by Bob Mayer
“It would seem prudent, sir,” she said, “for there to be a way to find the rod and disks even though the owners are dead. A back-up plan must exist so that the Philosophers can reconstitute themselves, as you indicate they will do. And for the Cipher Wheel to be put back together so that they might recover the Allegiance. There must be clues.”
“I’m sure there are,” Lucius said, “but the clues lie with the Philosophers, not with us. Two of whom you killed,” he added pointedly.
“I will find the clues. It would help if—“
Lucius cut her off. “I will not tell you what the Allegiance is, except that it is so powerful a thing that within my lifetime it toppled a President—a man we supported-- when he was confronted with it.”
“Sir, do you wish me to continue my pursuit of the Cipher?”
A long pause played out as Lucius put the awl down and picked up a piece of cloth. He buffed the Minuteman pawn, then inspected it. Lily could still feel the presence behind her. And she could sense in the way predators could, that it was someone like her, who would kill her at Lucius’ command without the slightest hesitation or feeling of remorse. That threat would have to be dealt with first, then Lucius. Although she suspected Lucius was not as defenseless as he appeared.
Finally Lucius spoke. “You cannot bring those you killed back to life and we care little for them anyway. It will take the new Philosophers time to learn of their new positions, understand their duties, and regroup. You do have the initiative and it is a military maxim to always exploit such an advantage. What is your next step with the clues you have from the Chair?”
“I’m going to Baltimore to look for the Chair’s disks, with a stop in Annapolis first to deal with one of the two surviving Philosophers.” She felt a warm surge of anticipation at the thought of the detour to Annapolis.
Lucius put down the cloth. He placed the pawn on the desktop and his hand rested on top of the piece’s tricorner hat. To Lily it appeared perfectly formed. Lucius pressed and with a sharp snap, the head tumbled off. “I sensed the ivory was not pure. An inner defect. Go now.”
Lily spun on her heel as she had also been taught as a plebe at the Air Force Academy a decade previously and she marched to the double doors. There was a shadowy figure standing to the right, but she ignored him, keeping eyes front.
*************
The doors slammed shut and a short silence filled the room, before recessed lights came on, filling the room with a soft glow. A man stepped forward from the shadows near the door and approached Lucius. He was short and stocky, his skull completely hairless. He moved gracefully on the balls of his feet, the sign of someone who had trained his body and stood fast more than once inside the ropes of a boxing ring. His nose had been smashed a long time ago and never fixed, a choice that said much about his lack of concern for appearances and other darker things deep inside his head.
“Your Surgeon is dangerous, Mister Turnbull.” Lucius swept the ivory scrapings off the desk into a small garbage can. “You did not suspect she would be so aggressive, did you my old friend?”
“I suspected.”
Lucius leaned forward, revealing his own ravaged face to his old comrade. The skin along the right side was red and puckered, the right eye missing, the results of torture inflicted many, many years ago in Korea. A favored son of the Society, Lucius had been brought into the inner sanctum right after the war and stayed in the shadows, nursing his wounds, and gaining knowledge and power as the decades went by until eventually the diamond medallion was passed to him. No one in Washington knew his real name. No one ever would.
Everyone who mattered in Washington did know of his power and his reach.
“You suspected, Mister Turnbull?”
“Dangerous can be good as long as it is controlled.”
“And if it can’t be controlled?”
“Then it is eliminated,” he told Lucius. “Because we brought her in recently, we have excellent deniability.”
“She does not strike me as stable.”
Turnbull shrugged. “She’s a psychopath. I read her discharge evaluation from the Air Force. I had my contact approach her, offering her what she covets most—victims.”
“Despite her moniker,” Lucius said, “she’s acting more like a hatchet than the scalpel I would desire. Two murders. It will be hard to keep this quiet.”
Turnbull nodded. “Hard, but not impossible. Unfortunately, the FBI already has a high-ranking agent investigating. I’ll keep him under wraps and control the investigation. I think she might be correct in some ways. It will take the new Philosophers time to pick up the reins and realize their responsibilities. During the transition they’ll be weak and vulnerable. It’s an excellent opportunity to end this stalemate once and for all.”
“Are you getting optimistic?” Lucius asked. “Unusual for you.”
“Realistic, sir. I’ve always been a pragmatist.”
“Pragmatism is not necessarily a good trait,” Lucius said. “It lacks belief and faith.”
“It is a belief and faith of its own,” Turnbull said. “Like you, I believe in the higher good.”
Lucius nodded. “You have never failed me. What about the two Philosophers who are still alive?”
“As she said, they will be dealt with.”
Lucius thought about it for a few moments, before nodding. “Proceed. But you will gather some operatives and follow her. Help her if she is succeeding. However, if she appears to be failing or is about to be caught, eliminate her.”
“Of course, sir.” Turnbull turned to go, but Lucius held up a hand.
“Do you believe we can finally get the Allegiance? After all these years?”
“It’s worth trying.”
“I hope you are right.”
“I am, Sir.”
Lucius leaned back in the chair. “I’m curious, Mister Turnbull. Why were McBride and LaGrange in Washington?”
“A good question.”
Lucius’ voice took an edge. “That is not an answer, Mister Turnbull.”
Turnbull stared at the old man. “I contacted them and arranged a meeting between them and you.”
“You lured them to the Surgeon.” Lucius stiffened. “Why did you not tell me?”
“My duty is to protect you from some of the harsh realities of what must be done.”
Lucius frowned. “Too many times in the past the Philosophers have stymied us with the Allegiance. We need it to be done with, once and for all. We must have the Allegiance.”
“I agree, sir.”
Silence played out in the office for several long moments. Lucius finally spoke. “What else have you put in motion that you are shielding me from?”
Turnbull accepted his hand had been called into play. “The next generation of Philosophers. One has been eliminated and two more should be eliminated tonight. We will get the rest. So even if we don’t get the Allegiance, it will not pass on and will be lost forever.”
“But you didn’t use the Surgeon for this, did you?”
“Two free-lance contractors through a cut out. There’s no way it can be tracked back to us.”
“Loose ends, nonetheless.”
“I will clean up the loose ends. As I always do.”
“As you always do,” Lucius acknowledged. He picked up the head of the broken pawn. He abruptly tossed it to Turnbull. “You may go,” Lucius ordered.
Turnbull quickly left through the double doors. He walked down the hall and into the office where the Surgeon was strapping on her wakizashi.
“Did you arrange the head and heart as I instructed?”
The Surgeon nodded. “Yes, sir, but Lucius seems to not—“
“I protect Lucius,” he said.
“The head and heart will signal—“ she began as she slipped on her heavy cloak, but he cut her off.
“’Will signal’?” He snapped. “Are you looking further than you should? Do as ordered, apprentice. Know your place and I’ll do the thinking.” H
e held up the pawn’s head. “Remember what Lucius said.”
The Surgeon snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”
“I will provide you with support. If needed.” He handed her a card with a phone number on it and a password. “Use that to requisition whatever you need from any government agency. I will cover you as best as possible with the FBI, but that can only go so far. If you’re arrested, my reach will be limited.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, there’s another job I might need you to do. I will let you know when and where.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of photos and gave them to her. “These two men. They’ve done some work for us. They work as a team. When they’re no longer needed. . .”
“Yes, sir.”
“All communication between us will now be via burst text, using the encryption keys on our satellite phones. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He stepped close to her and placed a hand lightly on the arm she had cut. He pressed hard, blood oozing through onto his fingers. He looked down at his hand and saw the blood. She gave no indication she felt a thing. “Make sure you do, Lily.”
27 July 1803
President Thomas Jefferson waited, no doubt in his mind that Alexander Hamilton was late to prove a point. Hamilton always had to prove a point, even if there was none.
Jefferson was alone in an office in Philosophical Hall on Independence Square in the heart of the nation’s largest city: Philadelphia. Jefferson tipped his chair back, placed his feet on the desk and stretched his long legs out. The ride from Washington had been made in darkness and thus in difficulty, the carriage driver unable to see all the ruts and holes in the road from the United States new capitol to the original capitol.
Thinking of the city he’d come from, Jefferson looked up at the painting of its namesake on the wall. Good old George. Gone less than four years now, one would think the man a saint the way the papers and people still went on about him. Jefferson gave a fond smile, remembering how Washington, in the early days of the Continental Congress, had protested loudly that he did not wish to be Commander of the fledgling Colonial forces, yet somehow had managed to put on his old French & Indian War uniform every day when he came to protest not becoming that which his clothing clearly demonstrated he dearly desired.
Watch what a man does, rather than what he says, Jefferson thought. And Hamilton being late said much.
The door to the room swung open and then slammed shut. Hamilton strode across the room as if he owned it. The way he walked into every room.
Jefferson got to his feet. “Mister Hamilton.” He extended his hand.
Hamilton barely shook the hand, then, without a word, went to the other side of the table and sat down. A breach of etiquette in the presence of the country’s President, but Jefferson knew Hamilton felt brazen, having been the instrument three years ago to swing Congress to vote Jefferson into office over Burr when the two had been tied in the Electoral College. It had not been a sign of support for himself, Jefferson knew, but Hamilton’s intense distaste of Burr that had been the deciding factor.
“Shall we get to business?” Hamilton said.
Jefferson sat down. He’d considered how to approach this on the ride from Washington. “As you know, I was not present during the drafting of the Constitution.”
Hamilton tapped the top of the desk irritably. “And? Is that your excuse for your recent unconstitutional action regarding the Louisiana Purchase?”
“No,” Jefferson said. “I make no excuse. You are quite correct. It was unconstitutional.”
Hamilton sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing, suspecting a trap. “You admit as much?”
“I just did.” Jefferson held up a hand to forestall his long-time opponent. “I’ll give you my arguments so you can ignore all the tripe in the papers. And then I’ll tell you what I have learned from my own actions, and what I propose, and why I ask for your assistance.”
The line between Hamilton’s eyes got even deeper, but he nodded.
“Briefly then,” Jefferson began. “New Orleans controls the Mississippi. He who controls the Mississippi, controls all our country’s river traffic west of the Appalachians. When I took office, we thought New Orleans was under Spanish Control. What I quickly discovered was that Napoleon, in secret, had gained control of New Orleans from Spain in 1800. Learning of this, and fearing loss of access to the port, I secretly sent emissaries to Paris to negotiate the purchase of New Orleans.”
Hamilton started to speak once more.
“Please,” Jefferson said. “Hear me out, good sir. I know I did not have the Constitutional right to be doing such negotiations in secret. However, I felt the importance of New Orleans and the danger of an Imperial French presence on our country’s borders superseded my executive limitations and time was of the essence. I was acting for the greater good.”
Jefferson quickly went on. “I also knew, through my own sources, that Napoleon was in trouble. He was building a fleet of barges to invade England. That was his focus. However, the slave revolt in Haiti was draining his resources, troops and money. The slaves, hard as it might be to believe, were defeating his forces. As they continue to do to this day. I fear the end is close in Haiti and it will be the slaves who prevail.
“Please believe me when I say my ambassadors only went to Paris to purchase New Orleans. We offered Napoleon ten million for the city and river rights. When Napoleon’s man countered with an offer of the entire Louisiana territory for fifteen million my ambassadors were astounded, to say the least.”
Hamilton finally got some words in. “I had not heard this about New Orleans. The report was your people went looking for it all.”
“No, sir,” Jefferson said. “But even you will admit it was too great an offer to refuse. It was an offer that ended the French presence on our boundary and doubled the size of our country at less than three cents per acre.”
Hamilton snorted. “But you don’t have the money. Is that why I am here? You finally agree with me on the national bank?”
Jefferson nodded. “Yes. We must have one to finance the purchase.”
Hamilton could not hold back his triumphant smile.
Jefferson continued. “I’ve already directed Treasury Secretary Gallatin to contact you and ask for your help.”
Hamilton shook his head. “Gallatin will want to issue stock for it. He’s already—“
Jefferson quickly cut in. “No stocks. We’ll have a debt as you wish. Gallatin doesn’t like it, but I’ve already given him the order.”
Hamilton’s smile faded, wary. “Then what do you want of me? Absolution of your illegal act in making the purchase in the first place? I could have my people in Congress move to impeach you.”
It was Jefferson turn to snort. “You think that would get far?”
Hamilton leaned forward. “Then why did you have me come here in the middle of the night and meet in secret?”
Jefferson placed both hands on the table. “I am not blind to what I have done. I am aware I overstepped my Executive authority. Only two other men have worn the title of President of the United States. General Washington—“ Jefferson used the term he knew Hamilton preferred for the late President as the two men had served together for many years in uniform—“was a great man. You and I know the nation and Congress would have voted him President for life if he desired it.”
“I wanted him to be President for life from the very beginning,” Hamilton countered.
“That argument was defeated during the writing of the Constitution,” Jefferson said. “And, besides, you know that General Washington wanted no part of staying in power. He desired to go back to Mount Vernon and Martha and live the rest of his days in the peace.”
“He was tired of the heavy burden he bore,” Hamilton acknowledged.
Jefferson saw his opening. “I bear that burden now. And there will be those beyond me who will bear it. Perhaps you. I circumvented Congress on the negotiations
for the Louisiana Purchase. It made me recognize that this office which I hold is at the whim of any elected Caesar in Presidential clothing.”
Jefferson could hear the crowing of roosters in the distance as dawn came to Philadelphia and he waited to see how Hamilton would react.
“What are you proposing then?” Hamilton asked. “You’re pointing out the obvious: that the checks and balances written into the Constitution aren’t adequate to prevent the Republic from failing. It is flawed. I said so then and subsequent events have proven me correct.”
“You are correct. And I know what you and your Cincinnatians are up to. I have the votes in Congress to outlaw you and your group as enemies to the state. The bill is already drawn up and my people ready to present it. President Adams got his Alien and Sedition Act passed; I have no doubt I could resurrect the Sedition portion and use it on your Cincinnatians.”
Hamilton leapt to his feet. “How dare you threaten—“
“It is not a threat, Mister Hamilton. It is a negotiation. Please sit down.”
Hamilton did not do so, but he stopped yelling. “What negotiation? What do you want?”
“I want there to be a secret check on power run amok, primarily by the President, but also to prevent a group like your Cincinnatians from toppling the freely elected government or gaining undue influence. To maintain the country as we envisioned and wrote into the Constitution and Bill of Rights.”
“And how do you propose such a secret check be enacted?”
“We’ve already agreed that the Constitution, as currently written, is not sufficient to keep the country on course. Our country has just doubled in size. The United States will grow more and more powerful. As it does, the office of President, by nature, will attract the power-hungry. At a distance the people have a limited ability to identify Presidents with sufficient emotional stability to ‘know thyself.’ Thus, the office of the President is run by the personality of the man holding it. You’ve seen what I just did with the Purchase.
“At the same time, business will grow. Money will be consolidated in the hands of a powerful few who control that commerce and industry. Your Cincinnatians. It is a repugnant inevitability. That’s a very dangerous thing for a Republic. We don’t want our country to go the way Rome did.”