The Lincoln Myth (Cotton Malone 9)

He ignored the elder and focused on the vision.

“Protect me.”

And he saw something on the angel’s face he’d never before seen.

Concern.

His right hand plunged beneath his jacket and found the gun.

STEPHANIE HAD SLOWLY WORKED HER WAY THROUGH THE PASSAGE, following lights toward voices. She’d traversed one small chamber, then found a larger one, slipping inside unnoticed among more illuminated rock formations. She’d listened as Rowan, Salazar, and Cassiopeia talked, Salazar angry over what Rowan had revealed.

“Josepe,” Rowan said. “I speak the truth. This woman is a spy. She’s no different from those who turned on us during the Time of Troubles. How many of our brothers went to prison thanks to spies? I’m your elder. I have never lied to you, and I am not lying now.”

But Salazar’s focus was not on the senator, but toward the statue on the plinth, his eyes far off, head toward the cavern ceiling.

Odd.

Salazar’s right hand held a gun.

Stephanie found her own weapon.

No.

That would only inflame the situation.

There was just one way. She’d been unsure what to do when she entered, but now the path was clear. She laid the gun down, stepped from her hiding place, and called out, “He’s telling the truth.”

All three whirled her way.

“I’m his source.”

ROWAN WAS SHOCKED AT STEPHANIE NELLE’S APPEARANCE.

She had no business here.

He watched as she slowly approached. Salazar’s weapon was now trained on her, and he did not like the wild look in the Spaniard’s eyes.

“Who are you?” Salazar demanded.

“Stephanie Nelle. United States Justice Department. Tell him, Cassiopeia. Tell him the truth.”

“What truth?” Salazar called out.

Nelle kept her eyes locked on Vitt. “Tell him what you’ve wanted to say to him.”

“Rowan is right. I am a spy.”

An incredulous look came over Salazar’s face. “That can’t be. I refuse to believe that.”

“It’s true,” Vitt said. “This woman asked me to make contact with you on behalf of the American government, and I did. But I stayed on my own.” She paused. “I remember you as a good, kind, gentle man. Those memories were dear and precious. What happened, Josepe? What changed your soul?”

Salazar did not answer. Instead his attention seemed again diverted to the statue, lips moving but no sound emanating.

“What is it you see?” Vitt asked.

“Brother Salazar,” Rowan said.

“The Prophet Joseph is here. He has been with me for some time.” Salazar pointed with his gun at Vitt. “He, too, was deceived by you.”

“She’s not the only one who fooled you,” Nelle said, pointing his way.

“The senator is a spy, too.”

SIXTY-SEVEN

LUKE MEANT WHAT HE’D TOLD MALONE. HE HAD HIS BACK. Stephanie had misled them both and was now in deep trouble. They had to work this together. No bickering, no debate. Malone had read Cassiopeia Vitt perfectly in Iowa, staying one step ahead. He also knew Stephanie better than Luke did. Unfortunately for them both, they were now at least two steps behind the pack.

They’d jogged up the forested incline. Inside the tunnel they’d quickly reconnoitered a small lit chamber, then fled out another tunnel that led to a second interior hall. Everything was surreal, the rock formations like works of art, the lights working as paint on a canvas.

Malone raised a hand and signaled for them to stop.

Voices could be heard beyond the tunnel’s exit.

They crept close to the end and he could see Vitt, Rowan, and Salazar, a gun in Salazar’s hand pointed directly at Stephanie, who stood twenty feet from the Spaniard, her arms in the air.

His first instinct was to burst in.

They had two guns to Salazar’s one.

But Malone seemed to read his mind and shook his head.

MALONE DID NOT LIKE ANY OF WHAT HE WAS SEEING.

Stephanie had either been compromised or had compromised herself. He opted for the latter, especially after spotting her Beretta lying on the floor nestled close to a large boulder, hidden from view. She’d deliberately misled him and Luke to buy herself enough time to get here. She would have to assume that they would head back to Charles Snow, where they’d learn about the cavern, counting on the fifteen to twenty minutes of time she’d bought herself.

Thankfully, they’d cut that in half and were already here.

Think.

Be right.

STEPHANIE STOOD WITH HER HANDS IN THE AIR AND FACED Salazar. She was not afraid, though she should be. Danny Daniels had told her that if a third party happened to intervene and cause havoc, who were they to interfere? But she’d understood what the president of the United States had not said. And if you can cause that havoc, so much the better.

“What do you mean Elder Rowan is a spy?” Salazar asked.

“He’s a long-standing member of the U.S. Senate. He’s taken an oath to uphold the laws and Constitution of this country. He is one of the most powerful men in Washington.”

“I’m also a Latter-day Saint,” Rowan said. “A duty I take even more seriously than my oath to this country.”

She had to work this carefully.

Timing was everything.

“What the senator said about Cassiopeia is true. When I learned of the photograph you kept of you and her, I realized you might still care. I asked Cassiopeia if she would be willing to approach you and she agreed.”

“Is that true?” Salazar asked.

Cassiopeia nodded. “I was told you were involved with some illegal activities. Even murder. I wanted to clear your name.”

“Murder?” Rowan asked.

Stephanie said, “He murdered a man in Michigan for a Mormon journal. Then he killed one of my agents.”

The senator seemed genuinely shocked by the information.

“Josepe,” Rowan said. “Please tell me she’s lying.”

SALAZAR LOOKED TOWARD THE ANGEL FOR GUIDANCE.

“They know not what we face. We guard Saints and all they hold dear. Elder Rowan wanted that done. He cannot complain as to the methods.”

“Their agent was sent to destroy us,” he said. “My task was to not allow that to happen. The agent was not murdered. He was properly atoned, now with Heavenly Father enjoying his reward.”

“You beat him,” the new woman said. “Then you shot him. He had a wife and children.”

“This woman’s fault. Not yours.”

“Josepe,” Rowan said. “Is what she says true?”

“Be not afraid.”

“It is.”

“Then you have greatly sinned.”

“It has always been our way to offer atonement to our enemies. It was that way in the beginning, and remains so.”

“No,” Rowan declared. “We renounced violence long ago. Never is that a means to an end. I’ve spent my life working for a way for Saints to be independent, to be free of outside influence, without violence.”

Was he hearing right? He was being chastised for doing what was expected. And Cassiopeia?

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked her. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“It was necessary. What you’ve done is wrong.”

“How dare she. She must know her place.”

“I am sworn to obey the prophets, and that is all I have done.”

“When you suggested the formation of Danites,” Rowan said, “never did I imagine you would go this far.”

“He is weak, Josepe. A fool, like all of the others. Do not tolerate it. We cannot tolerate it. Not any longer.”

The angel was right.

“Prophet Joseph tells me that you are wrong,” he said.

“Joseph Smith has been dead for over 150 years,” the new woman said.

“Shut up,” he yelled, jutting the gun her way, leveling the barrel at her chest. “Never say such a thing. He lives.”