“I can’t believe we found it,” Maddock whispered. The lantern light shone on high, vaulted ceilings and cast shadows in the empty shelves that lined the walls on either side. Directly in front of them stood a long, wooden table, its surface coated with dust and mold. Chairs were scattered about, some broken. Lanterns identical to the ones he and Bones held hung from hooks in the corners, and a huge chandelier dangled from a chain in the room’s center, the remains of candles still evident.
“I’ll bet it was something to see in its day.” Bones’ eyes were filled with wonder. “Did anybody bring a camera?”
Neither Maddock nor Jillian answered. Both were mesmerized by what lay at the far end of the room. As if in a trance, Maddock crossed the floor, eyes locked on the fantastic sight.
Looking down upon them from atop a high pedestal sat George Washington. Rendered in white marble, the first President of the United States gazed serenely into the distance.
“This doesn’t make sense.” Jillian stared wide-eyed at the memorial. “Washington wasn’t one of the Boston Sons of Liberty, and by the time he rose to prominence, the organization wouldn’t have needed a secret headquarters. Why would they build a memorial to him down here?”
Maddock tried to reply, but he couldn’t speak. He had just read the inscription on the base of the pedestal.
Here lies
His Excellency, George Washington
Commander In-Chief of the Continental Army
First President of the United States
Father of His Country
February 22, 1732- July 4, 1791
May God Forgive Us
“What... what does this mean?” Jillian stammered.
“This is weird,” Bones agreed.
They were right. Washington hadn’t died in 1791. In fact, he’d served as president until 1797 and passed away in 1799. Maddock gazed up at George Washington’s face, as if understanding lay in those cold, stone eyes.
“What’s this on the floor?” Bone asked.
Maddock looked down. Beneath a layer of dust lay a bronze plaque. He knelt, brushed it clean, and read aloud.
“On July 4, 1791, His Excellency, George Washington, President of these United States, died as he had lived, in service to his country. Believing the bonds that unite our thirteen states too fragile to survive the news that the Father of our infant nation had fallen to an assassin’s bullet, we chose the honorable Charles Washington to serve in his stead. May God forgive us for our deception. It is our fervent prayer that, some day, the citizens of this great nation shall know the truth and understand that what we did, we did for our country.”
“Who the hell is Charles Washington?” Bones asked.
“George Washington’s brother.” Maddock racked his brain, trying to remember all he knew about Washington’s family. “Charles was only a couple of years younger, but he...” Maddock fell silent.
“He what?” Jillian’s hands trembled as she shone her light on the plaque.
“He died in 1799, right around the same time as George.”
“This is freaking crazy.” Bones dropped to one knee alongside Maddock and read the plaque again. “So Washington was assassinated in 1791? Why would they think the country couldn’t handle it?”
Maddock felt numb. The revelation did seem too crazy to be true, but here lay the proof. “Like it says here, the nation was fragile. There was strong sentiment that the thirteen colonies should be independently governed—more of a loose alliance for mutual defense than a true nation. Washington was the most important symbol of our new country, and a strong force for unity. He was respected both in the North and the South. People trusted him; some practically worshiped him.”
“So his brother stepped into his shoes as president? How could he pull that off?” Bones sounded as shocked as Maddock.
“It’s not like they had television back then. How many people actually saw Washington up close, or saw him at all? And he was an old man by the standards of his day, and few men have gone through what he did. If someone noticed subtle differences in his appearance, they’d likely chalk it up to the ravages of time and the stress of his office. As long as he and Charles looked somewhat alike, and those in his inner circle were in on the deception, they could have gotten away with it.”
“This isn’t a monument,” Bones said. “This is a tomb.”
“Oh my God!” Jillian cried.
Maddock and Bones sprang to their feet and looked up at the wall where the circle of light from her Maglite wavered. They had missed the words carved above the tomb.
The Last Words of His Excellency, George Washington
I heard a voice saying, `Son of the Republic, look and learn,’ I beheld a dark, shadowy being, like an angel, floating in mid-air, between Europe and America. Dipping water out of the ocean in the hollow of each hand, he sprinkled some upon America with his right hand, while with his left hand he cast some on Europe. Immediately a cloud rose from these countries, and moved slowly westward, until it enveloped America in its murky folds. Sharp flashes of lightning gleamed through it at intervals, and I heard the smothered groans and cries of the American people. I cast my eyes upon America, saw our beloved flag raised, and the cloud was driven back, and I beheld villages and towns and cities springing up one after another until the whole land from the Atlantic to the Pacific was dotted with them.
Again, I heard the voice say, `Son of the Republic, look and learn.’ At this the dark shadowy angel turned his face southward, and from Africa I saw an ill omened specter approach our land and a dark cloud arose in the South. As I continued looking I saw a bright angel, on whose brow rested a crown of light, on which was traced the word `Union,’ bearing the American flag which he placed between the divided nation, and said, `Remember ye are brethren.’ Instantly, the inhabitants, casting from them their weapons united around the National Standard.
A third time, the voice said, `Son of the Republic, look and learn.’ And now rose up, from within America itself, many people bearing a flag, and cloaked in zeal, and they cried “Return! Return!” And a dark cloud rose from their lips and blinded our eyes, so we could not see that theirs was a black flag, and they tore at the bonds that held us as one. But our flag pierced the black cloud, and the sun shone down, and once more I beheld the villages, towns and cities springing up where I had seen them before, while the bright angel, planting the standard he had brought in the midst of them, cried with a loud voice: `While the stars remain, and the heavens send down dew upon the earth, so long shall the Union last.’
July 4, 1791
“That’s not the prophecy,” Jillian snapped. “The first trials are almost the same, but the last one is totally wrong.” Quaking with rage, she backed away from the tomb.
“It’s better,” Maddock said. “It sounds like the third trial is caused by false patriots, but they’ll lose in the end.”
“I guess we’ll have to do something about that.”
Maddock whirled around. There, in the doorway, stood O’Meara.