Daniels closed the door.
“You stopped more than some fleeing assassins today,” she said to him.
He sat on the bed opposite her. “Tell me about it. Who would have thought? Edwin and Pauline.”
She knew that had to be tough.
“But I’m glad,” he said. “I really am. I don’t think either one of us knew how to end this marriage.”
The attitude surprised her.
“Pauline and I have been together a long time,” he said in a low voice. “But we haven’t been happy in years. We both miss Mary. Her death drove a wedge between us that could never be removed.”
She caught the break in his voice as he said his daughter’s name.
“There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of her. I wake up at night and hear her calling for me through that fire. It’s haunted me in ways I never understood.” He paused. “Until today.”
She saw the pain in his eyes. Clear. Deep. Unmistakable. She could only imagine the anguish.
“If Pauline can find peace, and some happiness with Edwin, then I wish her well. I truly do.”
He stared at her with a withdrawn look of fatigue.
“Edwin told me through the radio that Shirley and Stephanie had jumped off. Once I knew she was okay, I have to say, my anger took over. I gave the crew a chance to leave, but I didn’t know Hale was already dead.”
“And what do you plan to do about Stephanie?”
Daniels stayed silent a moment, then said, “I don’t know. Pauline said to me the same thing I just said to you. She wants me to be happy. I think we can both move on if we know the other is going to be okay.”
They sat quietly for a few more moments.
“Thank you,” the president finally said. “For all that you’ve done.”
She knew what he meant. He’d needed someone to open up to-someone not too close, but someone he could trust.
“I heard about how Cotton saved you. Diving off that yacht. That’s pretty special. Having a man who’ll lay down his life for you.”
She agreed.
“I hope I can find a woman like that.”
“You will.”
“That remains to be seen.” He stood from the bed. “Time for me to start acting like a president again.”
She was curious. “Have we heard from Cotton?”
He’d left North Carolina and flown straight back to Nova Scotia, but that had been early this morning.
“He should be downstairs waiting for you.”
He studied her with eyes that had softened. “Take care.”
“You too, Mr. President.”
MALONE SPOTTED CASSIOPEIA DESCENDING THE STAIRWAY from the White House’s upper floors. He’d arrived back from Canada half an hour ago and had been driven straight here by the Secret Service, talking to the president by phone on the way, reporting what happened at Fort Dominion. Stephanie had greeted him outside and now stood with him.
“I was told about New York,” Stephanie said to him. “Do you always come running when I call?”
“Only when you say it’s important.”
“I’m glad you did. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to make it out of that cell. And nice move on the boat with that gibbet.”
“There didn’t seem to be many options.”
Stephanie smiled and pointed toward Cassiopeia. “I’d say she owes you one.”
His gaze had not left the stairs. No, they were even.
He faced Stephanie. “Any word on Andrea Carbonell?”
She shook her head. “We’re watching. But, so far, nothing.”
He and several Royal Canadian Mounted Police had searched the caverns beneath the fort until the tide changed, but no trace of Carbonell had been found. Both the bay and open Atlantic were also scoured on the chance that she’d been sucked from the caverns.
Nothing there, either.
“We’ll keep looking,” Stephanie said. “The body has to be somewhere. You don’t think she got out?”
“I don’t see how. It was hard enough when the chutes were empty.”
Cassiopeia approached.
“Meeting privately with the president?” he asked her.
“Some loose ends that needed tying up.”
Across the foyer, a woman gestured toward them.
“I think it’s my turn to speak with the man,” Stephanie said. “You two try and stay out of trouble.”
He caught the look between the two women. He’d seen it before on Cassiopeia’s face. In Virginia. When they spoke to Edwin Davis, then again at Monticello when she insisted that she and Davis talk alone. As Stephanie departed, he said to Cassiopeia, “I assume, at some point, you’re going to tell me what it is you know.”
“At some point.”
“And what were you thinking, going into that compound alone? Crazy as hell, wasn’t it?”
She shrugged. “What would you have done?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Lucky for me you finally came along.”
He shook his head, then drew her attention to their luggage, which lay near the exit doors. “We’re packed and ready to go.”
“Home?” she asked.
“No way. We still have a date in New York that never happened. A show, then dinner. And there was the matter of a dress you went to buy that I never saw.”
“A black one. Backless. You’ll like it.”
That he would. But he had something else on his mind.
“Before we fly home, I’d like to detour to Atlanta and see Gary. Maybe a couple of days.”
He’d not seen his son since the summer, when Gary had spent several weeks with him in Copenhagen.
She nodded. “I think you should.”
He cleared his throat. “I think we should. He thinks you’re hot, you know.”
She smiled and grasped his hand. “You saved my life out there,” she said. “How about I properly thank you in New York. I’ll get our room back at the St. Regis?”
“Already done. It’s waiting for us, as is a Secret Service jet. They offered a free lift.”
“You think of everything, Mr. Malone.”
“Not everything. But I’m sure you can fill in the gaps.”
WRITER’S NOTE
This book is a departure from the six previous Cotton Malone adventures, as it’s set primarily in the United States. Elizabeth and I explored Washington, DC; New York City; Richmond, Virginia; Bath, North Carolina; and Monticello.
Now it’s time to separate fact from fiction.
The assassination attempt on Andrew Jackson (prologue and chapter 13) occurred as depicted, including the presence of Davy Crockett, who helped subdue the assailant and supposedly uttered the precise words quoted in the text. Jackson did publicly blame Senator George Poindexter of Mississippi (chapters 13, 19), alleging a conspiracy, but Poindexter was exonerated by a congressional inquiry. I decided to keep the conspiracy theory alive, only involving my fictional Commonwealth.
A great many actual locales are utilized. The Grand Hyatt ( chapters 1, 3, 5, 6), Plaza (chapter 24), St. Regis (chapter 9 ), and Helmsley Park (chapter 21) hotels in New York are all superb places to stay. The Strand is an outstanding used-book store (chapter 11), which I’ve been known to roam for research. All particulars of the White House and the Oval Office (chapter 56) are accurate. Grand Central Station is likewise described correctly (chapter 8), including the pedestrian bridge leading to the East 42nd Street exit and the narrow ledge that descends from it to ground level. The Jefferson (chapter 35) stands in Richmond, Virginia, a historic hotel straight out of Gone with the Wind.
The Pamlico River and North Carolina coast are lovely (chapters 2 , 5, 13), as is Bath (chapter 15), which was once a hotbed of colonial politics and a haven for pirates. Now it’s a sleepy village of fewer than 300 residents. The Commonwealth’s compound would occupy the woods that stand west of town. The regional airport located in nearby Greenville (chapter 29) exists.
The mention of how Black Beard died (chapter 77) at Ocracoke Inlet is true, as is what happened to his skull after. A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, by Charles Johnson (chapters 18, 76), remains a vital sourcebook on pirate history, though no one knows who Charles Johnson actually was. Woodling (chapters 40, 42), dismemberment, forcing prisoners to eat their own ears (chapter 76), and the sweat (chapter 76) were tortures routinely utilized on pirate captives. The gibbet (chapters 2, 82, 83), though, was something pirates endured, once convicted of their crimes.
Jefferson’s cipher (chapters 10, 22) existed and was created by Robert Patterson. Jefferson himself considered it unsolvable, and it remained so from 1804 until 2009 when it was finally cracked by Lawren Smithline, a New Jersey mathematician. How the cipher was solved in this story (chapter 36) mirrors Smithline’s efforts. Patterson’s son, also named Robert (chapter 23), was indeed appointed by Andrew Jackson as director of the U.S. Mint. This fortuitous coincidence seemed tailor-made for this tale. Jackson’s letter to Abner Hale, quoted in chapter 5, is my concoction, though it is written using many of Jackson’s words. The coded message, of course, is fiction.
Mahone Bay is real (chapters 53, 55, 56, 58), as is the mysterious Oak Island. Paw Island is my creation, as is Fort Dominion, though the invasion of Nova Scotia during the Revolutionary War happened. The Oak Island slab with its strange markings (chapter 56) is part of the island’s legend, though no known person has ever seen this slab. Its translation is likewise real, though, again, no one knows who accomplished the feat.
Ybor City exists (chapter 41). The financial crisis in Dubai ( chapter 18) happened, though I added a few elements. Adventure is based on several yachts of the same size and type, all amazing oceangoing vessels.
There are, of course, no missing pages from the early House and Senate journals (chapter 19). The excerpt from Of Debates in Congress (chapter 84) is a composite of several entries from that time. The troubles and statistics quoted by Danny Daniels concerning the U.S. intelligence community (chapter 54) came from a 2010 Washington Post expose.
Monticello is an amazing place. It is accurately described, as is its visitor center (chapters 43, 44, 45, 47, 49). The cipher wheel is real, too, and located on-site (chapters 44, 49) though not inside the house itself. A resin replica exists in the visitor center (chapter 52), but whether it is an exact copy of the original is unknown. Jefferson’s library (chapter 44) was sold to the United States after the War of 1812 and formed the basis of the modern Library of Congress. Many of Jefferson’s original volumes remain on display in Washington, at the library, in a special exhibit.