The Lincoln Myth (Cotton Malone 9)

“Unfortunately, it won’t stop with Utah. Which is your plan. Other states will follow. You’re right, our problems run deep. People are ready to flee. They think there’s something better. But I’m here to tell you there’s not. For all its faults this is the best damn political system man has ever conceived. It does work. But only as a unit of fifty states. I can’t allow you to destroy that.”

“Even if the founders themselves said it was okay?”

Snow sighed. “Thaddeus, our own founders said a lot of things, too. Some of it was wise, some nonsense. It’s our duty, our responsibility, to ignore the bad and keep the good. Times have changed. What may have worked in 1787 no longer works today.”

“That’s not for us to decide.” His voice rose. “It’s for the people to choose. They have a right to know everything.”

“If that’s the case,” Daniels said, “then why do we classify information? Why do we meet in secret to make national security decisions? Because it’s up to us, as the people’s representatives, to make smart decisions. They elect and trust us to get it right. And every few years they have chance to tell us how we’re doing. Senator, we’re asking you to stop this, both your president and your prophet are asking you to stop.”

His first thought was about what was happening in Iowa. Did the Lincoln watch hold the final piece of the puzzle? He also wondered about Stephanie Nelle and her complicity. She’d offered him vital information. But what had Snow just said about his own offered cooperation?

Enough rope to hang yourself.

“You sent Stephanie Nelle to me, didn’t you?” he asked Daniels.

“I sent no one. She’s a thief and a traitor. I’m going to fire her, then put her sorry ass in jail. That’s where you’re going, too, if you don’t stop.”

He faced Snow. “We have a right to live free, as we please, according to the prophets. We’ve earned that. Our founders envisioned that.”

“We are free, Thaddeus.”

“How can you say that? It’s our duty to fulfill the White Horse Prophecy.”

“That’s a fantasy. It always has been.”

“No, it’s not. We were told to stand by the Constitution of the United States as it was given by the inspiration of God. That means in its entirety. And that’s what I’m doing. The founders themselves said a state could leave, if it wanted to. I’m prepared to see if Utah wants that.”

Then something occurred to him.

“You lied to Nixon about the prophecy, didn’t you?”

Snow stared back.

“That’s exactly what you did,” he said again. “You told him it was fantasy.”

“We simply reiterated what the church has publicly said of that pronouncement,” Snow made clear.

“Which was a lie. You just said every prophet since Brigham Young was aware of the truth. What we held for the United States.”

“Which has nothing to do with that prophecy,” Snow said. “It has everything to do, though, with the future of this nation. We simply chose not to destroy this country. The Constitution would, indeed, hang by a thread if you’re allowed to proceed.”

“Where is it, Charles?” His body shook with intensity. “Where is that document hidden? Tell me.”

Snow shook his head. “That will not be passed from this prophet to the next. And I assure you, I’m the only one who knows.”

“Then you have betrayed your faith, and all that it stands for.”

“I’m prepared to answer to Heavenly Father. Are you?”

“Absolutely. I know Lincoln fought a war that never should have been fought. The South had a right to leave, and he knew that. He made a personal choice to wage that war. Hundreds of thousands died. What do you think the American people will say when that’s revealed?”

“That he chose the Union,” Daniels said. “He chose this country. I would have done the same.”

“Then you’re a traitor, too.”

“Lincoln decided that the United States was more important than the individual states,” Daniels said. “Granted, times have changed. The same pressures he faced we don’t. But we have pressures that are just as immediate. Worldwide concerns. It’s important that this nation survive.”

He leveled his gaze at the president of the United States. “It. Will. Fall.”

“I’m releasing you from your calling,” Snow said. “I want your resignation as an apostle.”

“And I want you out of the Senate,” the president said.

“You can both go to hell.”

Never before had he uttered such derogatory words. Swearing was contrary to all that he believed. But he was angry. And he had to hope that Salazar was successful. Everything now depended on that.

He turned for the door, but could not resist a parting shot.

“This Lincoln myth will end. The nation will see him for what he was. A man who fought a war for nothing, who hid away the truth for his own purposes. Unlike either of you, I trust the judgment of the people. They’ll decide if this Union is forever.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

MALONE KEPT WATCH ON THE DARK OUTLINE OF SALISBURY House. The electricity had been down about fifteen minutes, and he finally spotted flashlights streaking through the cottage where Cassiopeia had done her damage. A couple of minutes later the lights inside and out came back on. Surely it was clear now that someone had intentionally tripped the breaker. It would not be long before police would be everywhere.

“She’s coming your way, Pappy,” Luke said in his ear.

He fled his post and headed back through the trees to where he’d parked the rental car. It sat on the shoulder of a tree-lined street, the houses around all set back from the road a hundred-plus feet. One of those older neighborhoods built when people craved privacy and land was cheap.

There was no telling what had happened inside Salisbury House. Frat Boy had kept the details to himself. The fact that Cassiopeia now possessed the watch meant Luke had underestimated her.

Big mistake.

LUKE HASTENED HIS PACE, HIS GROIN STILL ACHING. HE OWED her one for that. He found the edge of the house and turned the corner. Trees, shrubs, and woods nestled close to the side wall. A rustling noise up ahead confirmed that Vitt was still on the move. The lights had returned inside, the ground-floor windows now illuminating this side of the building.

He pushed his way through the foliage.

Malone should be somewhere behind the rear garden, Vitt heading straight toward him.

CASSIOPEIA STAYED IN THE TREES AND PASSED THE EDGE OF THE rear garden. Her car was waiting fifty meters away on a street labeled Greenwood Drive. She had the watch. Josepe would be pleased. Maybe once she handed it over she could learn its significance. All Josepe had mentioned was that it might be the final piece of a much larger puzzle. Would she tell Stephanie Nelle?

Probably not.

Sirens could now be heard.

With the lights back on in Salisbury House, the theft would be evident.

Time to be far away, and fast.

“SHE SHOULD BE RIGHT ON YOU,” LUKE SAID INTO THE MIKE.

No reply.

“Malone.”

Still silent.

Where the heck was the old-timer?

He decided to take matters into his own hands. The pain had finally subsided, and his hard-trained muscles were ready, nerves alert.

So he sprang ahead.

CASSIOPEIA HEARD THRASHING RAPIDLY COMING HER WAY.

She increased her pace and came to the end of the rear garden, rushing ahead through the woods toward her parked vehicle. Someone was closing in. The car doors were unlocked, the keys in her purse along with the watch, which she held tightly.

The woods ended at the edge of the road.

She spotted her car and raced over, climbing inside, stuffing the key in the ignition and firing the engine. She shifted into drive, foot on the accelerator, and was about to speed away when something pounded the hood. Through the windshield she spotted a man sprawled out and

a face. Younger. Late twenties, early thirties.

“Going somewhere?” he asked her.

The man’s left arm came up from his side, the hand holding a semi-automatic, which he aimed straight at her.

She smiled and kept her eyes locked on his.

Then her right foot floored the accelerator.

LUKE HAD EXPECTED SOMETHING, WHICH WAS WHY HIS RIGHT hand was vised onto the hood’s lip at the base of the windshield, where the wipers were hidden.

The car lunged forward, tires spinning in the dirt and grass, then grabbing pavement.

She swung the wheel left, then right, trying to dislodge him.

He held tight.

She increased speed.

“Pappy,” he said. “I don’t know where you are, but I need you. I’m going to have to shoot this crazy bitch.”

Stephanie’s orders were clear.

Get the watch.

At any cost.

CASSIOPEIA DID NOT WANT TO SERIOUSLY INJURE THE MAN ON her hood, but she also needed him to go away. He surely worked for Stephanie Nelle. Who else would be here?

They were on a dark side street with no traffic, woods on both sides between an occasional driveway.

Ahead, something emerged from the trees.

Another vehicle.

Blocking both lanes, perpendicular to her path.

Its driver’s-side door opened and the outline of a man emerged.

One she knew.

Cotton.