The Lincoln Myth(71)
“It’s there,” she said.
He caught sight of the treasure lying on a table surrounded by a sofa and upholstered chairs before one of the fireplaces.
He walked over and sat on the sofa.
The book measured about four inches by six inches, a little over an inch thick. Its tan leather bindings were in remarkably good shape.
He opened it and read the title page.
BOOK OF MORMON
Translated By
JOSEPH SMITH JR.
Third Edition
Carefully Revised By The Translator
Nauvoo, Illinois
Printed by Robinson and Smith
Cincinnati, Ohio
1840
A bookplate affixed to the cover sheet noted an identification number and that the Library of Congress had acquired it on December 12, 1849.
He felt awed to be in its presence.
In 1838 the Saints were headquartered in Missouri. But on October 30 a rogue militia attacked the peaceful village of Haun’s Mill and massacred most of the inhabitants. Fearing more violence the Saints fled to Illinois, where a need developed for more copies of the Book of Mormon, the original 1830 printing exhausted. The $1,000 it would have cost to print new copies was nonexistent, but a divine revelation told them what to do. Circulars were sent throughout the church, and for every $100 sent toward the printing costs, a branch would receive 110 copies. Prophet Joseph himself endorsed the financing plan and set about revising the text, correcting errors. Money flowed in and five thousand new copies were eventually produced, one of which lay before him.
“This edition was so successful,” he said, “that from that point forward this book has never been out of print.”
“I read the library’s record on it,” she said.
He smiled. “I would have expected no less.”
“The registers indicate that Abraham Lincoln checked this book out on November 18, 1861, and returned it on July 29, 1862. He also borrowed three other books the library had at the time on Mormonism.”
“He was the first and, to our knowledge, the only president ever to read the Book of Mormon. We Saints hold Lincoln in high esteem.”
He’d yet to delve any deeper than the title page.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to her. “I need to examine this in private.”
FORTY-TWO
ORANGE COUNTY, VIRGINIA
LUKE SCRAMBLED OUT OF THE OPENING AND QUICKLY UNTIED the rope from the column. Blue strobing continued in the distance, the sirens growing louder. He slid the concrete hatch back into place and stuffed mortar chips into the joint. Then he swiped away all remnants from the concrete floor. If no one came too close, the dark should provide enough cover to prove that all was okay. He grabbed the rope and tools and retreated into the woods, twenty yards away.
The police arrived at the mansion and within two minutes three flashlights appeared, heading his way. He hid among the thickets, his dark clothes providing plenty of cover in the moonless night. He heard voices as the flashlights fanned out and approached the temple.
But no one stepped onto it.
The officers seemed satisfied that all was calm. The flashlights stayed fifty feet away. What had spooked them? Why had they come? Some sort of video surveillance with night-vision capability?
He doubted that. Listening to Katie at dinner he knew the estate was strapped for money, barely enough coming in to make ends meet. And why have such elaborate security? There was little of real value here. Certainly not enough to justify hundreds of thousands of dollars in surveillance.
The flashlights loitered a bit longer. He could hear men talking but couldn’t make out what was being said. He watched, lying on his belly, through gnarly branches. Luckily the air was cool enough for it not to be a snake night, though he wouldn’t be surprised if a raccoon or two appeared.
The flashlights departed.
He saw all three retreat from the knoll to the house, heading around to its front. He stood and listened as the cars drove off, three sets of headlights fading away.
Time to finish.
He hustled back to the temple and retied the rope. He freed the hatch and tossed the slack back down. This was risky, but that was what he was paid to do. He’d learned during Ranger training to think, assess, then act under pressure, all with a clear goal in sight. Whatever it took, no matter the odds. Get the job done.
He grabbed the crowbar and with one gloved hand gripped the rope, adding a twist around his wrist for extra security, keeping it taut. He lowered himself, allowing his body to drop the ten feet needed to find the two letters.
IV.
He came to the approximate spot he remembered, then slid the crowbar into the top of his boot. He fetched the flashlight from his pocket and located the marked brick. Then he regripped the crowbar and popped the façade with the crook in the handle.