TIPTON: “Why even waste time on it?”
FDR: “Missy says I should not ignore it. Mellon was never one to bluff. She could be right. Most times she is, you know, but let’s not let her hear us say that. She has that other piece of paper, the one I crumpled. She came in that day, after Mellon left, and retrieved it from the floor. God bless her. She’s an efficient secretary. Take a look at it, Mark, and see what you think. It supposedly has something to do with two secrets from the country’s past. The end of me. That’s what Mellon said they were. The last thing that aging SOB said was that he’d be waiting for me. Can you imagine the arrogance? He told the president of the United States that he’d be waiting for me.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I think that’s want we’re supposed to find out.”
A few moments of silence passed.
“He also quoted Lord Byron,” Roosevelt said. “A strange coincidence, to use a phrase, by which such things are settled nowadays. It’s from Don Juan. I want you to find out what all that means, too.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. And Mark, I want this kept between the two of us. Check it out, but report back everything you learn solely to me.”
Danny switched off the drive. “There are other conversations, from other days, like this one. Random talks with aides, nothing of any historical significance, no reason to record any of them. The library curators tell me that just prior to all those, this one included, a press conference had occurred in the Oval Office. Those were definitely recorded. Their guess is that the staff just sometimes forgot to turn the machine off and this conversation, along with others, was inadvertently memorialized.”
“So why hide it away?” Harriett asked.
“It really wasn’t hidden. The recordings were found at the FDR Library by accident in 1978. They keep them in their restricted archives, not available for public inspection. This one is fairly meaningless, unless you know what we know.”
Stephanie had listened in fascination. FDR’s tone was rich and resonant, his enunciation perfect. Little about the private voice differed from the public one. What she heard was a casual, unbuttoned exchange with a close staff member. But there was a definite conspiratorial air.
Her mind tried to assess everything.
“This started out,” Danny said, “as me tryin’ to reverse a wrong. The whole Salomon thing fascinates me. Paul Larks was assigned to do some basic research. He was career civil servant, no reason not to trust him. But he went over the edge. Claimed some elaborate cover-up and how Salomon had been cheated. Then he said the taxpayers had been cheated. He became so insubordinate, Joe finally asked him to retire. Next thing we know he’s talking with Kim Yong Jin and Pyongyang is going nuts. Then you two enter the picture going after Howell, who also has a connection to Larks. It’s a friggin’ three-ring circus.”
“Which has commanded the attention of the president of the United States.” Stephanie said.
“That it has. But we’re not entirely in the dark. Piecing together this tape with what Howell wrote, we know that Mellon left FDR a dollar bill and a crumpled piece of paper on New Year’s Eve 1936. We also know that shortly after that Treasury investigated the whole 1935 dollar-bill redesign. Prior to that time the Great Seal of the United States was not on the dollar bill. That was added in ’35 by Roosevelt himself. Apparently, though, Mellon took advantage of that presidential decision. It’s a fact that the lines drawn on the bill form the word Mason.”
There was something else. Stephanie could hear it in his voice. Her gaze caught his and, with his eyes, which she’d learned to read, he said, Not now.
Not here.
So she kept silent.
But he said, “I’m anxious to know how things play out in Venice. In the meantime, though, we’ve caught a minor break. On the recording you just heard, the man FDR was talking to, Mark Tipton, he’s long dead. But his son is alive. He’s seventy-four years old and yesterday we found him. His name is Edward, and that’s where you and I are going. To talk to him.”
Stephanie had to ask, “Where?”
“At his home.”
“Why would you agree to that?”
“Because it’s the only way we can find out what he has to say.”
TWENTY-THREE
VENICE
Malone stood beside Luke as they powered across the lagoon, following the boat Howell had taken. He’d called Luke earlier from his room and reported Larks’ death, Isabella Schaefer’s presence, and what he had in mind to possibly find the satchel.
“They planned this escape good,” Luke said. “Took Treasury out solid.”
“Did you find out anything about Schaefer?”
“You and her have somethin’ in common. You both have a bit of a reputation. Seems Isabella is a by-the-book girl. Never breaks a rule. Everything for her is right or wrong. Not much gray in her black-and-white life. One of those all-American-Mom’s-apple-pie kind of agents that really get on your nerves. We had some in the Rangers. Pain in the ass. They’ll end up gettin’ you killed.”
“And Schaefer?”
“I was told not many want to partner with her. She has a bit of a personality problem.”
“It was Howell who shoved her in the water,” he said.
“I caught a glimpse as he ran away, too. Bold little sucker. Apparently he knew all about Wonder Woman.”
“You’re quick with the nicknames, aren’t you?”
“That one’s not mine. That’s what they call her back in DC. Behind her back, of course.”
“You realize Howell knew more than we knew.”
“Yeah, I get that. But the cool thing is, he seems to not know about us.”