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“That should rattle their cages,” Davis said.
“Those sons of bitches irk my ass,” Daniels said. “You hear that arrogant NSA bastard as I left?”
“Carbonell is good,” Davis said. “She held her own.”
“Smug as hell, too. With balls. She’s our target. No question. In The Godfather, I love that book and movie, Don Corleone teaches Michael that ‘the one who comes to you with an offer of help will be your traitor.’ I know, I know. It’s fiction. But that screenwriter was right.”
“Why did you tell them about Stephanie?” Cassiopeia asked.
“It couldn’t hurt. At least they know finding her will please me and, right now, I imagine most of them want to do that. Maybe one of ’em will surprise me and actually do something. Is Cotton on his way?”
Davis told his boss that the Secret Service flight had been delayed because of weather, then said, “We have no idea how, or when, Wyatt will get there.”
“But he’ll be there,” Daniels said. “Did you learn about the locale?”
Davis nodded. “A letter exists in the National Archives, from a group in Cumberland, Nova Scotia, sent to George Washington. The locals expressed sympathy for the American revolutionary cause against the British and actually invited Washington and the Continental army to invade Nova Scotia. They wanted Halifax burned and the British gutted. We didn’t take them up on that offer entirely, but we did capture a few strategic sites. Fort Dominion was one of those. It helped guard our flank, keeping British ships out of Mahone Bay while our forces moved on Montreal and Quebec. When the British defeated us at Quebec, we abandoned Dominion and burned it. Jackson, as a military man, definitely would have known of Fort Dominion, and he would not have used the British name, Wildwood, for the site.”
Cassiopeia listened as Davis explained about 74 British soldiers who died at the fort under questionable circumstances during the American occupation. The colonial officers involved had been court-martialed, but were all acquitted. After the Revolution, Canada ceased being a military target, becoming more a haven for ambitious pirates and privateers. Nova Scotia ultimately attracted 30,000 British Loyalists from the newly formed United States, one-tenth of whom were fleeing slaves.
“But during the War of 1812 we tried to take Canada again,” Davis said. “We lost that one, too.”
“And what were we going to do with it?” Daniels asked, shaking his head. “Crazy thinking. Just like our roosters back there in the conference room. Accomplishing nothing but their own survival. What did you find out about the five symbols in the message?”
Davis reached for a file in his lap. “I had the national security staff do the research, people I can trust here, in house. Nothing flagged anywhere. But one of the staffers is a big conspiratorialist. Into a lot of the New Age stuff, and she recognized the symbols.”
Davis handed both Cassiopeia and the president a sheet of paper.
“That stone was supposedly found about ninety feet down in the Oak Island treasure pit. When they hit that slab they thought something valuable would be either with it or below it. Unfortunately, that was not the case.”
“What does it mean?” the president asked.
“It’s a simple transposition code.”
Davis handed them another sheet.
“It supposedly says, Forty Feet Below Two Million Pounds Are Buried.” Davis paused. “There’s just one problem. No one alive has ever seen this stone. No one knows if it ever existed. But every book about Oak Island, and there are many, mentions it.”
Davis explained the provenance.
The slab was apparently found by one of the treasure consortiums digging on the island around 1805. A local resident named John Smith subsequently used it in his fireplace for decoration. There it stayed for nearly fifty years, until Smith died. Then it disappeared.
“So how do we know what it looks like?” Daniels asked.
“An excellent question. One to which there is no good answer. That image you have is the one that’s in all the books.”
“Who deciphered it?”
“No one knows that, either. There are multiple stories.”
Daniels sat back in the chair, holding the two pages. “A stone no one has ever seen, translated by no one we know, yet Andrew Jackson uses nearly identical symbols to hide two missing congressional journal pages?”
“It’s possible,” Davis said, “Jackson could have heard tales of Oak Island. By 1835 treasure hunters had been digging there for years. Mahone Bay was also a pirate den. Perhaps he intended a touch of irony in the selection of his hiding place.”
“You’re awfully quiet,” Daniels said to her.
“We need to speak to your wife.”
“You anxious to use that phone tap?”
“I’m anxious about Stephanie.”
“We have Kaiser’s house video monitored now,” Davis said. “We snuck two agents in before dawn and installed a camera.”
“We have to send Hale a message,” she said. “Enough to flush him from the field, too.”
The president understood the importance. “I know. But I wonder. Did those damn pirates really try to kill me?”
“It’s possible,” Davis said.
“I meant what I told those people a few minutes ago,” Daniels said. “We’re going to take the whole bunch of ’em down.”
But she knew Daniels’ dilemma. There was no way this could escalate into a public fight. That would not be good for the White House, the intelligence community, or the country. Whatever he did had to be done in private. Which, she assumed, was where she and Cotton came in. Of course, only she and Davis were privy to what Quentin Hale really knew. But she agreed with Davis: Now was not the time to bring any of that up.
“Cotton needs to find those two missing pages,” Daniels said.
“It may not matter,” she said. “We can telegraph anything we want to Hale through that phone tap. We could lead him to believe that we already have them.”
“Which would help Stephanie,” Daniels said. “If the pirates have her.”
“You realize,” Cassiopeia said, “that Carbonell could have Stephanie-”
Daniels held up a hand. “I know. But I just made it clear that Stephanie’s life is important. And if Carbonell and the pirates are as close as everyone seems to think, then they’ll get that message, too. Let’s hope they all understand.”
She agreed.
“Pauline is in her office,” Daniels said. “She has to leave soon for an engagement. I asked her to wait and speak with you.”
Davis stood. So did she.
The president kept his eyes to the floor, his face solemn.
“Find Stephanie,” he said. “Do whatever you have to do. Lie, cheat, steal. I don’t care. Just find her.”
Cassiopeia and Edwin Davis entered the First Lady’s office. Pauline Daniels waited behind her desk and rose to greet them in a cordial tone. They sat at a grouping of chairs before an ornate French-style desk, the office door closed.
Cassiopeia felt like the odd person out but took charge and said, “We’re going to stage a conversation tonight on your phone. I’m told Ms. Kaiser’s out at an event until eight thirty. By the time she returns, I’ll have a script for you. Memorize the gist of it, then say it in your own words. Edwin will be here with you. I’ll be on the other end.”
The First Lady glanced at Davis. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea any of this would happen.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Danny thinks I betrayed him.”
“He said that?” Davis asked her.
“No. In fact, he didn’t say a word. And that was what said it all.” She shook her head. “I almost killed him.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Cassiopeia said in a curt tone.
“You have no sympathy for us, do you?”
“A woman’s life is at stake.”
The First Lady nodded. “So I’ve been told. Stephanie Nelle. Do you know her?”
“She’s my friend.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. Shirley and I have discussed many things. But I’m not privy to a great deal that goes on around here. As you may have gathered, the president and I exist in separate lives. I was only made aware of the New York trip in a passing remark. Honestly, I thought nothing about it. Just a quick trip up and back that would be kept quiet until the day of it.”
She heard the plea in her voice.
“I’ve been a fool,” the older woman said.
Cassiopeia didn’t disagree, but kept her mouth shut, as did Davis.
“I’m sure Edwin has made clear that nothing improper has occurred between us.”
“More than once.”
Pauline cast a weak smile. “I don’t know about you, Ms. Vitt, but this is a new experience for me. I’m unsure what to do.”
“Tell the truth. About everything.”
She waited to see if they both caught her message.
“I suppose it is time Danny and I discuss Mary. We haven’t in a long while.”
“I agree. But right now two people I care a great deal about are in danger, and we need your help.” She stood. “I’m headed back to Fredericksburg. I’ll call Edwin about seven and provide the script.”
