Brad Meltzer - The Inner Circle

“We’ll just be a minute,” Nico says, gripping Clementine’s shoulder as she rises to her feet.

“Nico, hands off her. You okay there, miss?” the guard asks.

“We’re coming up front. To feed the cats,” Nico replies. “The tabby still hasn’t eaten.”

“Nico, I am not in the mood for your freakiness right now. Shut your face,” the guard says. “Miss, you okay or not?”

Clementine stiffens. I know she wants to run… to scream… to get away from here, but the last thing she needs is Nico freaking.

“We’re coming to the front. To feed the cats,” she repeats, her voice barely working.

Looking at all three of us, the guard studies us, especially Nico. “Public spaces. Everyone. Now!”

Nico doesn’t move. But as Clementine takes off, he falls in behind her. Right next to me.

“You came here to protect her,” Nico whispers to me. “To make sure she was okay.”

I don’t answer.

“You like her,” Nico adds, calm as ever as we follow the guard out of the alley, toward the front of the building. “I see the way you study her. Is that why you brought a gun with you? To keep her safe?”

Clementine looks back at me. Just like Nico.

“A gun?” I ask. “I don’t have a gun.”

“I can see it,” Nico says, never raising his voice. It’s like he’s part robot. “I can see it tucked under your jacket. In the back.”

Patting myself around the waist, I quickly realize what he’s talking about. The book. The dictionary. The way it props my jacket up in the back of my pants.

“No-okay- look , it’s just-It’s a book,” I tell him, taking out the thin, gutted dictionary and showing it to him. “Just a book.”

But as I hold it out between us, Nico freezes.

“You wanna feed your cats, feed ’em here,” the guard calls out, pointing us back to the wooden benches in front of the building. No longer trusting Nico, the guard heads toward the building and stands in front of the doors, about fifty feet from us. This time, he’s not letting us go far.

Clementine heads back toward the main path. She can’t get out of here fast enough.

Still focused on the book, Nico’s eyes squeeze into two angry slits. “Why do you have that?” he asks.

“Have what? The book?”

“Why do you have it!?” Nico growls. “Tell me why you brought it here.”

“Just calm down,” I say, glancing over at the guard.

Following my eye, Nico turns to the guard, then sits down on the bench, swallowing every bit of rising anger. However long he’s been in here, he knows the consequences of losing his cool.

“Is this a test?” he asks. “Is that it? It’s a test for me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, offering him a quick goodbye as I follow after Clementine. “I work in the Archives, and I found this book, so I-”

“ You found the book?” Nico interrupts.

I freeze, confused.

Clementine keeps walking.

Nico’s eyes go wide, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Of course you found it. Of course,” he says. “Why else would you be here?”

“Hold on. You know this book?” I challenge.

“Don’t you see? That’s why she found me,” Nico says, motioning to his daughter.

Clementine stops, utterly confused-and for the first time, looks directly at Nico.

“And that’s why you followed,” Nico says, pointing to me. “God knows how I was misled. But God provides…”

“Nico, you’re not making sense,” I say.

“The book. To bring that book,” Nico insists. “The Lord knows my belief is just in Him. I’m no longer fooled by ancient stories of devil worship or secret cults or-or-or-This isn’t-This has nothing to do with me. It’s not a test for me ,” Nico insists, his voice picking up speed. He points at my chest. “It’s a test for you !”

I glance over my shoulder. To the guard, it just looks like we’re talking.

“What kind of test?” Clementine asks, hesitantly walking toward us.

“This dictionary. Entick’s Dictionary ,” Nico says, now locked just on me. “You work in the Archives. That’s why you smell of wet books. Don’t you know your history? This was the book George Washington used.”

“Time out. You do know this book?” I ask again.

“It’s the one Washington used. To test the loyalties.”

“The loyalties of what?”

Stretching his long spider legs out, Nico creeps off the bench, stands up straight, and kicks his shoulders back. “What else?” he asks, eyeing the guard and smiling. “For the Culper Ring.”

"Say again?” Clementine stutters.

“The Culper Ring,” Nico says. “When George Washington was-” He cuts himself off, but this time doesn’t look back at the guard. He looks at me. His eyes flick back and forth. “You of all people… You know who they are, don’t you?”

“Me? Why should I know?” I ask.

He studies my face. Like he’s looking for something no one else can see. “To work in the Archives… You know. I know you know.”

This time I don’t respond.

“Is he right? Beecher, please… say something,” Clementine pleads, more unnerved than ever. “You know, don’t you? You know what this Culper Ring is.”

“Not what. Who ,” Nico says. “The strength was in the who. That’s why they saved us,” he explains. “Back during the Revolutionary War, the British were slaughtering us. Not just physically. Mentally too. War is mental.”

War’s not the only thing mental , I think to myself.

“If you know, please… why’re you not saying anything?” Clementine asks, looking just at me and making me realize just how unsettling-and unlikely-all these coincidences are to her.

“ I don’t know ,” I insist.

“You just said-”

“I’ve heard of them. I work in Old Military-of course I’ve heard of them-but all I know are the basics: They were George Washington’s private spy group. He personally put the group together.”

“You know why he brought them together,” Nico challenges. “Why are you so fearful to show your knowledge? Is it her? Or are you uncomfortable around me?”

I again stay silent. Clementine knows he’s the one I’m worried about. Indeed, my mind tracks back to the crazy Freemason/Founding Fathers conspiracy that caused Nico to shoot the President all those years ago. Nico was convinced Thomas Jefferson and the other Founders were trying to rule the world, and it was his job to save us.

The guy’s got a PhD in crackpot history, so the last thing I need is to add another gallon of crazy to his tank. The problem is, like before, the real last thing I need is to rile him for no reason. “Okay, just listen,” I say. “Back during the Revolution, George Washington was frustrated that our side couldn’t keep a secret-our plans kept getting intercepted by the British, since they knew who all our military spies were,” I continue, glancing back at the guard, who’s watching us, but seems satisfied all is under control. “And that’s when Washington decided to stop relying on the military, and instead put together this group of regular civilians…”

“That’s the key part,” Nico says. “The Culper Ring weren’t soldiers. They were normal people-a group no one could possibly know-even Washington didn’t know their names. That way they could never be infiltrated-no one, not even the commander in chief, knew who was in it. But this Ring-they were regular people,” he adds, standing over me as his chocolate eyes drill into mine. “Just… just like us.”

I scootch back on the bench, still wondering whether he’s being extra crazy because of me, or he’s just permanently extra crazy. Next to me, Clementine’s just as worried. She’s done asking questions.