Dane scratched his chin, then peered more closely at one of the maps. “Bones, I may be wrong, but this one looks different.”
He reached for a map that was thinner and more yellow than the others. He applied a delicate touch and felt something sturdier than either the book cover or the other map Bones had tried to get. Very slowly, he slid it out, holding his breath as he did.
“Bones, the texture of this feels exactly like Bache’s letter.”
“Just like I said, they must have used some sort of preservative. Don’t keep us in suspense; open it up.”
Dane unfolded it, again moving with great care. It was more like a short book or pamphlet than the typical folded style of modern maps. Bones watched over his shoulder. “Dude, it’s a map of Paris.”
Dane had noticed. He’d chosen to ignore that fact when he spotted the corner of another piece of paper peeking out from the last page. He opened to that spot, and his eye went immediately to the signature on the bottom.
Benjamin Franklin.
Neither man said a word as they read.
I do not know what sort of man is reading this document, but I do know one thing: I am no longer among the living. I hope that you are both a scholar and a moral man, but I must rely on others to place it in a location where that might happen. Perhaps I should have destroyed all traces, but evil flourishes where powerful men hide their actions. I am guilty of hiding this, but I trust that it will be found when the time is right.
On the eve of September 16, 1787, seven of us met in secret. The Constitution was about to be signed, but three men refused. Madison invited Randolph and Gerry and Mason to make them an offer that might gain their assent. He asked Hamilton and myself to join him in persuading them of his serious intent.
We reached an agreement and signed it. We called for the printer. But early the next day, I learned that the agreement had been abandoned. I never learned whether or not Madison had always intended this or if circumstances overtook him. It is of little matter.
What is of more import is that I did not destroy my copy of the agreement as Madison requested. Future generations deserve to know what we were considering. I suspect Randolph preserved his copy as well, although I have no specific knowledge of it.
It is either the arrogance or caution of age, but I feel I must add one more hurdle to the discovery of our agreement. I have hidden other clues elsewhere which when combined with the one I give here will provide the key to its location. The clue I give here is this: five hundred copies of the Constitution were printed by Dunlap and Claypoole. Not much of a clue, I confess. But if you find the others, it will be clear eventually. More than just my death must occur before any of these clues will help.
Our agreement was a dangerous one. I fear that if it is found by the wrong person or at the wrong time, it could provide a basis for destructive action. We who signed felt that our agreement was intended solely as a final recourse in the most exceptional circumstances. Even Gerry and Mason did not want the kind of anti-Federalism it could unleash if abused. Use it for illumination. Those who would use it to rend the Union shall be branded as traitors to all who hold dear the ideals of our revolution.
Benjamin Franklin
“Whoa.” Bones breathed.
Dane couldn’t get his mind around this. A secret agreement literally on the eve of the signing of the Constitution. One that could rend the Union. What could they possibly have done?
“Bones, this is big.”
“Bigger than what we learned about George Washington?”
“Maybe not more interesting than that, but it certainly could have a bigger impact in the here and now. It sounds like we need to find more clues before we’ll know.”
Bones’ eyes lit up. “Wait. Maybe we don’t.”
“What do you mean? What kind of clue is the number of copies of the Constitution by itself?”
“What I mean is, we already found the other clue. Remember in the warehouse?”
“The warehouse? Yes, the paper said… holy crap, ‘Seek the Creator of the Five Hundred.’”
“Bingo. They’re talking about the Constitution.”
“The creator of the Constitution could be one of several guys. Madison is the guy who usually gets the most credit.”
Bones shook his head. “You’re not thinking literally enough. What we need to seek is the printer of the Constitution. Dunlap or Claypoole.”
“Bones, that’s genius!”
“Genius is my middle name. The only downside is that both those guys are long dead. I smell some more research in our future.”
“After spending so much time underground and getting shot at in snowstorms, I think I’m okay with more research.”
“Don’t forget making deals with the mob.”
“We didn’t—”
They whirled as the door creaked on its hinges. A figure appeared in the doorway, a large pistol in his right hand and his face illuminated by the beam of Dane’s light. Dane had retained a nagging doubt about Bones’ claim of who he had seen in Hamiltonban, but those doubts evaporated as he saw the man with his own eyes.
“O’Meara.”
“You’re quite a useful man, Maddock. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve found here?”
Dane had instinctively let the map drop to his side when he’d spun around, and now he allowed his hand to drift back to the shelf behind him. He prayed that O’Meara wouldn’t notice the movement. He also could feel the tension emanating from Bones, and he worried that his fellow SEAL was about to try something stupid.
Bones’ voice was light. “Hey what about me? Maddock wouldn’t be nearly as useful without me. Are you prejudiced or something?”
O’Meara barked something that could have been a laugh. “Uriah Bonebrake. Sure, you’re useful too. Feel better now?”
“Yep. Nice to be invited to the big kids’ table.”
O’Meara took a few steps closer and Dane suddenly had doubts about the man’s identity.
“Who are you? You look a lot like a dirty cop we met back in Boston.”
“Dirty? My brother was a true patriot, and that takes precedence over anything else.”
“But now he’s just a bug squished under our boot,” Bones said.
O’Meara’s gun hand twitched and, for a moment, Dane feared Bones had gone too far too quickly, but the man visibly relaxed.
“We’ll settle that score later. So, what have you found?” O’Meara waved the gun. “I’d prefer not to kill you quite yet, but I don’t feel that strongly about it.”
Whether intentionally or not, Bones had provided the cover for Dane to slide the map next to a book on one of the shelves. He had to assume it looked out of place and would be easy to spot, but at least it was better than having it in his hands. Now he sighed. “This is the original Library of Congress.”
O’Meara did a double take and spoke almost to himself. “The original… of course, that makes sense. There was already talk about the need for it when Franklin died, so he must have arranged for his copy to be put in here.”
Dane broke in. “Franklin’s copy of what?”
O’Meara regained Dane’s eye. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Bones said, “Maddock, I think he means the secret agreement between Franklin and Randolph and several others the night before the Constitution was signed. They already have Randolph’s copy from Hamiltonban.”
O’Meara shined his light directly into Bones’ eyes, but Bones didn’t flinch from the glare. “So you have concerned yourself with it. That’s unfortunate for you.”