The Lincoln Myth(96)

Just for a few minutes.

Which was all she’d need.

He, too, had spotted the electrical wires on the roof, their path leading to an outbuilding. If he was right, that was where she’d head.

The trick was to figure out how far to allow this to go.

He needed her to steal the watch, but he could not allow her to escape. He studied the woman he loved. She looked great, as usual, strolling confidently. They’d saved each other’s hides more times than he could count. He trusted her. Depended on her. And he’d thought she felt the same toward him.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Interesting how his life had turned 180 degrees over the course of two days.

For what?

And why?

No answer would come until he and Cassiopeia could sit down and talk. But what was about to happen would surely stick a spur in that.

She would not be glad to see him.

But see him she would.





FIFTY-FIVE





WASHINGTON, D.C.

8:50 P.M.


ROWAN APPROACHED BLAIR HOUSE. SINCE THE TIME OF Franklin Roosevelt the property had been owned by the United States, used exclusively by presidential guests. Now the government also owed the three adjacent town houses, and many foreign dignitaries had stayed within the 70,000 square feet of elegance. Truman had lived here while the White House had been extensively renovated, walking each day across the street to his office. Just outside the front door, on November 1, 1950, an attempt to assassinate Truman had been foiled by a Secret Service agent, who lost his life in the process. A bronze plaque adorned the iron fence in that agent’s honor, and Rowan had taken a moment to pay his respects to the hero.

The call had come to his Senate office two hours ago. The president of the United States wanted to see him. How quickly could he be there? One of his aides had found him and passed along the message. He realized that there was no way to dodge such a summons, so he’d agreed on 9:00 P.M.

Interesting, though, the choice of location.

Not the White House.

Instead, the guesthouse. Off premises. As if Daniels was saying that he was not welcome. But maybe he was reading too much into things. Danny Daniels had never been regarded as a great thinker. Some feared him, others ridiculed him, most just left him alone. But he was popular. His approval ratings remained surprisingly high for a man in the twilight of a political career. Daniels had won both presidential elections with solid majorities. If truth be known the opposition was just glad to see him go, content to allow the old man to simply fade away. Unfortunately, Rowan did not have the same option. His presence had been commanded.

He was shown inside and through a maze of rooms into a space with yellow-striped walls, anchored by a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, which hung above a mantel adorned with red Bohemian crystal lamps. He knew the room. This was where officials were ushered before calling on foreign leaders staying at Blair House. A few years ago he’d waited here while paying his respects to the queen of England.

He was left alone inside.

Apparently the president was showing him who was in charge. Which was fine. He could indulge such pettiness, at least for a while longer. Once the state of Deseret came into being, with him as its secular head, presidents would wait on him. No longer would Saints be ignored, repudiated, or ridiculed. His new nation would be a shining example to the world of how religion, politics, and sound management could mesh into one.

The door opened and Danny Daniels offered him a fiery gaze.

“It’s time you and I speak,” the president said, his voice low.

No hand was offered to shake.

No seat offered.

Instead they stood, Daniels a foot taller, dressed in an open-collared, long-sleeved shirt, no jacket, and dress trousers. Rowan had worn his customary suit.

Daniels closed the door. “You’re a traitor.”

He was ready with his response. “Quite the contrary. I’m a patriot. You, sir, and all the presidents who came before you, back to that man himself”—he pointed at Lincoln’s portrait—“are the traitors.”

“How would you know that?”

Time for truth.

“Within the church we have long known that there was more to the Constitution of the United States than what Lincoln wanted us to know.”

“Lincoln trusted the Mormons, as Brigham Young trusted Lincoln.”

He nodded. “And look what it got us. When the war was over, the threat past, Congress passed the Edmunds-Tucker bill that criminalized polygamy and this government prosecuted hundreds of church members. What happened to all that trust?”

“Polygamy was contrary to our society,” the president said. “Even your own leaders finally realized that.”

“No, we were forced to realize that, as such was the price of our statehood. At that time all believed statehood was the route to safety and prosperity. That is no longer the case.”