Camp David
 
 

Tuesday afternoon...
 

They’d gotten a later start than either of them would have liked.  The afternoon was warmer than the weekend, but gloomy, with low overcast clouds.  Luckily, the roads were clear and dry.   They were driving north, into Maryland towards the compound where the President of the United States often retreated on weekends and holidays.  Before they drove down the long roadway that led to the gate at Camp David, Lee Stetson pulled the car over to the side of the road, and glanced over at his wife.

“Last chance to turn back,” he warned in a serious voice.  “If the guard checks with the Agency for corroboration on why we’re up here, we’re toast.”

“Nobody ever checks,” she replied trying to feign confidence, but her husband knew her better.  Swallowing hard she nodded for him to continue.  “Let me do the talking.”

“Gladly,” he answered as he resumed driving down the road.  Soon, the metal gate came into view, and an armed, marine guard stepped into the roadway, signaling them to stop.  Lee complied, and rolled down his window.

Amanda leaned over and flashed her Agency badge.  The guard bent down, took her ID, and studied it carefully.  She began to chatter at the guard, typical Amanda style, talking fast and rambling as to why they needed to get inside.

The guard smiled politely as he listened to her, but he appeared perplexed.  His eyes kept getting wider, and at one point, he tried to ask a question, only Amanda kept talking even faster.

For a few moments, Lee wasn’t sure that he was going to buy Amanda’s pitch.  Then the soldier, walked to the back of the car, and wrote down their license plate.  Without asking any questions, returned her ID, stepped back, and opened the gate.

“You could talk your way into the Oval office,” Lee Stetson remarked, totally amused at his wife as they drove onto the grounds at Camp David, Maryland.

“Oh be quiet,” she swatted him gently.  “We’re in here, aren’t we?”

“I’m not complaining, merely making an observation,” Lee replied, chuckling at how confused his wife had rendered the guard.

“Which way to the stable?” she asked.

“I’m trying to remember.  When I worked the security detail, I flew up here on Air Force One,” he explained, turning the car at the fork in the road.  “I think it’s this way.”

“You’ve got a good memory,” she said, as the stable soon came into view.  After parking the car, they walked over to the stable, glancing about to see if there was anyone around.

The stable was like many of the other buildings on the grounds, built in the 1930’s.  Despite its age, the original construction was sound, and it was well cared for over the years.  Sliding the door open, they entered it, and were pleased to find it was deserted.

Inside was relatively clean, no straw, hay, or feed as often found in a barn.  There were four stalls, and a tack room, but presently there were no horses on the property.  Instead, it was being used more as a shed, storing yard equipment.

“I’m not sure where to start looking,” Amanda remarked, “or even what I’m looking for.”

“This place was probably last used as a stable during the Reagan administration.  President Bush doesn’t maintain horses,” he shrugged as he looked around the small barn.  Wandering into what once was the tack room, he inspected it thoroughly.  There were no saddles, halters, or grooming equipment.  Instead, the tack room had a variety of tools, ladders, and tree trimming equipment.  However, nothing appeared out of place or unusual.

“Lee!  This was ‘Macaroni’s’ stall,” Amanda announced, reading an old metal placard.  “Maybe my father hid something in here?”

“Could be,” he nodded, hurrying over to where she was in the stable.  Lee opened the gate to the stall and they both went inside the 10-foot square stall, and inspected every inch of it carefully.

“The windows aren’t original, but everything else appears to have been around for a long while,” Amanda commented.

“I agree.  Overall, the whole building is in remarkably good shape.”  Knocking on the solid wall, Lee shook his head.  “They certainly don’t make buildings like this anymore.”

Amanda ran her hand over the wood walls, as if looking for a hidden opening, although the wood was rough in spots, there was no hollow wall or trick opening to be found.  Moving out of the stall, she walked into the stall next to it, as Lee wandered to yet another.  They continued searching the stable, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I guess our luck ran out,” Amanda said sullenly.  “Or maybe I sent us on a wild goose chase, and there was never anything up here.”

“More likely, whatever it was, is either long gone, or we’re looking in the wrong place.”

Amanda leaned against the wall inside the stable, glancing around hopelessly.  “But where do we look?  The newspaper articles were both about Kennedy’s horse.  Where else would you keep a horse?”

“They kept the horse at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for a while.”

“The White House!” she repeated.  “You’re kidding me?”

“No, they really did.”

“I didn’t know that,” she replied, glancing around hopelessly.  “I still think whatever he hid, if anything has to be here, inside Camp David.”

“Let’s look outside then.  You want to check the perimeter?” Lee suggested, leading his wife back outside of the barn.  “I’ll poke around the corral.”

“What are we going to find outside?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is we’re here; we might as well give it a shot.  It will only take a few minutes.”

Lee walked over to the corral and Amanda methodically investigated the perimeter of the stable, but she didn’t turn up anything.  She walked over to the corral where Lee was diligent in his search and called out to him, “I guess it’s time to admit defeat.”

He joined her where she was standing at the entrance of the corral.  Wiping his muddy boots on the edge of the pavement, he pulled her to him in a supportive embrace.  Rubbing her back as the sun finally began to shine.  “We don’t have to admit defeat, but we’ll have to find another angle.  All the posts from the corral are only a few years old, but that idea was a long shot at best.  We’re missing something…”

“The sun feels good on my back,” she sighed, and nuzzled into his warm body.  “Maybe I should pray for a miracle.”

Lee glanced up at the sky, enjoying the warm sun on his face.  Then, he squinted in the sunlight, noticing for the first time the roof of the stable.  He shook his head in disbelief.  “I’m impressed; you just got your miracle,” he remarked, turning his wife’s body to face the stable and pointed.  “See anything on the roof that looks familiar?”

Amanda gawked at the cupola on the roof, with an eagle weathervane on top, which had caught the sunlight when the clouds dissipated.  “Oh my gosh!  It looks like the dollhouse my father built me!  That wasn’t up there in the picture from the newspaper.”

“No, it certainly wasn’t; come on,” Lee grabbed her hand and the two of them hurried back towards the stable.  “I saw a ladder inside the barn.”

Lee positioned the ladder against the building, and carefully climbed up, while Amanda steadied it for him.

“Be careful,” Amanda warned, standing on the first rung of the ladder.  “The roof may be icy.”

“It’s barely wet,” Lee replied as he cautiously walked up the steep roof.  When he reached the peak, he scrutinized the cupola. Kneeling beside it, he began a systematic examination.

“Hey!  What are you doing?” a workman called out to them.

Amanda’s head snapped around, startled by the man.  She smiled lamely at him, swallowing hard.

“You heard me!” the man insisted, striding hastily over to the stable.  “What the hell are you doing on the roof?”

Lee ignored the man’s protest.  His eyes shot his wife a quick glance before he continued to examine the cupola.  He was confident that Amanda could handle the situation.

Amanda gave Lee an unperceivable nod, and then greeted the workman, trying to buy Lee more time on the roof.  “Hi.  How are you doing?  Nice to see the sun out this afternoon, isn’t it?”

The man grunted at her.  “What is he doing up there?”

“Inspecting it,” Amanda shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to appear as if they were supposed to be there.  “Our company inspects it regularly, but of course, you certainly knew that.”

“Uh, well, no, but I’ve only worked here for a little over a year,” the man mumbled.

“Yup, every two years we have to go up and inspect it.  You can never be too careful.  If the weathervane gets loose or rusty, it can cause a crack in the cupola.  If the cupola cracks, you’ll end up with some mildew.  Next thing you know you’ll have dry rot and a leaky roof,” Amanda began to explain, baffling the poor worker with a steady stream of baloney.

“Yeah, I guess we wouldn’t want a leaky roof.  How does it look?” he called up to Lee on the roof.

Up on the roof, Lee continued to poke around, trying hard not to laugh, but glad that his wife had diffused a potential problem.  “I’ll know in a while.”

“Do you need a hand up there?” the man asked.

“No!” Amanda and Lee called out at the same time.

Amanda patted the man on the shoulder and started to walk him away from the stable.  “We inspect a dozen of these every week.  This is routine for us, no need for you to have to climb up on the roof.  I’m sure you have more important work to handle.”

“Yeah, I do.  Nobody mentioned you were going to inspect the roof today.”

“We’re only inspecting the cupola,” she explained, continuing to walk away from the stable.  “Not the roof.”

“Whatever,” he shook his head.  “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“No problem,” she smiled and waved as he went back to his other business.

Amanda hurried back to the stable.  Lee was now climbing down off the roof.  She steadied the ladder for him.

When he got back on the ground, he handed Amanda a small medal strong box that he had stuffed in his jacket.  “Hold this, while I put the ladder away.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing around the area, looking for any other unwanted help.  He struggled with the heavy ladder without attracting additional attention.  “Whatever it is, it was well hidden inside the cupola.  If I wasn’t looking for something unusual, I would have missed it.”

“It’s got a combination lock on it,” she observed, while Lee slid the door of the barn closed.

“You want to bet what the combination is?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“3-9-4!” she replied, remembering the house number her father had made for her dollhouse.

“That would be my guess.  We’ll take a look at it when we get off the property, which I suggest we do now!”

“Right!” She agreed as they got back into Lee’s car, drove away from the stable, and off Camp David property.  Lee negotiated the mountain roads as quickly as he dared.  Soon as he was on a four-lane road, he put the pedal to the metal to help speed up the ride back to Washington DC.

Amanda’s curiosity overwhelmed her.  Reaching for the metal strongbox that rested in her lap, she attempted to open it.  Turning the combination lock at first was difficult. Instead of moving fluidly, it clunked around awkwardly.  It hadn’t been spun in years, but finally she got it to work.  She turned it first to the right to the number ‘3’, then in the opposite direction to ‘9’, and switching directions again to ‘4’.  She heard a quiet ‘click’ and pulled on the lid to open it; unfortunately, it hardly budged.

“Lee, I heard the click, and even felt it dislodge, but I think the lock is stuck,” she remarked with mounting frustration.

Lee took his eyes off the road for a moment.  “I’m not surprised.  Even though it was dry inside the cupola, it’s been up there for over twenty years.  Keep trying; but you might have to wait until we get home.  I have some bolt cutters in the garage.”

“Great,” she mumbled disappointedly.

Lee looked over at her again, realizing the anticipation was killing her.  “We’ll probably have to cut the lock off and pry the lid open.  We’ll be home in an hour.”

Unwilling to give in easily with the answers literally in her hands, Amanda Stetson continued to fight with the combination lock.  The trip home seemed endless to her.  When they reached Arlington an hour later, the lid to the strongbox still refused to budge.

“The suspense of what’s inside is driving me crazy,” Amanda complained, glancing over at her husband for sympathy.

“I’ll pry it open once we get it inside.  You better quit, or you’re going to end up slicing your fingers or your hand, and we’ll have to make a side trip to the emergency room,” he warned.  “We’ll be home in a few minutes.”

When they turned onto Maplewood, they both noticed a car parked out in front on the house.  Silent glances to each other announced their uneasy feelings.  As they drove up to the house, Amanda spoke up, “Whose car is that?”

Lee pulled into the driveway past the car.  “It looks like Woody.  Put the box under your coat and go inside.  I’ll see what he wants, and get rid of him.”

“Gotcha!” she nodded.  When the car came to a stop, she quickly disappeared into the house.

Lee Stetson sauntered out front to meet Woody who was already getting out of his car and walking towards the front gate.  Lee did not intend to ask the Secret Service Agent into the house.  He was suspicious of Woody, and wanted more answers before he shared what he knew with him.

“Woody, what a surprise to see you here today,” Lee called out jovially.

“I called you at your office this afternoon, Scarecrow, but the only thing your secretary would tell me, was you were out,” Woody replied brusquely.

Lee hid his smile, knowing his secretary was very adept at keeping secrets. He walked towards the agent’s car.  “You know how it is, Woody.  Three-day weekends set you back a week.  I’m trying to catch up and keep my head above water, but with meetings and all, that’s hard to do.  What about you?”

“I was wondering what you pried out of that stepson of yours?  I thought you’d have called me today so we could clear up where he got the money.  You know I don’t want to press charges against him, but I do need answers,” Woody pushed.

Lee shook his head, and leaned on the agent’s car.  “You’re not going to believe it, but he won the money in a poker game with four aces.”

“A poker game?” the other agent repeated, not buying the information.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to confirm who the other players were.  You know how college kids are.  A couple of guys start a game; then another one joins in – another one goes bust and leaves...  It’s going to take a few days to figure it all out.”

“Why the hell didn’t he tell me that last week?”

“Give the kid a break, Woody; he’s a freshman in college.  He doesn’t want to be known on campus as the stool pigeon, giving his friends up to the Feds,” Lee said, slapping Woody on the back.  “I promise to keep you in the loop once we have names and answers.”

“You’ve got until Thursday, Scarecrow,” Woody warned with an underlining sense of urgency.  “If I don’t have names by then, I’m picking him back up first thing in the morning.  I’ve already gone out on a limb for the kid because of you and Amanda, but there’s only so much I can do.”

”Yeah, I know, and we both appreciate what you’ve done for him already,” Lee replied, extending his hand to shake.  “I’ll be in touch.”

With that said Woody got back into his car and drove off.  Lee Stetson ground his teeth together anxiously and then took a deep breath before going into the house.

“What did he want?” Amanda asked suspiciously.

“He was pressing for where Philip got the money.  I bought us some time stretching the truth about the poker game.”

“You told him about the poker game!?” she gasped with surprise.

“Relax, sweetheart, I told him he was playing at college, not at your mother’s house.  Woody wants answers no later than Thursday.”

“We might not need until Thursday.  We might have all the answers here,” she pointed to the strongbox on the counter.

Lee shed his jacket and tossed it on the nearby sofa.  “Let me get a screwdriver and pliers.  We’re going to pry this thing open.”

After several minutes of struggling with the box, it finally screeched opened, revealing its long held secret.  Inside was a vinyl, watertight pouch.  “How about we go sit down on the couch?” Lee suggested reaching for her hand.

Once they were settled on the couch, Amanda removed the pouch from the strongbox and unzipped it cautiously.  Tugging on the contents, she extracted a walnut colored, leather case.  Both Lee and Amanda stared at the case with wide eyes, impressed by its elegance.  Opening it up, they stared at it for a moment before glancing at each other.  Resting on the plush white satin was a five-pointed silver medal, attached with a decorative blue ribbon.

“Amanda, do you know what that is?” Lee asked.

“Some kind of Navy medal, I guess,” she replied, picking it up and admiring it.

Her husband shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I think that’s the Freedom Medal!”

“What?”

“It was the precursor to what is now the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not 100%, but remember I was on the security detail when Lech Walesa was awarded one back in 1989.  I remember him wearing it.  It’s not an exact match, but it’s pretty damn close.”

With trembling hands, she opened the certificate that had been tucked underneath the medal.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” she exclaimed.  Then she began to read it:

 “’‘This is to certify that Franklin James West is awarded The Freedom Medal.  In  recognition for outstanding merit to the United States Government during  peacetime, and providing safety to the money supply in the event of catastrophic  events.  Our nation is forever grateful for your extraordinary service.’

It’s actually signed by John F. Kennedy!”

Lee placed his hand on her shoulder.  “You’ve been right all along.  Your father wasn’t involved in counterfeiting or wet operations.  He was a hero.”

With tears in her eyes, she nodded.  “He must have found the plates and placed them inside the bunker at the Greenbrier in case there was an attack.”

“But because of the secrecy around the Greenbrier, he couldn’t share the award with you or your family,” Lee smiled; remembering years ago when Amanda received an award that she couldn’t share with her family.  That award still hung near the bullpen, at the Agency.    “Like father, like daughter.”

Wiping a tear from her cheek, she smiled back at him, but still appeared troubled.  “That explains the plates, but what about the money?  It still doesn’t give us anything to tell Woody.  It doesn’t clear his name totally.”

“Is there anything else in the pouch?” he asked.  She shrugged unknowingly, still focusing her attention on the medal and certificate.

Lee picked up the pouch and glanced inside it.  Then he pulled out another piece of paper that had been carefully folded and tucked deep inside.  He didn’t open the paper, but immediately handed it to his wife.

She took a deep breath before unfolding it, not sure what secrets it might divulge.  Once she had it open, she squinted to read the handwritten letter.  “This is my father’s handwriting.”

“What does it say?”

“Give me a second; the ink is faded.  It starts, ‘Forsythe at GR in WSS.’ My father sure likes to be cryptic,” Amanda read from the letter, pausing to try to figure out what it meant.

Lee ran his hand through his hair and thought about it for a minute.  “We know he worked for Forsythe, and the Greenbrier Resort is in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia.  That must be what he meant by that.  What’s next?”

“Yeah, that does fit.  Then he writes, ‘AJ found safe.  Contact BBN.’”  She stared at the letter trying to think like her father, but obviously frustrated because she couldn’t figure out the clue.  “AJ, who is… wait a second, Andrew Jackson is on the twenty-dollar plates.  That could be what he means by AJ, but what is BBN?”

“I’m not sure,” Lee replied, “but you’re right on track with AJ.  It probably means the printing plates he locked in the bunker.”

“BBN, isn’t that the British Broadcasting Network?” she suggested.

“No, you’re thinking about the BBC.”

“You’re right.  So what is BBN?” she asked out loud.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, contemplating the question.  Then Lee prodded, eager to hear more of the note.  “I’m not sure.  Anything else?”

“Yeah, but it’s all enigmatic.  ‘Aide EK?  Didn’t find $$$.’  He writes the symbol, ‘dollar sign’ several times, not the word ‘money’.  Then he goes on, ‘AJ returned to GR.  Details in West Memo.’  Where’s the West memo?!  Is there anything else in there?” Amanda asked, searching fruitlessly inside the leather case that sat on her lap.

Lee picked up the strongbox and the pouch, but found them empty.  “No, that’s it.”

“Damn it!  What is EK?” she swore in frustration.

“Can I see the note?” he asked, and she handed it to him and he read it silently before commenting.  “Aide is spelled with an ‘e’, like an assistant.  EK is probably a person…”

Amanda nodded her agreement.  “Whoever he is, he must have worked at the Greenbrier.”

“It’s not going to be easy getting a list of who worked at the Greenbrier when nobody acknowledges the bunker even exists,” Lee reminded her.

“Then we need to locate the West Memo and figure out whatever BBN is, and who EK is.”

Lee nodded.  “We will.”

“How?” she snapped angrily.  “We’ve got a couple of answers, but more questions, not to mention we’re fresh out of clues.”

Lee bit his lip, deliberating his thoughts in silence.  “Calm down, getting upset isn’t going to solve anything.”

Before they could continue, they observed a car pull into the driveway. Amanda glanced at her husband.  “Jamie’s home; I better put things away for now and get dinner started.”

“I’ll take this upstairs for you.  I need to make a phone call,” Lee replied, helping Amanda pack their findings back into the lockbox.  Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, he reminded her.  “Remember, one thing at a time.  Now we have proof your father was on our side.”

“You’re right,” she nodded, a content smile washed across her face as Jamie walked in the door.

“Hi Mom, hi Lee,” he called out to them, carrying his schoolbooks with him.  “What’s for dinner?”

“Hi sport,” Lee answered before hurrying up the stairs and out of sight with the evidence.  Amanda might not have picked up on the clue her father sent, but Lee had a good idea where to turn for answers…

End Part Seven
 
 

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