“Let us in, Milt. Please.”
“Go to hell.” Milt slammed the phone back into its cradle. It started to ring again, but he ignored it. Lifting the mug to his lips, he drained the rest of his liquor. It tasted strangely bitter as it slipped down his parched, ancient throat.
As he placed the mug back on his desk, he reflected on his life. It hadn’t been a normal one. He’d never found love or started a family. He hadn’t sought earthly riches or prestige. Instead, he’d sat inside the fortress known as the United States Bullion Depository, protecting secrets. Secrets about that fateful night in 1949 and his pathetic role in the affair. Secrets about the Capitalist Curtain. Secrets about Fort Knox itself.
He’d dedicated his entire life to covering up that one moment in the Appalachian Mountains. And now, Ben expected him to just let the truth come out? Not a chance.
The ringing died off. He picked up the phone and stared at the receiver. Then he began pressing numbers for an internal call.
The line picked up. “What’s up, Milt?” The voice belonged to Brad Cruzer, the pasty-faced Captain of the Guard.
“We’ve got a situation, Brad.”
“I’ll say. Is that really the president out there?”
As Officer in Charge, Milt had access to special biometrics tools that allowed him to analyze and identify people at a distance. Fortunately, those tools were off-limits to all other depository personnel. “No,” he lied. “It’s not.”
“Are you sure? There’s a guy that looks like K.J. And that treasure hunter dude. You know, the famous one.”
“Imposters,” Milt said. “Well-disguised, but imposters nonetheless.”
“I see.” The line was quiet for a moment. “What are your orders, sir?”
“Prepare our defenses,” Milt said in a raspy voice. “No one gets in. Do you hear me? No one.”
Chapter 44
The early morning sun blazed down from high above, warming my head and shoulders. There was something in the air, a certain thickness that made it difficult to breathe. Looking around, I saw tension and stress lines. Even Ben, normally so serene, had furrowed his brow. “Who is this Milt character?” I asked.
“His name is Milt Stevens,” K.J. replied. “He’s a crusty old-timer with the U.S. Mint Police. He’s served as Officer in Charge of this place since forever. He’s pretty much an institution at this point.”
“Let me talk to him,” Donovan said. “I’m the acting Secretary of the Treasury. That means he works for me.”
“I told him you were here. He doesn’t care.”
The president thought for a moment. “I’ll submit to more testing if that’s what it takes.”
“It won’t help.” K.J. frowned. “I could tell from his tone that he knew it was you. No surprise, really. I’m sure he’s got an entire advanced biometrics identification system at his fingertips.”
“And he’s still not letting us in?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.”
“Then let me speak to one of his subordinates.”
“Unfortunately, that’s impossible. For security purposes, smartphones are strictly forbidden within the depository. And Milt is the only staff member with an outside line.”
The president twisted toward Ben. “I thought you told this guy to expect us.”
“I did, sir,” Ben replied.
“Then remind him.”
“I just tried.” Ben frowned. “He’s refusing access.”
“Why?” Beverly asked.
“I think I know,” K.J. replied. “Fort Knox gets exactly zero visitors on an annual basis. He’s probably just being extra cautious.”
“What does he expect me to do?” the president asked. “Go back to Washington?”
“Maybe we can wait him out,” Graham suggested.
“Not likely,” K.J. replied. “The depository is stocked with eighteen months of potable water and rations.”
A couple of seconds passed. Then the president took a deep breath. “Colonel, I’m sure you’re familiar with Article II, Section 2 of the United States Constitution?”
“I assume you’re referring to the first part of it, sir. The part that designates you as Commander in Chief of the Army.”
“That’s correct. I hate to do this, but I don’t see any other way.” President Walters took a deep breath. “Seize it. Seize the depository.”
Chapter 45
“Have you lost your mind?” Graham asked.
“It’s not even legal,” Beverly added. “The Posse Comitatus Act prohibits U.S. military personnel from operating on domestic soil.”
“This is a military base,” the president replied. “It’s different.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Yes. It is. Anyway Posse Comitatus is meant to keep military personnel from enforcing state laws. And our work here has nothing to do with state laws.” The president’s gaze tightened. “Regardless, I’m operating under the authority of the Insurrection Act.”
“Insurrection?” Graham shook his head. “Some guy won’t open his doors and you call it insurrection?”
“The Insurrection Act allows me to deploy troops to suppress any insurrection, domestic violence, unlawful combination, or conspiracy if such act opposes or obstructs the execution of United States laws.”
“What law is ol’ Milt breaking? That one about everyone having to bow down before you?”
President Walters gritted his teeth. “Officer Stevens is refusing an order from a superior authority. In other words, me. He’s committing insubordination.”
“Ah, yes. The ultimate crime.”
“Maybe not to you, but my order stands.” The president glanced at K.J., who was watching us closely. “How secure is the surrounding area?”
“We set up road blocks and air patrols prior to your arrival, sir,” K.J. replied. “We also set up a TFR prohibiting flights over the entirety of Fort Knox.”
“Push back the road blocks and expand the TFR as far as possible before you begin the assault. I don’t want a single picture of this getting out to the public.”
K.J. clicked his heels together and got to work. After another hour or so, he returned to us, declaring the area was as secure as he could possibly make it.
“Return to your cars,” he said. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at a secure site near Godman.”
The president crossed his arms. “We’re not leaving.”
“I really must insist, sir. For your—”
“We’re not leaving.”
“Yes, sir.” K.J, exhaled. “But I can’t have you out in the open while I’m conducting a military operation.”
“I understand. We’ll stay in the cars for now. But we’re still coming with you.”
K.J. reluctantly agreed.
We returned to our vehicle. As Corporal Wendell started the engine, four soldiers, adorned in camouflage and heavy boots, approached the outer fence. Using tin snips, they cut a large hole in the wire.
A couple of armored cars edged in front of us. Taking the lead, they drove up the thick paved road. We followed after them, flanked on both sides by SUVs.
We passed the parking lot. Then the corporal hit the brakes and we coasted to a stop. Up ahead, I saw a ten-foot tall electric fence, bolstered by concrete supports. Two more fences, both unmanned, stood beyond it.
The fence cutting team hustled forward and began cutting wires. A second team, armed with rifles, took up position behind the fence cutters.
“That’s odd,” Beverly said. “I figured that fence was electrified.”
“It is electrified,” Graham replied. “They’re using heavily insulated tin snips to do the cutting. Plus, their boots keep them grounded.”