“Yeah? Well—” The door closed behind me and the voices fell silent.
Walking quickly, I made my way back to the main lobby. The entire way, I thought about Justin Reed and Milt Stevens. About Malware, the Capitalist Curtain, and Fort Knox’s missing gold.
Graham was right. I had a plan to fix things.
And the first step was finding out what had happened to Fort Knox’s gold.
Chapter 61
A short while later, I strode into Milt’s office with the Capitalist Curtain papers, the picture of Justin, and the classified file folders clutched firmly in my hands.
I closed the door, blocking out the sounds of the reporters and camera operators gathered in the lobby. Then I walked to the desk. I searched the other drawers, eventually finding a small leather-bound journal.
I sat in one of the guest chairs, propped my legs up on the desk, and began to study the items.
An hour passed without interruption. Then I heard faint footsteps and voices. The door creaked open. Twisting my neck, I watched Beverly and Graham stride into the room.
“Don’t blame me,” Beverly said. “It’s not my fault this place is gold-free.”
“Just do some more drilling,” Donovan pleaded as he followed her into the office. “Maybe the gold is—”
“The gold is gone, Keith.” Graham spun around. “Get it through your thick skull already.”
Ben, President Walters, and K.J. walked into the room. While the others took up position around the office, the president strode toward me.
“What a day.” The air seemed to vacate his body as he sagged into one of the other guest chairs. “How could this happen?”
I looked into his eyes. “I think I can answer that.”
He arched an eyebrow. The others gathered around to listen.
For the next ten minutes, I laid it all out on the table. I told them about Malware, Justin’s safe deposit box, Project Capitalist Curtain, and my theory about Fort Knox’s missing gold.
“You think your grandfather took the gold?” the president asked when I was finished.
“At the very least, he knew about it.” I held up the Capitalist Curtain papers for all to see. “These were the notes Malware wanted so badly. The handwriting’s hard to read, but from what I can tell they seem to describe the project in some detail as well as how payment was to be delivered.”
The president frowned. “But how’d he get involved in the first place? Did he work here?”
“No. Let me back up a second.” I held up the leather-bound book. “This is Milt’s diary. Apparently, he faced two problems in 1949. First, he’d agreed to provide gold for Project Capitalist Curtain, but he needed to keep the transfer a secret from his peers. And second, moving a lot of gold is no easy task. Justin and his friends appear to have been engineers of some kind. I’m not sure how they knew Milt, but he hired them to fabricate ten reinforced dump trucks capable of carrying the gold. They were also responsible for driving the vehicles to a drop-off point. According to Milt, the trucks left this facility in complete secrecy on December 14, 1949. They drove to an isolated place called Shrieker Tower in the Appalachians, where they planned to rendezvous with the U.S. Army. At that point, the Army would take charge of the gold.”
“What went wrong?” Beverly asked.
“The transfer area consisted of a large clearing next to a steep rock face. Thick forest surrounded the clearing. The only way to access it was via a thin grassy road.” I paused. “The trucks reached the clearing early and parked in front of the rock face. Milt, driving alone, took up position at the head of the grass road to wait for the Army. Then a cloud of smoke shot into the clearing. Milt turned around. And do you know what he saw?”
“What?”
“Nothing, not even a single tire track.” I stared at the old diary for a moment. “The fleet, the gold, my grandfather, and his crew had vanished.”
Chapter 62
“Impossible.” President Walters shook his head. “Ten trucks don’t just vanish. They had to go somewhere.”
“Milt claims the Army searched the area for days. But they never found so much as a trace of Justin or his crew.”
President Walters took hold of the photograph. His face scrunched up as he tried to process the new information. “So, this is one of the trucks?”
I nodded. “Plus, my grandfather and his crew.”
Ben frowned. “I’m amazed this story never leaked to the public.”
“Milt talks a little about that in later entries,” I said. “It seems that President Truman ordered a cover-up. Foreign leaders, along with U.S. Army officials, were sworn to secrecy. Same with Milt who was, of course, given the task of replacing the lost gold.”
“So, he was by himself when the gold went missing.” Beverly shook her head. “That must’ve been fun to explain.”
“Actually, the U.S. Army arrived first. They saw the trucks in the clearing right before the smoke appeared.”
“Still, I can’t believe he kept his job. You’d think losing ten truckloads of gold bars would get a guy fired.”
“Not in a government job,” Graham quipped.
“I think I can explain that,” Ben said. “Remember, the dollar was still attached to gold in 1949. If word got out about about any of this, it would’ve brought down the entire Bretton Woods system.”
“Do we know how much gold was in those trucks?” the president asked.
“Milt isn’t clear on that matter,” I replied. “But I did see the number 4,500 written a few times in the margins.”
“And how much gold does this place supposedly hold again?”
“Officially, 4,583 metric tons of gold.”
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It’s probably not,” I replied. “I’m guessing roughly 4,500 metric tons of gold were lost when the trucks disappeared. Some gold was left behind and later, used to plate the tungsten slugs. Together, it adds up to 4,583 metric tons.”
“4,500 metric tons in ten trucks.” President Walters stared at the photo. “So, each truck had to carry about 450 tons of gold. That’s a lot of cargo.”
“The biggest haul trucks today manage 400 to 500 tons.” I shrugged. “Justin’s dump trucks must’ve been a few decades ahead of their time.”
The president nodded. “Regardless, it seems that every gold bar in here is most likely a fake.”
A look of realization came over Ben’s face. “That explains why Nixon closed the gold window so abruptly.”
I nodded. “Milt’s entries indicate he became increasingly anxious as Fort Knox’s real gold was drained away. In 1971, he mentions a series of phone conversations with President Nixon. I imagine he told Nixon that Fort Knox would be handing out fake bars before long. So, Nixon sealed off the depository and took the U.S. off the gold standard.”
“Ever since then, the Fort Knox depository has been protecting nothing but tungsten.” Graham chuckled. “Ain’t that rich?”
“No wonder Milt went to war to keep us out of here. Imagine being known as the guy who lost 4,500 metric tons of gold.” Leaning his head back, President Walters stared at the ceiling. “Well, that’s that. The gold’s long gone by now.”
“Maybe not,” I replied.
He gave me a look of pure disbelief. “I know he’s your relative, but don’t kid yourself. All the facts are there. He abandoned his family, took the gold, and disappeared, probably to some island paradise.”
“We have to try,” Beverly said. “You said it yourself… without Fort Knox’s gold, our economy is finished.”
“But how?” He sighed. “If no one found it back then, how are we supposed to do it now?”
“By doing what every detective does when investigating a cold case,” I replied. “We return to the scene of the crime.”