The Lincoln Myth (37 page)

But maybe he was just a fool.

He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets.

Below, he spotted Cassiopeia emerge from the hotel.

Then Salazar.

Behind them came two bellmen carrying their bags.

A car eased from the street and parked in one of the empty spaces facing the hotel.

They both climbed inside.

He heard the growl of an engine nearby and spotted a light-colored Audi negotiating the paved lane that bisected the woods. It was possible to drive to the top from the mound’s far side, the one facing Salzburg’s eastern suburbs. He used the tree for cover and watched as the Danite fled his post and broke into a sprint.

The young man climbed inside and the vehicle sped away.

Seemed everyone was leaving.

No surprise.

Which was why his own bag was packed at his hotel.

S
TEPHANIE WAITED AS
D
ANNY
D
ANIELS DIGESTED WHAT
K
ATIE
had read to them. The implications were beyond dispute. The Founding Fathers had expressly fashioned a way for a state to withdraw from the Union, if that state so desired. But they’d been smart and not included the language in the Constitution. Instead, a separate agreement had been executed that could be used, if needed, to ease any apprehension a ratifying state might have on losing its sovereignty.

What had the Supreme Court said in
Texas v. White?

Our conclusion therefore is, that Texas continued to be a State, and a State of the Union, notwithstanding the transactions to which we have referred. And this conclusion, in our judgment, is not in conflict with any act or declaration of any department of the National government
.

But it was.

It directly conflicted with the founders themselves.

“The whole convention was held in secret,” the president said. “They changed everything behind closed doors, going against the entire intent of why they were there. That’s bad enough, then they go and do this.”

“The Civil War was fought for nothing,” Katie said. “All those men died for nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“It’s real simple,” the president said. “Lincoln decided the Union was forever. You can’t leave it. No discussion, no debate. He made that call himself. Then he fought a war to prove his point. But guess what. You actually can leave. It’s not forever. Which makes sense. I’ve never believed the founders forged a Union that could never be dissolved. They’d just fought off totalitarianism. Why would they then create a whole new version?”

Stephanie asked the question she knew Danny was thinking. “Did Lincoln know this?”

“Mary Todd seemed to think so.”

And she agreed, recalling the former First Lady’s letter to Ulysses Grant.

His anguish during the war was deep and profound. I always thought it a consequence of being the commander in chief, but once he told me that it was because of the message
.

“Yet he fought the war anyway,” she said.

Daniels shrugged. “What choice did he have? It was either that or shut the whole damn country down.”

“He should have let the people make that call.”

“This journal is useless,” Katie said.

Daniels nodded. “You got that right. It’s a good starting point, shows intent, but it’s not enough for anyone who wants to prove the point. To conclusively show that secession is legal, you’d need what they signed.”

The president’s eyes said what Stephanie was thinking.

And it was sent to Brigham Young
.

She faced Luke. “Which you’re going to find.”

“And where do I look?”

Her phone vibrated.

She checked the display.

“I have to take this. It’s Cotton.”

She stood to leave.

“Take this one with you,” the president said, pointing to Katie. “I want to speak with my nephew alone.”

M
ALONE HELD HIS I
P
HONE IN ONE HAND, THE OTHER PROPPED
against the side of a building. He’d made his way down from the Mönchsberg and back to his hotel, taking a cab to the Salzburg airport. He’d been fairly sure Salazar would be bugging out today. Not so clear, though, was his own destination.

“Cassiopeia and Salazar have left,” he told Stephanie.

“She failed to check in with me.”

“She’s pissed. I imagine she’s gone off the grid.”

He reported what happened with her visit to his room.

“I lied to her,” Stephanie said. “I didn’t tell her about you.”

“Which she clearly didn’t appreciate.”

“I don’t have time to worry about her feelings. We have a situation here, and we need her help.”

“She doesn’t give a damn about your situation. This is about her and dear Josepe. Or at least that’s how it appears. She’s managed to worm her way close. That I’ll give her. But I’m not sure she knows what to do now that she’s there. Her head’s screwed up.”

“Cotton, I can’t afford her going Lone Ranger right now. I need a team, working together.”

“I’m thinking about going home.”

And he was. This wasn’t his fight, and he needed to butt out.

“Salazar practically admitted to me he killed your man. I don’t think Cassiopeia heard that. If she did, then her head is beyond screwed up. I think she’s operating in the dark. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s a loose cannon. And she wants me out of this. Now.”

“Where’s Salazar headed?”

She knew him perfectly, knowing he would not have called until he had the answers to all her questions. He’d flashed his badge inside the terminal and obtained the flight plan.

“Des Moines, Iowa.”

“Excuse me?”

“My reaction, too. Not your usual destination.”

“I need you to stay on this one,” she said.

He didn’t want to hear that. “Salazar told me that this has to do with something he called the White Horse Prophecy. You need to find out what that is.”

“Why do I get the feeling you already have?”

He ignored her observation and asked, “Where’s Frat Boy?”

“I’m sending him to Iowa, as soon as we’re through talking.”

“I should go home.”

“It was my mistake involving amateurs. I thought, based on past experience, Cassiopeia could handle this. She was actually the only one who could at the time. But this has changed. Salazar is dangerous. And like you say, she’s not thinking clearly.”

“Stephanie, there comes a time when you have to leave it be. Cassiopeia wants to handle this her way. Let her.”

“I can’t, Cotton.”

Her voice had risen. Which was unusual.

He’d debated this decision all night. He’d walked to the top of the Mönchsberg to take out his frustrations on one of the Danites. The plan had been to beat whatever information he needed out of the young man. But Salazar’s abrupt departure had quelled the urge. He could easily take a flight back to Copenhagen and sell books, waiting to see if Cassiopeia Vitt ever spoke to him again.

Or he could stay involved—her wishes be damned.

“I’ll need a fast lift to Iowa.”

“Sit tight,” she said. “One’s on the way.”

FORTY-NINE

W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

L
UKE SAT SILENT AND WAITED FOR HIS UNCLE TO MAKE THE
first move.

“How have you been?” the president asked.

“That the best you got?”

“I speak to your mother regularly. She tells me she’s doing good. I’m always glad to hear that.”

“For some reason she likes you,” he said, “I never could figure that one out.”

“Maybe it’s because you just don’t know everything about everything.”

“I know that my daddy thought you were a horse’s ass and, by the way, that’s my opinion of you, too.”

“You talk awful tough to a man who could fire you in an instant.”

“Like I give a crap what you do.”

“You’re so much like him, it’s scary. Your brothers are more like your mother. But you.” His uncle pointed at him. “You’re a carbon copy of him.”

“That’s about the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

“I don’t think about you at all.”

“Does all this resentment come from what happened to Mary?”

They’d never had this conversation before. Danny’s only daughter, Mary, his cousin, was killed in a house fire when she was a little girl, her father helpless to do anything, listening as she pleaded to be saved. The fire had started from an ashtray where Danny had left a cigar. Luke’s aunt Pauline had repeatedly asked her husband not to smoke in the house, but Danny being Danny ignored her and did what he wanted. Mary was buried in the family plot, among the tall pines of Tennessee. The next day Danny had attended a city council meeting as if nothing had happened. He went on to be mayor, a state senator, governor, and finally president.

“Never once has he visited that child’s grave,”
Luke’s father had said many times.

Aunt Pauline never forgave her husband, and after that their marriage became something only for show. Luke’s father never forgave Danny, either. Not for the cigar, and certainly not for the callous indifference.

“You did good tonight,” Danny said to him. “I wanted you to know that I have confidence in you.”

“Gee, I’ll sleep better knowin’ that.”

“You’re a cocksure little thing, aren’t you.”

His uncle’s voice had risen a few notches, the face scrunched tight.

“Maybe I get
that
from you.”

“Contrary to what you might think. I loved your daddy, and he loved me. We were brothers.”

“My daddy thought you were an asshole.”

“I was.”

That admission shocked him. So long as it was confession night, he wanted to know, “Why is it my mama has a soft spot for you?”

“I dated her first.”

He’d never known that.

“She dumped me for your daddy.” Danny laughed. “She always liked that. And to tell you the truth, I liked it, too. She was too damn good for me.”

He agreed, but for once kept his mouth shut.

“I regret what happened between your daddy and me. I regret what happened in my life in general. I lost my daughter.” His uncle paused. “But I think it’s time my nephews quit hating me.”