It had been all night.
“Mellon was right,” he said. “Raising tax rates does not raise revenues. In fact, just the opposite happens. The rich just find a way to legally shelter their money and avoid the higher taxes. And who could blame them. But every time we’ve lowered tax rates, revenues rose. Harding. Coolidge. Hoover. Kennedy. Reagan. Bush. They all got that.”
“What’s the problem?” she finally asked him.
“My Treasury secretary lied to me. Edwin found out that Larks may have stolen an original along with all of those copies. Joe Levy never said a word about that. I’d bet my ass Morgenthau classified that crumpled sheet of paper he got from Mark Tipton, the one Mellon gave to Roosevelt, and Larks swiped it from Treasury.”
“And now it’s out there, loose on the world, and could fall into the hands of people who might figure out how to solve the code. Ask the secretary of Treasury if he lied. Joe works for you. If he holds back, fire him.”
He switched off the interior light. “That’s just it. I don’t think he’s doing anything to hurt me. I actually think he’s tryin’ to protect me.”
“From what?”
She approached a ramp for the interstate and entered the highway, increasing speed, the two headlights staying right behind her.
“That crumpled sheet of paper,” he said.
And she agreed.
“I’m not going to fire the guy for falling on his sword. You need to read Howell’s entire book.”
She’d caught enough through her perusal at the courthouse to sense its overall gist. “He’s an income tax fanatic. Seems to have a lot of issues with the 16th Amendment.”
“Here’s the deal,” he said, his voice low and distant. “Our national debt is $16 trillion. The interest on that debt is right at $200 billion a year. I found a website the other day with a counter that clicks off the national debt, as it accrues by the second. I sat there and watched the damn thing. It’s like a million dollars every minute. Can you imagine? It’s friggin’ mind-blowing.”
“And you just sat there and watched?”
He chuckled. “It’s kind of hypnotizing.”
She smiled. Sometimes he truly was like a big kid.
“Ninety percent of the revenue used to pay that debt comes from one source,” he said.
And she knew where. Income tax.
“Imagine if that tax was illegal?” He snapped his fingers. “No more 90 percent. Gone. Just like that.”
She caught the implications, but had to say, “It could be replaced?”
“Really? Congress would have to pass a new amendment, then thirty-eight states would have to ratify it. That would take a lot of time, all while that debt keeps growing at the rate of a million dollars every minute. And by the way, we couldn’t borrow a dime to cover any deficits since our credit wouldn’t be worth spit. Even if you passed a new income tax, we’d never catch up. The trillions in accrued debt would bankrupt us. Even worse, what if we knew the 16th Amendment was illegal all along, but declared it valid and kept collecting it. That’s fraud, making us liable for all those trillions of dollars we stole from folks.”
“A bit far-fetched, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m not so sure. I got a bad feeling here, Stephanie, one I’ve learned to trust. I keep thinking about the Chinese and the North Koreans. And Kim. What’s he after? Then I remember that our number one creditor is China. We owe it $1.2 trillion, growing by the minute, too. What do you think would happen if we defaulted on that debt?”
She knew. It could collapse China’s economy. “You think Kim is after the ammunition to take down our income tax?”
“You heard the ambassador. Unlike Dear Leader, Kim doesn’t owe China a thing. He’d just as soon stick it up their ass as not. That ambassador back there was scared. I saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice. He tried to hide it, but he was afraid.”
She’d also felt the apprehension, noting a few phrases hidden in the conversation, and a hesitation where there should have been none.
They kept speeding north down the interstate, the beginnings of the day’s rush hour not yet upon them. The sky overhead was fading from black to salmon. To the east, the sharp edge of a brilliant sunrise had already begun to illuminate the gray light of dawn.
“This dirty laundry of ours,” he muttered, “has a real stink to it. But thanks to Paul Larks it may be about to get an airing. You’ve known something’s bothering me. I saw it in your eyes at Treasury. This is it. Our Achilles’ heel.”
They rode in silence for a little while, both of them in thought.
“We can’t let this happen,” Danny finally said.
“I’ll check in with Luke and Cotton, after I leave you at the White House.”
“Do that. I need to know what they’ve learned on that end.”
The lights of the Capitol loomed ahead. A few minutes more and they would be at the White House.
“Before we get there,” Danny said from the rear seat, “there’s a couple of other things you have to know. Things I couldn’t say in front of Harriett.”
THIRTY-SIX
CROATIA
Isabella ran through the rain after Luke Daniels, the cobbles gleaming with moisture. She wondered what he meant when he told Malone, We’ll be right with you. The answer to her inquiry came as Daniels flagged down a taxi then, when the car stopped to retrieve him, flung open the driver’s door, yanked the man out, and shoved him to the wet concrete.
He motioned for her to climb inside.
She hesitated.
“Fine, stay here. You’re a pain in the ass anyway,” he yelled.
Dammit. She had to go. So she rushed to the front passenger-side door, opened it, and slid in. He settled behind the wheel, slammed the gearshift into drive, and off they went, tires spinning in the swishing rain.
“You never stole a car before?” he asked her.
“Hardly.”
He shook his head. “Welcome to my world.”
“You realize that driver is going to call the police,” she said.