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“On that I have more bad news. It seems that he’s found a new benefactor and does not require your assistance any longer.”
Now it made sense. “He broke into Alex’s apartment and stole the key.”
“He needed it back.”
“He’s going after the vault?”
He nodded. “Without you.”
“So you’re not really interested in having me arrested for murder.”
“Not at the moment. We need your assistance. I showed you the video so that you would understand how seriously our requests should be taken.”
She stopped walking and faced him. “Where is Kenneth?”
He turned his phone around, tapped the screen, then showed her. On it she saw her brother, being held upright by two men, a third pummeling his abdomen with swift blows. Kenneth reeled from the punches, seemingly struggling to breathe.
Then he vomited all over himself.
The two men holding him upright released their grip and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, swiping his arm across his mouth.
“He’s being taught a valuable lesson,” the man said to her. “We created the Committee to Save America. We funded it. We staffed it. We gave it a mission and purpose. It was originally run by someone else, but when you and Grant Breckinridge started your quest, we hired Kenneth. He was offered membership in our organization and told what was at stake. Eventually we had him make contact with you. He was to be our conduit for information from you and Grant Breckinridge. But then he started creating his own agenda. Connecting you to Lucius Vance was not in our plan. And when he involved your late husband, that altered everything.”
“So why didn’t you stop him?”
“By the time we knew it was happening, things were too far gone, and we’ve been cleaning up ever since.”
On the phone screen a pail of water was thrown over her brother, reviving him. Then the two men lifted him back to his feet. She saw the look of fear on his face and the helplessness in his eyes.
More fists pummeled the chest and kidneys.
“Why not just kill him?” she asked.
“A bullet to your brother’s stupid brain would be simpler. Fortunately for him, he has a job to do.” He motioned at the screen. “He just requires some policy instruction and proper motivation.”
The two men again let Kenneth go and he dropped to the floor. She knew she should feel something for her twin brother, but nothing flowed through her except the image of her shoving Alex over the cliff.
“You expect him to keep working with you?” she asked.
“Of course. He has no choice. He has some terrific relationships across the country with many key state legislators. I think after tonight he’ll be more than anxious to please. Of course, he won’t be participating in your venture, nor will Grant Breckinridge. Which means you’re on your own.”
Now she understood. They were isolating her. Rendering her impotent, with no allies, no support.
Insignificant.
Just as Alex had wanted to make her.
“Your treasure hunt is over,” he said, sounding proud. “Did you bring what I asked?”
She nodded. “It’s all on e-files stored on my iPad and an off-site server.”
He handed her a slip of paper. “Email everything to that address. Then erase all the files and never think of the vault again. I assure you, if you make any attempt to locate it after tonight, we will know and you will be arrested for murder. If you stay silent, we stay silent.”
She had no choice.
“We’re doing you a favor. Grant Breckinridge has already killed one man at the Smithsonian and shot a federal agent.”
Exactly what Daniels had told her, too.
“The agent’s name is Stephanie Nelle. She heads an intelligence division of the Justice Department. She’s in a coma at Sibley Memorial Hospital. Please know, Grant Breckinridge is about to be a seriously wanted man.”
“That’s his problem.”
“True. I just wanted to make sure it didn’t become yours.”
They’d walked about half the length of the Reflecting Pool.
Few others were around in the darkness.
The man faced her. “I believe that concludes our business. Hopefully, this will be the last time we ever speak.”
And he walked off.
But there was one point he hadn’t mentioned.
“You don’t care that he’s dead?” she asked.
He stopped and turned back to her.
She’d intentionally not used Alex’s name.
“You saved us the trouble.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Cotton’s phone rang.
He was back across the Mall in the American history museum, inside the secured archive where they’d left the Trail Stone. They were still monitoring the Breckinridges. One of the two Magellan Billet agents on the scene was overhead, watching the car used for the escape from a safe distance. The skies over DC were regularly patrolled by military helicopters, so the presence of one more would arouse no suspicion. And besides, it was nearly 11:30 P.M., with darkness providing perfect cover. The second agent was following the car at a discreet distance, being guided by the chopper, no need to get close. They were all headed outside DC, west into Virginia. So he and Stamm had taken a few moments and transferred their base of operations from the Castle.
He checked the phone’s display.
Magellan Billet headquarters.
He excused himself, drifted to the far side of the archive, and answered among the shelves.
The report was disturbing.
Cassiopeia had disappeared several hours ago. Lea Morse had been there. She’d been told to stay back, out of the way, but disobeyed Cassiopeia and watched as an explosion rocked an old mine, then Cassiopeia was led away at gunpoint by a man Lea identified as James Proctor, someone who’d tried a few hours earlier to kill them both. Her description of the vehicle was not much help. Even more disturbing was that Terry Morse was also missing. Cassiopeia had gone to find him. Lea had found the sheriff, but the locals had waited a long time before informing the Justice Department. Finally they made contact and were eventually routed to the
Billet.
“They think Morse might be trapped inside the mine,” came the report. “So they’re digging. We initially tried Cassiopeia’s GPS tracker and got nothing. But a few minutes ago it came back on the grid.”
Like himself, Cassiopeia wore a Billet-issued watch that provided GPS locating. She’d used his to find him inside that incinerator, and now he learned that her watch was near Amarillo, Texas, heading west, along Interstate 40.
“That’s a long way from Arkansas. Give the tracking info to the Texas Highway Patrol and find it.”
“Already being done. We just wanted you to know.”
He ended the call, worried about Cassiopeia. Nothing he’d heard sounded encouraging. He walked back to where Stamm sat at the monitor, a greenish night-vision video feed still coming from the helicopter following the Breckinridges.
“They’re headed toward Manassas,” Stamm said. “There’s a regional airport there.”
He got the message. They could be leaving. “We can follow, but we need to know the destination.”
He grabbed the radio they’d brought with them and told the agent in the chopper and the one in the car about the nearby airport.
* * *
Grant wondered where they were headed. His father had provided the driver with specific directions. So far no one had pursued them.
Which was good.
“There are some things you need to know,” his father said.
They sat together in the rear seat.
“The current Order numbers around 550 members. At present there’s a schism among the knights. One group, led by our commander, wants to move forward with legal changes to the Constitution. You’re familiar with that through Kenneth Layne. What you don’t know is that the Order funds his organization. The other faction, led by me, prefers that we stay dormant.”
Why wasn’t he surprised.
