The Inner Circle

“Not what. Who,” Nico says. “The strength was in the who. That’s why they saved us,” he explains. “Back during the Revolutionary War, the British were slaughtering us. Not just physically. Mentally too. War is mental.”

War’s not the only thing mental, I think to myself.

“If you know, please… why’re you not saying anything?” Clementine asks, looking just at me and making me realize just how unsettling-and unlikely-all these coincidences are to her.

“I don’t know,” I insist.

“You just said-”

“I’ve heard of them. I work in Old Military-of course I’ve heard of them-but all I know are the basics: They were George Washington’s private spy group. He personally put the group together.”

“You know why he brought them together,” Nico challenges. “Why are you so fearful to show your knowledge? Is it her? Or are you uncomfortable around me?”

I again stay silent. Clementine knows he’s the one I’m worried about. Indeed, my mind tracks back to the crazy Freemason/Founding Fathers conspiracy that caused Nico to shoot the President all those years ago. Nico was convinced Thomas Jefferson and the other Founders were trying to rule the world, and it was his job to save us.

The guy’s got a PhD in crackpot history, so the last thing I need is to add another gallon of crazy to his tank. The problem is, like before, the real last thing I need is to rile him for no reason. “Okay, just listen,” I say. “Back during the Revolution, George Washington was frustrated that our side couldn’t keep a secret-our plans kept getting intercepted by the British, since they knew who all our military spies were,” I continue, glancing back at the guard, who’s watching us, but seems satisfied all is under control. “And that’s when Washington decided to stop relying on the military, and instead put together this group of regular civilians…”

“That’s the key part,” Nico says. “The Culper Ring weren’t soldiers. They were normal people-a group no one could possibly know-even Washington didn’t know their names. That way they could never be infiltrated-no one, not even the commander in chief, knew who was in it. But this Ring-they were regular people,” he adds, standing over me as his chocolate eyes drill into mine. “Just… just like us.”

I scootch back on the bench, still wondering whether he’s being extra crazy because of me, or he’s just permanently extra crazy. Next to me, Clementine’s just as worried. She’s done asking questions.

“So these guys in the Culper Ring,” I say to Nico, “I still don’t understand what they have to do with Entick’s Dictionary.”

“Ask yourself,” Nico says, pointing to me.

“Okay, this is just silly now,” I shoot back. “I have no idea what the Culper Ring did with a dictionary.”

“You know,” Nico says. “Deep down, you should know.”

“How could I possibly-? What the hell is going on?”

“Nico, please… he’s telling the truth-he doesn’t know what the book is for-we don’t have a clue,” Clementine says, locking eyes with her father. When Nico stares back, most people can’t help but look away. She stays with him.

To Nico, it matters. Her glance is as mesmerizing as his own. He nods to himself slowly, then faster.

“The book-the dictionary-that’s how George Washington communicated with his Culper Ring,” he finally says.

“Communicated how?” I ask. “There’s nothing in the dictionary but empty pages.”

Nico studies the guard, but not for long. “You can’t see the wind, but we know it’s there. Just like God. We know it’s there. We feel it. Not everything can be seen so easily.”

I flip the dictionary open and the only thing there is the handwritten inscription.

Exitus

Acta

Probat

The other pages-the few that haven’t been torn out…“Everything’s blank,” I say.

“Of course they’re blank,” Nico replies, his chest rising and falling even faster. He doesn’t care about the guard anymore. “This is George Washington you’re trying to outsmart,” he adds, now eyeing the dictionary. “He knew they’d be looking for it. That’s why he always wrote it with his medicine.”

“Medicine?”

“That was his code name for it,” Nico says. “That’s what he called his invisible ink.”

32

'You don’t believe me,” Nico says, fine-tuning his gaze at me. “Of course you’d think like that.”

“What’re you talking about?” I ask. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re wrong. You’re very wrong!” he growls, his chest pumping like wild.

“You got three minutes!” the guard calls out behind us, just to make sure we know he’s watching. “Make them count.”

Nico psssts at the two tuxedo cats, who continue to ignore him.

Clementine knows I’m not going anywhere. Not now. She stands there, still facing us. But she won’t come closer. She’s heard enough. She wants to go.

“Tell me,” Nico says excitedly, sitting on his own hands as he returns to the bench. “When you found that book… for you to bring it here. You of all people…”

“Why do you keep saying that?” I scold.

“Benjy!” Clementine pleads.

“Benjy?” Nico asks, scanning my ID that hangs around my neck. “Is that your name?”

“My name’s Beecher.”

His eyes recheck my ID, which lists my full name in impossibly small type. He has no problem reading it. White, Beecher Benjamin. He starts to laugh. A strong, breathy laugh through his gritted teeth. “It couldn’t be more perfect, could it?”

He’s no longer excited; now he’s absolutely giddy.

“Yesyesyes. This is it, isn’t it?” he asks, his head turned fully to the left. Like he’s talking to someone who’s not there. “This is the proof…”

“Nico…” I say.

“… this proves it, right? Now we can…”

“Nico, if you need help, I can get help for you.”

“You are,” he snaps. “You’re helping me. Can you not see that? To follow her here… to come see me… every life… all our lives are lived for a reason.”

“Nico, you said it’s a test for me,” I say. “Tell me why it’s a test for me.”

Across from us, a gray tabby cat leaps up, landing delicately on the edge of an outdoor metal garbage can. There’s not a single sound from the impact.

Nico still flinches.

“That’s it, Nico! Time’s up!” the guard shouts, quickly approaching. “Say goodbye…”

“How do you know this book?” I challenge. “What the heck is going on?”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Nico replies, calmer than ever and still sitting on his hands. “I don’t know who’s using that dictionary, or what they have planned. But for you to be the one who found it… such a man of books… and the name Benjamin… like your predecessor-”

“Wait. My predecessor? Who’s my predecessor?”

Nico pauses, again turning to his left. His lips don’t move, but I see him nodding. I don’t know who his imaginary friend is, but I know when someone’s asking permission.