The Lincoln Myth
The Lincoln Myth
is a work of fiction. Apart from the well-known actual people, events, and locales that figure in the narrative, all names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or locales, or to living persons, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Steve Berry
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
BALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Berry, Steve.
The Lincoln myth : a novel / Steve Berry.—First Edition.
pages; cm
ISBN 978-0-345-52657-1 (hardcover : acid-free paper) —
ISBN 978-0-345-52659-5 (ebook)
1. Malone, Cotton (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Official secrets—United States—Fiction. 3. Suspense fiction. 4. Political fiction. I. Title.
PS3602.E764L56 2013
813′.6—dc23 2014002732
Jacket design: Scott Biel
Jacket image: Travel Images/UIG/Getty Images
v3.1
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Part Two
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Part Four
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter Sixty-eight
Chapter Sixty-nine
Chapter Seventy
Any people anywhere, being inclined and having the power, have the right to rise up and shake off the existing government, and form a new one that suits them better
.
This is a most valuable, a most sacred right—a right, which we hope and believe, is to liberate the world. Nor is this right confined to cases in which the whole people of an existing government may choose to exercise it
.
Any portion of such people, that can, may revolutionize, and make their own of so much of the territory as they inhabit
.
A
BRAHAM
L
INCOLN
January 12, 1848
PROLOGUE
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.
S
EPTEMBER
10, 1861
A
BRAHAM
L
INCOLN KEPT HIS TEMPER UNDER CONTROL, BUT
the woman standing across from him was taxing his patience.
“The general did only what all decent people believe to be right,” she said.
Jesse Benton Fremont was the wife of General John Fremont, United States Army, the man in charge of all Union military affairs west of the Mississippi River. A Mexican War hero and renowned explorer, Fremont had received his latest command appointment in May. Then, a month ago, with the Civil War raging in the South, he unilaterally issued a proclamation emancipating all slaves of Missouri Rebels who’d taken up arms against the United States. That was bad enough, but Fremont’s edict went even farther and declared that all prisoners of war would be shot.
“Madam,” he said, his voice low. “Is it truly your husband’s view that any captured Rebels be killed?”
“These men must know they are traitors to their country, and traitors have always been put to death.”
“Do you realize that once that is begun, the Confederates will shoot who they hold of ours in retaliation. Man for man. Indefinitely.”
“Sir, we did not start this rebellion.”
The clock on the mantel told him it was nearing midnight. A note had arrived at the presidential mansion three hours ago, its message concise. Mrs. Fremont brings to the president from General Fremont a letter and some verbal communications, which she would be glad to deliver with as little delay as possible. If it suits the president’s convenience will he name a time to receive them this evening or at some early hour tomorrow.
His response told her to come immediately.
They stood in the Red Parlor on the first floor, a chandelier burning brightly. He knew of this imposing woman. The daughter of a former U.S. senator, highly educated, raised in Washington, D.C., schooled in politics. She’d defied her parents and married Fremont at the age of seventeen, eventually birthing five children. She’d supported her husband during his explorations of the West and was there when he served as military governor of California and as one of that state’s initial U.S. senators. She’d campaigned with him when he became, in 1856, the first presidential nominee of the new Republican party. He came to be known as the Pathfinder, and his candidacy had reawakened popular enthusiasm. And though he lost to James Buchanan, if Pennsylvania had voted differently he would have been elected.
So, for Lincoln, as the first Republican party president actually elected, appointing John Fremont commander of the West had been an easy choice.
Now he regretted it.
He wondered if life could be any worse.
The immense pride he’d felt in March, taking the oath as the sixteenth president, had been replaced with the agony of the Civil War. Eleven states had seceded from the Union and formed their own confederacy. They’d attacked Fort Sumter, forcing him to blockade all Southern ports and suspend the writ of habeas corpus. The Union army had been dispatched, but suffered a humiliating defeat at Bull Run—that crushing blow convincing him this conflict would be long and bloody.
Now Fremont and his grand emancipation.
He could sympathize with the general. Rebels had soundly defeated Union forces in southern Missouri and were advancing northward. Fremont was isolated, with limited men and resources. The situation demanded action, so he’d placed Missouri under martial law. Then he’d gone too far, ordering the slaves from all Rebels freed.
Neither Lincoln himself, nor Congress had been so bold.
Several messages, and even a direct order, to modify the proclamation had been ignored. Now the general had dispatched his wife to deliver a letter and plead his case.
“Madam, there are considerations here far beyond those of Missouri. As you have reminded me, a war rages. Unfortunately, the issues that divide the opposing sides to that conflict are not so distinct.”
Slavery being the main misunderstanding.
From Lincoln’s standpoint slavery simply was not an issue. He’d already thrown the secessionists an offer, telling them that they could keep their slaves. They could even raise a new flag, send representatives to Montgomery, and
have
their confederacy—provided they allowed the collection of Northern tariffs in their ports. If the South became free of tariffs, Northern industrial interests would be crippled, the national government would be rendered broke. No armies would be required to defeat it. Tariffs were the country’s main source of revenue. Without them, the North would flounder.
But the South had rejected his overtures, firing on Fort Sumter.
“Mr. President, I have traveled for three days in an overcrowded train, the weather hot and miserable. It was not a journey I enjoyed, but I came because the general wants you to understand that the only considerations relevant are those of the utmost importance to this nation. Rebels have taken arms against us. They must be stopped and slavery ended.”
