Newburgh conspiracy collapses. A month later the Treaty of Paris is signed and the eight-year War of Independence comes to an end. Washington resigns his commission and retires to Mount Vernon. The army disbands. Everybody goes home. End of story. You have a point, mate? Because this blouse is itchy.'
'What if old George's bit with the spectacles didn't work?' Conrad asked. 'It's really hard to believe it did if you think about it. What if this wasn't the birthplace of the republic? What if this was the birth of the empire and this group called the Alignment?'
'You're reaching, Conrad,' she said. 'You haven't even told me how you came up with Newburgh in the first place.'
'The number 763 on my father's tombstone. You know, the code you were going to give me if I helped you.'
Serena felt the intended sting of Conrad's remark. 'I thought the Tallmadge code you used on the Stargazer text translated 763 as 'Headquarters.' Washington had many headquarters throughout the Revolution.'
'But Tallmadge invented the code for Washington in 1783, when Washington was encamped here at Newburgh,' he said, looking about. Serena could tell he was oh, so close to putting his finger on it. 'This is where the paths of my family and Washington intersected. That's why Robert Yates stormed out of the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia six years later and then wrote a book called Secret Proceedings and Debates about the formation of the U.S. Constitution. Something happened here.'
Obviously something happened, Serena thought. Otherwise this historical state park wouldn't exist and we wouldn't be standing here dressed like fools.
'Just think about it, Serena,' he said. 'Washington delivered everything the Newburgh conspirators demanded. The soldiers got their pay. The oldest military hereditary society in the United States was formed with the Society of Cincinnati. Then the U.S. Constitution was ratified, establishing a strong national government and military.'
Which was all true, Serena realized.
According to her literature, Washington served as the first president general of the Society of Cincinnati from 1783 until his death in 1799. The Society was named after the Roman farmer-general Cincinnatus, who like Washington centuries later left his fields to lead his republic into battle. Its noble motto: 'He gave up everything to serve the republic.' These days Serena knew the Society of Cincinnati to be a decentralized and outstanding charitable organization, one that she had worked with on occasion. But she wondered if originally it had been something more. Perhaps the Alignment had forced Washington's hand into creating for them a new host so they would leave the Masons, much like the biblical account of the demon that Jesus cast out of a man and into a herd of pigs. By the time Washington died in 1799, the Alignment may well have abandoned the Society if they had succeeded, as Washington feared, in penetrating every level of the new federal government. Thus his warnings to future Americans.
Serena said, 'You think Washington cut some kind of deal with the military, something that's coming home to roost now.'
'In four days,' he said, staring at her with his warm, intense hazel eyes. 'But we won't know for sure until we find whatever Washington buried under the Mall in D.C.'
Serena gasped. He knows. 'What are you talking about?'
'We're looking for a celestial globe,' he told her. 'Just like the one in the Savage portrait. Washington buried it for his ultimate sleeper agent, Stargazer, to recover at the end of time. By some cosmic joke, it appears that I am Stargazer. And only when I find this celestial globe will I fulfill my mission.'
Suddenly it hit her. Not only did Conrad figure out what they were looking for, he knew where it was! How did he know?
'You know where the globe is buried?' she asked, thunderstruck.
'You had the answer in your hands all along. Do you have my letter from Washington? I thought I saw something in there,' he said playfully.
He was referring to the cleavage her blouse exposed. Embarrassed, she turned her back on him, retrieved the letter and handed it over.
'Father Neale told Bishop Carroll that he saw the slave Hercules leaving Washington's chamber just before Washington died on December 14, 1799.' He unfolded the letter with the map on back, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. 'But the letter itself is dated September 18, 1793. See? That's the date he buried the globe.'
Serena nodded anxiously, berating herself for having missed the discrepancy in dates. 'It's got some astrological significance, doesn't it?'
'Enough significance that Washington chose that date to lay the cornerstone for the U.S. Capitol-on the hill that Bishop John Carroll's brother Daniel sold him.'
With that everything came together, wholly and horribly.
'The globe is in the cornerstone of the U.S. Capitol,' she said.
Conrad nodded. 'And I'm going to steal it.'
An hour later they drove south out of the New York tristate area in separate cars, Conrad in McConnell's black Mercedes making a list of everything he'd need for his operation, Serena in her limo with Benito calling ahead to make sure the new safe house would be ready.
As Conrad and Serena headed toward their designated rendezvous in Washington, D.C., the man in the Redcoat costume was sitting in Horatio Gates's old headquarters at Edmonston House, calling a number in Virginia as he looked at a picture of Conrad Yeats he had torn from his fax machine the day before.
'This is Vailsgate,' he said. 'I need to get a message to Osiris.'
13
DRESSED IN A FRESH Armani suit that Serena had provided with his new cover, Conrad stood at the rail of the penthouse balcony and listened to the sounds of a summer jazz concert drifting up from the glowing fountains of the Navy Memorial plaza. He looked out at the lit-up dome of the U.S. Capitol, rising above the National Archives like a glowing moon.
It would have been a perfect evening, Conrad thought as he swirled his wine. If only Serena wasn't a nun and true romance between them hopeless. If only big Benito wasn't standing guard by the door.
'We should have more dates like this,' he told Serena as he walked back inside. 'Definitely a step up from the abbey.'
The penthouse atop the Market Square West Tower overlooked Pennsylvania Avenue, halfway between the White House and the U.S. Capitol. It once belonged to the late Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan of New York. Now it belonged to yet another one of Serena's mysterious patrons. This one was an architect whose firm had a hand in the construction of the new underground Capitol Visitors Center and who had provided them with blueprints of the Capitol Building dating back to William Thornton's original 1792 design for the building.
'This is crazy, Conrad.' Serena looked up from the pile of schematics spread across the large dining table. 'The U.S. Capitol has to be one of the most heavily guarded structures on the planet. You're never going to pull this off. You may not even come out alive.'
'I'll get the globe and whatever's inside it,' he told her calmly. 'All you have to do is get me inside the Capitol, and I think your friends at Abraxos have already done that.'
He tapped the special identification pin on his lapel, made for him courtesy of an executive at a company of ex-CIA types who handled covers for the agency and were now handling Conrad's cover pro bono for Serena.
'As one of 435 relatively anonymous members of Congress, I get to bypass security. So for tonight, let's pretend I'm a powerful lawmaker and you're my sweet little intern who is going to get me into a lot of trouble.'
