Liberty

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I hope I’m not the only one who suspects this document is a load of crap.” Bones said.

Dane’s only surprise at this comment was that Bones had waited nearly an hour to voice it. After agreeing to meet Marshall back in Philadelphia the next day, they had made their way back to the Mustang and hit the road.

“Maybe. But it won’t hurt to check it out.”

“Unless it’s a trap.”

“You think they sent Marshall out there to lure us to a spot in Philadelphia when they could have instead taken us out while we were talking to him? Even for a guy who believes in Bigfoot and Atlantis, that’s a stretch.”

“Hey, dude, Bigfoot is real and Atlantis is a documented historical place. Narrow minds can’t see that, but I won’t hold it against you.”

“Atlantis is historical fact?” Dane rolled his eyes.

“Just you wait. One day they’ll find it and you’ll owe me a beer.” Bones paused. “You’re probably right about Marshall. He’s kind of.. ”

“Weird?”

“Exactly.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Bones laughed. “Good point. Isn’t it my turn to drive?”

They arrived in Philadelphia without crashing or getting a speeding ticket, which Dane could only conclude meant that their luck had taken a turn for the better. They decided to check out of their motel and find another one, as it seemed like the Sons knew where they were staying. Bones parked a few blocks away and Dane went in through a back door with a winter hat pulled down around his ears and a jacket with the collar turned up. Not the most clever disguise, but hopefully enough misdirection to get him in and out without being recognized.

They checked into a place several miles away, paying cash. They chose a non-chain motel that didn’t ask for ID, so Dane was able to use a fake name. Despite all these measures, they slept in two shifts.

The precaution proved unnecessary. After an uneventful night they headed to meet Octavius Marshall, who lived in an apartment in a suburb on the New Jersey side of the city. Both men remained vigilant as they exited the car and went into the building. The neighborhood seemed fine, but four attempts on their life in recent days had triggered a healthy increase in Dane’s paranoia.

In the elevator on the way up, Dane watched floor numbers climb. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.”

“Normally I’d say it’s just that stick you have up your butt, but in this case I have the same feeling.”

“And you don’t have a stick up your butt?”

“Exactly.”

Octavius Marshall opened the door before Dane had managed a second knock. He looked different in the daylight and without the hat and winter jacket. Not a single hair adorned his skull, and he seemed even thinner dressed in jeans and white collared shirt. He stood only two or three inches shorter than Dane but couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and thirty pounds.

“Come on in guys, have a seat.”

Dane looked at him. “We just walked right up here. You realize you might be in danger too, right? Do you have any security?”

Marshall gestured with his hand. “Here? No, but I don’t even live here. It was just a convenient place to meet.”

“Wait, then who owns it?”

“I do. It’s my official address. In fact, it’s just about the only thing I own that’s in my name.”

Dane shook his head. “I’m confused now. Why would you do that?”

Marshall’s smile seemed forced. “Are you familiar with a little place on the coast east of here called Atlantic City?”

Bones interjected. “Get to the point.”

“I own several casinos there.”

Bones slapped his hands together. “Hey, my uncle Charlie owns a casino. So now I get it. You owe money to the mob and you want to hide your real stuff as much as you can.”

Marshall shook his head. “When I said own, that might have given the wrong impression. I’m an investor, a silent partner. The casinos are owned by corporations. Those corporations are fronts for the mob, true. But the days of casinos being solely used to launder money are long gone. They’re big business now. Since I’m an investor, I don’t borrow money; I lend money to the mob.”

Bones looked at Dane. “Dude, I never thought I’d say something like this, but we may want to steer clear of this guy.”

Dane remained focused on Marshall. “So that’s why you followed those guys to Hamiltonban. You figured that it was related to your business and they targeted Cornelius.”

“Yes, but now I don’t think so. First, I haven’t heard anything, and there’s not much point in doing something to him and not communicating a demand to me. More importantly, business is great, and everyone’s making loads of money. The reason I keep everything in different names is not because of them.”

Dane made the connection. “The government. Offshore accounts. Tax evasion.”

Marshall said nothing, but his eyes didn’t contradict the observation.

Bones used his deep voice in a Marlon Brando impression. “Let’s cut through it and see the document now. You made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

“Sure, sure, I have it right here. Be careful, though, it’s over a hundred and fifty years old. I normally keep it in an airtight vault.”

Dane took the document with a light touch. “Where did you say you got it?”

“My father left the medallion to Cornelius and the envelope with the document to me when he died. He said they had been in the family since at least his grandfather’s grandfather and that they were tied to a mystery which would contain both honor and shame for the family. Therefore, we should not open the envelope unless the family was at risk.”

“So you didn’t open it until…”

“I opened it with Cornelius when he told me he was going to sell the medallion and I let him keep the envelope. I figured all bets were off. It turns out the family is at risk. Cornelius and I are both childless, and he’s dead. At this rate, there won’t be any more family.”

Dane started reading. The document was on some sort of thick parchment, maybe vellum. It felt sturdy in his hands, and the black ink of the words was still perfectly legible.

Bones was reading over Dane’s shoulder and let out a whistle. “Dude, this is cool. A voice from the grave telling us where to look.”

Dane couldn’t resist. “I don’t know, Bones, maybe he’s not dead. Maybe he’s from Atlantis and learned the secret to eternal life.”

“You can laugh, little man. You know who Richard Franklin Bache was, right?”

Dane didn’t answer and Marshall raised his hand. “I know who he is. Benjamin Franklin’s grandson. But I can’t make anything out of the rest of it.”

Bones said, “You mean aside from some sort of secret that Ben Franklin and Edmund Randolph had? If it was those two guys, it’s gotta have something to do with the Constitution. Anyone know what ‘recent events’ made Bache think he needed to spill the beans?”

Dane re-read the words. “Well, this was around the time Texas was preparing to join the union. I wonder if that has anything to do with it. No clue about the three and the seven hundred forty, though.”

Bones sighed. “Much as I hate to say it, I think we’re headed for some library research. Unless you want to call Jimmy again.”

“Not yet, Bones, let’s see what we can dig up first.”

“I can help you with the research.” Marshall said.

Bones raised an index finger. “First you need to track down the owner of that plane.”

Dane was tuning them out, focusing on the document. Something was there, something he couldn’t place. All at once it hit him when he read the words, “The second riddle has appeared before and will reappear.”

“It can’t be that simple. Octavius do you have a match?”

“A match? I have a lighter, but why?”

“Trust me.”

Dane flicked the Bic and started moving the flame towards the document. Bones grabbed his arm. “No offense, man, but I can’t let you do that.”

Dane shook off the huge hand. “Come on, Bones, would I burn a document like this?”

“Probably not, but tell me what you’re thinking before you make like Mrs. O’Leary’s cow.”

“Two words, Bones. Invisible ink.”

Bones raised his eyebrows and then a grin enveloped his face. He slapped Dane on the back, causing him to lurch forward and move the lighter perilously close to the document.

Marshall scowled. “If you two are done playing, maybe you could enlighten me.”

“Do you have an electric stove?” Dane asked.

Marshall nodded.

“Lead the way.”

They went into the kitchen where Dane turned on a burner and held the document a few inches above it “Notice how there’s a space here between the last two paragraphs?”

“There’s a space between every paragraph. That’s how they often wrote things back then.”

“Yeah, but the space between the last two paragraphs is bigger than the others. I’m betting that’s the second riddle — make what appeared before reappear. Heat is what brings out most invisible inks. My only concern is that after all this time, it will have degraded.”

Bones sucked in his breath through his teeth. “If they used something like lemon, then it will never have lasted. Something protein based like milk lasts longer, but probably not a century. They could have used some sort of invisible sealing agent, that’s probably our best hope.”

Marshall looked at him. “How do know all that? Are you an ink expert?”

“No, but I learned about it in my teens. I might have played a practical joke or two on the local constabulary.”

As the paper heated up, Dane found himself holding his breath. At first, it seemed like nothing was happening,even as the paper grew hotter. Then, words began to appear, faded but visible nonetheless. They formed two short sentences:

Bones snorted. “Oh good, that cleared everything right up.”

Dane allowed himself a weak chuckle. “I think you were right about the library research. But it’s not all a mystery. The father of the Raven has got to be Edgar Allen Poe.”

Marshall cocked his head. “Was the Raven even written by 1847?”

“Yep. I memorized the poem back… in another life. It was published in 1845 and was pretty much an instant hit. I seem to recall Poe wrote a story called The Elk as well. Haven’t read it, though.”

Bones stroked his chin, a gesture Dane had trouble not laughing at given how rarely the man seemed to ponder anything seriously. “The noblest bird is probably a bald eagle if we’re talking about the founders and the Constitution.”

Marshall responded after a moment. “The only thing I can think of is the reference to the Library of Congress. It says Franklin hid something there. The thing is, the original Library of Congress wasn’t founded until Franklin had been dead for a few years.”

Dane pointed to the document. “It actually said he arranged for it to be hidden. So it’s possible.”

“Could be. But then we have a second problem. The original library was burned in 1812 by the British. Everything was lost.”

Bones appraised the older man. “Now it’s my turn to ask: how do you know all this?”

“History major. I thought I wanted to be a lawyer and that was a common major for future lawyers. It wasn’t for me, though.”

“Right, instead you decided to fund the mob.”

Dane hastened to derail this line of discussion. “None of that matters. We have to get to a library. Find the Poe story. Research the original Library of Congress. See if either of the riddles seems more manageable after we do that.”

“Makes sense to me, dude.”

Dane looked at Marshall. And you’re going to look into the plane, right?”

“Right. So we’ll touch base tonight and you’ll share what you find and I’ll tell you what I found.”

Dane put a hand on Bones’ arm before the big man could protest. “Sure. You want to meet here?”

“Yes. Make sure you’re not followed, okay?”

As they drove off, Bones took his eyes off the road and glanced at Dane. “Marshall seemed a little more pushy today.”

“Bones, when we first met him we were pointing guns at him.”

“Good point. Still, I think there’s more to this than he’s letting on.”

“There always is. In this case, one of those things is very obvious.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s no such thing as a private investor who lends money to the mob. Assuming he wasn’t completely making it up, there are only two possibilities. One is that he’s paying them off like we first suggested.”

Bones snapped his fingers. “Can I guess the other one?”

“Sure.”

“The other is that he actually is the mob.”