Detective Dayton McCormick had accomplished his father's dream: Authoring a book and getting it published. Little did he know that his writing would attract the attention of a mysterious stranger, whose words and gifts would lead him on both the adventure of a lifetime and a discovery of universal proportions.
Washington's Child
By Michael DialessiAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Michael Dialessi
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4520-1639-9Contents
Chapter 1 The Dawn...........................................1Chapter 2 The Seven and Seven................................5Chapter 3 The Great Work.....................................12Chapter 4 The Note...........................................15Chapter 5 Twenty-Two Years Later.............................18Chapter 6 The Gift...........................................33Chapter 7 The Circle.........................................38Chapter 8 Perception.........................................55Chapter 9 Return to Richmond.................................74Chapter 10 Circle in a Square................................90Chapter 11 The Keys..........................................110Chapter 12 The Outer Puzzle Pieces...........................153Chapter 13 Finding Hutchinson................................184Chapter 14 Traitor?..........................................237Chapter 15 Truth.............................................255Chapter 16 The Petroglyphs...................................278Chapter 17 Dealey Plaza......................................305Chapter 18 Unfinished Business...............................320Chapter 19 Recovery..........................................333Chapter 20 The Scales of Justice.............................344Chapter 21 Normalcy?.........................................367Chapter 22 The Discovery.....................................396Chapter 23 Twin Pillars......................................403Chapter 24 Discussing Theology...............................409Chapter 25 Annuit Coeptis....................................413Chapter 26 The Secret of Washington D.C......................418Chapter 27 The Wiseman.......................................431
Chapter One
The Dawn
A tiny ladybug slowly crawled down the brass barrel of the transit, as the dew-moistened grass swayed in the gentle breeze. The sun was just beginning to appear over the horizon, as the stern-faced youth surveyed the Virginia landscape. It was the beginning of a beautiful, early September morning.
He was no ordinary fourteen-year-old Virginian. He was a young man well beyond his years in wisdom, who arose every morning before dawn to earn his daily bread. As his small fingers adjusted the brass wheels to calculate the exact distance, his keen hearing detected movement in the woods. Soft footsteps were approaching with twigs snapping under foot. He believed it was a small party of travelers and not a cadre of men seeking evil, for they would be far more cautious. Never the less, he reached down with his right hand to check the secureness of the screw which clamped his perfectly napped flint in the lock.
From the corner of his eye, he saw them emerge. Not men of white, but natives of leathery skin with brown eyes. Slowly, not to startle the men, but unsure of their intensions, he lifted his flintlock, brought it to the ready and then clasped his right hand over the lock and drew back the hammer. Keeping part eye on the party, he lifted up the frizzen to check if the pan was properly charged.
Leading the group, there was a young Indian whose face he recognized. He was a young man he had not seen for almost a year. He grasped the hammer with his left hand and carefully lowered it, then counted six of them after the group had fully emerged from the woods. One of them wore colorful garments covered with symbols not of his knowing. He must have been an elder, from a tribe not yet discovered by the British or the French. Immediately, he was drawn to the eyes of the unknown elder. His left eye was brown, as were most Indians he had seen. His right eye, however, was a multi-layered blue; similar in pattern to what is seen when steel in quenched.
The familiar face gave him a nod and a greeting. He loosened his grip on his musket and carefully leaned it on the cherry tripod legs, which had the transit on the apex.
"Is it time?" he asked.
"Yes," the familiar face told him.
The seven walked toward the woods. Two braves were in front. The Indian friend and the strange elder followed. Next, was the young Virginian, followed by the last two in the group.
Before entering the woods, the young Virginian studied the pattern in beads on the back of the elder's garment. There were three colored beads which formed the shape of a triangle and a fourth dark bead in the center. Below it on the right, around the area of the kidney, there was a bright white star.
The group walked for many hours until they came upon the falls. The sun had started its trek toward the western horizon and a cool breeze began to blow. A small opening lay to the right of the falls and the seven entered, one by one; for the opening was narrow, and the footing treacherous. Once inside, all sat in a circle. The inner chamber was lit by five small torches set equidistantly apart, and the whistle of the wind could be heard along with the rushing water from the falls.
As the ceremony began, four of the torches were extinguished, which left a single torch to light the ritual. As the young Virginian closed his eyes, he could feel the room around him spin, and it seemed as if he was being bathed in very bright light. As the Indian elder spoke unfamiliar words, the young man fell into a strange state of hypnosis. Then all went black.
* * *
The trek back began shortly after daybreak and he returned alone. He could see as he emerged from the wood that the cherry-legged tripod and shiny brass transit stood unmolested, along with the maple stocked musket.
A new passion has consumed the young man. He moved the equipment some fifty yards to the north and west. His nimble fingers adjusted the knobs. He trained the equipment east to the grassy hill, followed by south to the marsh. He then aimed the eyepiece to the west, where a light fog encased the long reeds growing in the damp soil. From where the transit was located, he walked about seven hundred yards to the south and slightly east. As he approached the water, he found a small, straight branch of a white oak, about three feet in length and then gently pushed it into the sand by the side of the bank. The transit was north of his current location and from the branch's shadow he knew that it was about half past two in the afternoon. The young man smiled and spun himself around while he looked in all four directions. It was at this moment that he realized this spot of ground was the ideal place for a great symbolic message to be constructed in stone.
The young Virginian then walked to his west, until the marsh dampened the bottom of his shoes. He squatted and looked straight ahead with firm countenance. "About an hour to the left," he said while turning his head slightly northeast. "There," he muttered while he pointed his small hand. "That is the place of the union."
He reached his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small compass. He assured himself that the measurements were true, while he observed both the current position of the sun and the compass needle. He then placed the compass back in his pocket and walked back to where his musket and surveying equipment rested.
Before packing up his equipment he said to himself, "38 degrees north, 77 degrees west. That will do." As the sun began to set, the young Virginian packed up his equipment and slung the tripod over his shoulder. He turned and glanced back at the open area he had just surveyed. "Someday, the great work...
