ever suspected a thing. But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done with Stephanie? Their interaction for eight years had been out in the open, only fleeting opportunities here and there to speak alone. And no one had ever suspected that they harbored feelings toward each other.
Not even Pauline.
Rain pattered gently on the windows.
Outside, he heard cars approach, then stop on the graveled drive.
They were early.
Doors slammed closed.
The old boards of the front porch creaked beneath heavy footfalls.
He glanced out through the screen door and saw the governor of Tennessee. While here, the governor planned on meeting with local industry leaders and had called a few days ago and asked if he might bum a night in one of the spare bedrooms. Nashville was only a hundred and eighty miles away, and his old friend could have easily gone back to the state mansion, but he’d been glad for the company.
He slid open a drawer in a table beside the rocker and dropped the notebook inside.
No use involving another co-conspirator.
Then he rose and called out, “Come on in.”
CHAPTER TEN
Diane Sherwood sat at her desk.
People remained in the house, still mingling and reflecting among themselves on their grief. The time was pushing 7:00 P.M. She expected the gathering would end soon. Afterward, the help would clean things up and restore the house to order. In a few weeks it would go on the market, the story being that she could not bear to live there any longer without her husband. They’d built the place long ago using Alex’s money and, being childless, their last wills and testaments left everything they owned to each other.
The rain outside still fell.
She’d asked for a few minutes alone and everyone had understood. A widow with her grief. She and Alex had been married a long time. She’d met him back when they both were barely thirty and there’d been so much promise to his future. He’d been headed for the Tennessee state legislature, but people were already talking about the U.S. Senate, maybe even a presidential run down the road. Instead, another man from east Tennessee claimed the White House. A pompous, arrogant, self-righteous fool.
Danny Daniels.
His visit earlier had nauseated her.
But she’d learned long ago that there was nothing stupid about Danny Daniels. That good ol’ boy façade shielded a shrewd mind. She’d invited him out of courtesy since not to do so would have raised questions. At the graveside, where he hadn’t seemed eager to come, she’d been thrilled. Duty done and refused. But instead he’d showed his face and asked disturbing questions. Hopefully her offer of peace, which he’d accepted, would be the last time the two of them ever spoke.
She felt reassured enough to pour herself a Scotch, sipping it slowly, allowing the alcohol to soothe her nerves.
The door eased open and her brother entered.
She’d asked one of the ladies to have him join her. Nothing unusual should arise from the request, as she’d want family near her at such a difficult time.
“Close it,” she said to him. “And sit down.”
Her tone conveyed the extent of her sour mood, but a few more sips of Scotch made her feel better.
Kenneth Layne was not much of a man, either mentally or physically. He stood tall and thin, with the tawny hair of their father and a mustache to match. He had an expressionless quality about him that all her life had been irritating. Most of that detachment came from their mother, a docile, placid woman with few convictions and even less purpose. Thankfully, those weak genes had avoided her and she’d favored their father, a man of strength and élan, tough as a hickory stick. But it was Kenneth’s lack of courage that she most detested. Her brother was more a man of reflection than action. He’d take bold steps, but never alone. And risks? Those terrified him. She, on the other hand, enjoyed pushing the envelope.
He sat in one of the club chairs across the room.
She walked closer to him, her eyes turning narrow, her cold lips taut. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused?”
The problem started a few weeks ago with a call from Alex. Kenneth had come to see him in Washington, explaining what they were planning and seeking help.
“What you and Kenneth want to do would change the course of this country,” Alex said to her.
“Which is precisely what you’ve talked about for the past twenty years. Maybe it’s time we actually do something about it.”
“I’m not sure that’s a decision for you or me or Kenneth to make. It’s something the people themselves have to choose, after open debate.”
“Be real, Alex. That’s never going to happen. The people don’t have a clue what they want. We have an opportunity here. Why not take it?”
“Is the Speaker of the House with you?”
“Definitely.”
“He told you that?”
“In no uncertain terms. He’s ready to make history.”
“I bet he is, considering the incredible benefits he’ll accrue. I’ve been reading Kenneth’s notebook, and I’ve ordered some books. Amazingly, what you’re proposing seems perfectly legal, and entirely consistent with the Constitution.”
“People have known that since before the Civil War. This is not a new idea. Frankly, I would not have involved you in any of this. Kenneth made that decision, on his own, without consulting me.”
“Which only illustrates how far you and I have drifted apart.”
“We both know that our marriage is in name only.”
“And I can see now what you’ve been busy with these past couple of years. More than I ever realized.”
“I want to actually do something, Alex. And here’s the chance.”
“I’m not as convinced as you.”
Those last words had sent a chill down her spine. Containment was everything, and her brother’s unilateral decision to involve her husband had jeopardized their success. Alex was a dreamer who believed too much in the system as it existed. Like so many others, he screamed change but did little to nothing to make it happen.
“You made a big mistake,” she said to her brother. “If I’d wanted Alex part of this, I would have included him.”
“Who died and left you in charge?”
“You did, when you came seeking my help.”
He did
not challenge that statement, because she’d told him at the time that the price of her participation was that she make all the critical decisions.
“Alex was needed,” he said. “There’ll be hard resistance in the Senate, and he could have worked to lessen that. Now we’ll have to find someone else.”
Her eyes locked on his. “Who gives a damn what the United States Senate thinks? It lost its ability to have an opinion on this when it decided it was better than everyone else. I don’t care about their resistance. In fact, I welcome it.”
Never had she shied away from a fight.
They were fraternal twins, formed from two separate eggs, fertilized by two distinct sperm cells, which thankfully grew into two vastly different people. They neither looked nor acted alike. She acquired a love of history and an appreciation for conscientious study, while he favored politics and shortcuts. He ran a citizen’s action group known as the Committee to Save America, which boasted a membership that included nearly 60% of state legislators from around the country. Its primary agenda based on a demand, by two-thirds of the states, for a new Article V constitutional convention. So far thirty of the thirty-four states needed had made the official request of Congress. Four more and Congress then would have no choice but to call for a national convention to consider amendments to the Constitution. Through those efforts, Kenneth had acquired the ear of Lucius Vance and eventually introduced her to the Speaker of the House.
Which had led them to this moment.
“It was foolish to give Alex your notebook,” she said again.
A look of surprise invaded her brother’s face. “He told you about that?”
“Oh, yes. And why did you even write all that crap down? My God, you even had the cross and circle stamped on its cover.”
“I gave those notes to Alex to show him we weren’t crazy. That there’s a solid, legal basis to what we’re doing. I’ve researched it carefully, and I genuinely wanted his take on things. And who cares what’s on the cover? It’s meaningless to 99.99% of the people.”
“Alex actually did some research of his own,” she said. “And, as I would have suspected, he had major reservations. He told me in no uncertain terms that he would not be a part of what was about to happen.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. That’s your whole problem. You think no one is as smart as you. You always underestimated Alex.”
As usual, her words seemed to wash over him without registering. She stepped back to the desk and found the cross-and-circle necklace returned by Danny Daniels. “Why did you give him this?”
Kenneth shrugged. “To make him feel included. He appreciated the gesture.”
“He played you. How much did you tell him?”
“Enough for him to know that what we’re doing isn’t original. It goes way back. People smarter than us came up with the idea.”
“You told him about the Order?”
“Of course. He was fascinated. How did you get that necklace?”
“How much did you tell him?”
“Enough for him to know that this might be the way to finally accomplish what he’d talked about for years. Change Congress, change the country.”
What an idiot.
“He was just learning all he could from you, saying what you wanted to hear. You really didn’t know Alex all that well, did you? He liked to make speeches, go on TV, and say how awful things were. But he never actually did anything about it. You never found that strange? It’s actually quite common in today’s world. People will talk about how terrible a McDonald’s hamburger tastes, but they keep buying them by the millions, over and over. Why? Because they’re safe. A sure bet. You know exactly what you’re getting. Good and bad. No surprises. It’s the same in politics. Men like Alex get reelected over and over because everyone knows what they’re getting. They’re safe. Mavericks rarely win elections and never get reelected. Alex would not have changed the government.” She paused. “Nor would you, I might add, if I had not come into the picture.”
He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “I’m the one connected to Vance. I’m the one who’s working with the state legislatures. Those petitions calling for a second constitutional convention are not appearing out of thin air. I make those happen. You’re the one who upped the ante in this game to include a change in Congress.”
True.
But why not take advantage of every opportunity.
All her life she’d heard stories about the Knights of the Golden Circle. Her master’s thesis had dealt with 19th-century clandestine organizations. Groups like the Brotherhood of the Union, the Freedom Societies, and the Circle of Honor. Advisers who read it called her work brilliant and urged her to publish it as a book, but she’d refused. Instead, for the past three years she’d been working quietly trying to implement a plan first conceived 170 years ago. Then the imbecile sitting before her, with whom regrettably she’d shared a womb for nine months, decided for once in his life to make a decision on his own.
She, too, had involved Alex once, but not to the extent Kenneth had chosen, and certainly not as obviously.
When the Smithsonian Institution was created in 1846, a seventeen-member board of regents was charged with its management. Presently that board was composed of three senators, appointed by the president pro tempore of the Senate, three House members, appointed by the Speaker of the House, and nine ordinary citizens. The chief justice and vice president of the United States acted as ex officio members, the chief justice being the institution’s chancellor. Alex had served as one of the regent senators for the past five years. Two years ago she’d used that connection and had him secure her an appointment onto one of the many Smithsonian advisory boards. The one that interested her worked with the libraries. She’d used her love of books and history to convince him to speak on her behalf, which he’d been more than happy to do. Nothing raised any alarms or concerns. Just a husband helping out his highly qualified wife.
And she’d used that position to maximum advantage.
Right now, it was working on two fronts.
One in Arkansas, the other in Washington, DC.
“I’m tired of arguing,” Kenneth said. “And it’s all moot now anyway. Alex is gone. But Vance will be by later. He called a little while ago and confirmed.”
“Make it late. After everyone has left. We don’t need any more containment problems.”
“We still have one big problem,” Kenneth said. “Running wild and loose.”
She knew who he meant.
The fourth person in their circle.
“He’s going into the Smithsonian tonight,” she told him. “Doing his job, I might add.”
Kenneth shook his head. “You say I’m a problem? Grant Breckinridge is a loose cannon. I’m not in that bastard’s league when it comes to trouble.”
She glared at her brother. “There are things that have to be done, most of which involve breaking laws. Are you prepared to take those risks? To make those things happen? Because if you are, Kenneth, I’ll get rid of Grant right now and turn it all over to you. But if you’re not, then shut your damn mouth and leave this to me.”
And she meant it.
They needed Grant, an intriguing combination of charm, promise, and assurance. Sharp as a swindler. His strength an asset, his confidence a sound counter to Kenneth’s whining and complaining. True, Grant had taken chances, and she was aware of what he was overseeing in Arkansas and about to do in DC, but as she’d just said, there were messy things that had to be done and somebody had to do them.
She stepped away, finished with the conversation. Her brother had a way of turning her stomach. Thankfully, Grant had gone into Alex’s apartment and retrieved the notebook along with some books. She’d known nothing about the necklace or that would have been located, too. Behind her desk, below the study’s windows, sat the two tote bags Grant had delivered.
She glanced that way and immediately noticed something wrong.
Lying atop one of
the bags for the past few days had been Kenneth’s notebook, the cross and circle visible on its leather cover.
But it was not there.
She glanced over at her poodle, sleeping in his bed. Perhaps he was the culprit? Or maybe it just had fallen inside the tote.
Kenneth stood from his chair. “I’ll call Vance and confirm a time. I’m going to rest a little while before he gets here.”
“You do that. And try not to screw any more things up.”
He ignored her insult and left.
Quickly, she checked the tote bags and found nothing but books. There’d been people in and out of here all day, but no one would have had any interest in that notebook.
Or would they?
She still held the cross and circle returned to her by Danny Daniels. His explanation of how he acquired the necklace had sounded plausible. She recalled Alex going over for a visit. Had they discussed more than Alex’s political future? Had Alex confided in Daniels? Or was it as Daniels had said, the necklace had simply been lost?
An uncomfortable paranoia swept through her.
Which she did not like.
She reached for the phone.
And called Grant.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grant Breckinridge cared little about his surname, which harked back to the 19th century. John C. Breckinridge served as vice president of the United States under James Buchanan, the youngest man ever to hold that position, then ran for president in 1860, finishing second to Lincoln. When war broke out he sided with his native Kentucky and became a Confederate general, fighting at Shiloh, Stones River, and Chickamauga before taking command of Southern forces in the Shenandoah Valley. Late in the conflict he became the last Confederate secretary of war. After all was lost he fled abroad, eventually returning when Andrew Johnson granted universal clemency. Since childhood Grant had been told that he was related to that Breckinridge. But who the hell cared? He wasn’t one of those who longed for the antebellum South, lamenting over the unforgivable War of Northern Aggression. None of that mattered.
