The Heritage Paper (35 page)

Sterling smiled back, looking relieved. “I was concerned that you might buy the nonsense your grandmother was saying on that video.”

“Like I said, she obviously was suffering from a form of dementia.”

“What about Youkelstein? We tracked him to Beth Israel Hospital—he was admitted for a gunshot wound.”

“Let him be—just make sure the bullet can’t be traced back to our men. Nobody will believe the old conspiracy theorist, anyway. He has been screaming about escaped Nazis and the Fourth Reich for decades. He has no credibility, so let’s not be the ones to give him any.”

With business settled, Kingston entered the Grand Ballroom. It was four stories high and surrounded by two tiers of boxes like an Old World opera house. The normal seating capacity was fifteen hundred, but tonight well over two thousand had jammed in to celebrate the election of Jim Kingston.

Sterling wheeled onto the stage and announced into a microphone, “Without further ado, I’d like to introduce to you my nephew, my friend, and my hero—the President of the United States, Jim Kingston!”

Kingston leaped onto the stage, where he was met by Senator Langor. The Vice President-Elect knew nothing of the Apostles, or ever would. He was put on the ticket because they felt his presence would guarantee winning Florida, which most experts thought would be the key swing vote. Although, it turned out to be an unnecessary boulder in a historical landslide.

Kingston and Langor clasped hands and raised them over their heads as balloons began raining down from the ceiling. Their campaign song belted from the speakers—Springsteen’s “The Rising.” Never could lyrics be more appropriate.

When the room settled, Kingston stepped to the microphone. He looked out at the faceless crowd and felt the irony. The Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf was built as a re-creation of the court theater in Versailles. The same city where the treaty was signed in that train car. A document that attempted to destroy Germany forever.

But as he was about to reclaim their rightful spot, and do so in the same manner that it was taken from them—by sabotaging the society from within—he couldn’t shake Ellen’s words.

Veronica’s lungs felt like they were about to explode when she exited the Waldorf.

Did that just happen?

She gripped Maggie and Jamie’s hands as tightly as possible, while Zach tried to hail a cab. A nightmare on a normal evening, but tonight it was a near impossibility.

A voice shot out through the brisk night, calling her name.

She looked up to see two members of Kingston’s security team heading toward them. She instinctively stepped back.

“President-Elect Kingston instructed us to give you and Mr. Chester a ride to wherever you want to go.”

Veronica wanted no part of any connection to Kingston, even if that meant she died of old age while waiting for the cab on the corner of Park and 49
th
.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I must decline,” she said politely.

“We insist,” the one said. The pleasant smile couldn’t hide his devious eyes.

“I said no,” Veronica responded, firmer.

She felt a sharp gust of fear blowing at her face. The crowded city street failed to provide comfort.

Another voice rang out in the night air. This one female.

“The lady said she wasn’t interested.”

Veronica looked to see Flavia gracefully bouncing towards them. The guards stared at her. Veronica wasn’t sure if it was due to her words, or perhaps because all men stare at Flavia.

“We have orders,” one guard said.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, Ms. Conte.”

“Good—now I’m giving you an order to leave the lady alone.”

The guards reluctantly walked away, their black boots rhythmically clicking on the busy sidewalk.

Flavia approached with apology in her eyes. “Veronica—I just want you to know I only did what Ellen asked me to do. I think she believed if Kingston saw the video he might re-think his position. In no way am I working for them.”

Veronica didn’t trust anyone at this point, but she believed that Flavia was telling the truth. “I’m just frustrated—that memoir might have been our last chance to prove what they’ve done, and what they plan to do in the future.”

Veronica felt a tear roll down her cheek. “And I won’t feel that Maggie and Jamie are safe as long as they are in power.”

Flavia looked like she wanted to hug her. Veronica wasn’t going there, but she needed to hug someone. So she crouched down and pulled Maggie and Jamie into her arms.

She looked up at Flavia, who glistened like the Manhattan skyscrapers. It was like she was part of the sparkling skyline. “So what do we do now?”

Flavia’s face turned stony. “
You
aren’t going to do anything.
You
have two beautiful children to protect.
You
will not put yourself in harm’s way—they need their mother. I will handle this myself—I’m done running from the ghosts.”

“What are you planning?”

Flavia’s voice fell to a whisper, making her hard to hear against the backdrop of honking traffic. “Same thing they did. Rise up from within their ranks, while pretending to be someone else. And I have an advantage—I’m royal blood, remember?”

Veronica was still having trouble grasping that Flavia was the president’s half-sister, both fathered by Josef Müller aka Joseph Kingston. The Chosen One.

Zach continued to struggle with his taxi flagging, so Flavia relieved him of his duties. Veronica was surprised a twenty-car pileup didn’t occur. She secured a cab in less than twenty seconds. Veronica just shook her head with envy.

She ushered her children into the back of the vehicle, joining Zach.

Flavia declined the offer to come with them. “You’re driving back to Rhinebeck tonight?” Veronica inquired.

“No, I’m going to visit Ben at the hospital. I’ll pull up a cot, and then head back upstate in the morning,” she said. She then surprised Veronica by giving her that hug. Flavia didn’t seem like the hugger type.

But as she watched Flavia disappear into the crowd, she realized that there was a purpose to the embrace. She pulled out an object that had been placed in her pocket. A key.

The cab moved west on 49
th
Street. They had no firm plan as to where to go, but needed to get out of the city as fast as possible, and returning to Zach’s Audi wasn’t the best way to accomplish that.

As they passed Madison Avenue, Veronica noticed Zach sneaking glances in the rear-view mirror. “What is it?” she asked.

“They’re following us,” he spoke softly in her ear.

“Who’s following us?” she whispered back.

“Those guards who offered us the ride—black Hummer, three cars back.”

Veronica wasn’t as subtle. She turned all the way around and noticed the vehicle swerving through cars to stay close. Luckily, their wannabe NASCAR cab driver, Albadejo, was disregarding the caution flag. But he still couldn’t shake the Hummer.

“Oh my god,” Veronica called out.

Not the smartest thing to say—she alerted Maggie and Jamie. She didn’t have that “cool under pressure” switch like their father. Nor was she as savvy. Of course they weren’t going to let them go. They had damaging evidence that could be used against Kingston, memoir or no memoir. Plus, this group already had kidnapped Maggie and Jamie once before. She couldn’t believe she bought anything that came from the mouth of the man telling the biggest lie in the history of the world—Jim Kingston didn’t believe in freewill.

Zach instructed Albadejo to turn right on Fifth Avenue, which he did, passing the glowing Saks Fifth Avenue. They would’ve yelled, “Step on it!” like in the movies, but Albadejo didn’t need any encouragement.

Now Maggie and Jamie were in the act. They positioned themselves backwards on the seat. They were giving constant updates on the Hummer. “They’re getting closer,” Maggie informed.

“This is cool, Mom!” Jamie added.

They kept going up Fifth Avenue, running red lights, leading to horn-honking chaos at every intersection. The presidential security had turned Midtown into gridlock, but Albadejo remained undeterred.

They continued dashing uptown, strategically using the sidewalk when need be, cruising by 56
th
Street and Trump Tower. As they passed 60
th
street, Central Park appeared on their left like a dark emerald ocean.

When they hit 64
th
Street, Veronica thought back to their time living in the city—places she and Carsten went—and she realized sanctuary was right in front of them.

Veronica shouted for Albadejo to stop the cab. He jammed on the brakes right in the middle of the busy avenue. She then tightly latched onto Maggie and Jamie’s hands and practically dragged them as she dashed across the street, narrowly avoiding oncoming vehicles. Zach paid the driver and followed at his own risk.

The Central Park Zoo was located at 64
th
Street and Fifth Avenue. A tidy five-acre oasis in the park, filled with natural-habitat exhibits of animals, ranging from tropical to polar. It was one of Maggie and Jamie’s favorite places, and tonight it was Veronica’s.

It wasn’t a plan without holes, but she hadn’t heard a better idea yet.

The first flaw was that the zoo closed at five o’clock and was locked for the night. But it wasn’t exactly Fort Knox when it came to security. People weren’t normally inclined to break into a home when there was a good chance they’d be eaten by a polar bear. The front entrance featured a ten-foot, picketed wood fence that looked like the bars of a jail cell. Perfect for climbing.

Jamie didn’t have to be asked twice, and scurried over. Maggie couldn’t let her little brother get the best of her, and was right behind him. Veronica used a boost from Zach to help her over.

But as Zach began to mount the fence, a voice echoed, “Freeze.”

Uh-oh.

All eyes went to the night watchman. Zach pulled out the gun that Eddie provided them—he wasn’t messing around.

The night watchman threw up his arms in surrender. But Eddie’s NYPD badge proved a more useful weapon, convincing the guard to open the gate without any shots being fired.

“You’re not to let anyone else in under any condition, or mention that we are in here—this is a classified mission,” Zach forcefully stated. “I can’t go into details, other than to say that it’s related to security for the new president.”

“No problema,” the night watchman casually replied, unaffected by the gun dancing in his sight line. But it was doubtful he could be relied on. Especially since he smelled like he’d just rolled around in a marijuana field.

Veronica led them into the zoo. It was almost dreamlike at night. It wasn’t being lit by the moon, but the Manhattan skyline in the distance.

It was also pin-drop quiet, the exact opposite of the typical day trip when the hordes of children generally made more noise than the squealing seals. Veronica felt like the Ben Stiller character in that movie where he was the night watchman at the Museum of Natural History, when the place came alive at night.

As Veronica searched for the best place to hide, her stomach dropped. She heard footsteps coming.

The Gestapo.

She put her finger to her lips to indicate to Maggie and Jamie to be quiet. “Please go away,” she said under her breath. She led them deeper into the zoo.

But when they reached the sea lion pool, they were busted. Living up to their chatterbox reputation, the sea lions began vociferously yelping.

Voices grew louder in the distance, and the footsteps quickened. They were getting closer! She recognized the night watchman’s voice—then a gunshot rang out.

Oh shit.

Veronica kept the group running. They stopped for a moment to catch their breath in front of the polar bear lake, one of the zoo’s most popular exhibits.

“Look, its Garth and Lilac,” Jamie admired the long time zoo residents, who were pushing a thousand pounds. As was the norm, they looked annoyed to be there.

“We better go or we’ll be polar bear food,” Zach said.
And dessert for the Nazis,
Veronica thought as they headed off again.

The footsteps were nearing.

They dashed into the chilled penguin house—a place Jamie once had a New York sized temper-tantrum when he refused to leave, and the room had to be shut down for a half hour. They exited the other end and arrived at another fence. Their adrenaline carried them over, and they fled out of the zoo, back onto 65
th
Street, which cut through Central Park.

They retreated into the park, too afraid to look back. But Veronica swore she could feel their hot breath on the back of her neck. They came across a large pro-Kingston rally that was taking place in a section of the park called the
Sheep Meadow
. Veronica didn’t care for the hero they worshiped, but there was comfort in numbers, and they were able to meld into the crowd.