Read Online The Jefferson Key by Steve Berry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steve Berry
Tags: Fiction, General, thriller, Suspense, adventure, Historical, Contemporary, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Mystery, Adult
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hunters.
So he decided not to chastise Knox and simply said, “From this point on, I want to be kept informed.”
The quartermaster did not object. “I’m going to retrieve Parrott’s laptop.”
His heart quickened. The prospect that Jefferson’s cipher may have been solved excited him. Could it be? Still—
“I’d be careful.”
“I plan to.”
“Notify me the moment you have it. And, Clifford. No more moves like the ones today.”
“I assume you’ll be dealing with the other three?”
“As fast as I can get to shore.”
He ended the call.
At least something might have gone right today.
He glanced over at the two pages sheathed in plastic.
In 1835, when his great-great-grandfather had tried to assassinate Andrew Jackson, there’d been hell to pay. And just like now, divisions existed within the Commonwealth. Only then a Hale had ordered the quartermaster to kill the president of the United States.
Richard Lawrence, an unemployed house painter, had been covertly recruited. Prior to the assassination attempt Lawrence had tried to shoot his sister and openly threatened two others, eventually believing that Jackson had murdered his father. He also thought himself the king of England and fervently pronounced that Jackson was interfering with his royal inheritance. He held the president responsible for his unemployment and for an overall shortage of money in the country.
Not a difficult matter to encourage him to act.
The problem came from Jackson, who’d sequestered himself within the White House during the bitter winter of 1834. A funeral at the Capitol finally brought the president out, so Lawrence was nudged to Washington and provided two pistols. He’d secreted himself within the crowd on a cold, rainy day and confronted his adversary.
But fate intervened and saved Old Hickory.
Thanks to wet powder, both guns misfired.
Immediately Jackson had blamed Senator George Poindexter of Mississippi, alleging a conspiracy. The Senate launched an official inquiry, but Poindexter was exonerated. Privately, though, Jackson targeted his real vengeance.
Hale’s grandfather had told him the story.
The six presidents before Jackson had been easy to work with. Washington knew what the Commonwealth had done for the country during the Revolution. So did Adams. Even Jefferson tolerated them, and their help with America’s war on the Barbary pirates removed any bad taste that may have lingered. Madison, Monroe, and the second Adams never presented a problem.
But that damn fool from Tennessee was determined to change everything.
Jackson fought with Congress, the Supreme Court, the press—anybody and everybody. He was the first president nominated by a political party, not political bosses, the first who campaigned directly to the people and won thanks solely to them. He hated the political elite and, once in office, made sure their influence waned. Jackson had even dealt with pirates before, as a general during the War of 1812 when he made a deal with Jean Lafitte to save New Orleans from the British. He actually liked Lafitte, but years later, as president, when a dispute arose with the Commonwealth, one that should have been an easy matter to resolve, Jackson refused to capitulate. The other captains at the time had wanted to maintain the peace so they voted to let it go.
Only the Hales said no.
And they’d sent Richard Lawrence.
But just like today, that assassination attempt failed. Thankfully, Lawrence was declared insane and locked away. He died in 1861, never uttering an intelligible word.
Could a similar good fortune emerge from today’s fiasco?
Outside the salon’s windows Hale spotted the Bayview car ferry making another of its daily runs across the Pamlico, south to Aurora.
Home was not far away.
His mind continued to churn.
The path his great-great-grandfather had chosen remained bumpy. Andrew Jackson had left a scar on the Commonwealth that, on four previous occasions, had festered into
So he decided not to chastise Knox and simply said, “From this point on, I want to be kept informed.”
The quartermaster did not object. “I’m going to retrieve Parrott’s laptop.”
His heart quickened. The prospect that Jefferson’s cipher may have been solved excited him. Could it be? Still—
“I’d be careful.”
“I plan to.”
“Notify me the moment you have it. And, Clifford. No more moves like the ones today.”
“I assume you’ll be dealing with the other three?”
“As fast as I can get to shore.”
He ended the call.
At least something might have gone right today.
He glanced over at the two pages sheathed in plastic.
In 1835, when his great-great-grandfather had tried to assassinate Andrew Jackson, there’d been hell to pay. And just like now, divisions existed within the Commonwealth. Only then a Hale had ordered the quartermaster to kill the president of the United States.
Richard Lawrence, an unemployed house painter, had been covertly recruited. Prior to the assassination attempt Lawrence had tried to shoot his sister and openly threatened two others, eventually believing that Jackson had murdered his father. He also thought himself the king of England and fervently pronounced that Jackson was interfering with his royal inheritance. He held the president responsible for his unemployment and for an overall shortage of money in the country.
Not a difficult matter to encourage him to act.
The problem came from Jackson, who’d sequestered himself within the White House during the bitter winter of 1834. A funeral at the Capitol finally brought the president out, so Lawrence was nudged to Washington and provided two pistols. He’d secreted himself within the crowd on a cold, rainy day and confronted his adversary.
But fate intervened and saved Old Hickory.
Thanks to wet powder, both guns misfired.
Immediately Jackson had blamed Senator George Poindexter of Mississippi, alleging a conspiracy. The Senate launched an official inquiry, but Poindexter was exonerated. Privately, though, Jackson targeted his real vengeance.
Hale’s grandfather had told him the story.
The six presidents before Jackson had been easy to work with. Washington knew what the Commonwealth had done for the country during the Revolution. So did Adams. Even Jefferson tolerated them, and their help with America’s war on the Barbary pirates removed any bad taste that may have lingered. Madison, Monroe, and the second Adams never presented a problem.
But that damn fool from Tennessee was determined to change everything.
Jackson fought with Congress, the Supreme Court, the press—anybody and everybody. He was the first president nominated by a political party, not political bosses, the first who campaigned directly to the people and won thanks solely to them. He hated the political elite and, once in office, made sure their influence waned. Jackson had even dealt with pirates before, as a general during the War of 1812 when he made a deal with Jean Lafitte to save New Orleans from the British. He actually liked Lafitte, but years later, as president, when a dispute arose with the Commonwealth, one that should have been an easy matter to resolve, Jackson refused to capitulate. The other captains at the time had wanted to maintain the peace so they voted to let it go.
Only the Hales said no.
And they’d sent Richard Lawrence.
But just like today, that assassination attempt failed. Thankfully, Lawrence was declared insane and locked away. He died in 1861, never uttering an intelligible word.
Could a similar good fortune emerge from today’s fiasco?
Outside the salon’s windows Hale spotted the Bayview car ferry making another of its daily runs across the Pamlico, south to Aurora.
Home was not far away.
His mind continued to churn.
The path his great-great-grandfather had chosen remained bumpy. Andrew Jackson had left a scar on the Commonwealth that, on four previous occasions, had festered into
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