He threw her a smile. “I’m surprised you’re so cordial. I figured you’d be pissed right now.”
“So you authorized the illegal entry into the Billet files?”
“That wasn’t me. Joe, here, decided to go that route all on his own.”
She saw that the Treasury secretary wasn’t pleased to see his boss, so she decided to press the advantage. “You realize Treasury risked Cotton’s life. They might even have wanted him caught in the crossfire, to slow us down.”
“Oh, yeah. I get it. Friggin’ stupid. Which is why I’m here. The secretary and I are going to have a chat on that.” He tossed a glare across the table. “Just you and me. And then we’re going to talk about what the hell you’ve been doing in Europe these past ten days.”
Joe Levy said nothing. That was another thing about being at the top of the pyramid. Only heaven could argue with you.
“Luke and Cotton need to know what’s going on,” she said. “I was just about to make a call.”
She’d replaced her damaged cell phone with one of two backups she always kept on hand, this one stashed at her house.
“In a minute. First, we have to talk. That’s why I’m here instead of sleepin’.” Daniels faced the Treasury secretary and pointed a finger. “I asked you for a simple thing. Some information on a relatively obscure subject. Next thing I know you’re running an international investigation, outside the grid, risking assets who don’t even work for you. I’m going to want to know why. Are you going to have answers?”
“Of course, whatever you want.”
“Really? Whatever I want? The first question is going to be why you didn’t tell me the truth to start with.”
Levy said nothing.
“Mr. President,” Harriett said. “I thought Congress was dysfunctional, but this is right up there with their antics.”
“Now, that could be construed as downright insulting,” Danny said. “But I understand. This is your first foray into the intelligence business … from the executive branch’s side of the table. It’s a mite different here. We don’t have the luxury, as congressional committees do, of Monday-morning quarterbacking. We’re on the field, in play, as it happens, and we have to make this stuff up as we go.”
“A game plan is always preferred,” Stephanie added.
The president said, “Joe, go get your warrants. I have to talk to these two ladies alone.” He paused. “Then you and I’ll have that chat.”
The secretary left the room.
“He’s a businessman,” the president muttered, once the door closed. “Knows nothing about intelligence work.”
“But you do,” Stephanie said. “And you’re in charge.”
Only she could get away with pressing him that far. A while back, during another critical operation, they’d both discovered feelings for the other. One of those unexpected revelations that they’d wisely kept to themselves. The Daniels’ marriage was over, and had been for some time, existing only as a public illusion. No anger or bitterness lingered on anyone’s part, just a realization that once his second term ended, Danny Daniels would be single. Then things might change between them.
But not until.
“It is my fault,” he said. “But Cotton’s okay, right?”
She nodded. “Can’t say the same for the $20 million and the nine other men who died.”
“I’ve only been told in the last couple of hours that we knew Kim was going to make a move on that money. Joe decided to keep that tidbit to himself. You should have been advised as to all the risks.”
“Why weren’t we?” Harriett asked.
“Now, that’s the rub. I think Stephanie was right. It may actually have been deliberate on Joe’s part.”
The admission surprised her.
“What’s Kim after?” Stephanie asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s what Joe kept repeating,” Harriett said.
Stephanie pointed to the printed pages on the table. “Have you read The Patriot Threat?”
“Every word, and the author is no idiot.”
“He’s a convicted tax evader,” Harriett said.
“That he is. But some of what he says makes sense.”
The president reached inside his jacket and produced a dollar bill, which he laid on the table. “Look on the back.”
Stephanie flipped the bill over.
Lines appeared on the obverse of the Great Seal.
“I drew those,” the president said.
She studied the six-pointed star. “What’s the significance?”
“Check out the letters where the triangles form.”
She did.
A S O N M.
“It’s an anagram,” the president noted. “For the word Mason.”
“You’re not seriously thinking Freemasons are involved here,” Harriett said. “How many times have we heard that they’re secretly controlling this country. That’s utter nonsense.”
“I agree. But the word Mason is formed from the joining of those letters. That’s a fact. Which, coincidentally, also forms a six-pointed-star.”
“Or a Star of David,” Stephanie muttered.
“Heck of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“How would you have known to do this?” Stephanie asked.
“Those classified papers Paul Larks copied. They mention another dolla
r bill with lines on it. Larks talked of a bill like that to Kim and Howell.”
“And how do you know that?” she asked.
“Yesterday I read those classified papers Treasury is holding, the ones Larks copied. The NSA also provided me transcripts of conversations between Kim and Howell. Contrary to what Joe Levy thinks, I’m neither in the dark nor an idiot.”
But she was still puzzled. “What’s this about?”
“A few months ago I received a letter from a prominent Jewish organization. It dealt with a man named Haym Salomon. Do either of you know the name?”
Neither she nor Harriett did.
So he told them.
Salomon was born in Poland, but immigrated to New York in 1772. He was Jewish, highly educated in finance, fluent in several languages, and became a private banker, securities dealer, and member of a commodities exchange. By 1776 there were 3000 Jews living in the American colonies. Salomon was active in that community and fought for political equality. He became a patriot early on, supporting the Revolution, and was even arrested in 1778 as a spy by the British and sentenced to death. But he escaped New York to the rebel stronghold of Philadelphia, where he resumed his financial career.
The American Revolution was financed with no definable base. No regular taxation or public loans existed. No fiscal system had been created for collecting revenue, and the treasury, a mere pretense, stayed empty. Money was constantly needed for supplies, ammunition, food, clothing, medicine, and pay for soldiers. States were supposed to care for the troops they sent to fight, but that rarely happened. Members of the Continental Congress were short on money, too, their horses routinely turned away because livery stable keepers had gone unpaid. Continental currency was barely accepted anywhere, generally regarded as worthless. The lack of money was England’s best ally, many Loyalists arguing that the Revolution would fizzle once the colonists could no longer feed their army.
In 1781 Haym Salomon came to the attention of Robert Morris, the superintendent of finance for the fledging confederation of thirteen colonies. He was enlisted by Morris to broker bills of exchange for the upstart American government. That he did, but he also personally extended interest-free loans to many of the Founding Fathers and to army officers. He became the banker and paymaster for France, an essential American ally, and converted French bills of exchange into American currency, which financed French soldiers fighting in the Revolution. He likewise performed those same services for Holland and Spain, keeping the Spanish ambassador afloat after funds from Spain were thwarted by the British blockade. From 1781 to 1784 his name appeared nearly a hundred times in Robert Morris’ diary. Many entries simply read, I sent for Haym Salomon.