The Patriot Threat

“I looked into that other matter,” he said to her.

 

And she knew what he meant. Luke reported that Isabella Schaefer had told him about the Omnibus Appropriations Act, which forbid Treasury from using public money to redesign the $1 bill.

 

“She’s right,” he said. “It’s buried deep in the bill, but it’s there. We’ve redesigned every denomination, save the $1 bill. Edwin poked around and found out that the prohibition has been there for decades. Nobody knows why. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

 

That it did.

 

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he asked. “About what you found in Pittsburgh.”

 

“There was nothing there.”

 

He gave her a sly smile. “Is that Joe’s story, too, and you’re both stickin’ to it?”

 

Last night, after returning to DC, she and Levy had made a stop at Treasury. In the locked room where all the documents were assembled, together they’d shredded every page. Levy’s observation at the cemetery had made sense. The world was a different place from 1937. And what Andrew Mellon left could alter the balance of power across the globe. Too much was at stake. But she did offer, “Just know that, in the end, Mellon really was a patriot.”

 

“How about this,” he said. “Once I’m no longer your boss and retired to pasture, we’ll have a little chat on this subject. When it doesn’t matter if I know.”

 

She tossed him a smile. “I’ll look forward to that.”

 

*

 

Malone sat across the table from Luke and Isabella. He’d led them across H?jbro Plads to the Café Norden and his usual table on the second floor, against the window, with a view down to his bookshop.

 

“Last time I was here,” Luke said, “we were being chased by men with guns.” The younger man pointed a finger at him. “And you almost blew my head off.”

 

He grinned. “I thought it was a pretty good shot, myself. Right past your ear and into the bad guy.”

 

“I’d like to hear that story,” Isabella said.

 

“I’ll tell you on the way home. That way it’ll be my version instead of this old-timer’s.”

 

They’d all enjoyed a bowl of tomato bisque and he’d told them what happened across the Atlantic. Stephanie had called on a secure line before they left Croatia and explained the outcome.

 

“You goin’ to be okay?” Luke asked.

 

He had no regrets about killing Kim. Not that he reveled in pulling the trigger, but there were some people who just needed to die.

 

Kim Yong Jin was one of those.

 

“The world is a better place without that piece of crap,” he said.

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Luke said.

 

Interesting how the younger man had sensed his reluctance. Being here brought back thoughts of Cassiopeia. He could not deny that. They’d enjoyed many meals at this same table. But he could not think about that. Not now. Instead he allowed the last bits of energy to evaporate from his body. He’d lived off adrenaline the past forty-eight hours, sleeping little.

 

So he stood and said, “I’m going to let you two enjoy the rest of the evening. I think I’ll head back to the shop and go to bed.”

 

Luke did not press for an answer to his question, which he appreciated.

 

He’d booked two rooms at the Hotel d’Angleterre.

 

“The hotel is a few blocks that way.” He pointed toward the back of the restaurant. “Just follow this side street and you’ll see it. I’ll see you both in the morning, at breakfast there. Then I’ll drive you to the airport.”

 

“You take care, Pappy,” Luke said.

 

He noticed the softer tone, that of a friend, which he now considered Luke to be. He’d also noticed that Wonder Woman had become Isabella, which might mean something, too.

 

She stood and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I second that. Take care.”

 

Warmth laced her words and a smile illuminated her features. She wasn’t nearly the badass she wanted everyone to believe her to be.

 

He threw them both a smile, then descended the stairs back to ground level and left through the café’s main door. A welter of thoughts from the past month swirled through his mind. Interesting how he was so precise as an agent, executing his assignments with surgical precision, everything always handled and resolved.

 

Like here.

 

Nice and neat.

 

But not in his personal life.

 

That seemed to stay in chaos—a frustrating and relentless pattern of expectation, disappointment, then hope.

 

A familiar feeling of loneliness swept through him, one he’d grown accustomed to before meeting Cassiopeia, but one he’d been glad to see gone once he came to love her.

 

And he had loved her.

 

In fact, he still did.

 

All of that was over, though.

 

Now life went on.

 

 

 

 

 

WRITER’S NOTE

 

As usual, there was fieldwork associated with this novel. The cruise that Larks, Kim, Hana, Malone, and Isabella take across the Mediterranean and Adriatic Seas is one Elizabeth and I enjoyed. We visited all of the places the characters saw, including Venice and Croatia. We also made a trip to Hyde Park and the Franklin Roosevelt Library, along with three excursions to Washington, DC. A few years ago I explored the Little White House at Warm Springs.