by Lisa Grace
If Julian’s reflexes had not been so fast, they would both be on the pavement right now.
Keiko could not stop shaking from the adrenaline rush.
“Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing her arms trying to calm her down.
“Thank you, you saved our lives.”
Meanwhile the other driver pulled over and walked towards them. He was visibly shaken. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what kind of game that guy was playing. I saw him coming, and slowed down on purpose to get out of his way, and then he jerked the wheel to hit me. Thank God you avoided me. There wasn’t a thing I could do to stop my car from running you over. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that maniac wanted me to hit you.” The driver shook his head and got back in his car.
“He can’t be serious, can he?” Keiko looked up at Julian for reassurance.
“No, of course not,” he said with an authority he did not feel. Julian thought about the face of the driver of the other car. It was the same guy who had passed them in the front room. He thought it odd that the man had come from the same hallway they had just left. That was the reason he had noted his face. The only reason someone would want them dead is if they thought Keiko and he had damaging information. Things like this only happened in the movies. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind.
“Let’s go grab some lunch and then we’ll look at that letter.” If it was a code to the missing star, would that be a reason someone would kill for? Only other historians would care and Julian did not think they were the murdering types. Disclosure and provenance would leave a public record, but more importantly, how would they have found out? Only he and Keiko knew about the clue regarding the star. It just didn’t make sense. Then of course, the letter alluded to a secret, and from the clues in the other letters it could reveal the identity of who raped and raised Grace Wisher’s son. Again, was that a secret worth killing for? And then back to the same question, how would they have found out about the letters? Undiscovered until two days ago. How would someone have found out? Unless they knew there were missing letters, possibly incriminating, and they had asked to be notified if someone called asking about Grace. Julian knew this theory was way out in left field. Of course, they could ask the people at the Flag House if someone had put in a request. Julian stopped short. Maybe the receptionist’s death was not an accident.
“What?” Keiko said as they stopped just short of the car.
“Get in, we’ll talk about it at lunch.” He finished escorting Keiko to the car, opened the door for her, then walked quickly to his side, got in, and locked it.
He threw the car into drive, before either of them had time to finish connecting their seatbelts.
“Talk to me. What is going on?” Keiko said.
Julian turned to face Keiko briefly, “I think that man is right. Someone is trying to kill us.”
Keiko laughed, looked at Julian’s face, and realized he was serious.
“That woman who worked at the Flag House is dead, shot, made to look like a drive-by shooting. Someone tries to get us killed in an accident. Look, we know the letters have a clue to the whereabouts of the star and a letter incriminating someone in the rape of Grace Wisher, passing the child as white, and possibly the murder of a woman. At this point, if we assume in this theory that someone has an interest in keeping these facts secret, maybe they would be willing to kill. Continuing with this theory, who would care enough to kill?”
Keiko didn’t have to think long, “The only people who would care are those still politically connected and powerful right here in D.C. If it involved one of their ancestors.” Keiko got a sick feeling. Someone was trying to kill them. For the second time in her life she felt helpless. Worst of all, she’d gotten Julian into this mess too. Up until now it had been a fun exciting search. A game. She’d never given a thought that unveiling the truth could mean exposing a dark family secret. A secret so shaming or evil that the living family members would not want it revealed. The other fact remained that someone knew Grace had hidden the star. They just didn’t know where and obviously since they wanted them dead, they didn’t care to have it found.
“Keiko, we have to find the star now or they will kill us. We have to find the letter and make it public as quick as possible. They probably have a tail or a bug on this car. They might even be able to track us by our cell phone locators or even our key cards from work. We need to ditch everything for now. I’m heading to my friend’s place. We can pick up a new ride, and decipher the letter. Keiko, you have to decipher that letter.”
“I think I know where the star is hidden,” Keiko said still in shock.
Don’t talk about it now, not until I say so. The car could be bugged.”
“Where does your friend live?”
“Not far. About fifteen minutes outside the city. Let me give him a call. But we can’t use our phones. Hold on.”
Julian pulled over to get out, leaving the engine running, and found a pedestrian who let him use their phone. “Ray? Hey I need a favor, make sure the guard at the gate is expecting me. Tell the guard I’m going to Ron’s place. Ray, this could be life or death. Make sure you give him Ron’s address at the gate. I don’t want anyone to have a way to find you. Thanks. Can you leave the garage door up? Great. We’ll be there in about fifteen. Me and a lady friend. You’ll like her. Thanks.”
Julian gave the phone back to the owner with a quick, “Thank you,” and climbed back in the driver’s seat.
“Do me a favor, any numbers you want to keep in your phone? Write them down now, we’re tossing them in a few minutes. And I’m sorry but the laptop has gotta go too. Send any data you need in the next five minutes. We’re chucking the battery, and sending the rest on a little trip. Same with the I. D. card.”
Keiko nodded. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had to think. Now was not the time to panic. Her and Julian’s life might depend on her figuring out the clues in the letter. She prayed her intuition was correct. She may not have a second chance to get it right. For now she was happy to let Julian take control of the situation.
Julian pulled over in a bank parking lot, next to a pickup with a bunch of junk in the bed, and tossed the cell phones, minus the batteries, in the back.
“Go pull as much cash out and I’ll do the same. No credit cards after this. I don’t think anyone’s tailing us, and with all the security around the bank I don’t think they would try anything here. Too many cameras. Too high a risk of getting caught.”
Keiko nervously kept watch over her shoulder afraid any minute she might feel a bullet in her back.
Meanwhile, Julian walked over to the dumpster and tossed the batteries from the phones and laptop in.
Keiko finished her transaction and Julian did the same. They got back in the jeep, and locked the doors.
“What about the laptop?”
“We’ll take care of that in a minute.”
Keiko removed her thumb drive from her satchel and shoved it in her pocket. All in all, they were stopped for less than two minutes.
Next, Julian stopped at another bank right in the drive-through. He got down on his hands and knees looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sure enough, no bigger than a key fob on the underside of the back bumper, he found the bug, held on by a magnet. He then walked to the bank tube, put the bug in, and sent it to the teller, before getting back in the jeep and driving off.
He turned to Keiko as he got in the car, “They record everything. They’ll have a picture of our license plate and they’ll know that was a tracking device I pulled off. The Federal Treasury Department will have their secret service get involved. Chances are the ones chasing us are involved more on the political end. A Senator or Congressman, something like that. We might need the proof later that someone was after us.”
Keiko just nodded. She had no idea how Julian would know these things and now was not the time to interrupt his train of thought with questions.
“Hold on.” Julian stopped at a S
tarbucks the next plaza over, and took her laptop. He walked in, left it by the first table, and walked back out. “There, now the security cards.”
“This too.” Keiko handed over the thumb drive to Julian.
Julian stopped at the next plaza, where he walked into a CD/Game Shop/Recording Studio. A minute later, he walked back out.
Back in the jeep, Julian turned to Keiko, “My buddy owns the place. That’s where we’ve been recording. If anyone comes in, he’ll say we just asked for directions. He’s got a lead safe in the back. They shouldn’t give off any signals through that.”
Julian drove through some side streets and wove through a neighborhood he was obviously familiar with. He got to another main thoroughfare and headed back to the city.
Keiko kept silent.
“The car was bugged?” She finally asked.
“Yep.”
“Somebody really wants us dead?”
“Yep.”
Reality was starting to sink in. Somebody wanted them dead. This wasn’t a game. It was life and death. Situations like this don’t happen to a grad student going for her masters in history, of all things. She wasn’t involved in espionage, high finance, or security. It was totally unbelievable except someone was dead, someone had just tried to kill them, and there was a bug on the car. Keiko shuddered. Julian reached out his hand and grabbed for hers.
“How come you know all this spy stuff? Were you ever a spy?’’ Keiko asked.
Julian laughed, “No, only on the playground. But I learned from one of the best. We’ll be okay. They’re probably not sure that we suspect anything yet. We’ll be okay.” He squeezed her hand gently and held it for the rest of the drive to Ray's house.
They pulled up to a fancy gated community and stopped at the guard gate. He looked at the pass in Julian’s car and let them in. They drove about a mile and passed one fancy gated neighborhood after another. Just when Keiko thought the place couldn’t go on much longer they pulled into one of the gated entryways again. This time the guard stopped them and asked for the number. Julian gave the number, “D-818” and the guard waved them in.
“Were not going to that one,” Julian turned to her and explained, “that’s actually my brother Jesse’s place. He works in intelligence for the army and is currently stationed in Qatar. He’s a linguist. We’re going to see someone who has the expertise to find out what’s going on.”
Julian turned onto another tree lined street.
“We’re going to see Ray.”
*
***
*
Chapter 9 - September 13 - 14th, 1814
That day the battle at Fort McHenry began. Grace first heard the men running through the streets shouting that the British were outside the harbor. Then that evening, shortly after dark, after sitting alone with her fear and prayers, the bombardment started.
“Pray girls and pack a bag of what you hold dear, the treasures you do not want to burn. Hurry girls,” Mrs. Mary said, “Grace, help Mama with her things.”
Every boom and flash brought a new stab of fear. No one in the house could sleep. Everyone changed back into their day clothes, listening for the next cannonball. The flashes would light up the night followed by the echoing boom. Mrs. Bethany, Rebecca, Caroline, Mary, and Grace all loaded up the wagon with their most precious belongings in case they were forced to flee. Mrs. Bethany went to the cellar packing food supplies and forcing everyone to eat. Mrs. Mary had a pistol and kept it loaded by her side.
Mrs. Bethany had made arrangements with some of the young boys who were ferrying messages between the docks and town, to stop in every hour through the long night for something to eat so she could keep updated on the battle.
The third time a boy came by, Grace went into the kitchen to hear him speak, “The cannon shot don’t seem to be hitting the fort,” he said, his mouth full of a piece of cold apple tart. “Either the ships are out too far on account of their deep drafts or God is with us and he’s exploding the bloody bombs right in the air.”
“Amen,” Mrs. Pickersgill said, “perhaps we should all go back to bed and try to sleep. Young man, will you come by and rouse us if the battle takes a turn for the worse? I will pay you for your trouble,” she reached into her pocket and gave him a coin.
“Yes Ma’am, I surely will,” he said as he headed out the door to continue his rounds.
“Ladies, let us all turn in for the night. It is wise to keep your day clothes on if we do need to make haste. Grace, would you sleep in the parlor tonight?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Grace understood it would be her responsibility to wake the household if the young man came by again.
The next day brought an excited sense of calm. The American flag still flew over Fort McHenry and the messenger boys observing the fort said the British ships were withdrawing not having made any headway during the battle of the night and all their ammunitions now spent. Not one man on the American side had lost his life in the battle a sure sign that God was on their side.
*
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*
Chapter 10 - Mrs. Tommie Lynn the birthing lady
Life for Tommie Lynn, the years after the birth of the boy to Grace, was going worse and worse. Two babies died right after Grace’s supposed baby’s death had happened. Everyone knew deaths came in threes, so business had slowed down. Business picked up again the following year, but then a new experienced midwife moved into a nicer home down the street who could boast of no babies lost in the last two years.
Then just this last year, again, two of her long standing customers with four and five children each, lost their babies one after the other. Rumors spread that the next one to use Tommie Lynn’s services would die also. While Tommie Lynn was always frugal, her son’s monthly stipend was becoming increasingly unreliable as he had married and now had a wife in a neighboring town he must support, too.
The superstition was killing her business. She took to taking in odd bits of sewing, but this hurt her fingers. Tommie Lynn was not suited to a life of hard work. She was worried she would have to dip into the savings she wanted to leave for her old age. Tommie Lynn’s new daughter-in-law was not with child yet, and did not want her to move in until there were young children for her to help with.
If she did not find a way to make money soon, she would have to start spending her meager savings, and then where would she be? Begging in her old age. Her home was hers, built by her husband before he died. But it needed white washing on the outside to keep up appearances and roofing before it started to leak. These were things that would cost some of her precious money.
Her garden and canning, chickens and eggs, kept her in food. She could trade her eggs for dry goods. But what about all the other little luxuries she’d become accustomed to? The imported tea and coffee? The sweets? While she was sitting and thinking an idea popped into her head. All her troubles had started with the lie about Grace’s baby. Business had dried up because of that first supposed death.
Then, just when business was recovering, the new midwife with no losses yet, moved to town. It spelled doom for Tommie Lynn’s business. It really was the Major’s fault that business had dried up. Surely she could explain to him how the lie was hurting her business. He could afford another say, fifty-two dollars. A dollar a week would see her through nicely. That money would hold her over until the other midwife was busy and the ladies had no choice but to call Tommie Lynn. Then when the next baby lived, the superstition would be forgotten. Another thought popped into her head as she sat there thinking about her plan. Major Rivers did not realize that the mother was a black indentured servant. Surely he would pay to keep that secret! Tommie Lynn in her excitement forgot the promise Major Rivers had made. The promise that would insure she had plenty of money to see her through to the end of her life.
***
Tommie Lynn knocked on the back door of the Major’s house. A young maid answered the door, “Is the Major in? I need to speak to him.”
“No Ma’am, he’s not here. May I have your card?” the young thing asked.
“Oh,” Tommie Lynn did not have calling cards as she rarely had a reason to call on someone, “just tell him Mrs. Tommie Lynn, the midwife, called.”
“Yes Ma’am, I certainly will, good day.” and she closed the door. The maid promptly went to the Major’s drawing room door and knocked.
“Come in,” the Major said.
“Sir, a Mrs. Tommie Lynn, the mid-wife, stopped by. I sent her on her way.” The maid stood waiting silently for further instructions.
“Thank you. You may go now.” The maid backed out and closed the door.
Major Rivers sat back and thought about how best to handle the situation. He had dealt with black mailers before. He’d known she might be back someday as soon as he wrote that first check for his son. The mother had died in childbirth is what Tommie Lynn had told his wife. No witnesses on that end. So only the midwife to deal with. He knew she lived on her own with a son at sea. Would she have told anyone else? Doubtful. Maybe. Most people couldn’t keep a secret to save their souls. He had warned her those few years ago to never approach him again. He had warned her what the consequences would be.
***
Later that evening, Tommie Lynn heard a knock at her door.
“It’s the Major.”
“Well, come in. I hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon. Please have a seat,” Tommie Lynn said as she led him into the front parlor.
“Would you like a cup of tea or perhaps something stronger?” she offered.
“No, n-o thank you. I’m rather in a hurry, urgent business for the country.” He followed Tommie Lynn back into the kitchen while she fetched herself a cup of tea. He walked through and pushed the doors open to both of the bedrooms peering in.
“So what was the urgent business you needed to see me about?” he asked.
“Well,” Tommie Lynn smiled, “After I said the baby died, the one I brought to you, I had a run of bad luck. Now mothers are afraid to see me in case their baby would be the next to die. As we both know, your baby didn’t die. This may come as a surprise to you, but the mother did not die either.” Tommie Lynn smiled at the Major. “I was surprised at the time you never asked who the mother was. And of course, naturally, you assumed the mother was white.” Tommie Lynn stirred an extra lump of sugar into her tea. “Poor Grace is missing her son so much. You remember Grace, don’t you? The sweet little thing that works for Mary Pickersgill?” Tommie Lynn sighed and took a sip of her sweet tea.