Cathy agreed to meet Sam and myself during her lunch hour the next day. We took her to a coffee shop near her office where we ordered soup and toasted sandwiches. She was a friendly, cheerful woman dressed in a colourful sweater and jeans. The think tank she worked for leaned towards the liberal, and apparently a dress code wasn’t one of their priorities. She seemed genuinely pleased to see us. She didn’t even ask how we’d tracked her down.
‘Did you grow up in Pennsylvania?’ I asked as we were taking our seats.
‘No. I don’t think there have been Bests in Pennsylvania for the best part of a hundred years now – not my branch of the family, anyhow. Unlike the van Eycks we were a pretty small clan, and we just drifted away over the years. I grew up right here in the DC area, and apart from four years of college at Northwestern, I’ve always lived here.’
‘But you know the story about the van Eycks?’
‘Sure. I heard all about Jacob from my parents, and now I’ve been following the case in the news, of course.’
‘That must be interesting for you, given your background with the family history,’ I said.
‘Not only that,’ she replied. ‘It’s interesting from a professional point of view.’
‘Oh?’
‘Kiah, I’m an economic forecaster. Want to hear my forecast for the economy if the government has to pay out an unfunded 670 billion dollars?’
It was said with a straight face and there was an awkward moment, just as the sandwiches arrived. Sam and I caught each other’s looks.
‘Cathy, we’ve tried to make it clear,’ I began wearily. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d had to explain the family’s position and I was getting tired of it. ‘We’re not out to collect the compound interest calculation. We’re –’
She laughed and waved me away, a quick drop of the hand from sandwich to table.
‘I know, I know. You don’t have to explain. I’m just kidding. I get it, and I’m on your side, believe me. If you guys can prove that Jacob van Eyck loaned all that money, of course his family should get something back. I know you’re not out to bankrupt the government.’
‘It’s really important to me that you understand that,’ Sam said.
‘I do. Look, everyone in our family would support the van Eycks over this.’
Gratefully, we all took another bite of our sandwiches.
‘What got me all riled up,’ Cathy continued, ‘is how that stupid woman Mary Jane whatever-her-name-is went after Sam about that movie. I couldn’t believe her.’ She touched Sam’s hand. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through all that you-know-what, and I thought you handled it really well.’
‘Thanks,’ Sam replied.
‘So, not that I’m not enjoying our lunch, but what brings you to see me? On the phone you said there might be some information I could give you. I don’t know what it could be, but if I can help, fire away.’
I put what was left of my sandwich down.
‘Cathy, from what we understand, your family – the Bests – and the van Eycks were close at one time. You understand, we’re going back to the period just after the War of Independence, very late eighteenth century to early nineteenth?’
‘Yes, absolutely. That’s what I was always told. Grandfather Abe and Jacob van Eyck were good friends.’
‘And they were both Freemasons?’
She laughed out loud. ‘Is the Pope Catholic? All the men in my family are Masons going back to the dawn of time. It’s a family obsession. They were back in Grandfather Abe’s day and it’s the same today. My two brothers are Masons. They live in California. And all the men talk non-stop about Grandfather Abe. You know why, of course?’
She was looking at Sam. Sam smiled.
‘I’m not sure I do. Why?’
‘Because, if you were a Mason in Pennsylvania in Grandfather Abe’s day, that meant that you knew George Washington, or Benjamin Franklin, or both. That’s why the family talks about Grandfather Abe so much. He’s our family link to Washington, our one claim to fame. No one actually knows whether he ever met George Washington, but if he was a Mason, the argument goes, he must have – even though Washington moved away after the war and became Grand Master in Virginia, so who really knows? But why spoil a good story?’
I nodded. ‘We understand that the Bests lived in Merion Township at that time, even though, as you say, the family moved on eventually?’
‘Yes. That was our home during the war, for sure. It’s a sore point, as a matter of fact. We had to retreat into Merion Township. We had some other properties, a bit farther out into the countryside beyond Valley Forge, but the British took them over and used them to store munitions. They appropriated them and made the family move out. Eventually, General Washington took the property back for us, but I heard it was a real mess, the way they left it, and of course they never paid a red cent by way of compensation.’
‘Did you ever hear any talk about Grandfather Abe being in any way involved in helping Jacob van Eyck to try to get his loans repaid? This would be during the time the family was living in Merion Township.’
She stared out of the window and thought for some time.
‘No. Not that I recall. Helping him in what way?’
I saw Sam shake her head at me. I also had the feeling this was going nowhere. If so, we couldn’t afford to waste any more time. We needed to get back to the office and move on to the next most likely Best family contact. As a parting shot, I decided to ask her point blank.
‘Cathy, we have evidence that Jacob entrusted someone – we don’t know who yet – with a number of documents in connection with the loan, and that whoever it was took those documents to the Treasury to try to make them pay Jacob what he was due. This would be in 1811, or thereabouts. Does that ring any kind of bell at all? Did you ever hear anything about that?’
‘No,’ she replied.
‘Do you remember talk about anyone inheriting any of Grandfather Abe’s papers after his death, or do you know anyone in your family who could have any documents from his day?’
To my surprise, she laughed.
‘You’re not from a masonic family, are you?’
‘No, I’m not,’ I admitted.
‘If you were, you would know that you don’t inherit masonic documents. The regalia and books, maybe sometimes, even though strictly you’re not supposed to. But documents? Not if they have any real masonic significance. Not if they had to do with help you were giving to a fellow Mason.’
‘So, what would happen to documents of that kind?’ Sam asked.
‘You would have a storage box at the Lodge,’ Cathy replied. ‘You’d leave them there, for as long as you needed to.’
I felt my heart start to beat a bit faster.
‘Cathy, do you know whether Grandfather Abe had a box?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know for sure,’ she replied, ‘but it’s a pretty safe bet that he would have. It’s an open secret. All the men in my family talked about their storage boxes, and I don’t know of any reason why Grandfather Abe would have been any different.’
‘Even if he did,’ Sam said quietly, ‘I’m sure his heirs would have cleared it out after his death.’
Cathy shook her head.
‘No. That’s not how it would work. They may have checked the box for family papers, a will, for example, but I doubt they would clear it out,’ she replied, ‘certainly not if it contained masonic materials. For one thing, that would require the consent of the Grand Master. Today, it wouldn’t be a problem, but in Abe’s day they liked to keep their masonic papers in-house, and the Grand Master’s word was law.’
She paused for a moment or two.
‘In any case, if the family had discovered any documents about the van Eyck loans, someone would have said something. Our family would have had no interest in keeping them, and any Mason would want to help his Brother. They wouldn’t have kept quiet about it. They would have told Jacob’s family and handed over the documents to them.’
‘Cathy,’ I asked, ‘am I understanding you correctly? Are you saying that if Grandfather Abe had papers like that stashed away at the Lodge, it’s possible that they’re still there?’
‘That’s what I’d expect,’ she replied simply. ‘The building they have today isn’t the original Lodge, obviously. I mean, the original was in a tavern that no longer even exists.’
‘That’s right, I said. ‘The Lodge now is the Masonic Temple, which is late nineteenth century.’
‘Right. What I’m saying is, I’m not sure how many times they’ve moved, and every time they move there’s a risk that something might get lost. But yes, unless someone realised that the documents might be needed for something like your case, they might be left to lie there pretty much for ever.’
She smiled at each of us in turn.
‘So, that’s where I’d look if I were you.’
‘They won’t let us inside to look,’ I said. ‘I’m pretty sure of that.’
She nodded. ‘No. You’d need a family member. Someone would have to bring proof of identity.’
‘Cathy,’ Sam began, ‘we don’t have much time. Would you…?’
She smiled again.
‘Sam, if you can make arrangements with the Lodge, I’ll come with you, with my passport in hand.’