David Baldacci - Simple Genius

“Oh, yeah, a lot going on. Like I told your buddies, there were two towns over there, Magruder and Bigler’s Mill. Magruder was named after, what else? A Confederate general; seems to have been a trend down this way.” He snorted. “My parents obviously had different reasoning when they named me South.”

“South Freeman, ” Horatio said. “Clever.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Bigler’s Mill was built on the site of a Civil War hospital. So the stage was all set when the Navy came knocking on the door.”

“I wonder why the military picked that area?”

“You mean aside from it being occupied by colored folks who didn’t have any voice? Well, you got a lot of cheap land, water nearby-we are talking the Navy after all, and the C amp;O Railway ran a spur track down from Williamsburg and made Magruder’s Station.”

“Why was that? For bringing sailors and supplies down?”

“Yep. Most folks don’t realize that back then the railroad was how most troops got around in this country. But there was another reason for the spur.”

“What was that?”

“When the Navy operated the place it also held a military stockade.”

“Stockade? You mean a prison for American soldiers who’d committed crimes?”

“Nope. It was for German prisoners of war.”

“Germans?”

“They were sailors mostly. They came from subs and ships that were sunk off the East Coast. Crazy man Hitler thought these fellows had been killed of course. That’s why all the secrecy. The government didn’t want anybody to know those Germans were being held there.”

Horatio said, “Why? What was the big deal?”

South pointed at him and grinned. “Now that’s the sixty-four-thousanddollar question, ain’t it?”

“You’ve obviously thought about it. What’s your take?”

“Well, there’s an obvious one. If we were getting those boys to talk, spill secrets or capturing them with Enigma codebooks the German navy was using, then Hitler and his cronies would move heaven and earth to kill them. And make no bones about it, there were a lot of German spies and assassins over here then. At the very least it seemed that the tide in the Atlantic war turned about the time those POWs showed up at Camp Peary, so I’m betting our boys got them to talk about the Enigma code.”

“What happened to the prisoners after the war ended?”

“I figure some of them went back to Germany. I mean after the war what was the point in holding them? But I don’t think all of them went back to Germany. What was back there except dust, rubble and chaos? And people thought they were dead anyway. So I think some of them just stayed in America.”

As Horatio digested this information South continued his narrative. The war ended, the Navy left and the land was turned into a state forestry and game reserve. Then the Navy came back in 1951, shut it down and it had remained closed to the public ever since.

“The CIA took the place over in June of 1961 even though it was still officially listed as a military base. Pretty ironic when you think about it. That date.”

Horatio jerked to attention. Sean had informed him about Monk Turing’s reference to “irony” as he and Len Rivest floated past Camp Peary while fishing.

“Ironic? How’s that?”

“That was two months after the CIA fiasco at the Bay of Pigs in Cuba. At the time the Navy said it was officially opening a new facility in place of what they called a Seamaster base. And they transferred some of their training, like demolitions and unconventional weaponry, to another facility. But that was all bullshit. I’m sure June of 1961 is when Camp Peary became the CIA’s main spy school. They were embarrassed after the Bay of Pigs screw-up and they should have been. Guess they needed a place to really train their people to do the job right. Yep, right after Bay of Pigs. But that’s not the only irony.”

“What else?”

“I told you the town was named after a Confederate general? Well General ‘Prince John’ Magruder was one of the true masters of deception during the war. Now the town that bore his name is home to people who make their living lying.”

“I see your point. That is ironic,” Horatio agreed. Although he couldn’t see how it tied into what Monk had said to Rivest that day. “Anything else?”

South Freeman glanced around even though they were all alone. “Started to tell this to your friends, but then decided not to. But what the hell. There’s a part of Camp Peary most folks have no idea about. Maybe even some people who work there.”

“So how do you know?”

“Those folks have to eat and have their places cleaned, right? Well, I know lots of cooks and cleaners. Same old shit, a lot of ’em have my skin color, how about that?”

“Okay, go on,” Horatio encouraged him.

“Well, the camp has a black area component. And I’m not talking about folks who look like me. That’s where the secret side of U.S. diplomacy takes place.”

“Secret diplomacy?”

“Yeah. Goes on all the time. Leaders of other countries, agents, rebels, dictators, even terrorists who happen to be on our side at least for now, are flown in on some of those planes you see landing at two A.M. They don’t have to pass through customs or nothing. No one even knows they were ever here. And the meetings officially never happened. Before we invaded Iraq a bunch of Kurdish leaders were flown to the Farm to hold meetings about ways to topple old Saddam from the inside.”

An impressed Horatio exclaimed, “South, how do you know all this?”

Freeman looked offended. “Hey, I’m a damn journalist, man.”

Horatio sat back looking troubled.

Freeman grinned wickedly. “Scary shit.”

“Scary shit,” Horatio agreed.

WHEN SEAN AND MICHELLE MET later he said, “I didn’t get a chance to search for a secret room earlier, you want to give it another shot together?”

A few minutes later they were in the main hall of the mansion. Waiting for it to clear out, they started making their rounds. They had cleared about a dozen rooms and had just finished with the library, when a voice startled them as they came out.

“You’re not doing it the right way.”

They turned and stared at Viggie, who was wearing a very superior look while perched on an ornate couch sitting against one wall in the main hall.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Michelle asked.

“I’m sick.”

“You don’t look sick.”

“I already finished all the work, including my homework. And I saw you snooping around.”

“We’re not snooping around,” Sean objected.

“You’re looking for that secret room you asked me about, but you’re not doing it right.”

“Okay, how would you do it?” Sean shot back.

In response Viggie held up several sheets of paper covered with numbers and equations. “I’ve already worked it out. Right after you asked me about it I spent a bunch of time measuring every exterior and interior dimension of the house and compared it with the actual physical configuration.”

“You did?” Sean said, stunned. “You’re only eleven.”

Viggie ignored this. “And I came up with a very interesting discovery.”

“What was it?” Michelle said.

“There’s a twelve-by-twelve-foot square unaccounted for.” She showed them the paperwork, which was too complicated for either Michelle or Sean to follow.

“Okay, little Miss Einstein,” Sean said. “Where is it?”

“Third floor, west corridor, next to the last bedroom on the right.”

Sean thought about this. “That’s right next to the bedroom I was staying in.”

Viggie put her hands on her hips and gave him a penetrating look. “Gee, you think you would have noticed then, Mister Einstein.”