She asked, “What happened when he died?”
“He was at his daughter’s home on Long Island. The cancer had taken a toll, but he remained focused on getting this building started. Construction had begun in June, but he died August 26, 1937. A few days later, there was a massive funeral in Pittsburgh.”
She could see that Carol Williams was a true fan, and she had to admit, “He left quite a legacy. This is an amazing place. Those children, there, seem to find it fascinating.”
“Tens of thousands come every year.”
“When did Mellon learn he was dying?”
Carol thought about the question for a moment, then said, “November 1936. He was immediately given radium and X-ray treatments, which drained him.”
Which meant that when Mellon met with FDR on New Year’s Eve, he knew he was terminal.
He said he’d be waiting for me.
“Have you ever visited his grave site in Pittsburgh?” she asked.
“That’s not where’s he’s buried.”
That caught her attention. “I just assumed that since the funeral was there—”
“The entire family lies together. Mr. Mellon, his son, daughter, and their mother, Nora, his ex-wife. All four of them in one place. A bit ironic since none of them were particularly close in life. Mr. Mellon and his ex-wife divorced thirty years before he died, and not in an amicable way. Paul and his father barely got along. Brother and sister weren’t much better. But in death, there they are, side by side, forever.”
She smiled at the irony. “And where is this family reunion?”
“Upperville, Virginia. At the Trinity Episcopal Church. It’s a small grassy graveyard surrounded by a stone wall.”
The schoolchildren continued to enjoy the fountain. She had several more questions, but they became unimportant as a man entered the garden court. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie.
The same outfit from Atlanta, if she was not mistaken.
He walked straight toward her.
Chick-fil-A Man.
FORTY-SEVEN
CROATIA
6:10 P.M.
Isabella was ambivalent toward Cotton Malone. He seemed the same arrogant, self-absorbed alpha male that she dealt with day in and day out. To him she was surely unimportant—first, because she was a woman, and second, because she worked for Treasury, as opposed to the CIA, NSA, or some other agency with jurisdiction outside the United States. But she’d been on this trail long before anyone from the Magellan Billet had ever heard of the problem, and she knew more about it than anyone else.
She’d left the American Corner and retreated to the library’s café, now nursing a cup of green tea. Coffee had never interested her, nor had drugs or cigarettes. A glass of wine? Now, that was something she could enjoy, and she did, alone, in her apartment, most nights after coming home from work. She never drank with her superiors or colleagues, preferring to always maintain her wits in their presence. Some of her fellow female agents thought differently, not realizing that no matter how much they tried they’d never be “one of the boys.”
Few people occupied the tables, the library quiet on this rainy afternoon. She sat with her fingers clasped behind her head, lost in her hair, one leg drawn up, knee in the air. Her gaze was locked out beyond the glass walls.
From down one of the corridors Malone appeared.
He entered the café, walked straight to her, and asked, “May I sit down?”
She nodded and appreciated him asking.
“I get it,” he said. “This is your baby. You’ve been on this from the start. And then we come in and take over.”
“The secretary of Treasury himself assigned me. I’ve searched the classified archives. I’ve been to state capitols researching records. You have no idea.”
“Actually, I do. I think I’ve figured this out. That crumpled sheet of paper is going to lead us to proof that the 16th Amendment may have been void from the start. Even worse, it’s fraud since the government knew the amendment may have been improperly ratified, but went ahead with it anyway. Kim is going to use that to bring us and the Chinese down in one shot.”
He actually did understand. And since he knew it all, she felt free to say, “I’ll tell you now, there are problems associated with ratification. It’s serious. I’ve seen those problems firsthand in state records. But I get the program. You guys are the big boys, and I’m just from Treasury—”
“Bullshit. You’re a trained agent. A damn good one I’m told.”
“Who was body-blocked into the water by a federal fugitive.”
He chuckled. “If you only knew some of the crap that’s happened to me. And besides, I’m the one who really screwed up here. I let Kim get his hands on those documents.”
That he had, but she appreciated his admission.
“Did the president really order me here?” she asked.
He nodded. “Absolutely. I told him I wanted you to stay with this. We need your help.”
“Luke thinks I’m a pain in the ass.”
“You should hear what he says about me.”
“I have. He actually respects the hell out of you. He won’t say it, but it’s clear.”
“I was told charm was not your specialty.”
“But it apparently is yours.”
And she meant it.
“I didn’t come here to play you,” he said. “I came to ask for your help. That was good thinking in there about the Beale cipher. You may be on target.”
She wondered about all this mea culpa. “How did you figure this out?”
“I’ve talked to Stephanie Nelle. Things are happening in DC. Your boss and mine are now working together. This is a joint operation that’s about to get complicated. The Chinese and North Koreans are both involved. They want what Kim is after, then they want Kim dead. Like I said, I need your help.”