by David Meyer
He had a point. I was adept at staying undetected. It would be a cinch to hide out and wait for the soldiers to take charge of the summit. But if I did that, I’d miss my chance to kill him. Of course, if I went after him, I could very well get shot for my troubles. What mattered more to me? Survival? Or familial revenge?
But this wasn’t about familial revenge. I wasn’t the last Hatfield and he wasn’t a McCoy. No, this little feud of ours was about something else.
Symmetry.
His efforts to destroy the U.S. economy, although they could be reversed, would still have long-lasting ramifications. Innocent people would lose their jobs, their savings. They’d be driven into poverty and despair. Plus, he’d tried to kill me along with my friends. And he’d killed Dad in cold blood.
For that—for all that—he needed to pay a price.
I snuck through the forest. He stood just outside the tree line, maybe a dozen feet from the edge of the mesa, carefully scanning his flanks. I waited until I had his timing down. Then I sprinted across the summit.
Just as he turned toward me, I snapped an elbow at his jaw and he fell hard. His back crashed into the soil, but he managed to maintain hold of the gun. With a quick swing, he smacked it against my knee. My nerve endings exploded in pain.
I slumped to the ground and he quickly mounted me. Then he gripped the gun’s barrel like a bottle and slashed it at my face. I lifted my arms and the metal slammed into them with jarring force.
Years earlier, our fathers had been in the exact same position, only reversed and without the gun. And then Ben had entered the room and thrown Dad to an early grave.
The thought fueled me and I twisted my torso. He fell off of me. A quick chop separated his fingers from the pistol and a shove sent the gun flying off the summit. Then I stood up and pulled him to his feet.
The wet rag drooped and I saw his entire face. He stared at me for a few seconds, his eyes full of boundless fury. I stared right back at him, unblinking.
“I wish I could say I was sorry.” He chuckled lightly. “But truth is, I’d do it all over again.”
“And I’d do this again.” I socked him in the jaw. His face twisted and blood flew out of his mouth. Then he stumbled backward and toppled off the mesa.
I walked to the edge of the summit. Peering downward, I saw the foremost dump truck poking out of the cavern. Ben, what was left of him anyway, lay in the front of the dump bed, splattered against the gold bars.
Symmetry.
At last.
CHAPTER 82
Voices died off and soldiers parted as I limped out of the cavern. The fires had been extinguished and almost all of the toxic smoke had dissipated. Looking around, I saw all ten dump trucks, parked quietly on the grass and surrounded by a veritable platoon of well-armed soldiers.
“Cy!” Beverly’s body slammed into mine. “What took you so long?”
With a big grin, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a squeeze. “I got sidetracked.”
“Don’t let it happen again.” Her lips brushed against my ear. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Graham muttered.
Beverly planted a big fat kiss on my lips, turned her nose up at Graham, and marched away.
He watched as a couple of soldiers extracted Ben’s splattered corpse from the dump bed. “What happened up there?”
“Justice.”
“Colonel Jordan.” Donovan, followed by K.J., shoved his way past a group of soldiers. “Arrest this man.”
K.J. arched an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”
Donovan halted a few feet short of me. Good thing too, or I would’ve clocked him. “Do it, Colonel. That’s an order.”
K.J. shook his head and glanced at one of the soldiers. “What’s your name, Officer?”
Sheila Price stuffed a phone into her pocket. “Chief Warrant Officer Sheila Price, sir,” she replied nervously.
“Please take charge of Mr. Donovan, Officer Price.”
Donovan’s face turned bright pink and he whirled toward K.J. “You just made a powerful enemy.”
“Escort him off the premises, Officer Price.” K.J. smiled as she grabbed hold of Donovan. “And don’t bother being gentle about it.”
Price hustled Donovan away from the clearing. Just before the tree line, she turned around and made a picture-taking gesture. Ah, yes. She wanted a picture for her kid. And I would make that happen, if only to avoid Beverly’s wrath.
K.J. looked at me. His face was impassive, but I could see the sorrow in his eyes. The little stunt with Donovan was his way of extending a hand across the aisle, of trying to make up for his earlier distrust. And so I nodded at him. Not because my heart was bursting with forgiveness, but because mistakes happen and I thought he deserved a second chance.
The colonel walked away and Corporal Wendell sidled up to me. “Colonel Jordan has authorized me to update you on our situation. That is, if you’re interested.”
I glanced toward the dump truck where Ben had died. Soldiers were starting to lower his body to the ground. “Is stagflation still on the horizon?”
“No one knows for sure. I do know that Mr. Marvin’s plan involved thousands of transactions through an entity known as the Working Group on Capital Markets. One of his co-conspirators, the former Secretary of the Treasury, is already dead. The other two have been apprehended and taken to a private detention center. On orders from the president, Special Agent Ed Hooper will lead the interrogation while a handpicked team of financial analysts will work to unwind the transactions.”
“I know Ed. He’s a good man.”
“That’s my understanding as well. He seems to think he can untangle this mess. But that won’t solve everything. The risk of debt still looms heavily over this nation.”
That didn’t surprise me. And truthfully, I didn’t expect that risk to vanish anytime soon. Politicians weren’t about to stop spending money. It was like air to them. “What about the gold standard?” I asked.
“I’m not privy to all the details. But as I mentioned, the debt problem remains very real. So, yes, it will go into effect tomorrow morning.” He shuffled his feet. “Colonel Jordan doesn’t expect it to last long. As soon as the transactions are fully unwound, he thinks things will go back to the way they are now.”
“Big surprise.” Graham nodded at Ben’s remains. “Where are they taking him?”
The corporal hesitated. “President Walters wants this whole affair swept under the rug. He thinks it’ll damage people’s faith in the government.”
“Not to mention his reputation,” I said.
“Yeah.” Graham chuckled. “Between this and the Columbus Project, Wade is starting to make Nixon look like a saint.”
The corporal shifted uneasily. “That’s why Ben will supposedly perish in a plane crash later today while en route to an economic conference in Brussels. He’ll be given the works … a lavish state funeral, heartfelt speeches, and presidential condolences.”
“What about his co-conspirators?” I asked.
“My understanding is that they’ll be listed as passengers on the plane as well.” The corporal sighed. “Look, I probably shouldn’t tell you this. But from where I stand, you deserve to know. I overheard K.J. speaking to the president. It sounds like they’ll spend the rest of their lives in a secret prison.”
Graham made a face. “That’s one way to protect Wade’s reputation.”
I didn’t add anything. But for me, the punishment didn’t fit the crime. I would’ve preferred to see them stripped of their resources and dumped into the poorest hellhole on Earth. Let them experience the poverty they tried to inflict on everyone else.
After the briefing, Graham noticed smoke rising out of one of the old dump trucks. He strode over and began shouting orders at the soldiers. At first, they treated him like an annoyance. But a few whispered words from K.J. changed their tune and before long, Graham had them fixing the vehicle.
&nbs
p; The rest of the soldiers went back to work and I found myself alone in the clearing. Lifting my gaze, I took in the moonlit sky and twinkling stars and thought about family. I thought about Dad and my grandfather and how I wished they could see what I saw. The sky, the mesa, the trucks, the gold, everything. Of course, Justin would’ve probably just tried to steal the gold again. The thought made me smile.
Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew his journal. Cracking it open, I scanned the last few pages. To my surprise, I learned something interesting. Justin had deliberately timed his vanishing act to coincide with the arriving Army vehicles. He’d done this to have extra witnesses, to make sure as little heat as possible fell upon Milt Stevens. It struck me as an unusual act of kindness and it got me thinking.
I flipped more pages, passing a myriad of entries, until I reached the one for December 14, 1949. But it wasn’t a normal entry. Instead, it was a letter, addressed to President Truman. The handwriting was barely legible and I had to squint to see the ink.
In 1933, FDR ordered us to surrender our earthly treasures and so we did. An unfair bargain—but still a bargain—was struck. Americans would give up their gold and the U.S. government would protect it. But now, that bargain has been broken. This nation’s leaders have plundered that gold without permission and for their own purposes. And that cannot stand.
I arched an eyebrow. Was I reading this right? Had Justin been motivated by something other than greed?
The gold doesn’t belong to us and we won’t keep it. But we will protect it until honesty and transparency prevail. Our demands are as follows. First, you will call a press conference. Second, you will reveal the existence of Capitalist Curtain as well as how you intended to fund it via America’s gold stolen in the dead of night. Third, you will publicly pardon us. You have one week to comply with our demands. Otherwise, we go public.
My brow furrowed. I’d totally misjudged the situation. Justin and his crew hadn’t stolen the gold. They’d preserved it on behalf of the American people. I felt gratified to know this. Not just for me, but for Dad as well.
That got me thinking about Dad. About how he fought so hard to find his own father, to learn the truth about the man. There was a certain heroism to it that, even now, amazed me.
And I thought about my own feelings toward Dad, complicated by his supposed suicide and my many years of abandonment issues. There was a light in the midst of all my dark thoughts now that I knew the truth about his death. Going forward, I could begin to recall the good old days without fury. Perhaps grief, but never fury, at least not toward him.
Even so, I felt pained as I stood there in the clearing, alone with my thoughts. Although I’d made my peace with Dad and his father, it didn’t bring them back to me. I’d never know the sound of Justin’s voice or the touch of his skin. Never again would I see Dad’s face or feel his hand clasped in mine. So much had changed.
And yet, I was still alone.
A commotion rang out from the southern edge of the clearing. I twisted toward the trees, half-expecting to see Donovan in flight and Price tackling him to the ground.
Instead, soldiers stood at attention. Once more, quiet fell over the clearing as President Walters strode into view. Even from a distance, he looked exhausted. His cheeks were drawn and bags hung from his eyes. His posture, normally ramrod straight, reminded me of a limp noodle.
“Want me to handle him?” Graham whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
“What are you going to do?” I asked. “Challenge him to a duel?”
“If you say so.”
He’d do it too. Of course, the president could merely snap his fingers and every soldier in hearing distance would’ve jumped in to protect him. But that was duty, not devotion.
President Walters stopped in front of me. His gaze lifted to the dump trucks and his eyes opened wide in wonder. “That’s the gold?”
I nodded.
“Then it’s over.”
Maybe for him. As for me, I still had a little bit of unfinished business on my plate. Namely, Malware, a.k.a. Willow Marvin. But that would have to wait for another day.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“That depends. Do you want anything?”
“The truth.”
He cocked his head.
“I want the world to know what happened here,” I said. “I want people to know about Capitalist Curtain, Fort Knox, my grandfather, Ben and Malware, everything.”
He exhaled. “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I really do. Once again, this country owes you a debt of gratitude it can never hope to repay. However, what you’re asking is, quite frankly, impossible.”
I frowned.
“This country has faced far too many scandals as it is. I don’t know if it can survive another one. As such, my people have concocted a cover story. Specifically, that the gold never disappeared. Instead, Milt Stevens deliberately built a top-secret vault in there,” he said with a nod at the mesa, “and hid the gold inside it. The depository at Fort Knox became, in fact, the ultimate deception.”
I was beyond furious. “What about the battle at Fort Knox?” I asked, my voice rising. “How are you going to explain that?”
“Thanks to K.J.’s efforts, the media never caught wind of it. And everyone involved has been sworn to secrecy. Of course, we’ll still have to explain the deaths. As for me drilling that fake gold bar, we’re chalking it up to miscommunication. Unfortunately, Milt died suddenly without leaving a succession plan in place. By the time we figured out he’d built the second facility, the press conference was already over.”
“No one will believe that.”
“They will. Because that’s what I’m going to tell them. It’s what we’re all going to tell them.” His gaze narrowed. “That’s not going to be a problem … is it?”
Justin had risked great harm to himself in order to steal the depository’s gold. Not because he wanted to get rich, but because he thought his fellow countrymen should know the truth about Capitalist Curtain. And Dad had lost his life seeking the truth as well, doing everything in his power to discover Justin’s ultimate fate.
The truth. It matters. It mattered then and it mattered now. But of course, I didn’t have to tell the president that. When I got back to New York, I’d find a way to leak the real story to the media.
I smiled. “Of course not.”
We shook hands and he walked away. And then I was alone. So alone. Justin was gone. So was Dad. So was Mom for that matter. I was alone in this world and that was enough to make my heart ache.
Graham and Beverly wandered over to me. “What did he want?” Graham asked.
“He wants us to lie,” I said.
“About what?”
“About everything.”
“I hope he’s used to disappointment,” Beverly said.
“Yeah,” Graham added. “Because we’re definitely used to it from him.”
Clearly, they knew what I was going to do before I even did it. “This is my fight, not yours,” I said. “And it’s going to be a messy one. Real messy. He’ll come after me, probably chase me clear out of the country. But it doesn’t have to be that way for you guys. Play nice and stick to the official story and you’ll be fine.”
“If it’s your fight,” Beverly said softly, “then it’s our fight too.”
I stared at her, then at Graham. They stared back at me, unblinking, and I felt my loneliness melt away. There was no talking them out of this. They were with me to the end.
And that meant something. No, it meant everything. Maybe I was the last of the Reeds. Maybe I was the last of my bloodline. But I would never be alone.
Not as long as I had my family.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
One of the brightest lights in that great big sky of ours finally darkened a few months ago as my grandmother, Gertrude "Trudie" Meyer, passed away at the ripe old age of 97. Grandma loved romance novels, celebrity gossip, tennis, Baileys, cruises, slot machines, and many other t
hings. And she loved her family. Oh, how she loved her family.
Every couple of weeks, Grandma and her husband, Henry, would hop in their Cadillac and drive many hours to see us. They came to my baseball games, my graduations, and oftentimes, for no reason at all.
Which brings me to KNOX. At its core, KNOX isn’t about the gold standard or government conspiracies. It’s about family. About its warts and all its forms. About how family defines us and how we define it. And about the lengths we’ll go to understand, support, and even protect it.
Grandma sacrificed much on my behalf, a fact for which I’m eternally grateful. May all of you be blessed to have such a wonderful family member in your life. And perhaps, to be that kind of family member to others as well.
Thank you for reading KNOX. I hope you enjoyed it. If you want to be the first to know about my upcoming stories, make sure to sign up for my newsletter.
Keep Adventuring!
David Meyer
February 2016
READY FOR MORE?
Then turn the page for a preview of BEHEMOTH, the first book in David Meyer’s bestselling Apex Predator series.
And make sure to check out the other Cy Reed Adventures, too. The Cy Reed Adventures series consists of four additional books, CHAOS, ICE STORM, TORRENT, and VAPOR. Follow along as treasure hunter / salvage expert Cy Reed crisscrosses the globe, searching for ancient relics, battling mythical monsters, and unraveling mysteries of history!
BEHEMOTH EXCERPT
Date: Unknown; Location: Unknown
This can’t be heaven, Bailey Mills thought as bright rays of waning moonlight filtered through her half-opened eyelids, so it must be hell.
For a moment, she lay still in the swamp, inhaling the odors of clay, rotten oranges, and bird droppings. Tall blades of green grass, partially trampled, surrounded her. Farther back, she saw a layer of orange-barked trees, forty to sixty feet high and dripping with yellow-green fruit. More trees, towering and ancient, lay beyond the fruit trees. The view reminded her a little of that Thomas Cole landscape adorning the bedroom wall of her ex-boyfriend’s Hamptons getaway.