The Lincoln Myth (Cotton Malone 9)

He laid the watch down, and Luke pointed the laptop’s camera at the exposed gears and springs. Stephanie had forwarded an image of the inside of Lincoln’s other watch when it had been opened at the Smithsonian, and he expected to see the same array of etchings on the inner structure.

But there was nothing.

He and Luke seemed to have the thought at the same time.

So he nodded to the younger man.

Luke flipped over the back plate.

ROWAN SAT IN THE SILENCE OF AN EMPTY SEALING ROOM. PEOPLE had come to the celestial room, and he was not in the mood for company, so he’d left. He wondered how many marriages had been performed here. He recalled his own, inside a sealing room at the Salt Lake temple. Bride and groom kneeling, facing each other over the altar, their families seated behind them on either side. Both held hands and pronounced a covenant to be faithful with each other, and to God, and to keep His commandments. To be sealed in Jesus’ name, by priesthood authority in a temple, was to be joined for all eternity—not just “till death do they part.” Here, as in most sealing rooms, mirrors placed on the walls allowed the couple to symbolically see themselves through their many reflections, together for all eternity.

And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.

Matthew 16:19.

To believe that marriage was forever only strengthened the earthly bond between husband and wife. Divorce, though allowed by the church, was frowned upon. Commitment was taught and expected.

And nothing was wrong with that.

He’d been praying for the past half hour, unsure what to do. He could not believe Heavenly Father had taken him this far, only to deprive him of the moment of glory.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket again.

He checked the display.

An unknown number.

He decided to answer.

“You didn’t think I would actually trust you,” Stephanie Nelle said in his ear.

“You set me up.”

“Really? And how did I do that?”

“I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to you.”

“I want your committee’s interest in my department officially withdrawn. I want you off my back, Senator. I want you out of my life.”

“I frankly don’t care—”

“I have the watch.”

Had he heard right?

“I sent my people in to get it, and they did.”

“How did you know I wanted it?”

“I read what Lincoln left in that book, too. I made a copy of the page before you tore it out.”

A reprieve? Second opportunity? “Do we have a deal, Senator?”

No choice. “We do. I will have a letter drafted tomorrow. My committee will say that we have no need of anything from you.”

“That’s what I want. Except I want the letter drafted and signed within the next hour, the original delivered to me.”

“Done. Now I’m waiting.”

“Open your email. I sent some pictures along with the address of where to send the letter. If I don’t get it within the hour, your little scheme will come to an abrupt end. You understand?”

“I do.”

“Goodbye, Senator.”

He tapped the screen on his smartphone and found the email. Two images downloaded. The first was of an open pocket watch. The second was a close-up of the watch’s back plate, inner side, two words etched into the silver.

FALTA NADA.

Missing Nothing.

He thought of the map Lincoln had scrawled into the Book of Mormon, how every site had been labeled save for one.

And here was that omitted piece of information.

He smiled, stared up at Heavenly Father, and whispered, “Thank you.”

His prayers had been answered. Where a few moments ago he was stuck, literally at the end, now he was on the move again. Even better he didn’t need Charles Snow, Stephanie Nelle, Danny Daniels, Brigham Young, or any map Lincoln had left behind.

He knew exactly where his prize waited.

SIXTY

10:00 P.M.

STEPHANIE LEFT THE MANDARIN ORIENTAL AND RODE IN A taxi toward the White House. She’d done exactly as Danny Daniels had requested, funneling to Rowan the information acquired from the watch. To further bolster her credibility, an image of the watch’s exposed interior had also been sent. Rowan, to his credit, had signed the letter of withdrawal and delivered it to the hotel, as she’d insisted. By now Salazar and Cassiopeia would know what Rowan knew. She understood the wisdom in what the president had wanted done, but she did not like the implications. Nearly twenty years in the intelligence business had taught her when to recognize an endgame.

The cab deposited her near Blair House and she walked the remainder of the way, ushered inside by the Secret Service and led to a room with yellow walls and a portrait of Abraham Lincoln. Waiting were Daniels and Charles R. Snow, 17th Prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She’d already been told by Danny, on the phone, what had happened here a few hours ago with Rowan.

Both men appeared agitated.

“On December 20, 1860, less than two months after Abraham Lincoln was elected president, South Carolina seceded from the Union,” Daniels said. “The first state to ever do that. Over the next sixty days Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas did the same thing. Then, on April 12, 1861, Fort Sumter was attacked. Five days later Virginia, Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina left the Union.”

She listened to his voice, returned again to the same quiet monotone from yesterday.

“Right here, in this room,” the president said, “a few days after Sumter was attacked, Francis Preston Blair sat down with Robert E. Lee. Lincoln wanted Lee to lead the Northern forces and asked Blair to see if it was possible. Lee being Lee, declined. How can I draw my sword upon Virginia, my native state?”

“That war challenged everyone’s loyalty,” Snow said. “Saints, too, had to make choices. Though we were far away, in the Salt Lake valley, the war found us.”

“Lincoln trusted you enough to send that document.”

“I’m not sure it was from trust. He had to quiet Brigham Young and secure the west for the North. He knew Young would never just take his word, so he sent something of enough value for Young to see he was serious.”

“But Young could have given it to the South,” she said. “And ended it all. From everything I’ve ever read, Mormons of that time hated the federal government.”

“That’s true. We felt it had abandoned us. But it’s equally true that we cherished the Constitution. We never saw it as our duty to destroy the nation.”

“You don’t believe the White Horse Prophecy, do you?” Daniels asked.

“If you had asked me a few days ago I would have said no. Now I’m not so sure. So much of it is becoming reality.”

The president looked tired. “Six hundred thousand people died in the Civil War. More than all of our other wars combined. That’s a lot of American bloodshed.”

And she heard what had not been uttered.

Probably for nothing.

“But we can’t blame Lincoln for what he did,” Daniels said. “He had a difficult decision, and he made it. We’re here thanks to that call. The world is a better place, thanks to that call. Exposing that document would have ended the nation right then. If that had happened, who knows what the world would be like today.” The president paused. “Still, he suppressed the will and words of the founders. He chose, on his own, by himself, to determine what was right for this country.”

And now she realized why she was here. “A choice you may have to make soon, too.”

Daniels’ eyes found hers. “If that document still exists, I’ll have the same decision. Madison’s notes are a problem, but they’re only notes. His reputation for altering and editing makes them suspect. Not near enough proof to dissolve the count

ry. But the document itself, signed and sealed, that would be a deal breaker. Who knows what the courts will do with it. That ball could bounce in any direction. And public opinion? It won’t be good.”

She faced Snow and decided to take advantage of this opportunity. “What is the significance of Falta Nada?”

“It’s a place, one Rowan will be familiar with.”

She caught something in Snow’s eyes. “You want him to go there?”

“It’s necessary that he go there. But it’s important that it be on his own initiative. He cannot sense he’s being led.”