“So where is the missing guy?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps you can use your vast array of police connections to see if the police got him.”
O’Meara dug the heels of his hands into his eyes; when he removed them, the old woman still stood in front of him with an inscrutable expression. “Perhaps. This whole thing just looked a lot more promising when we had a live person to tell us how he got the medallion.”
“We may still if we can find Octavius. In the meantime, we need to go check out the Marshall connection. This is all consistent. Someone takes the body and keeps the possessions in the family for generations. Even after one generation, families get attached to things. Eventually, someone needs the money and sells something. If there are clues to be had, they will be in Gettysburg.”
O’Meara said, “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll go myself this time.”
She nodded. “I was expecting that you’d say that. I will join you.”
He regarded her for a moment, taking in the frail figure.
“Believe me, O’Meara, appearances can be deceiving.”
He decided not to say anything. After the professionals and the younger Sons had completely botched the last few tasks, he wasn’t going to suggest she would do worse. He hoped she could keep up with him if they had to move quickly, but then he considered his leg. He might just be the one who had trouble keeping up.
“Do we drive or fly?”
“Fly, of course. I have no desire to rattle around inside a car in the dead of winter for three hours. The forecast is clear for the next three days. Bring two men you can trust and meet me at the airport at six o’clock tonight. I’ve arranged for hotel rooms and two rental cars with all-wheel drive. We’ll head out at first light and split up to look at the first two properties separately. If nothing pans out, we’ll check out the third together.”
Right, thought O’Meara. What are the odds you’ll tell me if you find something?
He said, “Sounds like you’ve got the full court press on. You must really think this is it.”
She moved closer, closer than he could ever remember her getting since they first shook hands several weeks ago. He could see her face now, wrinkles everywhere. Somehow even with that and the wisp of white hair snaking out of the hood, the energy of the woman suggested she wasn’t as old as she appeared.
“O’Meara, I know this is it. I can feel it in my bones.”
He blinked from the intensity of it and tried to regain his equilibrium. “You really think the document is enough to change things?”
“You’ve been looking for it most of your adult life. What do you think?”
He shook his head. “Not by itself, no. But it will be disruptive, which will open the door for other things. People would be shocked to learn how many of the founders knew that America wasn’t simply going to cruise along with its new Constitution. Forget about the Civil War, they knew we’d have to have another revolution. If we find even half the things we’ve got leads on—”
She held up a hand.
“One thing at a time, O’Meara. We’ve got one lead to focus on now. Tomorrow’s work lies in Hamiltonban.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Tell me again why we’re freezing in central Pennsylvania when we could be sitting in front of the fireplace at the hotel?” Bones rubbed his hands together to keep them warm, then put them over his mouth and breathed. He and Dane had woken at five in the morning, hopped in the Mustang, and driven nearly three hours west to Gettysburg. With temperatures dipping below twenty overnight, Dane had for once not needed to convince Bones to keep the top up. They were stopped at a gas station just outside of town.
“We’re trying to find the people who have been shooting at us?”
“I mean besides that.”
“You sure you can handle the truth?”
“Maddock, was that supposed to be a Jack Nicholson impression?”
Dane ignored him. “You said it yourself a couple days ago. The truth is, we can’t let go of a mystery once we’re on the trail. Neither one of us.”
“Whatever. Just tell me what we’re going to do now that we’re here.”
“It was your idea. We’re going to head for the VFW. Find some retired Navy guys. See if there’s anyone from Hamiltonban or at least Fairfield. Ask about the Marshall family.”
Bones considered the plan. “I liked the idea when I came up with it, but I think not all guys of the generation you’re bound to find at the VFW on a weekday morning will want to talk to a redskin like me.”
Dane shrugged. “We’ll deal with that when and if it happens.”
After leaving the pawn shop, they had reached the library before it closed. It took them less than an hour looking through books on Scottish Coats of Arms to find a match for the logo on the envelope. The logo was for the Randolph family. Given the references they found in the warehouse to “Randolph’s copy” and Ben Franklin, they tentatively associated it with Edmund Randolph, one of three delegates who refused to sign the final Constitution. This envelope might be a clue to whatever document “Randolph’s copy” referred to.
They also discovered that Hamiltonban was a town just west of Gettysburg, part of the larger town of Fairfield. That left them with a lot of clues and no way to make sense of them. So they called up Jimmy Letson and this time he answered. He was able to run a search that tied a descendant of Edmund Randolph named Hawthorne to a family named Marshall in Hamiltonban.
The connection was pretty weak — just a single letter of correspondence which had only managed to survive because it contained three one-cent Ben Franklin stamps from the post-civil war era. Letson had found it by cross-referencing Edmund Randolph with Hamiltonban and discovering an image uploaded to the internet by a collector six months earlier. According to Letson, it wasn’t the kind of connection a normal search would have turned up, but the former Navy man claimed to have access to more powerful tools.
The letter itself suggested some sort of conflict between the two men, with Hawthorne wanting to “take possession of my father’s effects.” But Letson found no evidence of follow-up or further correspondence. That didn’t mean none happened, of course. So the Marshall family in Hamiltonban was the best lead they had at this point.
They arrived at the VFW and headed inside. The air smelled of cigars as they made their way into a sitting area occupied by a number of old men, some in uniform and some not. Dane and Bones had chosen to just wear fatigues, figuring any sort of more formal uniform might seem too direct an attempt to gain favor.
A voice emanated from within the group of men; Dane couldn’t tell which. “Howdy boys.”
Dane looked in the general direction of the voice. “Hello to you, too.”
A different voice said, “I’m guessing you didn’t just stop by for the company.”
Chuckles and a guffaw followed this observation. The man who had spoken sat in a wheelchair, hands resting on the arms. He had to be at least eighty years old, most of his body wasting away. His face was still lively, round beneath half-inch long white hair. He wasn’t in uniform, but Dane got the sense that he was a marine.
Bones must have agreed because he said, “Semper Fi.”
The man smiled. “And you men must be squids. Maybe SEALs. There’s something about the cut of your jib.”
“Guilty as charged,” Dane said, “though we’re still in training.”
“You’re always in training, boy, don’t ever forget that. Now, what can we do for you?”
Dane met the man’s eyes. “Well first we should introduce ourselves. I’m Dane Maddock and my friend here is Uriah Bonebrake.”