“He grows on you,” she said.
Luke shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. You take some adjustin’ to deal with, too. But I’d do it again.” Luke held out his hand, which she shook.
“Me too,” she added.
“You both did good,” Malone said. “And I second what Frat Boy said. Anytime, Isabella.”
Secretary Levy had been sketchy on the details from his end so she asked Malone, “What happened in DC?”
“Let’s have some dinner and I’ll tell you what I know.”
* * *
Stephanie sat in Edwin Davis’ White House office, which was located down the hall from Danny Daniels. She and Joe Levy had returned from Pittsburgh last night. To alleviate any concerns she’d sent a text to Edwin confirming that everything was under control and that she would make a full report in the morning. So she and Danny now sat alone, in the office of the chief of staff.
“You going to tell me what happened?” he asked.
She reported the events in Solaris, culminating in the death of Kim and his daughter. The documents had been retrieved and destroyed, including the crumpled sheet of paper. Then she described her ruse in Washington and how she diverted the Chinese, allowing her and Joe Levy an open-field run to what Mellon had left behind.
He chuckled. “Now, that was the perfect turkey decoy. Good job.”
She also told him about the ambassador’s call and his warning on the North Koreans.
“Which might also explain something that happened overnight,” he said.
He told her that China had declared a “red line” on North Korea, proclaiming that it would not allow any war, chaos, or instability on the Korean peninsula. Peace, their foreign minister had declared, can only come through denuclearization and they would work to make that happen. The days of pointless confrontation were over.
“That’s downright revolutionary,” Danny said. “They flat-out told the North Koreans that they better straighten up and fly right or else. And Pyongyang can’t ignore Beijing. We may actually be able to get rid of the North Korean nuclear program. That announcement was another way for China to show they’re on our side.”
“Generous of them, considering their antics here.”
“I hate that Howell had to die, though. That man wasn’t stupid. He made a lot of sense.”
Nothing remained that could cause them any problems. When she and Levy burned what Mellon left, they effectively ended everything. Was it the ethical thing to do? Probably not. But it certainly was the smart play. Little would be gained by raising questions about the 16th Amendment. The United States of America was a world power and nothing could be allowed to interfere with that status. People had paid their taxes for decades and they would continue. Only one thing bothered her.
“You realize that there are people in prison for failing to pay taxes,” she said. “Who have no business there.”
“I know. I’ve thought about that. Before I leave office, I’ll pardon the ones I can. We’ll couch it in some neutral manner, like nonviolent federal offenders with a sentence of so-many years or less. That way it doesn’t solely zero in on tax evaders. That should work. I’ll make that right.”
She knew he would.
In the end she, Edwin, Joe Levy, and Danny would know it all. Cotton, Luke, and Isabella Schaefer would know some, but they were seasoned agents, sworn to secrecy. So things were safe.
“How about the people at the National Gallery?” she asked. “They okay?”
“There were some ruffled feathers. The director didn’t appreciate me ordering him around. And he wasn’t happy that one of his paintings was desecrated. But when Edwin told him that his budget next year would be increased by twelve percent he said I could abuse him anytime.”
She smiled.
Always a dealer.
“You’ll be glad to know that Luke may have met his match,” she said. “Cotton tells me that Ms. Schaefer from Treasury handled him, and herself, with style.”
“You thinkin’ about hiring her?”
She shrugged. “I’m always on the lookout for good people.”
“Joe Levy might fight you on that one.”
Always a possibility.
“I looked into that other matter,” he said to her.
And she knew what he meant. Luke reported that Isabella Schaefer had told him about the Omnibus Appropriations Act, which forbid Treasury from using public money to redesign the $1 bill.
“She’s right,” he said. “It’s buried deep in the bill, but it’s there. We’ve redesigned every denomination, save the $1 bill. Edwin poked around and found out that the prohibition has been there for decades. Nobody knows why. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
That it did.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he asked. “About what you found in Pittsburgh.”
“There was nothing there.”
He gave her a sly smile. “Is that Joe’s story, too, and you’re both stickin’ to it?”
Last night, after returning to DC, she and Levy had made a stop at Treasury. In the locked room where all the documents were assembled, together they’d shredded every page. Levy’s observation at the cemetery had made sense. The world was a different place from 1937. And what Andrew Mellon left could alter the balance of power across the globe. Too much was at stake. But she did offer, “Just know that, in the end, Mellon really was a patriot.”
“How about this,” he said. “Once I’m no longer your boss and retired to pasture, we’ll have a little chat on this subject. When it doesn’t matter if I know.”
She tossed him a smile. “I’ll look forward to that.”
* * *
Malone sat across the table from Luke and Isabella. He’d led them across Højbro Plads to the Café Norden and his usual table on the second floor, against the window, with a view down to his bookshop.
“Last time I was here,” Luke said, “we were being chased by men with guns.” The younger man pointed a finger at him. “And you almost blew my head off.”
He grinned. “I thought it was a pretty good shot, myself. Right past your ear and into the bad guy.”
“I’d like to hear that story,” Isabella said.
“I’ll tell you on the way home. That way it’ll be my version instead of this old-timer’s.”
They’d all enjoyed a bowl of tomato bisque and he’d told them what happened across the Atlantic. Stephanie had called on a secure line before they left Croatia and explained the outcome.
“You goin’ to be okay?” Luke asked.
He had no regrets about killing Kim. Not that he reveled in pulling the trigger, but there were some people who just needed to die.
Kim Yong Jin was one of those.
“The world is a better place without that piece of crap,” he said.
“That’s not what I mean,” Luke said.
Interesting how the younger man had sensed his reluctance. Being here brought back thoughts of Cassiopeia. He could not deny that. They’d enjoyed many meals at this same table. But he could not think about that. Not now. Instead he allowed the last bits of energy to evaporate from his body. He’d lived off adrenaline the past forty-eight hours, sleeping little.