“Who the hell is Charles Washington?” Bones asked.
“George Washington’s brother.” Dane racked his brain, trying to remember all he knew about Washington’s family. “Charles was only a couple of years younger, but he…” Dane fell silent.
“He what?” Jillian’s hands trembled as she shone her light on the plaque.
“He died in 1799, right around the same time as George.”
“This is freaking crazy.” Bones dropped to one knee alongside Dane and read the plaque again. “So Washington was assassinated in 1791? Why would they think the country couldn’t handle it?”
Dane felt numb. The revelation did seem too crazy to be true, but here lay the proof. “Like it says here, the nation was fragile. There was strong sentiment that the thirteen colonies should be independently governed- more of a loose alliance for mutual defense than a true nation. Washington was the most important symbol of our new country, and a strong force for unity. He was respected both in the North and the South. People trusted him; some practically worshiped him.”
“So his brother stepped into his shoes as president? How could he pull that off?” Bones sounded as shocked as Dane.
“It’s not like they had television back then. How many people actually saw Washington up close, or saw him at all? And he was an old man by the standards of his day, and few men have gone through what he did. If someone noticed subtle differences in his appearance, they’d likely chalk it up to the ravages of time and the stress of his office. As long as he and Charles looked somewhat alike, and those in his inner circle were in on the deception, they could have gotten away with it.”
“This isn’t a monument,” Bones said. “This is a tomb.”
“Oh my God!” Jillian cried.
Dane and Bones sprang to their feet and looked up at the wall where the circle of light from her Maglite wavered. They had missed the words carved above the tomb.
The Last Words of His Excellency, George Washington
I heard a voice saying, `Son of the Republic, look and learn,’ I beheld a dark, shadowy being, like an angel, floating in mid-air, between Europe and America. Dipping water out of the ocean in the hollow of each hand, he sprinkled some upon America with his right hand, while with his left hand he cast some on Europe. Immediately a cloud rose from these countries, and moved slowly westward, until it enveloped America in its murky folds. Sharp flashes of lightning gleamed through it at intervals, and I heard the smothered groans and cries of the American people. I cast my eyes upon America, saw our beloved flag raised, and the cloud was driven back, and I beheld villages and towns and cities springing up one after another until the whole land from the Atlantic to the Pacific was dotted with them.
Again, I heard the voice say, `Son of the Republic, look and learn.’ At this the dark shadowy angel turned his face southward, and from Africa I saw an ill omened specter approach our land and a dark cloud arose in the South. As I continued looking I saw a bright angel, on whose brow rested a crown of light, on which was traced the word `Union,’ bearing the American flag which he placed between the divided nation, and said, `Remember ye are brethren.’ Instantly, the inhabitants, casting from them their weapons united around the National Standard.
A third time, the voice said, `Son of the Republic, look and learn.’ And now rose up, from within America itself, many people bearing a flag, and cloaked in zeal, and they cried “Return! Return!” And a dark cloud rose from their lips and blinded our eyes, so we could not see that theirs was a black flag, and they tore at the bonds that held us as one. But our flag pierced the black cloud, and the sun shone down, and once more I beheld the villages, towns and cities springing up where I had seen them before, while the bright angel, planting the standard he had brought in the midst of them, cried with a loud voice: `While the stars remain, and the heavens send down dew upon the earth, so long shall the Union last.’
July 4, 1791
“That’s not the prophecy,” Jillian snapped. “The first trials are almost the same, but the last one is totally wrong.” Quaking with rage, she backed away from the tomb.
“It’s better,” Dane said. “It sounds like the third trial is caused by false patriots, but they’ll lose in the end.”
“I guess we’ll have to do something about that.”
Dane whirled around. There, in the doorway, stood O’Meara.
CHAPTER 17
“We’ll have to make sure nobody ever hears these words, or finds out this place even exists.” O’Meara rounded the long meeting table, his revolver in one hand, a flashlight in the other. “Either one of you moves, you die. Now, put the lanterns down and your hands in the air. Nice and slow.”
Dane complied, and Bones followed suit a moment later. He calculated the distance between himself and O’Meara, wondering if he could get to the officer before he fired, but the distance was too great. If Dane charged him, O’Meara would get off at least two shots. He might miss, but it wasn’t likely. If the situation didn’t improve, and quickly, Dane would have to risk it. His eyes darted to Jillian, who stood with her back to the wall. She clutched her backpack to her chest as if it might stop a bullet.
“Let her go.” Dane knew his request was futile. The Sons of the Republic would want to keep this place, and the prophecy, a secret, and Jillian was a witness. They’d want to silence her.
O’Meara barked a laugh. “Are you kidding? She’s one of us. You two were just too stupid to figure it out.”
“The hell she is.” Bones clenched his fists.
“How do you think I knew you were going to Old North Church?”
“She couldn’t have gotten word to you, we were together…” Bones lapsed into shocked silence.
“Except for when we split up to go to the church.” Dane looked at Jillian. “Is that why you fell behind?”
“I stopped at a pay phone and paged O’Meara.” Her features relaxed and she sauntered over to stand beside the officer. “Where should we do it?” she asked O’Meara.
“Right here. We’ll leave them down here, destroy the lanterns, and no one will ever find them.”
Jillian gave them a speculative look. “Let’s not get blood on Washington’s tomb, though. That just seems disrespectful. How about over there?” She pointed to O’Meara’s left.
O’Meara turned his head and a loud bang echoed through the chamber. O’Meara slumped to the ground, a gaping wound in the back of his head. Jillian stood looking down at him, a Beretta in her hand.
“Nice one.” Bones nodded approvingly. “You had me believing you were on his side.”
“I’m not on his side.” Jillian turned her eyes back toward them. She looked different. Where there had been trepidation in her eyes, they now brimmed with confidence. “But I am a member of the Sons of the Republic.” She raised the Beretta and aimed it at Dane. “I paged O’Meara because he was a loose end I needed to tie up. Now it’s time to sort you two out.”
Dane grimaced. He wondered what exactly had been going through Jillian’s mind the past two days.
“I don’t get it,” Bones said.
“What don’t you get? My father was an enigma. He kept his research top-secret. Never told me a thing. So, when he was killed running away from O’Meara…”
“Wait! O’Meara killed your father?” Dane’s stomach lurched. Andrews’ own daughter.
“Technically, it was the car that killed him. You know, the one that ran him over. We wanted to find out who was helping him. O’Meara, being the idiot that he was, couldn’t do as he was told and just follow my father to his meeting. He thought he could intimidate Dad into revealing what he knew. Dad ran for it.”