A Statue for Jacob

by Peter Murphy

‘No, well, that’s Kiah,’ I said. ‘And we’re not going to underestimate her. She knows her stuff, and the one time I tried a case against her she handed me my head on a silver platter.’

  She laughed again. ‘I like this woman already. I can’t wait to meet her.’

  She took a seat in front of my desk.

  ‘So, what can I do?’

  ‘Well first,’ I replied, ‘I want you to look at the history of these war loans. I assume there must be quite a lot written about them. According to the Complaint, the Continental Congress laid down a procedure for issuing loan certificates and repaying the loans. So there must have been proceedings in Congress, reports from the loan commissioners, and so on. There have to be some records of what loans were made and how much was repaid. We are talking about a lot of money, and they must have been administering the loans long after the war ended.’

  ‘There’s a quicker way than tracking down the original records,’ she suggested. ‘Historians must have documented the work of the loan offices. It’s an important part of the history of the war. The academics must have been all over it. There will be articles and books. That could save us a lot of time.’

  ‘Good. Start there. But at some point we may need the original records. I am assuming that somewhere there is a collection of surviving loan certificates, paid or unpaid. We need to know where that collection is and how we can access it.’

  ‘Presumably they would have been stored in the Department of the Treasury originally,’ she suggested, ‘but today they are probably in the National Archives, I would think.’ She paused to write herself a note. ‘But we can’t assume anything. When did this guy van Eyck die?’

  ‘In 1812,’ I replied.

  ‘Right. And what happened in 1814?’

  I nodded. ‘The Brits burned Washington.’

  ‘Yes, including the Treasury, and we lost a lot of documents. Who knows what we still have from 1812? I’ll check. What else?’

  ‘That will keep you busy for now,’ I said. ‘I need you to check in with me every day and keep me up to date with where you are. I’m sure Harry told you that we will be reporting up the chain of command on a daily basis?’

  ‘He did. We are reaching the dizzy heights, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘and we’d better be ready for them. I’m going to make a start on the law, and try to figure out some kind of strategy for handling the case, starting with filing our initial paperwork. Any suggestions welcome.’

  She looked at me for a moment with that bright law student look of hers.

  ‘Well, only one thing has come to mind so far. It’s so obvious, I almost hate to mention it.’

  I stared back at her. I had a feeling I was about to feel stupid, but for the life of me, I couldn’t make my mind click into the right gear. She hesitated.

  ‘I’m not trying to be cute, Dave. I’m sure you and Harry have already talked about it.’

  ‘Humour me,’ I said.

  ‘OK. If these loans were made, they were made well over 200 years ago, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s the limitations period in the Claims Court?’

  I sighed.

  ‘Six years,’ I replied helplessly.

  15

  Kiah Harmon

  I have to be honest, and I know it makes me sound like a terrible snob – or worse, a complete sceptic – but when Sam told me that the van Eyck family reunion was to be held in New Orleans, the first picture that came into my mind was a motel somewhere on the way to Lafayette. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The venue turned out to be no less than the Intercontinental Hotel, from where the French Quarter was just a short stroll across Canal Street. The van Eyck family obviously did things in style.

  Someone had negotiated group rates for the rooms, and the hotel had put a sizeable conference room at the family’s disposal for a plenary business meeting on the first morning. As she had promised, Sam had been in contact with the group we were calling the cheerleaders, and had arranged for us to be on the agenda for the meeting. What our reception was likely to be she couldn’t predict, but at least we would get a hearing. The cheerleaders knew that the lawsuit had been filed; the news had been spreading like a bush fire via emails and social media. There had already been a few calls and emails to the office from family members who couldn’t attend the reunion but were interested in what we were doing. There was a definite buzz in the air. One or two local radio stations had picked it up, and Sam and I had fitted in a couple of quick phone interviews before we left Arlington.

  Sam had arrived in New Orleans on the Thursday, two days before the start of the reunion, and I followed with Arlene and Powalski on the following afternoon. As Arlene had predicted, Powalski had jumped at the chance to work with us. Like me, he found the case irresistible, and I had the impression that being on the opposite side to the government also had its attractions for him. We had worked out a flexible agreement. He would work as and when needed, and would give me an estimate of the time he thought he would need for any particular assignment. Very generously, he had offered to donate his time in New Orleans during the reunion, to get things off to a good start.

  Sam met us in the lobby within two minutes of our climbing out of the taxi we had taken from the airport. She helped us check in and took us up to our rooms. The family’s block of rooms were on the eighth and ninth floors, but Sam had talked the hotel into giving us a suite with two bedrooms on the tenth floor for Arlene, me and herself. It worked out cheaper for us than having our own rooms and the suite also had a good-sized living room where we could work and organise the paperwork we had brought with us. Sam and I agreed to share one bedroom, which had twin beds, leaving the other with the queen-size for Arlene. Powalski had the room next door. As we unpacked, Sam told us that there was work to do that evening.

  ‘The cheerleaders have an organising committee,’ she explained. ‘The committee is in charge of planning everything that goes on during the reunion, including the business meeting tomorrow morning. I had a cup of coffee with them this morning, to introduce myself. They would like to meet with you this evening.’

  ‘We’re already on the agenda for the meeting, aren’t we?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, we are. But the committee wants to hear about the lawsuit from the horse’s mouth before tomorrow. It’s probably just because they are the committee, and they want to feel important. But it could make a difference. If we can get them onside, I think it will make it a lot easier for us at the business meeting.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I have no problem with that. Did you arrange a time?’

  Sam reached into the large handbag she was carrying.

  ‘Yes, six fifteen in the bar. I have copies of the program for you. The only event this evening is a welcoming cocktail reception at seven o’clock. After that, everybody goes their separate ways for dinner. So they are setting aside forty-five minutes for us before the reception.’

  ‘That should be enough,’ I said. ‘What’s happening the rest of the weekend?’

  ‘The plenary business meeting is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, Saturday. The afternoon is for people to get together in groups and catch up. Tomorrow evening, reception and sit-down dinner for everyone, seven for seven thirty. Sunday morning in groups, catching up again, then a closing lunch at noon, after which everyone goes back home.’

  ‘Do we know how many folks are attending?’ Arlene asked.

  Sam fiddled in her handbag again.

  ‘Eighty-two. I have a list with names and email addresses.’

  Arlene smiled. ‘Way to go, girl. That’s a pretty good number, don’t you think, y’all?’

  I did. Of course, it was a small fraction of the number of potential plaintiffs, but these were the activists. If we could get them excited about the case, they would bring the others out of the woodwork. The list showed that t
hey were widely spread across the country. We had fifteen states represented, including eight family members in the DC area, which was the first thing I looked for. Not a bad start at all.

  ‘Powalski and I have to try to talk to as many of them as possible during their unsupervised play periods tomorrow afternoon and Sunday morning,’ Arlene was saying. ‘Any reason we couldn’t just set up in the lobby?’

  ‘I think that’s the best way,’ I replied. ‘Everybody has to pass through the lobby. If you are hiding away in a room, they have to come and find you. In the lobby, you can find them.’

  ‘We need to talk to them to give them more information?’ Sam asked.

  ‘That, and to get information from them,’ Arlene said. ‘Leastways, that’s Powalski’s job. Mine is to sign as many of them up as I can, and extort money from them. I’ll have my laptop, so they can sign up to be plaintiffs right there and then. If they won’t do it right away, there’s a form they can download from the website, or they can get one from me and send it in the old-fashioned way, by mail. One way or the other, I’ll get them.’

  Sam laughed. ‘I bet you will, too.’

  ‘You can count on it, hun.’

  ‘Who are the committee members?’ I asked.

  ‘We are meeting with three this evening,’ Sam replied. ‘I think there may be a couple of others, but they’re not getting in until later tonight. There’s Joe Kenney, retired stockbroker, now lives in West Palm Beach, Florida. He and my dad knew each other, so we should be OK with him. Then there’s Jeff Carlsen. He’s mid-thirties to forty-something, I would guess. He’s from Salt Lake City, and guess what, Kiah, he’s a lawyer.’

  ‘No kidding. What kind of law?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but he did say he was with a law firm there. And, last but not least, there is the legendary Aunt Meg.’

  ‘Aunt Meg?’ Arlene said. ‘Sounds like someone I knew back in Lubbock, one of them gypsy fortune tellers.’

  ‘No, Arlene. Quite the contrary. Aunt Meg is the most important person you are likely to meet this weekend. Her full name is Megan Sylvia van Eyck. She’s lived her whole life in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania – the van Eyck family heartland – and she is what you might call the matriarch of the family. Nobody knows how old she really is. She admits to eighty-five. Most people think ninety-plus would be nearer the mark. But she’s got all her wits about her, and she still gets around. She never misses one of these reunions. She knew my dad too.’ She smiled. ‘He had all kinds of stories about her. She never married, but she certainly seems to have led a colourful life.’

  ‘She sounds like the kind of character who would have a lot of pull with the family,’ I said.

  ‘If we can get on the right side of Aunt Meg,’ Sam replied, ‘she will bring the family with her – at least, everyone who matters.’

  16

  For a Friday evening the bar was not too crowded, and to my relief we were able to find a quiet enough corner with an unoccupied table and chairs. Sam and I were wearing demure dark cocktail dresses for the occasion. Arlene had chosen a dark blue two-piece suit. Powalski was immaculate in a conservative grey suit and blue tie. Altogether, I thought we made an impressive group. Sam introduced us to the three committee members. Joe Kenney, in a black leather jacket and open-necked shirt, gave her a quick kiss on both cheeks.

  ‘I was sure sorry to hear about your dad, Sam,’ he said. ‘He was a good guy. Always had a good word for everybody. I always enjoyed meeting him.’

  ‘Thank you, Joe,’ Sam replied.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ Jeff Carlsen said to me, extending his hand. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and wore a casual beige suit with a tie with red and green stripes. ‘I’ve been hearing all about you, and it’s good to put a face to the name.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you too,’ I replied, taking his hand. ‘Sam says you practice in Salt Lake?’

  ‘Sure do. Insurance defense and general commercial litigation.’ He grinned. ‘Nothing as exciting as you folks in the DC area get up to.’

  I laughed. ‘It’s not as exciting as it’s cracked up to be.’

  Sam took my hand and walked me over to Aunt Meg, who was sitting in the corner chair. She was wearing a long black dress, her grey hair firmly pinned up in a bun. She wore no jewelry except for a small mourning brooch pinned high on her chest on the left side. I extended my hand. Aunt Meg did not respond immediately, and I had the impression that she was eyeing me rather suspiciously.

  ‘So, you’re the lawyer who wants to represent the family?’ she said eventually, giving my hand the briefest of shakes.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to call me ma’am. Everybody calls me Aunt Meg. I’ve been around too long to stand on ceremony. Joe, get these folks some drinks.’

  ‘Right away, Aunt Meg,’ Joe replied, and disappeared in the direction of the bar. Powalski went with him.

  Aunt Meg waved me into the seat next to her. Sam and Arlene sat on either side of us.

  ‘Miss Harmon, there’s no point in beating about the bush. Do you agree?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Good. What I want to know is: do we have any hope of getting anything from this lawsuit of yours?’

  ‘Well –’

  ‘Let me tell you why I want to know. Lord knows, it’s not to do with the money. The van Eyck family has been trying to get these loans repaid ever since Jacob died, and I think we’ve long since given up any hope of getting rich off of it. And it’s not like we haven’t tried. Most of these folks are too young to remember, but a few years back we were all trying to stir things up, writing letters to our congressmen and what have you. Much good it ever did us. Just got us all riled up, and for what? For nothing. They promised us the world as long as we would remember to vote for them again, come the election, but when it came right down to it, they didn’t do a damn thing, and that’s the truth.’

  Joe and Powalski returned from the bar, and joined us at the table.

  ‘The waiter will be right over,’ Joe said.

  ‘We were all brought up on the story of Jacob and his loans as children,’ Aunt Meg continued, ‘but when I went to school, and they taught us about the War of Independence, the teachers never mentioned Jacob. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. I kept waiting for them to tell us about him, but they never did. When I finally asked my teacher why not, she had no idea what I was talking about. So then, I had to go home and ask my parents, and they explained that there was no actual proof of the story. And I was left feeling rather foolish, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘It’s kind of like finding out about Santa Claus,’ Joe said, smiling. ‘It’s something every child has to go through. This is our family’s version of Santa Claus.’

  ‘It’s a story about buried treasure,’ Aunt Meg said. ‘Of course, when you’re a child you love stories about buried treasure. And even after you grow up there’s part of you that believes the treasure is there and that you could find it, all those pieces of eight and priceless jewels, if you only had a map and knew where to dig. That’s what this is, if you want my opinion. It’s a story about buried treasure. It’s about as real as Blackbeard’s gold. You can dig for it all you want, but you’re not going to find it.’

  ‘You don’t think Jacob made his loans, Aunt Meg?’ Joe asked. Oddly, after what he had said, he sounded surprised.

  ‘Who knows? Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. I guess there must be something in the story, if they’ve been telling it ever since he passed. Maybe Jacob loaned George Washington thousands of dollars, or maybe he just took him for a good lunch. Who knows? I’m eighty-five, and I’ve never met anyone who thinks he can prove what happened, one way or the other. And without proof, the government isn’t going to pay us a red cent. So all we do is get ourselves riled up for nothing. I think it might be better to let it go and
stop driving ourselves crazy with it.’

  ‘Aunt Meg,’ I replied, ‘let me be honest with you. I can’t guarantee the result will be any different with this lawsuit than it was with the congressmen. But I can guarantee you that we will do something the congressmen never did, as far as I can see. We will try. A lawsuit is the one thing that’s never been tried, and it’s something the government can’t ignore. They have to respond to it. If there is any proof out there, we will find it. If not, then… well, at least the family will know, and maybe then they can put it behind them, as you say, and not drive themselves crazy any more. At least we will put it to rest, one way or another.’

  The waiter approached with our drinks on a huge tray. Red wine for Sam and me; gin and tonic with ice and lemon for Aunt Meg; a Corona for Arlene with a twist of lime in the neck of the bottle, and no glass; Bud Lights for Joe and Jeff, with glasses; Jack Daniels over ice for Powalski – I never saw him drink anything else. A huge carafe of water for all of us. We toasted Jacob; it was a family tradition, I was told.

  ‘I hope you won’t be offended if I ask you this, Miss Harmon,’ Aunt Meg said. ‘But how long have you been out of law school?’

  ‘Five years, going on six,’ I replied.

  She nodded, and turned to Jeff.

  ‘Mr Carlsen, I believe you have read the lawsuit that’s been filed?’

  ‘I have, Aunt Meg, yes.’

  ‘What is your opinion?’

  Jeff seemed taken aback to be asked so directly.

  ‘Well, Aunt Meg, you have to understand that I’m no expert in that particular court. To my untutored eye, the pleading reads well, and it’s a bold step. And as Kiah says, nothing like this has been tried before, and it will mean that the government has to give us an answer of some kind. I guess the only reservation I have is that, like you said, no one really knows what happened back then at Valley Forge, and unless we suddenly come up with some kind of proof that no one has been able to find during all those years, we could waste a lot of time and money and still be back where we were before.’