The Lincoln Myth(126)

“My boy did good, didn’t he?” Daniels asked her, as they climbed.

She knew who my boy was. “Luke handled himself like a pro.”

“He’s goin’ to be fine. You’re going to be glad you have him. I even think he and I might make our peace.”

She was glad that Danny had settled another score.

One more step toward retirement.

She’d never been inside the Washington Monument. Strange, considering she’d seen it thousands of times. Just one of those visits that had always been delayed. Made entirely of marble, granite, and bluestone gneiss, the 555-foot obelisk carried the distinction of being the tallest stone structure in the world. It had stood since 1884, when its capstone was finally laid. A rare East Coast earthquake a few years back damaged its exterior, which took three years to repair.

“Any reason why we can’t use the elevator?” she asked him.

“You’ll see.”

“Where are we going?”

The Secret Service waited at the bottom of the staircase, which right-angled its way from the ground to the top—a long climb, 897 risers, as the site superintendent had explained below.

“Only about halfway up,” he said. “What is it? You out of shape?”

She smiled. He seemed back to his old self. “I can keep up with you anytime, anywhere.”

He stopped and turned back. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

They were alone, both of them comfortable with the other. Soon he would not be the president of the United States and she would not be his employee.

She pointed to what he was holding.

A laptop computer.

“I was unaware you could use one of those?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m actually quite good on one.”

He offered nothing more as to why he’d brought it along, but she’d expected little.

They started to climb more stairs.

Along the way, embedded into the exterior walls were commemorative stones, carved with patriotic messages from donors. She’d noticed references to particular towns, cities, and states, many countries, Masonic lodges, Bible verses, maps, military regiments, colleges, a bit of anything and everything.

“Were these all donated?” she asked.

“Every one. All in honor of George Washington. There are 193 of them inside.”

They hadn’t spoken of Rowan or Salazar, beyond her curt report that both had died, neither at the hand of anyone officially connected to the U.S. government. Charles Snow had been waiting for them outside the cave, a sad, forlorn look on his face. U.S. Army personnel were dispatched to remove the bodies. All evidence of a gunshot was removed from Rowan’s remains, the wound erased by an extensive autopsy performed by military pathologists. The senator’s family had been told that he died of a heart attack while on church business with the prophet. He would be given an elaborate funeral in Salt Lake sometime this week. Salazar’s body was released to Cassiopeia, who flew to Spain aboard Salazar’s jet.

Daniels stopped ahead of her on the next platform. “This is the 220-foot level. My thighs actually do ache. I’m not accustomed to that kind of workout.”

Hers were throbbing, too.

“We’re here for that,” he said, pointing to another of the commemorative stones.

She studied the rectangle, this one featuring what appeared to be a beehive resting atop a table. Above the hive was an all-seeing eye that radiated downward, revealing the words HOLINESS TO THE LORD, which crowned the hive. Beneath the table was carved DESERET. An assortment of three-dimensional trumpets, flowers, vines, and leaves sprang from the stone.

“This was donated in September 1868 by Brigham Young himself. The stone was quarried in Utah and carved by a Mormon pioneer named William Ward. The beehive was the symbol for the state of Deseret, which is what Young wanted to call his new land. Of course, we had other ideas. It would be nearly thirty years before statehood came their way, but this clearly illustrates Young’s early intentions.”

Daniels hinged open the laptop and laid it on the steps leading up from where they stood. The screen came to life with an image of Charles Snow.

“It’s real early out where you are,” the president said to the prophet.

“That it is. But I haven’t slept much these past few days.”

“I know the feeling. Me either.”

“I’ve been praying for Elder Rowan and Brother Salazar. I only hope Heavenly Father is kind to them.”

“We did what had to be done. You know that’s true.”

“I wonder how many of my predecessors said the same thing. They did things, too, that they thought had to be done. But does it make them right?”