“So would you care to tell me exactly how you plan on doing this when hundreds of people are all around?”
A hint of a smile touched her lips.
“Watch and learn.”
Inside the Hall, food vendors lined a central walking path, each one offering a tantalizing aroma. Above them, the second floor was visible, a circular path of tables and other stores set alongside the walls, as the center of the entire floor had been removed to allow an unfettered view straight to the building’s cupola far above.
“Not to rain on your parade,” he said softly, lips close to her ear, “but what if the message used to be in the middle of the room? That floor’s been gone for years.”
Erika didn’t respond, but he could tell she was worried. Her eyes flicked rapidly about as she studied the building’s layout, occasionally glancing outside.
“All right, I think I have it.” One finger extended to the far end of the Hall. “That’s east. The weathervane should be over there.” She took off at a near run, dodging between slow-moving tourists. Parker hurried after her, apologizing to an old woman Erika had knocked aside. Once outside the far door, Erika craned her neck back, looking skyward. “I was right. There it is.”
Parker looked up and saw a golden shimmer above them. The weathervane was a magnificent sight, as bright sunlight sparkled off the gilded grasshopper.
“Where do you think it is in relation to the floor?”
He took a few steps further back, tried to gauge the grasshopper’s location.
“Probably ten feet back from this edge, and another ten feet in from the side.”
They both hurried back inside and looked to their left, expecting to see a table filled with screaming children sitting atop their targeted spot. Instead they saw a rickety wooden door with the word “Private” stenciled across the front. Before he could blink, Erika stood in front of the doorway.
“Wait a second. We can’t just barge in there.”
“Watch me.”
All around them people moved through the building, none giving them a second glance. As Erika placed a tentative hand on the door, Parker prepared for the shriek of a security alarm, immediately followed by the arrival of several guards.
“You do realize there are policemen outside.”
Not fifty feet from where he stood, two officers on bikes were watching the crowds behind dark sunglasses.
“No one’s looking at us. Don’t worry.”
With a final glance around, she turned the dingy black doorknob. On squeaky hinges, the door slid open. Inside they found a small storage closet filled with cleaning supplies and other detritus. Brooms, mops, and other assorted implements of sanitation lined the walls. Several rusted chairs were stacked in one corner next to a folding table, and inexplicably, an ancient hand-operated lawn mower.
“Quit staring and get inside.” Erika pulled him in and the door flapped shut behind them. Dust filled the air, and Parker unleashed a violent sneeze. “Be quiet and start searching.”
Erika was already shifting mops and hanging buckets aside, her face inches from the dusty walls. Windowless, the room’s only light filtered in from beneath the closed door.
“It doesn’t look like this place has been used in years.” He wiped a nearby wall with one hand, which came back gray.
“I’d say that’s a good sign for us. If Revere really did put something underneath that bird, and he left it on the first floor, no one may have found it yet. And it’s unlikely Revere would have left Alexander Hamilton to stumble around in search of a hiding place. More likely, he would have left a marker behind, something to point Hamilton in the right direction.”
She had pulled out her cell phone and turned it into an impromptu flashlight. Parker did the same, the brilliant LCD beams illuminating their dirty surroundings. Dust motes filled the air as they searched the two outside walls which would have existed in Revere’s time. Every movement brought a further onslaught of the gray allergen, a light mist of dirt and debris. Ten minutes later, each of them was filthy and hot.
Parker sneezed again. “They need some air-conditioning in here.”
Erika rubbed the sweat from her face as she looked around, eyes narrow.
“These other two walls weren’t here two hundred years ago, though they look like they’re that old. The only other options are the floor or the ceiling.”
Parker’s light flashed overhead.
“Do you really think he’d hide something in the ceiling? I doubt Hamilton would be able to get in a hidden compartment easily if it’s fifteen feet above him.”
“Then the floor it is. Help me move some of this junk.”
In front of him sat the pile of folded chairs, stacked up to his chest. As he pulled on the top one, it caught. Frustrated and sweaty, Parker tugged the chair roughly. It was stuck.
“The hell with this.”
He ripped it backward. Another jerk, and the chair suddenly came loose. Parker tumbled to the floor along with the entire stack of chairs, each one clattering to the ground with a wooden crunch, taking out anything in their path. From beneath the disaster he’d just created, Parker already knew she would be pissed.
“I’m sorry, it was an accident.”
Erika’s persistent coughing was the only reply.
During the fall, he’d lost his phone. Cursing under his breath, Parker scrambled to his feet, which sent an avalanche of chairs into the space he’d recently vacated on the storeroom floor.
“Well done. Any person within a mile must know we’re inside this closet.”
In the room’s far corner, a glimmer of light poked through the detritus. Faced with the obstacle course he’d created, Parker clambered over several of the cursed chairs, banged his knee on a stray doorknob in the process.
Why in the world was an extra door stored in here?
Finally he reached his phone. Here he was surrounded by brickwork on either side. This corner was where the two original walls met, likely the very bricks set by masons when the building was originally constructed. His phone was lying on the ground, a faint aura of barely visible light. As he bent down to retrieve the device, he was forced to stretch over a tiny bench that lay upside down.
“Got you.”
Arm stretched as far as it would go, his fingers scraped the phone’s protective cover as he pulled. There were gaps between each board in the floor, which had apparently warped over the course of several hundred years. As his hand closed around the phone, the bright light illuminated where the two walls met. His eyes were drawn to the spot. Parker pushed himself up but stopped short when he focused on the bottom row of bricks.
There was a design etched in one of them. So faint he wasn’t sure it was there.
Parker leaned in closer to the wall, literally in the far corner. One hand brushed a thick layer of dust from the brick’s surface. As a mermaid shimmers into view through the water, two letters came to life before his eyes.
P R
“Erika, get over here.”
“Would you please be quiet?” she hissed. “If you keep shouting, the cops will be here in a second.”
“Get over here right now.”
Even though he whispered, she must have sensed the urgency in his voice. Fallen chairs clattered as she moved his way.
“What’s so important?”
He illuminated the two letters, his fingers tracing them as she watched. Parker looked up just as her mouth dropped open. For once, she was speechless.
“I think I know what these letters stand for.”
Her voice finally returned. “That’s a perfect clue. If anyone ever saw it, they’d think that was a builder’s mark, similar to how an artist will sign his work or a sculptor mark his creation. Revere could have easily made the insignia after the brick was in place.” Erika pushed his hands aside as she crouched down, each bare knee settling in front of the decorated brick. “Even if one of the Hall’s employees saw these marks, they wouldn’t think much of them. No wonder
it’s remained hidden all these years.”
Her fingers ran over the mortar that kept the wall together.
“This material is so old it’s impossible to tell when it was laid here.”
“What do you mean? We know this place was built in 1742.”
“This building was, yes, but this particular brick? I’m betting it was dislodged about fifty years later.”
Then it hit him.
“And put back after Revere hid a message behind it.”
“Exactly.”
As they spoke, the sound of raised voices just outside the storage room became audible.
“What did Bobby do with that window kit? That darn kid couldn’t find his ass with a roadmap. If he left it in here I’ll wring his neck.”
Her dusty hands clenched his arm. “We have to hide.”
As the door handle began to turn, Parker did the only thing he could think of. He pushed her to the floor with one hand while dragging a stray chair onto his back with the other. Erika landed on her back, pinned to the ground by his weight. His nose smashed into hers, their sweat intermingling to form tiny rivers of salty dirt that dripped onto the floor, each sending a miniscule cloud of dust into the air.
“Ah, this danged place is one big mess. I’ll never find it.”
The man was now inside, his muttered words barely audible through the din that followed him through the open door. Parker couldn’t see anything except for Erika’s forehead, and had no idea if the chair on his back provided any cover.
Afraid to make a sound, he flicked his eyes overhead, silently asking if they were hidden from view. Erika shook her head, the movement so brief he felt rather than saw the motion.
They were out in plain sight.
Random objects scraped across the floor as the intruder searched through the debris.
“I can’t see a thing in here.”
Suddenly the room became brighter. A flashlight beam darted around. Parker’s lungs were on fire as he fought to hold his breath, afraid the slightest movement would reveal them. Fortunately, the man said nothing, his light apparently concentrated on the ground at his feet. Their luck didn’t hold, as seconds later Erika’s eyes bugged out, their enchanting blue color vividly sparkling under the flashlights glow.
A second voice filled the room.
“Hey, Jim, I found it. He left it over here.”
The light held steady as Parker’s lungs burned. For what felt like an eternity they both held rigidly still. When he could hold his breath no longer, the light clicked off.
“That dang kid. We need to make him clean this place up. You can hardly move in here.”
Parker exhaled as the door clicked shut to leave them in silence.
“Get off me.” Erika pushed his beleaguered chest with both hands, shoving him off her. She gasped in the dusty air. “If he would have even glanced at us, we were done. Your legs were completely uncovered.”
“Good thing Jim wasn’t too observant.”
With the utmost care, Parker cleared an area around the corner brick large enough for them to squat down. Her phone light flashing around, Erika peered among the junk he was moving.
“What is that?” She was pointing at a metal pipe in his hands.
“I don’t know, part of a table? I’m just moving this stuff so we can stand here.”
“Give it to me.” She grabbed the rod, which was a foot long and several inches in diameter. “Shine your light on the brick.” Erika held the pipe in both hands, angst covering her face. She whispered to no one, “Sorry about this.”
The pipe swung down, crashed into the brick with a heavy thud. Nothing moved but dust in the air.
“Damn. Stand back.” She smashed the brick two more times, and again failed to dislodge little more than a few mortar chunks.
“Give that thing to me and get out of the way.” Parker handed her the phones in exchange for the pipe. A glance to the door confirmed they were still alone. Two sharps cracks echoed through the room as the brick disintegrated into pieces. Before the dust settled, Erika was on her knees in front of the damage.
“Be careful, I may have just broken down the front door to a rat’s house.”
If so, Erika wasn’t afraid. Her arm disappeared into the hole. “Yuck, there are so many cobwebs in here.” She kept digging, her elbow going inside the wall, until her body froze. “I have something.”
Her hand emerged from the hole grasping what looked like a cigar box. She held it aloft where he could see it. His hands barely grazed the surface, swiping the accumulated grime onto Erika’s legs. She didn’t even notice when they saw what was underneath.
P.R. & Sns.
For several seconds, neither moved. Only when a group of voices passed by the door did Parker finally speak. “We need to go.”
Erika said nothing, merely tucked the box under one arm and headed to the door.
“We look like coal miners.”
She cast a glance up and down their dirty and disheveled clothes. “Follow me and don’t stop. If anyone yells, start running.”
Without waiting for an answer she twisted the doorknob and walked outside. Left with no choice, he dropped the pipe and hurried out, hoping the police weren’t waiting for them.
Chapter 19
Outside Washington, DC
The deep thump of helicopter blades reverberated through normally tranquil air. When the craft itself passed by, every driver on the roadways below looked skyward, entranced by the monstrous bird.
There was one exception. A lone motorcyclist cruised down the DC beltway, his eyes focused squarely on the road ahead. Moments ago a string of police vehicles had careened past him, lights flashing as they descended on Trump National. Eyes shielded behind the smoked glass of a metallic gray racing helmet, the biker hadn’t so much as glanced as the cavalry whizzed past.
Less than twenty minutes after Treasury Secretary Gordon Daniels had been shot with the electrified dart, Michael Brown was miles away, headed to Pennsylvania.
The winding route which Michael had laid out for his return trip to New York would take him through eastern Pennsylvania, past a series of remote lakes, one of which would soon be the watery grave of the motorcycle he was currently riding.
The clothes he wore, a racing jacket with camouflage sewn onto the reverse side and matching pair of pants, would be dumped as well, weighted with cement blocks. Afterward, once he returned to his apartment in the city, there would be no way to connect Michael Brown with the lone wolf terrorist who had murdered Gordon Daniels.
The sight of Daniels crumpling to the ground as his heart stopped beating had the same effect on him as watching a baseball game. It was entertaining, almost pleasing, as he’d completed his mission. The job was now stored away, an experience on which to draw from in the future.
Careful to stay just under the speed limit, Michael focused on the asphalt under his tires, and a feeling of contentment settled over him on this beautiful summer day.
Chapter 20
Their dirty clothes garnered a few stares, but otherwise Parker and Erika moved unmolested through the afternoon crowds. A taxi took them back to the hotel, and once he walked into the blissfully cold room, Parker flopped onto the bed, mentally exhausted.
“Get over here,” Erika ordered as she pulled him to his feet. “I need your help opening this box.”
Atop the same table on which they had studied Revere’s second letter sat the grimy wooden box, emanating a musty odor. It resembled a cigar box, with two rusted metal hinges connecting the lid and body.
“That doesn’t smell too nice. If there’s paper inside, would it have survived this long?”
The angst on Erika’s face belied her answer. “You have to remember that the paper Revere would have used was far more durable than what we have today. Also, many letters during this time period were protected by a leather cover. I’d hope he had the foresight to use one.”
Parker watched as Erika grasped the lid. Her mouth contorted
into a grimace as she struggled with the rusted hinges. With a skin-crawling shriek, centuries of rust gave way and the lid opened several inches.
“This thing is really stuck. I don’t want to break the container if I can avoid it.”
“Let me try.” Without waiting for permission, Parker grabbed the box and ripped it open. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
She didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the interior. A thin leather-bound book lay inside.
“Look at the cover.”
Burned into the cracked leather were two familiar letters.
P.R.
“Looks like we’re on the right track.”
Erika reached for the volume, which nearly filled the box’s interior, her white-gloved hands softly flipping the front cover open. The first page was blank.
“This paper appears to be the right age, as does the binding. If you look closely, you can see that there are a variety of colors in the paper, the result of using different colors of materials to make the page.”
She had again fallen into lecture mode.
“That’s wonderful, but I don’t care. Flip the page before I do.”
Erika took the hint. On the next page, he saw a familiar script.
“That’s Revere’s handwriting.”
For several minutes neither of them spoke as they read a message composed centuries ago.
Dear Alexander,
My time here is almost at an end, and I have terrible news to report. One of my informants has uncovered a treacherous plot to undermine our entire financial system. George Simpson, an American by all rights, is in league with His Majesty’s associates. My confidante personally observed Mr. Simpson directing a shipment of gold to be delivered to America, though to what destination I know not. Simpson was recruited by King George to establish a presence within our borders and wreak havoc on our burgeoning economy.
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