“So much for all-for-one-and-one-for-all.”
“Actually, Breckinridge would say he is being loyal to the Order. He disagrees that now is the time for us to act. Especially if that revolution is led by the man you just spoke with. He and Breckenridge do not get along. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a lot of money to influence not only that second constitutional convention, but the thirty-eight states needed to ratify whatever is adopted. So we have to allow Breckinridge to lead us to the vault, or at least to the stones. Thankfully, at the moment he seems to be doing that.”
“Am I to assume that your knights in Congress are few and far between?”
“Just me and two others, all in the House. I have ranking seniority. But there’s nothing we can do. If I raise one iota of objection, even privately, Vance will remove me from Rules. The Order doesn’t want that to occur.”
“What happens with Kenneth Layne?”
“We still need him. He has a lot of contacts and influence with state legislators around the country. I don’t know the details, nor do I want to know, but he’s currently learning the price to be paid for disloyalty.”
“And what about Diane Sherwood?”
“We’ve already dealt with her. She’s been shown the video, so she knows that we know. She’s also lost Grant Breckinridge and, if we’re successful, Vance too. Once all that happens, and we learn about the stones or the vault, we turn her in to the police. I agree with you, she’s a murderess who must be punished.”
He was glad to hear that.
“You came back to the Senate because of what Vance is planning,” Paul said. “I know you, Danny. Tell me what you have in mind for him.”
Earlier, he’d explained to Teddy Solomon how he thought Vance might be stopped. But the video had added a new dimension.
So he told his friend what he now had in mind.
* * *
Diane stood outside the World War II Memorial and considered everything that had just happened. She cleared the east end of the Reflecting Pool and entered the solemn site, its plaza and fountain lit to the night.
Her entire world had crumbled.
The messenger was gone, the final few minutes of another Wednesday ebbing away as midnight approached.
Everything was over.
Her marriage. The relationship with Vance. Grant. The gold. All of it. Gone. Where before she was at least the wife of a U.S. senator, now she was nothing but his widow. Even worse, somebody knew she’d killed Alex. They’d simply watched, filmed, and waited. They could not care less about Alex’s life.
But she got the message.
Back off or go to jail.
She strolled among the granite pillars, standing at attention like sentries. She knew she should feel some sort of emotion being here, but nothing registered. She was numb. And afraid. Even if she backed off, at any moment people could destroy her life. And that cloud would never blow over.
They’d own her.
Forever.
And Grant?
He’d abandoned her, taking the key, saying nothing, just disappearing.
With “a new benefactor,” the messenger had said.
With all these horrific turns of events she’d have been better off staying married to Alex, existing in a passionless relationship with a man she’d neither respected nor liked.
What would she do with the rest of her life?
She could no longer fulfill her father’s dream and find the vault. She had some money and could sell the house to acquire more. There’d be a pension from Congress and dependent’s Social Security payments. Income, for sure. Together, more than 99% of what the average American made. But nothing like billions of dollars in lost gold.
She stopped before words etched into the granite above her.
A quote from Eisenhower made on June 6, 1944.
D-Day.
YOU ARE ABOUT TO EMBARK UPON THE GREAT CRUSADE TOWARD WHICH WE HAVE STRIVEN THESE MANY MONTHS. THE EYES OF THE WORLD ARE UPON YOU. I HAVE FULL CONFIDENCE IN YOUR COURAGE, DEVOTION TO DUTY AND SKILL IN BATTLE
She’d also been on a great crusade that was now over.
Yet one last thread remained.
Danny Daniels.
The bastard had come into her home, stolen the notebook, somehow managed to spy on her and Vance, then interjected himself into her business. The thought of his succeeding turned her stomach. And he was still standing, going strong, a sitting U.S. senator. He had stature, respectability, and a future.
All thanks to her.
That bastard she could do something about.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Cassiopeia sat in the passenger seat of the car being driven by James Proctor. Six hours had elapsed since they left Arkansas. They’d traversed the entire state of Oklahoma, staying on a four-laned superhighway, and were now in Texas, about thirty kilometers from a town called Amarillo. Her hands remained bound behind her back, Proctor not making good on his pledge to free them. They’d caught up with the panel truck, staying a couple of miles behind it, both vehicles maintaining a steady course due west.
“Do you plan to tell me where we’re going?” she asked for the third time.
He hadn’t been talkative, which was why she’d dozed off to sleep for a little while. Strange, but she did not feel threatened. At least not until they reached their destination. Proctor had brought her along for a reason. If he’d wanted her dead, he would have shot her back at the mine. Instead he seemed to enjoy toying with her. She assumed her status as a federal agent played into his decision. Was she insurance?
For what?
“We’re headed to the great state of New Mexico,” he said.
Another place she’d never visited.
“You kill people with great ease,” she said.
“Only those who need to die.”
“Spoken like a true sociopath.”
He laughed. “I’m just a guy who does his job.”
“For money? Or something else?”
“Mainly for money. The Order is generous. Ten bars of that gold ahead of us is mine.”
“And the men who came with you?”
“They’ll all be well paid, too.”
“Except the dead one.”
“Whom Morse killed. You think he’s a sociopath, too?”
“No. Just an old man holding on to something that connects him to his past. But your man threatened his granddaughter and he reacted as any grandfather would.”
“I under
estimated him.”
“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
“That’s not my decision to make.”
“Back in the mine you talked about the Golden Circle as though it were a religion. You don’t really buy into all that, do you?”
He kept his attention on the dark highway, sparse with cars but heavy with truckers pushing their rigs hard.
“My father thought it was all nonsense,” he said. “But my grandfather—he was a believer. He hated the way this country was run. He served in Congress back in the 1940s and was never a fan of FDR. He loved Truman, though. My grandfather told me about the Order, and introduced me to men who, later in life, allowed me to become part of it. I’ve made a good living doing what they need done.”
“Aren’t you the good little soldier.”
“Every army needs them. The knights once numbered in the tens of thousands. They were everywhere, but history books never mention them. Which is a travesty. They were a clever bunch.”
“How proud you must be.”
“Actually, I am proud. The South had no chance of winning that war, but it fought hard with what it had.”
“How about untying me. My arms hurt. I already promised to be a good girl.”
“But you and I know that won’t happen.”
“Are we going to stop at any point? Some food and water would be great. Not to mention a bathroom.”
“Do I look that stupid?”
Her gun and cell phone were gone. Proctor had both. And she had no idea of the surrounding geography.
Lights began to strobe inside the car.
She turned her head and saw police cars approaching from the rear.
In both lanes.
Proctor saw them, too, and she caught a moment of indecision as he assessed the situation. He reached beneath his jacket and laid his pistol in his lap. She wondered how messy this might get. So she told herself to be ready to act. Luckily, her legs were not bound.
Sirens now blared.
Close.
They were driving in the right-hand lane. She looked back again and saw the lights directly behind them shift to the left lane, then four police cars, labeled TEXAS HIGHWAY PATROL, roared by. Brake lights glowed as traffic began to slow.