The Lincoln Myth (7 page)

Lincoln publicly called the proclamation a “war measure,” but privately admitted that it was useless. After all, the Constitution itself sanctioned slavery. Article I, Section 2, specifically designated that slaves would be counted as
three-fifths
of a person on issues of congressional representation and taxes. Article IV, Section 2, required that fugitive slaves in free states be returned to their masters. Many of the delegates to the Constitutional Convention had owned slaves—so no surprise that not a single word was included that jeopardized those rights
.

At the time, the South was winning the Civil War. So the only practical effect the proclamation could have had was to inspire a slave uprising—a rebellion from within that could have crippled the enemy. Revolt was certainly a concern, as most able-bodied Southerners were away fighting in the army, their farms and plantations supervised by the elderly or their wives
.

But no uprising occurred
.

Instead the effect of the proclamation was felt primarily in the North
.

And not in a good way
.

Most Northerners were shocked by the stunt. Few connected the war with the abolition of slavery. White Northerners, by and large, despised Africans, their Black Codes offering nothing in the way of equality for the freed slaves already living there. Discrimination was deeply institutionalized. Northern newspapers strongly opposed the end of slavery. And after Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, violence toward Northern blacks radically increased
.

As did desertions
.

Nearly 200,000 fled the Union army. Another 12,000 avoided the draft. 90,000 escaped to Canada. Enlistment rates plummeted. War bonds went unsold
.

For the North, the fight was not about slavery
.

“What are you saying?” Stephanie asked.

“Abraham Lincoln was no emancipator,” Davis said. “He barely spoke of slavery before 1854. Actually, he was publicly opposed to political or social equality for the races. He favored the Fugitive Slave Act, which allowed owners to reclaim their property within free states. Never once, as a lawyer, did he defend a runaway slave.
But he did defend a slave owner. He liked colonization, returning freed slaves to Africa, Haiti, British Guiana, the Dutch West Indies. Anywhere but the United States. His administration tried hard to develop a workable plan for the deportation after the war. But there were over four million slaves in America then. Returning them was not a financial or logistical possibility.”

She was not unfamiliar with Lincoln. He’d long become the talk of myths, stories, and legends made popular by countless books, movies, and television shows.

“Lincoln made himself clear in his inaugural address,” Davis said. “He told the country that he would not interfere with the right to own a slave in the Southern states. Period. End of story. What he opposed was the
spread
of slavery into new territories.”

“I never realized you were such a Lincoln authority.”

“I’m not. But reality is reality. The Civil War was not fought over slavery. How could it have been? The Constitution itself sanctioned the practice. Which the Supreme Court, in the 1857
Dred Scott
decision, recognized as legal. No amendment to the Constitution was ever voted on to change that until the Thirteenth Amendment,
after
the war was over. So how could we fight a war to end something that our Constitution specifically allowed?”

A good question.

“But Lincoln, God bless him,” Davis said, “did face some tough calls. Ones no other president had ever faced. He was literally looking at the end of the country. Europe was watching, ready to pounce and pick our carcass clean. He had a desperate situation. Which is the reason we’re talking right now.”

She waited.

“Secession.”

“As in a state leaving the Union?”

Davis nodded. “That’s what the Civil War was about. The Southern states said they were fed up and had the right to leave the Union. Lincoln said they didn’t—the Union was forever and could not be dissolved. Six hundred thousand people died to settle that debate.”

She knew a little about this subject, too, as constitutional law was her passion.

“The Supreme court settled that debate in 1869,” she said.
“Texas v. White
. The court held that secession was not allowed. The union was unbreakable and forever.”

“What else could the court say? The war was over, so many dead, the South in ruins. The country was trying to rebuild. And some black-robed, Northern turkey buzzards were going to rule the whole thing unconstitutional? I don’t think so.”

“I didn’t realize you held judges in such contempt.”

He smiled. “Federal judges are a pain in the ass. Appoint anyone for life, and you’re going to have a problem. The Supreme Court in 1869 had no choice but to rule that way.”

“And we do?”

“Here’s the thing, Stephanie. What if Lincoln and the Supreme Court were both wrong?”

EIGHT

M
ALONE UNLOCKED THE FRONT DOOR TO HIS BOOKSHOP AND
led Luke Daniels and Barry Kirk inside. Højbro Plads was busy, but not like in summer when sunset came late and the square stayed packed until midnight. Then he remained open to at least 10:00
P.M
. This time of year he closed at 6:00.

He switched on the lights and relocked the door.

“This is cool,” Luke said. “Got that Hogwarts feel to it. And the smell. Seems every old-book shop has that same aroma.”

“It’s called the scent of knowledge.”

Luke pointed a finger at him. “Is that bookstore owner humor? I bet you guys get together and trade jokes like that. Right?”

Malone tossed his keys on the front counter and faced Barry Kirk. “I’m told you may know where our missing man is.”

Kirk stayed silent.

“I’m only going to ask nice one more time.”

“I second that,” Luke said. “Tell us what you know, now.”

“Salazar has your agent.”

“Who’s Salazar?” Malone asked.

“He’s the center of all this,” Luke said. “A Spaniard. Nasty rich. His family’s concern is cranes. Like the ones you see at construction
sites, up the sides of buildings. His father started the business after World War II.”

“I became one of Senor Salazar’s personal assistants five years ago. But I came to see that there was a problem with him. My employer is Mormon.”

“And how is that a problem?” Malone asked.

“He is an elder, a senior member of the First Quorum of Seventy, perhaps destined to be named an apostle of the church.”

“That’s real high up on the pole,” Luke said.

“I’m familiar with the Latter-day Saints.” Malone stared at Kirk. “What’s the
problem
with Salazar?”

“He’s involved with some nefarious dealings. I turned a blind eye to them … until recently, when I believe he killed someone.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I don’t, not for sure. But he’s been trying to obtain a 19th-century diary. Senor Salazar is an avid collector of Mormon history. The book’s owner refused to sell. This was … a point of frustration. Then the diary was obtained, and I learned that its owner was found dead.”

“And how does that connect to Salazar?” Malone asked.

“Somewhat coincidental, wouldn’t you say?”

He glanced at Luke, hoping for more. “Can you fill in the gaps?”

“Wish I could. We were tasked with a simple background check on Salazar. That’s all, facts and figures. We had an agent on the ground working that for the past few months. Kirk, here, made contact with him. Then, three days ago, that agent disappeared. I was sent to find him. This afternoon I had a run-in with some of Salazar’s men, so I stole one of his planes.”

“He has more than one?”

“He’s got a friggin’ air force. Like I said,
nasty rich
.”

“Your agent talked with me,” Kirk said. “He was going to get me to safety. But when I learned Senor Salazar had taken him, I panicked and ran. He gave me a contact number, which I called. I was told to go to Sweden, but Salazar’s men followed.”

“Your employer has
men
?” Malone asked.

“Danites.”

That was a word he hadn’t expected, but one he knew.

He stepped over to the aisle marked
RELIGION
and searched for the book he hoped was still there. He’d bought it a few weeks ago from an odd lady who’d dragged in several cartons.

And yes—it remained on the top shelf.

Kingdom of the Saints
.

Published in the mid-20th century.

The term
Danites
had triggered something in his eidetic memory. It didn’t take much.
Photographic
was too simplistic a description for the genetic trait, and not altogether right. More a knack for details. A pain in the ass that could, sometimes, be helpful.

He checked the index and found the reference to a sermon delivered June 17, 1838, by Sidney Rigdon, one of Joseph Smith’s early converts.

“Ye are the salt of the earth but if the salt hath lost its savor, wherewith shall the earth be salted? It is henceforth good for nothing but to be cast out and trodden underfoot of man. We have provided the world with kindness, we have suffered their abuse without cause, with patience, and have endured without resentment, until this day, and still their persecution and violence does not cease. But from this day and this hour we will suffer it no more.”

Rigdon directed his comments to other apostates who he believed had betrayed the rest, but he also was referring to gentiles who’d repeatedly meted out death and violence toward Latter-day Saints. One new convert, Sampson Avard, a man described as “cunning, resourceful, and extremely ambitious” played upon the feeling aroused by what came to be called the Salt Sermon. He formed a secret military organization within the ranks known as the Sons of Dan, taken from a passage in Genesis,
Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horse’s heels so that his rider shall fall backward
. The Danites were to enlist the youngest, the rashest, and the most vigorous as an elite corps, which served secretly. They acted not as a group, but as individuals who could be called upon to effect swift and immediate revenge for any acts of violence practiced against the Saints.

He glanced up from the book. “Danites were fanatics. Radicals within the early Mormon church. But they disappeared long ago.”

Kirk shook his head. “Senor Salazar fancies himself living in another time. He is an obsessive believer in Joseph Smith. He follows the old ways.”

Malone knew about Smith and his visions of the angel Moroni, who supposedly led him to golden plates, which Smith translated and used to form a new religion—first called the Church of Christ, now known as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“Senor Salazar is intelligent,” Kirk said. “Possessed of an advanced degree from the Universidad de Barcelona.”

“Yet he follows a man who claims he found golden plates upon which was engraved a foreign language. Nobody, save for Smith and a few witnesses, ever saw those plates. If I recall, some of those witnesses even later repudiated their testimony. But Smith was still able to translate the plates by reading the words on a seer stone dropped in the bottom of a hat.”

“Is that similar to the belief that a man was crucified, died, and rose from the dead three days later? Both are matters of faith.”

Malone wanted to know, “Are you Mormon?”

“Third generation.”

“It means something to you?”

“Since I was a boy.”

“And to Salazar?”

“It’s his life.”

“You took a chance running.”

“I prayed upon it, and was told it was the right thing to do.”

Personally, he’d never been a fan of blindly placing his life in the hands of faith. But this was not the time to debate religion. “Where is our man?”

“Your agent is being held outside Kalundborg,” Kirk said. “On a property owned by Senor Salazar. Not his main estate, but an adjacent
tract, directly east. There is a holding cell located in the basement.”

“And in the main house,” Luke said, “does he keep information there?”

Kirk nodded. “His study is his sanctuary. No one is allowed in there without permission.”

Malone stood near the counter, gazing out the front window to the darkened square. Twelve years he’d worked as a field agent for the Justice Department, honing skills that would never leave him. One was to always be aware of what was around him. To this day he never ate in a restaurant with his back to the door. Through the plate glass, a hundred feet beyond his shop, he spotted two men. Both young, dressed in dark jackets and black trousers. They’d been standing in the same spot for the past few minutes, unlike nearly everyone else around them. He’d tried not to stare, but had kept watch.

Luke walked toward the counter, his back to the window. “You see them, too?”