The proverbial smoking gun.
She also recalled what Howell had written about why Knox would have done that. “He probably saw the amendment as essential. After all, the Republicans had proposed it. And the last thing the Republicans would have wanted was to void it on technicalities. They were going out of power. Woodrow Wilson and the Democrats were coming in. I doubt any of them really considered the income tax much of a problem. It only applied to a tiny portion of the country—who’d find ways to avoid it anyway. Nobody then dreamed what that tax would become.”
The look on the secretary of Treasury’s face mimicked what she was thinking. What were they going to do now? Before making any decision, she decided they should examine Mellon’s final message.
She opened the envelope and removed the single sheet.
Levy held the light and they read together.
Your quest is over and you now know both secrets. In 1921 Philander Knox told me of the issues associated with the 1913 ratification of the 16th Amendment. My old friend chose to ignore those illegalities. He thought he was doing his party and his country a great service. Maybe so, but he overestimated his importance. I managed to convince him not to reveal what he knew. Then I ensured that the secret would remain safe forever. I dispatched agents around the country to remove all relevant documents from various state records, thereby rendering it impossible to prove anything about ratification. Those ten states that worried the Solicitor General are no worry at all. So you see, Mr. President, I made your decision on this point easy. And if I had not, what would you have done? Void the amendment? Refund every tax dollar illegally collected since 1913? We both know you would have concealed the information, protecting America, just as I did. So you see, we are more alike than you ever thought. My only regret was that I could not protect the country from you.
“What would Roosevelt have done?” she asked.
“Exactly what Mellon said. Nothing. Remember, Roosevelt was the one who expanded the tax to a broader base and started withholding from people’s paychecks. He needed that revenue.”
“Why not just re-pass the amendment?”
“How could he? That would have been an admission that all of the collections from 1913 forward were improper. Think of the lawsuits.”
And she recalled what Howell had referenced in his book. What Mellon said to his friend David Finley. In the end he’ll find what I left for him. He’ll not be able to help himself from looking, and all will be right. The secrets will be safe and my point will have been made. For no matter how much he hates and disagrees with me, he still will have done precisely what I asked.
And his final declaration.
I’m a patriot, David. Never forget that.
“Mellon made sure that the 16th Amendment would not become a problem,” she said. “He tormented Roosevelt, knowing there was no danger.”
But she realized that he probably also used what he knew to maintain a hold on the Treasury Department through three presidents.
“Unfortunately, that danger still exists,” Levy said. “There’s enough here to raise a lot of legal questions. The 1930s were a different time, with different rules. You could actually keep a secret then. There’s no way we can survive this debate today. This would be a political nightmare.”
And she remembered what the Eleventh Circuit had wanted in Howell’s appeal. An exceptionally strong showing of unconstitutional ratification. This may not be enough, but Levy was right. It could certainly start the ball rolling.
“We’re standing here in the dark,” he said, “and that’s the way it should remain. This can’t see the light of day.”
He was right.
But their next course of action raised many ethical questions, ones she’d always prided herself on being able to answer.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
He seemed to sense her hesitancy .
“It’s just you and me on this one,” he said to her.
That it was.
She led the way outside, carrying the solicitor’s memo. Levy toted the Salomon documents. Everything around them was dark and quiet. From her pocket she found a lighter, which she’d brought along just in case. She flicked the flame to life and set fire to the memo. Levy offered up the old vellum, which instantly disintegrated.
They stood silent and watched it all burn.
The ashes scattered into the night.
SIXTY-EIGHT
COPENHAGEN, DENMARK
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12
6:10 P.M.
Isabella was impressed with Cotton Malone’s bookshop. Everything was organized, the shelves clean and orderly, a definite Old World feel. Books had never been much of an interest for her, but they clearly fascinated Malone.
“You own this place?” she asked.
“All mine.”
Darkness had arrived outside, the lit square beyond the plate-glass windows—called, she was told, H?jbro Plads—crowded with a rush of people. Malone had obviously chosen a great location for his business. Luke had provided her the quick bio on Malone’s early retirement and his move to Denmark. There was an ex-wife, a son, and a girlfriend. Cassiopeia Vitt. But that relationship had ended a month ago.