The Lincoln Myth(102)

He leveled his gaze at the president of the United States. “It. Will. Fall.”

“I’m releasing you from your calling,” Snow said. “I want your resignation as an apostle.”

“And I want you out of the Senate,” the president said.

“You can both go to hell.”

Never before had he uttered such derogatory words. Swearing was contrary to all that he believed. But he was angry. And he had to hope that Salazar was successful. Everything now depended on that.

He turned for the door, but could not resist a parting shot.

“This Lincoln myth will end. The nation will see him for what he was. A man who fought a war for nothing, who hid away the truth for his own purposes. Unlike either of you, I trust the judgment of the people. They’ll decide if this union   is forever.”





FIFTY-EIGHT





MALONE KEPT WATCH ON THE DARK OUTLINE OF SALISBURY House. The electricity had been down about fifteen minutes, and he finally spotted flashlights streaking through the cottage where Cassiopeia had done her damage. A couple of minutes later the lights inside and out came back on. Surely it was clear now that someone had intentionally tripped the breaker. It would not be long before police would be everywhere.

“She’s coming your way, Pappy,” Luke said in his ear.

He fled his post and headed back through the trees to where he’d parked the rental car. It sat on the shoulder of a tree-lined street, the houses around all set back from the road a hundred-plus feet. One of those older neighborhoods built when people craved privacy and land was cheap.

There was no telling what had happened inside Salisbury House. Frat Boy had kept the details to himself. The fact that Cassiopeia now possessed the watch meant Luke had underestimated her.

Big mistake.



LUKE HASTENED HIS PACE, HIS GROIN STILL ACHING. HE OWED her one for that. He found the edge of the house and turned the corner. Trees, shrubs, and woods nestled close to the side wall. A rustling noise up ahead confirmed that Vitt was still on the move. The lights had returned inside, the ground-floor windows now illuminating this side of the building.

He pushed his way through the foliage.

Malone should be somewhere behind the rear garden, Vitt heading straight toward him.

CASSIOPEIA STAYED IN THE TREES AND PASSED THE EDGE OF THE rear garden. Her car was waiting fifty meters away on a street labeled Greenwood Drive. She had the watch. Josepe would be pleased. Maybe once she handed it over she could learn its significance. All Josepe had mentioned was that it might be the final piece of a much larger puzzle. Would she tell Stephanie Nelle?

Probably not.

Sirens could now be heard.

With the lights back on in Salisbury House, the theft would be evident.

Time to be far away, and fast.



“SHE SHOULD BE RIGHT ON YOU,” LUKE SAID INTO THE MIKE.

No reply.

“Malone.”

Still silent.

Where the heck was the old-timer?

He decided to take matters into his own hands. The pain had finally subsided, and his hard-trained muscles were ready, nerves alert.

So he sprang ahead.



CASSIOPEIA HEARD THRASHING RAPIDLY COMING HER WAY.

She increased her pace and came to the end of the rear garden, rushing ahead through the woods toward her parked vehicle. Someone was closing in. The car doors were unlocked, the keys in her purse along with the watch, which she held tightly.

The woods ended at the edge of the road.

She spotted her car and raced over, climbing inside, stuffing the key in the ignition and firing the engine. She shifted into drive, foot on the accelerator, and was about to speed away when something pounded the hood. Through the windshield she spotted a man sprawled out and a face. Younger. Late twenties, early thirties.

“Going somewhere?” he asked her.

The man’s left arm came up from his side, the hand holding a semi-automatic, which he aimed straight at her.

She smiled and kept her eyes locked on his.

Then her right foot floored the accelerator.



LUKE HAD EXPECTED SOMETHING, WHICH WAS WHY HIS RIGHT hand was vised onto the hood’s lip at the base of the windshield, where the wipers were hidden.

The car lunged forward, tires spinning in the dirt and grass, then grabbing pavement.

She swung the wheel left, then right, trying to dislodge him.

He held tight.

She increased speed.

“Pappy,” he said. “I don’t know where you are, but I need you. I’m going to have to shoot this crazy bitch.”

Stephanie’s orders were clear.

Get the watch.

At any cost.



CASSIOPEIA DID NOT WANT TO SERIOUSLY INJURE THE MAN ON her hood, but she also needed him to go away. He surely worked for Stephanie Nelle. Who else would be here?

They were on a dark side street with no traffic, woods on both sides between an occasional driveway.