The Heritage Paper (33 page)

When the gate opened, Veronica’s kids kept it classy. Jamie stuck out his tongue at the guards, while Maggie flashed them the bird. But when they ran to her and she wrapped her arms around them, all was forgiven.

Only Zach’s desperate urging snapped her back to reality. He hoisted Youkelstein over his shoulder, still gripping that damn umbrella. Veronica took the kids’ hands and they ran all the way to the Audi. This time she couldn’t even feel her feet. The pain had gone away.

Within minutes, they were driving west on the Long Island Expressway. It was rush hour and the LIE was a parking lot. But Veronica didn’t care—her kids were safe. She didn’t want the details of how Youkelstein got shot, especially any part that might have to do with Maggie and guns. It was too much to take right now. But she did notice that Eddie wasn’t with them, and she had a pretty good idea what that meant. She wasn’t sure what to think about Eddie right now.

Youkelstein had lost a lot of blood, but his stubbornness was intact. He fought any attempts to get him immediate medical attention, urging them to get to Manhattan as quickly as possible to try to stop Kingston. He didn’t offer up any suggestions as to how they would be able to do that.

Zach compared notes with Maggie and Youkelstein. Maggie shared a conversation she had with Kingston during her capture, and despite his injury, Youkelstein was able to detail his meeting with Sterling, including the part about how he was really a German spy named Otto, and was about as Jewish as the Pope.

The rapid-fire discussion ping-ponged topics like Nazis, Israel, World War III, and 9/11—it was like Veronica was attending a conspiracy theory trade show.

But like most mothers, she was skilled at narrowing things down to just the important facts. Bottom line, Kingston and Sterling were the bad guys, and they had to be stopped to keep her children safe.

Attempting to drown out the heated conversation, she turned on the radio. It was now 6:30 in the evening and the exit polls in Michigan and Ohio were showing an overwhelming Kingston victory. Maggie informed the adults that these two states were in the heart of Baer territory. The election was starting to look like a landslide. But while Kingston might have been on his way to winning the election, he seemed to have lost the support of Maggie Peterson, who frowned upon hearing the report.

They crossed over the Whitestone Bridge. Nobody discussed where they were going—it was understood. They were headed to the devil’s den. Veronica glanced back at her children and fury pulsed through her veins. The devil was about to face an adversary that could match his fire.

An angry mother.

Lower Manhattan was packed to the rafters as darkness had settled in. The energy reminded Veronica of New Year’s Eve in Times Square.

Youkelstein had come to the end of his road. He started losing consciousness and they decided to drive him directly to the hospital. He railed against it—it was like trying to get Picasso to the vet.

His physician was based out of Beth Israel Hospital on 16
th
Street. They stopped in front and Zach carried him in. He dropped him in the lobby without explanation and returned to the car. They then miraculously found a spot near the park at Stuyvesant Square—a place Veronica often took the kids when they lived in Manhattan—they left the vehicle there and headed off by foot.

Veronica, always prepared, fitted Maggie and Jamie with the jackets she brought with her when she left for Long Island this morning.
What an optimist,
she thought, but it’s not like she had a choice—thinking any other way would’ve crushed her. Maggie’s coat was a wool, pink button-down. She normally refused to wear it, or the cute matching hat that came with it. But she understood there was no way she was getting in the Waldorf in a pair of pajamas, and put it on without a fight.

Jamie, Mr. GQ, was more prepared for high society. He proudly wore the tuxedo that his new pal Jim Kingston had provided for him. He opted for fashion over comfort, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. The jacket was not optional.

They headed without a second look through the minefield of security and barricades for the two-mile journey from 15
th
Street up Park Avenue to the Waldorf. If anyone had a plan for what they were going to do when they got there, they’d yet to reveal it.

Their biggest weapon was Eddie’s badge that declared him to be the head of NYPD’s Kingston security task force. It worked like a charm all the way through the Waldorf’s Park Avenue entryway, which they entered under the hotel’s famed art deco grill.

Inside, it felt like the center of the universe. And in a way it was. Zach mentioned that he doubted it was a coincidence that the Kingston victory celebration would take place within blocks of some of the country’s best known financial, political, and religious symbols, including Rockefeller Center, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and Times Square.
What better place to launch a takeover of the universe, but from its core?

Now came the hard part. Their request to be cleared to go to Kingston’s suite was met with suspicious looks. When they offered to call the presidential nominee, those looks turned to action. Security began moving toward them like they were John Wilkes Booth scalping theater tickets.

As the guards closed in, Maggie calmly spoke up, “Mr. Chester, can I see your phone?”

Zach flashed her a curious look, but reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. The Waldorf staffer saw it as a possible weapon and shrieked. Security now came rushing towards them. Veronica knew when they checked the bag and found the gun and handcuffs that Eddie had left for Maggie, they’d be spending a long time in prison.

But Maggie remained undeterred as she punched in a phone number.

“Is this Jim Kingston?” she asked into the phone and awaited an answer.

Maggie listened for a moment, before replying, “This is Maggie Peterson. I’m down in the lobby being hassled by some of your security force. Can you call down and clear us to come up? We have a few things we need to talk about.”

They were now surrounded—guns pointed at them. “Get down … now!” yelled one. “Drop the bag,” shouted another.

They followed orders and hit the cold floor. The buzzing lobby went silent and all eyes shot toward them.

The silence was shattered by the ringing of a phone.

It was coming from the hotel staffer. He answered it, did a few
a-hums
and
yes-sirs
, before handing it to the lead security guard, who repeated the drill.

“On your feet,” the guard demanded, putting his gun away. The others followed his lead.

“What’s going on?” Zach asked.

“I’m going to take you up to Senator Kingston’s suite,” the guard stated, matter-of-fact. He was now on his best behavior.

As they rode the gold and glass elevator to the 35
th
Floor, Veronica looked to her daughter with astonishment. “You have Kingston’s cell number?”

Maggie smiled. “Actually he confiscated my phone at his house. So I dialed my own phone and he answered.”

Veronica couldn’t help but return a proud smile.

They were led into the suite. It was crowded with a who’s-who of supporters, many of them familiar faces. The first person that Veronica noticed was the vice-presidential candidate, Senator Langor from Florida, who was hard to miss with his tanned skin and snow-white hair.

The crowd was too glued to a massive television screen to notice their arrival. Not that anyone would know who they were, anyway. The background noise of the television declared another state—Missouri—and shaded the color-coded map blue for Kingston.

The cheering brought Kingston out of a connecting room. Sterling was by his side, in his wheelchair. According to Youkelstein, Sterling’s legs were capable of running a half-marathon.

Sterling acted as if he’d caught a surprise glimpse of Veronica across the crowded room and wheeled toward them. Kingston followed, his patented smile plastered on his face. All eyes went to him. He shook Zach’s hand like they were old buddies, before kissing Veronica on the cheek.

Maggie struggled away from any attempt at affection, but Jamie moved in for a hug as if Kingston were his new favorite uncle. Maggie grabbed her brother by the jacket and yanked him away, a not-so-subtle lesson about loyalty.

Veronica remained still. She didn’t know what to say, and felt the eyes of the room on her. She uttered the first thing that came to mind, “You stole my daughter’s phone, and we’ve come to get it back.”

Kingston smiled and put his hands up like he was surrendering. “I’m sorry, Veronica—we don’t want another Watergate here,” he replied with a confident grin. “Why don’t you come to my room so I can give Maggie her phone back?”

Veronica thought for a second. Should they be alone with him? But with all these witnesses in the next room, it was likely the safest place on the planet. She traded glances with Zach, and they agreed to follow.

On the way, Kingston pointed out JFK’s rocking chair and General Douglas MacArthur’s writing desk. The suite was steeped in history. Zach looked impressed.

Kingston’s private room was filled with televisions, a wet bar, and a bathroom with a marble tub that Veronica wanted to take home with her. She expected Kingston to morph into some fire-breathing creature behind closed doors, but he kept his campaign cool.

“I made the wrong choice not to include you,” he began. “It was wrong for my family to not be with me on this historical occasion. It felt wrong without all of you here.”

Maggie screeched, “We’re not your family, you scum-sucking Nazi!”

Kingston remained eerily calm. It was like he wasn’t human. “Your energy is boundless, Maggie. I thought you would’ve been worn out after that theatrical display you put on at my house, but you remain an inspiration.” His smile sobered. “The same display that got your friend Lieutenant Peterson killed.”

Maggie looked like she wanted to go straight for his throat. Veronica could see it now, infamous assassins of US presidents—
John Wilkes Booth, Lee Harvey Oswald, and Maggie Elizabeth Peterson
.

“Eddie gave his life to stop you—he’s a hero!” Maggie shouted.

“To stop me from what?” Kingston asked, feigning surprise. And not fearing that any of this conversation would leak through the soundproof walls of the suite.

“Now that we’ve escaped, we’re going to tell the world what you are planning to do and you’ll never get away with it. Oma chose me to stop it—so now I’m the chosen one!”

“Okay, Maggie, I’ll play along. How would you
stop me?”

“Oma hid her memoir, and only I know where it is. It tells all the secrets about the Apostles. If you don’t resign your candidacy for president, we’re going to publish it and then the whole world will know!”

Veronica could tell that her daughter was out on a limb with a bluff. At least she thought so. Things seemed to be changing by the second the last couple days.

Kingston looked smug. “Isn’t there only one copy of that?”

“Yes …” her voice trailed off.

Veronica grew worried—Kingston had something up his sleeve.

A buzzing sound interrupted them. Kingston pushed a button on the phone and a female voice came over the speakerphone. “Senator Kingston, I have a Flavia Conte for you.”

Veronica cringed—she’s one of them.
Kingston’s half sister.
She should have never trusted her.

Flavia glided in. Adding her presence to Kingston and Jamie, the room was now on charisma overload.

She was dressed down, compared to the previous day—a pair of snug-fitting jeans, sweater, and a bouncing ponytail. But the accessory that caught Veronica’s attention was the document she held in her hands.

“Uh-oh,” Maggie said softly.

“That’s the only version you were talking about?” Veronica whispered.

Maggie nodded stoically.

“How can you be sure?” Veronica asked. “Ellen admitted to telling lies for sixty years, what’s one more?”

“Because TJ made the cover—how could she copy that? She wasn’t exactly Bill Gates with the computer.”

Flavia handed the memoir to Kingston, and now Veronica was the one to say, “Uh-oh.”

Flavia turned her head in her direction. It was as if she noticed her presence for the first time. “Veronica?”

“You lying ...”

“It’s not what you think.”

Veronica looked at Maggie, who for the first time looked overwhelmed. She silently stared out into space.

“Then enlighten me,” Veronica said.

“I’m just following Ellen’s orders.”

“Following orders just like those Nazi soldiers?”

Flavia shook her head. “You just don’t understand.”

Those were the same words Eddie used when he took her children. Veronica wasn’t seeking understanding, all she wanted was to take them home to a safe world.

Veronica took another peek at Maggie, who was now catatonic. So Veronica spoke the words she thought her daughter would say in this situation, “Whatever.”