The Willard

by LeAnne Burnett Morse

  But now there was no guard and the stairs were filled with people coming down and going up and some just lounging and having conversations. She took a tentative step and then another and when no alarm bells went off she picked her way up the stairs, dodging the mass of humanity that seemed to have business with the president. At the top of the stairs she was greeted with another unbelievable scene. There were people everywhere and they were casually seated on the furniture and the floor or wherever there was a place to rest. She found a place against the wall and listened to their conversations.

  “Yessir, I came down from Pennsylvania as soon as I heard it. That ole’ Lee, man I wish I could have seen his face. He ain’t so proud now, is he?” Mr. Pennsylvania grinned a gap-toothed smile and spit—yes spit—into a contraption that seemed to be there for that purpose. “My boy’ll be home any day from the fightin’ in Kentucky and I aim to get him one of them jobs carryin’ the mail.”

  Another man wearing a suit that was several sizes too large kept combing his oily hair across his forehead and shifting from one foot to the other. He seemed very nervous. Catherine heard him say, “I’ve slept here the last two nights and I got to see the president today. I got a idea that’ll keep these free nigras in line but we got to get it goin’ fore any more get to Ohio.”

  Their conversations were varied, but all had come to get something from the president. Most wanted a job, but some wanted land they believed would be seized from the defeated South. Catherine mingled about the room for a couple of hours, but she never saw the president and the line of people to see him kept growing. She decided this idea was getting her nowhere.

  Did I really walk over here expecting to see Abraham Lincoln walk through the door? Or maybe Mary Lincoln walking about and talking to everyone about seeing a play tomorrow night?

  The absurdity was almost too much, but as Catherine stepped back outside and smelled the unmistakable stench of nineteenth century urban sanitation and heard the cacophony of horses and wagons beating against the rutted dirt roads she knew she had to keep going. Absurdity be damned.

  CHAPTER 36

  TOM KELLY

  1962

  Tom’s comment about the president being viewed as a coward had sucked all the air out of the room. President Kennedy broke the tension with his response.

  “I think you might be right about the way they view us, Mr. Kelly. Unfortunately, that means we run the risk of this degenerating into a schoolyard pissing contest, which is no way to determine the fate of the modern world.”

  The others nodded in agreement and the president continued. “How do we overcome the bravado element without weakening our position?” Tom started to respond, but the president cut him off. “Because make no mistake, as horrific as I find this situation, I cannot let their provocation go unanswered. This country will not tolerate a bully in our backyard. He must retreat to his corner.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, he must. He’s made a grand statement by secretly placing these weapons off our coast and in doing so he’s shown the Communist world that he’s out in front and carrying a big stick. He needs a way to back down without losing face. He can’t look weak in front of his countrymen. They would never forgive weakness.”

  Robert Kennedy spoke up. “Mr. President, we’ve talked about this possibility since the start of the crisis. Khrushchev thought he could park his nukes in secret, but now that they’ve been discovered he’s so far out on the limb he’s got to show resolve and strength. We need to offer him a way to let the air out of his balloon without sacrificing the dignity of a country whose main currency is national pride.”

  Bundy was nodding his agreement. “To be victorious we can’t appear to be the victors.”

  “Gentlemen, this is not new thinking. We are already working through our confidential sources and back-channel contacts to communicate with the premier,” Director McCone advised.

  “Your system is compromised,” said Tom.

  McCone spun on his heels and leaned toward Tom with his finger just inches from Tom’s face. “How in the world could you possibly know if our system is compromised, which it is NOT, I might add!” McCone turned to address the president directly. “Mr. President, with all due respect, we’re wasting our time with this nonsense. My men know what they’re doing and this is not a movie we’re talking about.”

  Tom knew his credibility was on the line so he laid it all on the table.

  “I know your system is compromised because two years ago I breached it myself.”

  For a moment he wasn’t sure who appeared more stunned, the President of the United States or the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. And things were about to get worse.

  CHAPTER 37

  CALVIN WALKER

  1963

  The handwritten speech Dr. King gave Calvin to read talked about how his people had been given a bad check by the American government and about the importance of fighting this battle with dignity and the need for self-discipline.

  He touched on what it would take to satisfy an entire race of people that justice belonged to them and likened that experience to the rushing of a mighty stream.

  Most symbolically, he spoke of his own children and how he longed for them to be judged by who they were and not by how they looked.

  Calvin knew the words by heart. He had studied the famous speech in college and been impressed with the preacher’s zeal with which it was both written and delivered. Reading it here in its unfinished form he could already hear the reaction of the crowd, the pauses and the inflection, and the growing tenor of Dr. King’s voice as he led up to the iconic peroration that would electrify all who heard it.

  There were tears in Calvin’s eyes as he finished reading the draft. The line that he loved about the ringing of freedom from his beloved Lookout Mountain in Tennessee wasn’t in there yet, but the night was still young and he knew it would find its place. Growing up in Chattanooga, he had visited Lookout Mountain many times and when he was there he always thought of that line and how much the actions of those brave pioneers of the 1960s had changed the life he knew. In his time, freedom did indeed ring from Lookout Mountain. Calvin was nearly overcome with emotion.

  Dr. King saw the tears in Calvin’s eyes.

  “Please, Dr. King. Don’t change a word you’ve written here. When you deliver this speech tomorrow people of all races will hear in it the most compelling argument for freedom ever spoken.”

  The pastor was touched by Calvin’s response. He thanked him and when Calvin reached to hand back the pages Dr. King held up his hand.

  “Keep them. Those have already been typed. I hope this speech means as much to those who will hear it tomorrow as it has to you tonight.”

  You have no idea, Calvin thought.

  As he bid King and his entourage goodnight and the door closed behind him he was jolted back to the reality of what he had to do. He held the proof he needed in his hands. Now he just had to convince Kifo that he wanted to kill Dr. King in order to save him and to save the movement.

  Calvin had a fleeting thought that if any of this was, in fact, a dream it was quickly turning into a waking nightmare.

  CHAPTER 38

  OLIVIA FORDHAM

  1913

  Olivia found James sitting in a chair in Peacock Alley just off the main lobby as Chase had said he would be. He looked despondent. His neckwear had been loosened and he was slouching in the chair rubbing his temples. Olivia could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. When he saw her approaching he stood to his feet and straightened his tie.

  “Mrs. Fordham, please allow me to apologize again for causing you such distress. And I insist on taking care of any charges for the cleaning or replacement of your clothing. I’m terribly embarrassed.”

  She waved her hand as though it was nothing. “Please, Mr. Asher, don’t give it another thought. That outfit was not one of my favorites and now I have a perfectly good excuse for a shopping excursion for which I will not allow you to pa
y. It was simply an accident and I fear I wouldn’t have done any better with the motorcar,” she said with a smile.

  James thought it an odd statement as everyone knew ladies did not drive motorcars, especially ladies of Mrs. Fordham’s class who were ferried about by their drivers. He let it go because everyone knew women of a certain age could be eccentric and he imagined she was old enough to be afforded the kind of kid-glove treatment one might offer to a senile aunt. She sat and motioned for him to do the same.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation you were having with Miss Webster.”

  A black cloud seemed to pass over his face as he answered. “Yes, it was a most unfortunate turn of events. I’m not certain why she got so angry with me.”

  “Do you think it could have been that you made light of her views on the issue of suffrage for women?”

  “Oh, I didn’t think she was terribly serious about such a thing. A girl of her standing is unlikely to be so inclined, don’t you think?”

  “I do not think, as a matter of fact. She seemed perfectly sure of her own mind when she told you about it.”

  “Well, I just don’t know about that, Mrs. Fordham.” Maybe the old woman really is senile. She can’t actually be defending such behavior by a proper young lady, he thought. “My mother says suffragists are malcontents who need to find husbands and be about the business of their homes and children and not out gallivanting around trying to be men.”

  Olivia bristled at the thought that her own great-grandmother held such antiquated opinions.

  “Perhaps it would serve you best, Mr. Asher, if you didn’t share your mother’s opinions with the young ladies of today. I believe you will find they might disagree more often than not.”

  James looked momentarily chastised. “I just wish I could talk to Miss Webster again. I think I might make a better impression the second time around. Although I suppose my splashing you with dirty water was really my first impression and the argument the second. I doubt if she’ll give me a third try.” He stood and collected his hat.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Fordham, I really should be getting back to Capitol Hill to see if my brother needs my assistance. I apologize again for the difficulty this afternoon and I hope that when you see Miss Webster again you will pass along my best wishes and sincerest hope for her happiness.”

  Olivia thought the young man looked like he was in danger of a decidedly unmanly crying episode, but he straightened himself up and before she could think of anything to say he bid her goodbye and took his leave.

  She had struck out with her grandfather. Now she’d have to face her grandmother and, if memory served, attempting to change her mind about anything could be a daunting proposition.

  CHAPTER 39

  CATHERINE PARKER

  1865

  Catherine hailed a carriage and asked for the Surratt boarding house. The driver said he knew the way, but wondered if she was sure she wanted to go there.

  “It’s not in the best neighborhood, ma’am. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait for your husband?”

  She was sick of being asked about a husband or a proper chaperone to accompany her where she needed to go. She wondered what this pimply-faced kid would think if she told him she had flown high up in the sky here to the city on a big metal airplane that brought her all the way from Ohio without a male escort.

  “I’m quite certain I want to go there, thank you very much.” She sat back on the seat and braced herself for the bumpy ride to 541 H Street.

  “Here you are, ma’am. This is the Surratt boarding house,” the driver told her.

  “Wait for me, no matter how long I’m inside,” Catherine told him and walked away before he could argue.

  She pushed the door open and heard a bell ring that had been hanging on the knob. A young lady came out and seemed surprised to see Catherine standing there.

  “Can I help you?” asked the girl.

  “I’m looking for someone who may be staying here,” Catherine responded. “He’s an actor named John Wilkes Booth.” She had no idea what made her ask for him.

  The girl seemed surprised. “I know of him but he doesn’t stay here ma’am. I believe he lives in a hotel.” Catherine searched the girl’s face for some sign she was hiding something but couldn’t detect a lie.

  “Is Mrs. Surratt here?”

  “No ma’am. I’m Anna. Mary Surratt is my mother,” the girl answered.

  For a moment Catherine was stunned. She wasn’t sure what she would find when she came here, but for the first time she was face-to-face with someone connected to the conspiracy. Granted, she was the daughter, but her mother was THE Mary Surratt, the only woman hanged for her role in the killing of the president. The woman whose tavern had been used to store the guns for John Wilkes Booth to aid in his escape from the city. I need to put that on my list, Catherine remembered.

  “She’s not here, but she should be back in a few hours. Would you like to wait?” Anna asked.

  “No, I was just hoping to locate Mr. Booth. You’re sure he isn’t staying here?”

  “Ma’am, people like Mr. Booth don’t stay in places like this.” She glanced around and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I have heard that he stays at the National Hotel when he’s in town,” she blushed.

  Of course. She’s a fan. He’s like Ryan Gosling to this girl.

  Catherine could sense the young girl was telling the truth. She didn’t know where Booth was and her blush gave away her secret admiration. If Booth was planning something sinister, this girl knew nothing of it.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll be on my way,” Catherine said as she reached for the doorknob.

  “Do you have a message for my mother?”

  Catherine paused as more of her history lessons came to mind.

  Mary Surratt is going to be hanged for her part in the assassination. The young girl standing in front of me will plead for her mother’s life. History will never be sure how much involvement Mary had, if she even knew what the men were doing. I can save her. I can tell Anna to get her mother out of town. Whatever she’s done so far, nobody has been hurt. It’s not too late!

  And then she remembered Chase’s words of warning. She stood, aching to tell Anna something that could save her mother and save the life the young girl herself knew.

  “No. No message,” Catherine said. Quickly she walked out the door, hanging her head like the coward she was.

  CHAPTER 40

  TOM KELLY

  1962

  The evening of October 23 passed with Tom Kelly sitting on a sofa in the Oval Office explaining to the President of the United States and his brother, the nation’s top law enforcer, how he had systematically breached the communication pathway between the world’s two superpowers. In spite of much arguing and posturing, Bundy and McCone had been dismissed from the room before the explanation began in earnest, but not before Director McCone assured Tom Kelly he would make sure the full weight of the government was brought to bear against him. Tom had a fleeting thought that for the rest of his life he would probably pay the price for crossing the nation’s top spy by being constantly harassed by a CIA grunt whose only job was to make his life miserable.

  If I don’t go to federal prison or get obliterated by a nuclear bomb first, of course.

  “Start at the beginning,” said the attorney general. “And forget for the next few hours that you’re talking to an officer of the court. I need the full truth.”

  Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Three years ago, I had an idea for a film based on the KGB so I started doing research and found out pretty quickly that there was a more interesting angle to the story. It happened sort of by accident. I was exchanging letters with a professor at Yale who was granted asylum by the U.S. fifteen years before. He was giving me background information on the growth of the KGB and the changes in the country since the establishment of the Soviet Union. His paren
ts had vivid memories of the overthrow of Nicholas II, and they had shared stories with him of life under the imperial system. They had intimate knowledge of that life because his father was a groundskeeper at Tsarskoe Selo, home of the imperial palaces. When the Romanovs were placed under house arrest, his father continued to work for the family during the time they stayed there. Nicholas sometimes slipped him coded messages to carry to the outside. He was taking them to supporters of the Tsar who responded with messages about what was happening outside the palace gates. These messages warned the Tsar of ominous rumors about the fate of the family. This was during the time the Romanovs sought asylum in England. They were related to the British royal family as descendants of Queen Victoria. King George V was fond of his cousin the Tsar, but the First World War was still raging and the king was leery of revolution in his own country. He believed that while cousin Nikki might lose his crown, he wasn’t in danger of losing his life, so he denied the request for sanctuary. Loyalists in St. Petersburg believed the Tsar was in mortal danger and their missives became more and more fevered. Before a viable solution could be reached, the Tsar and his family were moved and eventually ended up at a house in Ekaterinburg in the Ural Mountains. Some of the servants went with them and died alongside them when the entire family was executed in the basement a few months later. The professor’s father had begged to be allowed to go with them to continue to serve the Tsar, but it was believed that Nicholas sensed the danger to come and refused to allow him to go along because he had a young son at home. The son was the professor with whom I was now communicating.

  In the years following the assassination of the imperial family, the professor’s father had reached out to the loyalists with whom he had exchanged the Tsar’s messages. They got together in secret to write a comprehensive history of the last months, believing the monarchy would be restored and the murderers brought to justice. The secret history filled two volumes and his father was given responsibility for hiding them. When his son was ready to defect to the United States he knew the government would be looking at his family carefully and their secret might be discovered. Enough time had passed that he realized the old system was gone for good and he recognized an opportunity to get the books out of the U.S.S.R. so their story could be preserved without threat of discovery. The books went with the professor on his journey to America. Incidentally, his parents were found dead in their home seven months later and the house had been torn apart. The secret hiding place where the books had been kept had been pried open. Thankfully, the books were safe in Brooklyn by that time.”