The Lincoln Myth (10 page)

More search teams were sent out.

None of the gold was ever found.

Records noted that there was approximately 80,000 ounces being transported, the value at the time nearly $19 an ounce. That same gold now was worth over $150 million.

“You realize that the story we’ve heard for so long is wrong,” he said.

He saw that Snow had already considered the reality.

“Those wagons weren’t burned or charred,” Rowan went on. “They were deliberately hacked apart inside a cavern. Hidden away. Four men shot. Then the cave sealed up.”

And there was one other problem.

“Not a speck of gold was there,” he said.

Snow sat silent in his wheelchair, clearly considering something.

“I had hoped that this would not arise during my tenure,” the older man whispered.

He stared at the prophet.

“Forget us not
. It’s interesting they chose those words, because we haven’t, Thaddeus. Not in the least. There’s something you do not know.”

He waited.

“We have to cross the street, to the temple. Where I can show you.”

TWELVE

M
ALONE ASSESSED THE SITUATION
. K
IRK HAD CLEARLY COME
to them armed. But with all the excitement, who would have thought to search the victim for weapons? Still, something had not rung right about the man from the moment they’d met.

And the call with Stephanie had cemented his doubts.

He said, “You work with those two we met in the square.”

“More like they work for me.”

Luke stood military-straight, his eyes suggesting
We should take this son of a bitch right here, right now
.

But his stare back signaled
No
.

Not yet.

Kirk cocked the hammer of the gun. “I’d like nothing better than to blow his brains out. So you need to do what I say.”

“The police came far too quick,” Malone said. “Those bodies on the water would have been found, but not that fast. And there’s no way the police could have found a trail to us that soon. Your men call them?”

“A good way to flush you out. Keep you moving. We needed you headed out of town.”

“Then there were those two on the water. Right place, right
time. There was only one way they knew to be there.” He pointed at Kirk. “You told them. What’s this dog-and-pony show for?”

“We thought we’d learn more by infiltrating the enemy camp. Your agent has been sneaking around for months, asking questions. We’ve watched with patience, but thought a turncoat might speed the process.”

“So you sacrificed two of your men?”

Kirk’s face clouded with anger. “That wasn’t part of it. They were supposed to make it look good, press you along, reinforce the threat. Unfortunately, you decided to kill them.”

“Salazar must have a lot to hide.”

“My employer simply wants to be left alone. He does not appreciate your government’s interference in his life.”

“Is our man dead?” Luke asked.

“If not, he will be. The idea was to draw you to the same place where he’s being held and deal with you all at once. But that little ploy back in the square, turning the police on my men, ruined that.”

“Sorry to be such a bother,” Malone said.

“Better we deal with you here. This empty store seems perfect, as do those rooms beneath. So we’re going to wait until my men get here.”

“You’re tagged?” he asked.

Kirk shrugged. “Cell phones are good for that.”

Which meant Malone had to act. “You a Danite?”

“Ordained and sworn. Now I need you to drop your gun to the floor.”

Amateur. Only an idiot asked his adversary to toss a weapon away. Smart people just took it.

He reached beneath his jacket and found the Beretta.

But instead of dropping it to the floor he aimed the stubby muzzle at Kirk, who shrank back but kept the gun to Luke’s head.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kirk said. “I’ll kill him.”

He shrugged. “Go ahead. I don’t give a shit. He’s a smart-mouthed pain in the ass.”

His right eye sighted down the Beretta’s short barrel. It had
been four years since he’d last been to the range. His skills were a little rusty, but he’d just proven out on the water that he could still shoot. True, it was dark in here, but he pushed all doubt from his mind and took aim.

“Put the gun down,” Kirk said, his voice rising.

Luke’s gaze was locked on the Beretta, but the younger man’s nerve seemed to hold. Malone could sympathize. Caught between two guns was not a good place to be.

“I’m going to count to three,” he said. “You better have that gun lowered by the time I finish.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Malone. My men will be here any second.”

“One.”

He saw Kirk’s trigger finger tighten. The dilemma was clear. He had to either shoot Luke in the head, which meant Malone would shoot him, or swing the gun around and fire across the store. But he’d never make that shot before a bullet from the Beretta left the barrel. The smart play was to lower the gun. Amateurs, however, rarely made the right move.

“Two.”

He fired.

The shot rattled the room.

The bullet slammed into Kirk’s face and the body spun backward. Hands clawed the air, then Kirk crumbled sideways, finally thudding to the floor.

“Three.”

“Are you out of your friggin’ mind,” Luke screamed. “I felt that bullet whiz by my ear.”

“Get his gun.”

Luke was already lunging for the weapon. “Malone, you’re certifiable. You play awful fast and loose with other people’s brains. I could have taken him. We could have used him alive.”

“That wasn’t an option. He’s right. We’re going to have company shortly.”

He opened the exterior door and searched the cobbled street for any sign of trouble, wondering if the shot had been noticed. Thirty
feet to his left a procession of people paraded back and forth on another street, Højbro Plads left of there and back fifty feet. Above him the green dome of the Nikolaj church glowed into the night.

“Get his phone,” he told Luke.

“Already got it. I do know a little somethin’ about this business.”

“Then slide the body over there behind those counters and let’s go.”

Luke did, then came to the door.

They fled the store, heading down a quiet backstreet toward busy Kongens Nytorv, the city’s busiest public square. Roads clogged with night traffic encircled a statue of Christian V. The royal theater was lit brightly, as was the Hotel d’Angleterre. Nyhavn’s cafés, on the square’s far side abutting the waterfront, were still alive with people. He’d delayed the two Danites back in Højbro Plads, but only for so long. If Kirk was right and they were tracking him, he had to move fast. His eyes raked the crowded scene, settling on the perfect solution.

They crossed the street and trotted for the bus stop.

Copenhagen had a terrific public transportation system and he’d often hopped onto buses from here. They came and went every few minutes all day and one was now easing to a stop, riders streaming on and off.

“The phone,” he said to Luke, who produced it.

He casually laid it inside the rear bumper.

The doors closed and the bus lumbered away, heading north toward the royal palace.

“That should keep whoever is coming occupied,” he said.

“You think he was tellin’ the truth about any of it?”

He nodded. “He took a chance showing his hand. But he thought he was in control and could handle things.”

“Yeah. Big mistake. He didn’t know he was dealing with a friggin’ wild cowboy.”

“We have to go see about where he mentioned, even though the whole thing smells like a trap.” He pointed south. “I have a car stored a few blocks over. Where is Salazar’s estate?”

“Kalundborg.”

THIRTEEN

K
ALUNDBORG
, D
ENMARK

11:00
P.M
.

S
ALAZAR WAS ENJOYING DINNER, THRILLED THAT
C
ASSIOPEIA
had, after all these years, returned to his life. Her calls a few months ago had been as welcome as they were unexpected. He’d missed her. She’d been his first love as a young man, the woman he’d come to believe might be his wife.

But sadly, their relationship ended.

“This is not going to work,” she said to him
.

“I love you. You know that.”

“And I have deep feelings for you, but we have … differences.”

“Faith should not keep us apart.”

“But it does,” she said. “You’re a true believer. The Book of Mormon is sacred for you. The Words of Wisdom are a guide for your life. I respect that. But you have to respect that they are not the same for me.”

“Our parents believed, as I do.”

“And I didn’t agree with them, either.”

“So you’re willing to ignore your heart?”

“Before I grow to resent you, I think it’s better that we part friends.”

She was right on one count. His faith was important.
No success can compensate for a failure in the home
. That’s what David O. McKay taught. Only husbands and wives, acting together, can achieve eternal
life in heaven. If either be proven unrighteous, both would be denied salvation. Marriage was an eternal bond—between a man and a woman—the family here a reflection of the family in heaven. Both had to be absolutely committed.

“I was so sorry to hear about your wife,” she said to him.

He’d married less than a year after he and Cassiopeia ended their relationship. A lovely woman from Madrid, born to the faith, devout in her following of the prophets. They’d tried to have children, but with no success, the doctors saying that the problem was most likely with her. He’d deemed it God’s will and accepted the prohibition. Then, four years ago, she was killed in a car accident. That, too, he’d accepted as God’s will. A sign, perhaps, for a change of direction. Now this vibrant, beautiful woman from his past had reappeared. Another sign?

“It had to be awful,” she said, and he appreciated her sentiment.

“I try to remember her carefully. The pain of her loss is still there. I can’t deny that. I suppose it’s why I have not sought another wife.” He hesitated a moment. “But I should be asking you this question. Did you ever marry?”

She shook her head. “Kind of sad, wouldn’t you say?”

He savored the cod he’d ordered and Cassiopeia seemed to like the Baltic shrimp that filled her plate. He noticed that she hadn’t ordered wine, preferring mineral water. Besides the clear religious prohibition, he’d always believed that alcohol made people say and do things they later regretted, so he’d never acquired the taste.

She looked terrific.

Her dark hair, twisted into curls, draped just below her shoulders and framed the same thin brows, brooding cheeks, and blunt nose he remembered. Her swarthy skin remained as smooth and unblemished as a bar of tan soap, her round neck sculpted like a column. The sensuality she projected was so calm and controlled, it might have been choreographed.

A true beauty from heaven.

“Love is that constant, never-failing quality that has the power to lift us above evil. It is the essence of the gospel. It is the security of the home. It is the safeguard of community life. It is a beacon of hope in a world of distress.”

That he knew.

He liked that the angel kept watch over him.

Never failing. Always right.

“What are you thinking?” Cassiopeia asked.

She drew his attention like a magnet.

“Just that it is truly wonderful to be back with you, if only for these few days.”

“Does it have to be limited to that?”

“Not at all. But I recall our last conversation from years ago, when you made clear how you felt about our faith. You have to know, nothing has changed for me.”

“But as I said earlier, things have changed … for me.”

He waited for her to explain.

“Recently, I did something I never did as a young girl.” She stared into his eyes. “I read the Book of Mormon. Every word. When I was done I realized that everything there was absolutely true.”