“Hello, this is not Mr. Mysterioso, but…okay, this is Mr. Mysterioso. And I need your help. As I’m sure you’re aware, I have stumbled onto something of a hornets’ nest. I’m going to go underground for a bit. Underground. If you don’t hear from me by the twenty-eighth of September, remember this. Two. Eighteen. Thirty-five. One. One. Zero-zero.”
There was a sound of knocking on the door behind him and Riley could hear Aunt Myra’s voice, calling out sweetly, “Emmie, are you there?”
Emerson reached out toward the screen and the image went black.
Hans leaned forward and spoke with military authority. “We only have one question for you, Mr. Knight. What does ‘two, eighteen, thirty-five, one, one, zero-zero’ mean?”
“I think your father can explain that,” Emerson said, gazing at the old man in the wheelchair. “Can’t you, Bertie?”
Bertie sucked in oxygen and glared at Emerson with his single seeing eye. “You have your father’s guts, young Emerson,” he said. “Too bad you don’t have his sense.”
Riley didn’t attend church, but her mom was a good Christian woman who’d worked hard at instilling Christian values in her children. Kick that to the curb after today, Riley thought. She’d just tried to kill a man and now she was thinking very un-Christian thoughts about the elder Grunwald. She was thinking he was in a state of decay and that he had the putrid gaze of a zombie. It brought to mind a Bible quote her grandmother favored. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness.
“February eighteenth, 1935, was the date of one of the most infamous series of decisions ever returned by a U.S. Supreme Court,” Bertie said. “Norman v. Baltimore & Ohio Railroad. United States v. Bankers Trust. Nortz v. United States. Perry v. United States. This was during the dictatorship of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He illegally packed the Supreme Courts with Communists.”
Werner pressed his lips together and gave his head a small shake. Hans looked like he wanted to bang his head on the table. Manny did an eye roll. And McCabe looked like a heart attack waiting to happen.
“He did!” Bertie said. “He closed every bank in the country. Illegally.”
Riley raised her hand again. “We were in the middle of the Great Depression.”
“A minor economic correction,” Bertie said, wheezing and gasping for air. “Hoover had the right idea. The market will regulate itself. But Roosevelt had other plans. He issued an executive order requiring the surrender of all gold coins, gold bullion, and gold certificates by citizens of these United States to the government by May 1, 1933, in exchange for their value in U.S. dollars.” Bertie furiously sucked oxygen. “Congress, his lapdogs, also passed a resolution canceling all gold clauses in public and private contracts.”
The aide arrived with water for everyone, took in the climate of the room, quickly deposited the water, and left.
“People tried to fight it,” Bertie said. “Their cases went to Roosevelt’s Supreme Court, where all four were decided in favor of the government’s position. Gold couldn’t be owned by the people anymore. The government had stolen it all for itself.”
“President Ford signed a bill in 1974 legalizing the private ownership of gold coins, bars, and certificates,” Emerson said.
“Yes. I saw to that,” Bertie said. “But he didn’t repeal the gold clause resolution! That clause still stands as an affront to every citizen and a threat to every private fortune.”
“Until Manny takes his seat on the Supreme Court and overturns it,” Emerson said.
Werner nodded in affirmation.
“So,” Emerson said, “to follow Grunwald reasoning, you are not stealing the gold. You are returning it to private hands. Where it belongs.”
“Precisely,” Werner said.
“It must have taken years to amass all that bullion,” Emerson said.
Werner again answered for the family. “We were cautious.”
“And this has been going on since the turn of the century,” Emerson said. “January 1, 2000. One, one, zero-zero.”
“Very good,” Bertie said. “It seemed an appropriate time to begin the new order.”
“And your sons are following in your footsteps?”
“All but one,” Bertie said.
“Why did you fake your death?” Riley asked.
“There was going to be a congressional investigation. Some talk of unlawful activity. I decided it would be better to die. The outpouring of affection from powerful people would drown out the inquiry.?
?
Bertie was laboring to breathe, his chest expanding and collapsing with each word. Everyone at the table was pitched forward as if that would help the man speak.