Well, how do you like that?
I skimmed the rest of the file. My heart began to pump a little faster as I set it back in the drawer.
I picked up more files and read through them. All my life, I’d thought Dad had been tearing down old buildings for no reason prior to his death. But there was a connection between those buildings. A connection I wouldn’t have recognized before that evening.
Every single building he’d torn down had once served as a branch of the now-defunct Five Borough Bank.
Little notes scribbled in the margin, written in Dad’s stylish cursive, referred to the bank’s history, the specifications of its vaults, and the potential whereabouts of safe deposit box #1743. And from my time at 1199 Madison Avenue, I knew who’d rented out that particular box.
None other than Dad’s dad… Justin Reed.
Chapter 37
“Dad wasn’t just tearing down buildings,” I said. “He was looking for Justin.”
Graham blinked, stared at me from the doorframe. He was dressed in some of Dad’s old clothes. A tray of small coffees was carefully balanced in his right hand and he clutched a small brown bag in his left one. The bag smelled of fresh bagels, eggs, and sausage. “What?”
“Get in here.” I ushered him inside, then closed the door behind him.
We proceeded to the kitchen where he tossed the bag onto the table. Immediately, Beverly dove in, picking out three bagel sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. She took one for herself and slid the others toward us.
Beverly had tossed her dress. In its place, she wore some of Mom’s old things, freshly dug out of sealed plastic bags.
I caught her eye. Gave her a sly wink. She pursed her lips and gave me an exaggerated wink in return.
Laughing, I unwrapped my sandwich. The bagel was nice and warm, just the way I liked it. I took a big bite, savoring the buttery eggs, the breakfast sausage, and the dripping cheese.
“You paid in cash, right?” Beverly asked.
He nodded. “No paper trail for Malware.” Then he gave me a curious look. “So, what’s this all about?”
“I found Dad’s old files,” I replied. “You know those historic structures he tore down? Every last one of them used to house Five Borough Bank branches. Somehow Dad knew about the safe deposit box. He was looking for it.”
Graham’s eyes glimmered.
“Hold on.” My gaze tightened. “You knew?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “But I always knew he had a good reason for tearing down those buildings.”
“So, let’s put this together.” I took a sip of coffee. It was piping hot and soothed my sore throat. Then I spread out the Capitalist Curtain papers on the table. “Mom told me Justin disappeared while traveling to the Appalachians, supposedly on a trip with old Army buddies. According to these documents, that’s only partially true. He was actually hired for something called Project Capitalist Curtain. His role in it was scheduled for December 1949. Prior to leaving, he stored notes about it in a safe deposit box at Five Borough Bank. Then he vanished.”
Beverly nodded. “Four decades later, Drew — your dad — catches wind of the box. He figures it got left behind in an abandoned vault. So, he goes looking for it, tearing down over a dozen historic structures in the process. But he never finds it.”
“He gives up,” I said grimly. “And commits suicide a short while later.”
My feelings toward Dad, negative for so many years, were now a bit more mixed. Yes, he’d killed himself, effectively abandoning Mom and me. Nothing would ever change that. But knowing he wasn’t crazy… that he’d been looking for his own father… well, that somehow made things a little better.
“Eventually, Malware enters the picture,” Graham said. “Somehow she discovers the box. She wants it for some reason. She uses her computer skills to connect the dots and learns there’s one branch of that old bank your dad never got a chance to check. So, she sends us to find it and then tries to kill us in the aftermath.”
“But why?” Beverly asked, between bites of her sandwich. “What was Capitalist Curtain all about anyway?”
“I think I can answer that.” I waved at the papers. “You see—”
Someone rapped on the door.
Graham stiffened up. Beverly rose from her seat.
I raised a finger to my lips and they nodded. Then I slipped out of the kitchen and darted quietly to the front door. I looked through the peephole, half-expecting to see Saul and his buddies armed to the teeth. But no.
It was worse than that.
I unbolted the door and cracked it open. “Sorry,” I said. “But we didn’t rent a limo.”
“I’m not a limo driver, you dolt.” Keith Donovan, still clad in his tuxedo from the previous night, glared at me. “Oh, I get it. That was a joke, right? Very funny.”
Although he wore the same attire, he’d changed a bit since I’d last seen him. His tuxedo jacket was now stained in various places and hung limply from his shoulders. He smelled of body odor and sweat. Large bags hung under his eyes. “You look terrible,” I said. “Even for you.”
“What do you expect? I spent the night in that infernal Explorers Society, sleeping on a couple of metal chairs.”
“Sounds like a blast. Say, how’d the ceremony go? Did you find someone to accept my fake award?”
“I handled it.” He exhaled through gritted teeth. “You and I need to talk.”
“Aren’t we doing that?”
“Not here… inside.”
He tried to push past me, but I blocked the doorframe. “How’d you find me?” I asked.
He sneered. “I have my ways.”
If a dunce like Donovan could locate me, then it should’ve been a piece of cake for Malware. And yet, we’d gotten through the night without further incident. Had she just written us off? Or was she still readying her strike?
“Let’s get something straight.” Donovan’s sneer spread across his face until it engulfed his entire snively self. “I’m the Senior Advisor to President Walters. And that means I matter. And you? You’re nothing. We turned you into a hero and we can turn you back faster than you could ever imagine. So, when I say we need to talk, I mean it.”
“Very interesting.” I rubbed my jaw. “Now, let me give you something to think about. I don’t need you. I don’t need your support, your money, your fake awards, anything. But from the sound of it, you need me. So, I suggest you go off and lick your wounds. And when you come back here to apologize, make sure to have your tail tucked between your legs.”
He snarled.
I smiled.
Then I shut the door in his face.
Chapter 38
“Who was that?” Graham asked.
“Keith,” I replied.
His face curled in disgust. “That guy is the original Captain Numbnuts. I hope you told him to get lost.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing he’ll be back, probably sooner than later. So, let’s focus.” I nodded at the Capitalist Curtain papers. “Did you know the United States once tried to buy Greenland?”
“That useless iceberg?” Beverly arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
“After World War II, the U.S. wanted to keep a closer eye on the Soviet Union. Specifically, on missile launches and naval movements in the Atlantic. So, Greenland looked like prime real estate for a couple of military bases. There was just one problem. Denmark already owned it.”
“So, the U.S. made them an offer?”
I nodded. “In 1946, President Truman’s administration offered to buy Greenland for $100 million. Denmark either turned down the offer or just ignored it. Regardless, it stayed in Danish hands. Five years later, it became a moot point when the U.S. and Denmark signed a defense agreement giving the U.S. control of Thule Air Base.”