"They were stopped before they could reach Chattanooga," Lewis said. "Several of the men, including Andrews, were caught and executed. Most escaped. Union sympathizers were all over the place. Couldn't trust anyone. Still can't." He spat the last words out.
"Right," Booth agreed. "But now the war is coming to an end. Lee has already surrendered. If we don't act now, our cause will be lost for good. Our only hope is to take out Lincoln, Seward, and Johnson. When we do, the Union government will be thrown into disarray. While they're trying to settle the chaos, we'll find whatever is hiding in the Denali Mountains."
"And just how are we going to find that? You're talking about going all the way out to Alaska. That map isn't even complete. Where's the other half of it?" Herold asked. "What do those letters at the bottom mean?"
"Not to mention the fact that you're talking about murdering the president of the United States," George said with an eyebrow raised.
Booth's eyes narrowed as he stared down everyone in the room, making sure they understood the gravity of the situation.
"This is only half of the puzzle," Booth said, tapping on the map. "When Andrews and his men ran out of fuel, they fled the locomotive and ran for their lives. They'd devised a plan to split the information in case they were caught. Once Lincoln and his allies are dead, we'll find the other half. Then everything will become clear."
"Just how do you figure on finding the other half? Those Yanks could have hidden it anywhere."
Booth looked from one pair of eyes to the other until he'd made contact with everyone. "It's in North Georgia."
"How do you know that?" George asked.
"One of the men from the locomotive chase had a penchant for drink. Let's just say when he's drunk, he gets real mouthy. I overheard him in a bar, talking about something that would make the Union invincible. So I followed him out of the tavern, and when the moment presented itself, I pulled him into an alley and coaxed the information out of him."
"So, once this is done, with the president and his allies, we go to Georgia, find the other half of this, and then off to Alaska?" David said. "Seems like an enormous task."
"It is. Great victories come with great sacrifice and incredible risks. This will turn the tide in our favor," Booth said. "Lincoln will be the hardest target. I have a plan for him, and I'll see to it personally. Seward and Johnson will be easier, especially Seward. He's in his home in Auburn, New York, recovering from an accident. He'll be in bed and an easy target with few guards around."
Booth could see the hesitation in some of the eyes looking back at him. Lewis was the only one who appeared to be comfortable with the idea.
"So, what do you say, gentlemen? Are you ready to make history?" Booth asked.
The others glanced at each other as if confirming their resolve, then nodded.
"Good. Soon, the tyrant will be dead, and the South will rise again."
Chapter 1
Sean Wyatt was dead.
His heart still thumped in his chest, his lungs inhaled and exhaled air, but he was dead. And he knew it.
He watched the snowy countryside of western Upstate New York pass by outside the heavily tinted window. The darkness of the glass was an irony in itself since civilians weren't allowed to tint their car windows that dark. It made seeing inside nearly impossible. Looking out during times of low light must have been difficult as well, or at least Sean figured as much.
He wasn't concerned about the government-issue tinted windows, though. It was merely a passing thought in his mind.
His concern was where he was being taken and why.
The answer to the first part of that question wouldn't be known until they arrived, but he knew exactly why. The guns in the laps of the men surrounding him, the utter silence of the SUV's cabin, the matching black outfits the men wore — all told Sean everything he needed to know about why.
These men worked for the government. And they were going to execute him.
He'd seen assets like the ones around him before. They wore the typical tactical gear; each had a small earpiece planted in the right ear. Back in Sean's day — when he worked for Axis — there would have been a wire attached to the tiny device. Now everything worked on Bluetooth.
The only man in the group who appeared to be over thirty was the driver — his age given away by the sparse strands of gray in his beard. All the others had naked faces, like they'd never had to shave in their lives.
Sean knew that didn't change the fact that these men were well trained and would execute their mission without batting an eye. He'd seen it before, though he never expected to be on the receiving end — at least not from his fellow Americans.
He averted his gaze to the road ahead. Snow was piled up along both sides of the asphalt. Winter had hit the area hard of late, dumping a few feet of powder on the countryside.
Were he not heading to his death, Sean would have enjoyed the drive in the serene beauty of a winter landscape.
They hadn't seen a car in twenty minutes. It wouldn't be long now.
Sean knew better than to ask questions. These guys wouldn't say anything. Their hardened expressions told him everything he needed to know. Well, not everything. He would like to know who they worked for, why they were going to kill him, but those questions wouldn't be answered. Not by these men.
Sean's only hope was clutched in the palm of his hand. It was in the shape of a small, black disk: a gift from a friend at DARPA.
When the hit squad nabbed Sean in Auburn, New York, he'd seen them coming. Sensing trouble before the men made their move, Sean grabbed one of the disks from a little pouch on his belt and kept it in his hand. There was no point in trying to fight the men off — not yet anyway. When he saw them approaching with their weapons drawn, he'd surrendered without a fight. Sean's pistol had been left in the car. He figured there was no reason to make the museum curator uncomfortable if there was no need.
Very few crazy things happened in the quiet little western New York town.
Sean should have known better.
It was always when one least expected something bad to happen when things started to go south.
He'd been all over New England from Massachusetts and Connecticut to Vermont, New Hampshire, and even southern Maine. In the end, his search brought him back to where he began this particular quest — at the home of Abraham Lincoln's Secretary of State, William Seward.
The initial reason Sean went to Auburn was at the request of his friend, President Dawkins. Sean and Tommy had been instrumental in helping the president with issues on more than one occasion. In fact, the leader of the free world had called so often over the last few years that Sean wondered if Dawkins had memorized his phone number.
In this case, Dawkins had come across a peculiar letter from former Secretary of State William Seward. It was written to Lincoln in 1864.
Sean asked the president how he'd come by the letter. Dawkins was happy to explain that he'd been looking through an old book in the White House when the letter fell out from amid the other pages. It was only later that Dawkins realized that the book was a first edition from the early nineteenth century and had been in the White House for over 160 years.
"Keep this between you and me," Dawkins said when he handed Sean the letter. "I don't know exactly what this means, but if anyone can figure it out, it's you and Tommy."