Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

the night?”
    “They’re on a short list of consultants we use, Mr. President,” Fielding replied.
    “Wonderful. The United States government pays for on-call history detectives. Imagine if the press got a hold of that one.” As they tended to do wherever Jack went, all eyes were glued on the president. It allowed Simon to begin a silent conversation with him. He only needed to arch one of his thin, silver eyebrows.
    Jack sighed. “Mr. Atkinson, Mr. Durant … may we have the room for a few minutes please?”

Chapter 4
    So as not to arouse the suspicions of a college professor and a writer, Simon Shilling had Julius Brennan enter the Oval from the side door that led directly to his office. They met for fifty-five minutes before the decision was made to let Bubba and Hunter back in.
    Jack allowed them to get comfortable on the couch before he issued his warning. “Gentlemen, what we are about to discuss has been verified by Director of National Intelligence Howard Fielding as pertinent to our national security and is therefore classified information. You are forbidden by law to disclose any part of this conversation to any persons.” Jack paused to let the words soak in. Then he stared at Hunter Atkinson. “Or include it in the pages of your next best seller.”
    “Yes, sir,” both men said simultaneously. Jack nodded at Julius. He retrieved the briefcase from his feet and set it on the coffee table. His hands trembled again as he fumbled with both locks. He opened the briefcase and scooped out the plastic bag containing the brown, legal size file folder. Jack noticed the words “ Acid-free ” and “B uffered ” that ran along the bottom of the folder’s spine.
    Julius extracted the folder from the bag. He set it down on the table and then dove back into his briefcase again. He retrieved three pairs of white cotton gloves and slipped one pair on his hands. Hunter and Bubba looked at the gloves and then at the president.
    “Be my guest,” Jack said. He motioned toward Simon. “We’ve already seen it.”
    Julius waited until the two wriggled on their gloves before continuing. He moved to open the folder when Howard Fielding leaned forward.
    “Gentlemen.” With that one word, Fielding stole the attention away from the documents waiting for them inside the folder. “May I remind you that breaking laws pertaining to national security can, and in this case will, be punishable by life sentences in prison. Not even the highest-paid attorney or the loudest protests from the ACLU will change that fact.”
    Hunter nodded first. Then Bubba. Again, all eyes focused on Jack, and he nodded at Julius to open the folder. As he did, the faint letters at the top blazed with impossibility.
    Article VIII.
    After both men read through both documents, Julius closed the folder. He eased it back into the plastic bag and then shucked his gloves. As his actions punctured the crescendo of silence, all eyes were not on the president. Instead, they were firmly focused on the two pieces of parchment that were now safe from the dangers of both theft and exposure.
    “A lost article of the Constitution.” The words fell out of Atkinson’s mouth. “I can’t believe it.” He gazed at the president. “Mr. President, you will have it tested to ensure its authenticity?”
    “We have a Constitution expert from the National Archives on standby,” Simon Shilling answered.
    “This is,” Atkinson muttered, his eyes back on the folder. “It’s unthinkable.”
    “But here it is all the same,” Bubba said. Over the next few minutes, Bubba regaled his audience with exactly why there would be an Eighth Article in existence and, more important, why it had been separated from the rest of the Constitution. He concluded by stating that there had to be copies. Copies no doubt hidden by Thomas Jefferson in his hallowed Virginia residence. Other pieces of parchment. Words for which people had just killed.
    The room once again fell silent for well over a minute, an eternity in the Oval Office. Simon gazed at the president and pierced the hush. “You look like you’re considering a new theory, Mr. President.”
    “Not a new theory but a new question,” Jack replied.
    “Which is?” Simon asked.
    “What in God’s name were the Founding Fathers thinking?”

Chapter 5
    Lake Guerrero, Mexico
    165 miles south of the Texas border
    Three weeks later

    The private resort nestled atop the tallest of the rolling hills in this quiet