“Yup.”
All along, I’d considered Fort Knox a side trip, a brief detour on my way to discovering the truth about my family. But now, I realized it was all part of the same journey. Which was either a big coincidence or an even bigger problem.
I gave him a sharp look. “Can I trust you?”
“Of course.”
Quickly, I told him about Malware and our search for the safe deposit box. When I finished, his eyes were cinched tight and I could tell he was deep in thought. “What happened to the papers?” he asked. “Do you still have them?”
“No.”
That, of course, was a lie. The Capitalist Curtain papers were safely squirreled away in a duffel bag on Air Force One. But I wasn’t ready to tell anyone else about them just yet.
“I need a favor,” I continued. “Malware manipulated me into retrieving Justin’s safe deposit box for her. Now, she’s put me inside Fort Knox. It can’t be a coincidence.”
He furrowed his brow.
“You’ve got to find out who recommended me to the president,” I said. “He or she must be working with Malware.”
His eyes were warm and soft and maybe a little bit vulnerable. “It was me,” he said softly.
“What?”
“I recommended you for this trip.”
“But… why?”
“Because you’re a family friend and a treasure hunter. And because you’ve got sky-high approval ratings. The public might actually accept the idea of a gold standard if they think you’re involved with it.” He shrugged. “But mostly, because I saw you on television the other night. Well, not you, exactly. Keith Donovan, accepting some award on your behalf.”
As we drifted off into uncomfortable silence, my brain went to work. So, my presence at Fort Knox was just a coincidence? It was hard to believe, but also difficult to deny.
Then again, Malware had a penchant for doing the impossible. After all, she’d somehow found out about the safe deposit box and even knew of its contents. So, maybe she’d manipulated Ben like she’d manipulated me. Maybe she’d screwed with his cable box in order to make sure he saw the ceremony at the right time. Regardless of her methods, I felt certain she had a hand in things.
But why? What was all this about anyway? What had Justin done back in 1949? What did it have to do with the Capitalist Curtain and the depository? And why was it coming up now after all these years?
At the end of the hallway, Cruzer opened a door and led us into a large room. I saw a humongous scale with two cups hanging from either end. Although it looked old, it gleamed brightly in the light.
“That scale was once used to weigh gold that entered and exited the depository. It hasn’t been utilized since President Nixon ended the gold standard in 1971.” Cruzer waved his hand to the side. “As you’ve probably already guessed, that’s the vault door.”
I gave Graham a knowing look. “I’ve got this sudden feeling of déjà vu.”
“Me too.” He studied the door. “Let’s hope this vault is easier than the last one.”
“I’d settle for cleaner.”
“Uh, yes.” Cruzer gave us a confused glance before turning to face the president. “The door is almost two feet thick, sir, and weighs in at twenty-two tons. It contains seven layers of steel, mixed in with other materials.”
Three police officers strode to the vault door. They took up position in front of separate keypads. Simultaneously, they punched in codes.
Locks clicked. Slowly and quietly, the vault door swung outward. A soft breeze wafted into the room.
“Follow me.” Cruzer walked through the entranceway and halted in front of a steel-barred door. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the key he’d taken from Milt’s corpse.
“Well?” The president tapped his foot impatiently. “What’s the hold-up?”
“This is Officer Stevens’ key, sir,” Cruzer replied. “I’ve seen him use it, but I’ve never actually used it myself.”
The president arched an eyebrow.
“Forget it. Sorry, sir.” With trembling fingers, Cruzer inserted the key into the lock and gave it a twist. The right side wall started to quiver. Then a panel opened wide and a sophisticated biometrics mechanism slid forward. It consisted of a small stand as well as a pair of lenses.
“Excuse us.”
We parted ways and the two officers walked between us, carrying Milt’s body in their arms. Graham wrinkled his nose in disgust. The president chatted quietly with Donovan and Ben. K.J. and Beverly, meanwhile, watched the whole affair with mild interest.
Cruzer placed Milt’s hand on the stand and positioned his dead eyes, fortunately untouched by the gunfire, toward the lenses. The mechanism emitted a soft, whirring noise.
“This may not work,” Cruzer said. “After all—”
The whirring ceased. The door clicked.
Cruzer tentatively tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand. He relaxed and with a push, swung the door open. “Welcome to America’s treasure chest.”
A cold, gray corridor stood before us. It ran straight for a good distance, before curving out of sight. Doors lined either side of the corridor. Numbers were painted above each door.
A simple metal sign was mounted on the right side wall. It was eye-level and read, Vault A.
“Vault A?” I asked.
“This is a two-story facility,” Cruzer explained. “Vault A occupies this floor. Vault B is directly beneath us. It contains more rooms as well as a pistol range.”
I thought I heard soft static. Straining my ears, I listened for a few seconds. But the sound, if it had even existed in the first place, had vanished.
“I’ve got the second code for Compartment 3A,” Cruzer announced. “Which of you have the other two codes?”
A studious looking man, dressed in a slightly wrinkled uniform, stepped forward. “I’ve got the first one, sir.”
A woman with big hips and a permanent scowl also stepped forward. “I’ve got the third code, but only for the next seven minutes.”
“Then let’s get to work.” Cruzer glanced at President Walters. “It’s going to be tight in there, sir.”
“I see.” President Walters looked over his shoulder.
“I’m coming.” Donovan stepped forward.
“Fine,” the president replied. “Cy, Dutch, and Beverly will come with us as well.”
K.J. stepped forward. “Sir?”
“Wait here with Ben and your men, Colonel. We won’t be long.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cruzer strode into the corridor followed by the rest of us. The two officers with codes grabbed hold of Milt’s corpse and dragged it through the entranceway. Carefully, they deposited it next to another biometrics mechanism.
The vault door closed over. Telltale clicks rang out.
“I hope nobody here is necrophobic,” Graham said. “Or claustrophobic for that matter.”
“Oh, we’re not trapped,” Cruzer replied. “Leaving here will be a cinch.”
“How interesting.” Beverly glanced at the corpse. “Officer Stevens made himself indispensable.”
Cruzer nodded. “He inserted his biometrics into the security protocols in order to defend against coordination. He was worried about six officers joining together in secret and waiting until they had the necessary passcodes for the vault door and one of the compartments.”
“That’s pretty paranoid.”
“True. Then again, when you’re sitting on some 4,500 tons of gold, I suppose it pays to be paranoid.”
“Do you ever do internal audits?” I asked.
He shook his head. “For security purposes, Officer Stevens’ limited the contact we made with the gold.”
Donovan nodded sagely. “Smart.”
Beverly cocked her head. “Does anyone hear that?”
We paused. I heard the static noise again, only louder.