Brad Meltzer - The Inner Circle

“Can’t you just search by his last name?” Clementine asks.

“That’s not how it works,” I explain. “If it were today, yes, we’ve got a better computer system, but if you want to see who requested a particular document in the past, it’s like the library card in the back of an old library book-you have to go card by card, checking all the names on it.”

“And that’s when I thought of Don Quixote ,” Tot says.

I cock my head, confused.

“Remember that list we looked at-from Mount Vernon-of all the books that were in George Washington’s possession on the day he died? Well, in his entire library, guess what single book he had more copies of than any other?”

“Other than the Bible, I’d say: Don Quixote ?” I ask.

“Uncanny guessing by you. And did you know that in 1861, during a U.S. Circuit Court case in Missouri-whose records we happen to keep since it’s a federal trial-one of the parties presented into evidence all the personal property and baggage that was left behind by one of their passengers? Well, guess what book that passenger was carrying?”

“ Don Quixote ,” I say for the second time.

“History’s fun, isn’t it?” Tot says. “That’s now two books in our collection that were also in the collection of President Washington. Today, that copy is stored out in our Kansas City facility, but on April 14th, 1961, during the JFK administration, a man named D. Gyrich once again came in and-”

“Wait, what was that date again?” I interrupt.

“Ah, you’re seeing it now, aren’t you?”

“You said April 14th…?”

“Nineteen sixty-one,” Tot says with a grin.

Clementine looks at each of us. She’s lost.

“The Bay of Pigs,” I tell her.

“Actually, a few days before the Bay of Pigs… but that’s the tickle,” Tot says, rolling his tongue inside his cheek. “Our dear friend D. Gyrich also came into the building and asked to see that same copy of Don Quixote on October 3, 1957, and on May 16, 1954, and on August 6, 1945.”

My skin goes cold. It has nothing to do with the chill from the extreme air conditioning.

“What?” Clementine asks, reading my expression. “What happened on those dates?”

“October 3, 1957-that’s the day before the Russians launched Sputnik, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Exactly,” Tot says. “And May 16, 1954?”

“The day before the Brown v. Board of Education decision was handed down. But that last one, I forget if it’s-”

“It’s the later one,” Tot says, nodding over and over. “You got it now, don’t you?”

I nod along with him. “But to be here the day before… to always be here the day before… You think he knew?”

“No one has timing that good,” Tot says. “He had to know.”

“Know what ?” Clementine begs.

I look at her, feeling the icy cold crawl and settle into the gaps of my spine. Dustin Gyrich, whoever he is, was in here days before the Bay of Pigs… Sputnik… the Brown decision… and August 6, 1945…

“Hiroshima,” I whisper. “He was here the day before Hiroshima.”

“He was,” Tot agrees. “And you’ll never believe where he was before that.”

"Okay, here… go back another thirty years,” Tot says. “Nineteen fifteen… two days before the Lusitania was attacked…”

“That’s what brought us into World War I,” I explain to Clementine, who’s still confused.

“Then again in 1908, the week the Model T was introduced,” Tot says, flipping through a stack of photocopies, his voice filled with newfound speed. “Some dates, nothing big happened. But I even found a visit two days before they changed the U.S. penny to the Abraham Lincoln design.”

“How’d you even-?” I cut myself off. “That’s impossible. He couldn’t have come here.”

“You’re right,” Tot says.

“Huh… why ?” Clementine asks.

“We weren’t open back then,” I tell her. “The Archives was founded in 1934. Staff didn’t start moving in until 1935.”

“But lucky us, the Library of Congress has been making books available since 1800,” Tot explains. “And when I called some of my friends there, well, considering that they’re the largest library in the world, what a shocking surprise to hear that they had their own copies of Don Quixote as well.”

“So even before the Archives opened…”

“… a Mr. D. Gyrich has been going in there and looking at old books that just happened to once be owned by General George Washington. Still, the real marvel is his timing: three days before the massacre at Wounded Knee… six days before the Battle of Gettysburg… They’re still searching, but we found another all the way back to July 4th, 1826, when former Presidents Jefferson and Adams both died within hours of each other on Independence Day.”

“He’s like the evil Forrest Gump,” I say.

“You say ‘he’ like he’s one person-as if there’s one guy who’s been walking around since 1826,” Tot counters. “No offense, but vampire stories are overdone.”

“So you think it’s more than one person.”

“I have no idea what it is. But do I think there’re a bunch of people who could be using that name throughout history for some unknown reason? We’re in a building dedicated to housing and preserving the government’s greatest secrets. So yes, Beecher, I very much believe that that kind of Easter Bunny can exist. The only question is-”

“They’re communicating,” Clementine blurts.

Tot and I turn. She’s sitting at the dusty desk, flipping through Tot’s stack of photocopies.

“They’re talking to each other,” she repeats. “They’re coming in here and they’re using the books. That’s how George Washington communicated with his group. It’s like my d-” She cuts herself off. “Think of what Nico said.”

“You spoke to Nico?” Tot asks me. “What’d he say? He knew something? What could he possibly know?”

Tot’s questions come fast. They’re all fair. But what catches me by surprise is the intensity in his voice.

“Beecher, tell me what he said.”

“I will, but… can I ask you one thing first?”

“You said Nico-”

“Just one thing, Tot. Please,” I insist, refusing to let him interrupt. “Yesterday… before Orlando was killed…” I take a deep breath, vomiting it all before I can change my mind. “When I was in Orlando’s office earlier, on his caller ID… Why were you calling Orlando on the day he died?”

Clementine looks up from the paperwork. Tot freezes. And then, just as quickly, he smiles, his blind eye disappearing in a playful smirk.

“Good for you, Beecher. Good for you,” he insists, doing the thing where he twirls his finger in his beard. “I told you to not trust anyone, and you’re doing just that.”

“Tot…”

“No, don’t apologize. This is good , Beecher. Smart for you for asking that. This is exactly what you need to be doing.”

I nod, appreciative of his appreciation, but…

“You never said why you were calling him,” Clementine blurts.

Tot’s finger slowly twirls out of his beard. “My ID,” he says. “My Archives ID is about to expire, and they told me to call Orlando to get the paperwork for a new one.”

“I thought the IG does all our investigations,” I say, referring to the Inspector General’s office.

“They do. But Orlando’s the one who takes your photo. Go look. Across from his desk, there’s one of those passport backgrounds that you pull up and stand in front of.”

I look at Clementine, then at Tot. That’s all I need. He just saved our asses from Khazei, and gave us his car, and did all this Dustin Gyrich research for no other reason than that he’s my dearest friend.