Huey stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the abyss of the Library Archives. Grabbing the banister, he clumped down the stairs, motion lights activated with each one of his steps. He entered the Archives and shivered from the chilled granite stone blocks that encircled him like a mummy in a sealed tomb. Huey switched on the overhead lights and glanced around. Long, supple wooden dowels hung in mid-air suspended by chains and rocked as the clean air blower disturbed them in their final resting place.
He walked to the first metal file stack and read the neatly printed index cards that listed the city, state, and date when that particular newspaper had been published. Stepping in between the aisles, Huey searched for twenty minutes before he found the index card he wanted: Historic Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Philadelphia Inquirer, 2176.
Lifting the Philadelphia Inquirer from its pole, he brought it to a beat-up wooden conference table. Placing it flat on the table, he carefully turned its plastic laminated pages.
In Section Two, Business Reports, two bold headlines caught his attention: “Right Before the Guard's Eyes” and “Desolation Sweeps the Country.” Pulling up a chair, Huey straddled it; buttocks firmly encased between the two armrests. He rested both elbows on the table.
Philadelphia, PA, 2176, A 20 million dollar security system with state-of- the-art-security alarms failed to prevent an original copy of the Declaration of Independence from being vandalized last night.
Carpenter's Hall Historic Museum opened its doors at 9:00 a.m. to families, school groups and political researchers for visiting and viewing the many historical exhibits of portraits, documents and recreations. No suspicious activities were noted or reported.
Midmorning two false alarms went off when zealous patrons leaned over the sonic fields guarding the showcases, but no malicious intent was reported by the security guards.
The Museum's policy is to post a twenty-four hour guard to protect the inner galleries while guards under a federal government contract patrol the grounds continually. At night our precious Documents are stored in an underground vault north of the City.
Museum officials tell us that ten minutes before 5:00 p.m., a man dressed in colonial apparel was seen loitering near the Declaration of Independence display in the Octagonal Room, recently dedicated this fall. When the alarm tripped for the second time, five minutes before five, the security guards sealed off the area and inspected the premises. There was no sign of forced entry or break in via the domed skylight. The only clue left was the one-third framed section of the Declaration, which remained inside its sealed, laminated, ballistically tested glass case.
In the photo, guards point to the exact spot where the Declaration once hung in its entirety above the ornate, wooden and marble shrine constructed in the early part of the twenty-second century.
The Museum's historians have recreated the document by computer generated copy and can show us which sections are missing; namely 46 out of the 56 Delegates' signatures and the most important words significant in today's world: We, Representatives of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, in GENERAL, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the World for the Rectitude… FREE and INDEPENDENT STATES; that they are absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political Connection between them and the State of Great-Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as FREE and INDEPENDENT STATES, they have the full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce and to do all other Acts and Things… And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm Reliance on the Protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor. Signed by ORDER and in BEHALF of the CONGRESS, JOHN HANCOCK, PRESIDENT. ATTEST: CHARLES THOMSON, SECRETARY. PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED BY JOHN DUNLOP.
The rip in the page was so sharp that investigators believe that the theft was engineered by a high tech group, though the Police Commissioner believes that a hate group, responsible for breaking and entering other historic sites, is responsible for this break-in too.
Huey mused over his finding. He couldn't understand why just the Delegates signatures and that one portion of the Declaration were missing.
Disturbed, he returned his attention to the second newspaper article and noticed that it was a copycat version of the first one, except that in this article, the police had questioned no one nor had they introduced any suspects. The colonial-dressed man was never found, nor were there any leads on him. The FBI's only suspect was that man and he was nowhere to be found. They only had the guard's story and nothing else.
Was there a connection? Huey shook his head. He re-affixed the newspaper onto the pole then returned his attention to the other item he sought. He couldn't find the remaining original copies of the “Dunlop Broadsides.” There were twenty-five in all. Maybe Joseph had found some clues in the Archives. Huey went back to the main stairwell and cupping his hands, shouted, “Joseph?” Huey waited, “Joseph? Are you there?” Joseph's head twisted into sight.
“Did you find anything?”
“I found one listing.”
“Good! Bring it up and let's take a look.”
Joseph skipped up the stairs. He hugged a worn leather portfolio under his left arm. Huey leaned forward and grabbed it. Greedily, he opened it and removed several pieces of discolored parchment. Maybe these documents could tell him where the remaining 25 original copies of the Dunlop Broadsides would be.
In another part of the building, Abidemi Black entered the Wait Stall area before her on-again, off-again friend, Mark Monsanto, arrived. Dressed in black leather jeans, an organdy halter top and recycled tire boots, Abidemi strutted like a peacock whenever she could. She swiveled her head to see if anyone noticed her grandiose entrance, but the stall remained empty. Sighing, she dropped her shoulders and her jauntiness disappeared. Slumping into an overstuffed couch, with feet swinging, Abidemi waited for Mark to make his mean entrance.
Mark arrived five minutes later, out of breath, his camouflage uniform in full disarray. He sat at the far end of the Stall, as far away as he could get from Abidemi.
“Wonder what Huey wants … this time.” Abidemi called out as way of greeting him.
“Probably the same thing he wanted from you the last time we met, except you refused on the grounds that it might humiliate you."
Abidemi bristled “Did not humiliate me!”
“Whatever.”
Abidemi dismissed him and concentrated on counting the contraband (thermite charges and rifles), she would've sold and monies collected. It lulled her into somnolence and she caught herself with a start. She mustn't fall asleep on the sofa or she would never hear the end of it from Mark.
“It's probably your fault,” Mark remarked. Abidemi sweated. Memories of her recent initiation into Miriam Haleen's government-run street gang, The Mechanics, haunted her. The official black, red, and purple bangle beads were still strung tightly around her neck. Miriam had shoved some white and gold bangles up her arms and at the last minute, snapped on two imitation tennis bracelets around both of her ankles, making Abidemi look like a bejeweled snake. She had kicked and scratched back, but Miriam was too strong and shoved her into a concrete wall, punching and pinching her. On top of that, the Rat Patrol appeared and caught her as she tried selling black market rifles and plastic bombs to The Regulators. The whole mess had blown up in her face and Abidemi became Miriam's whipping boy. Huey imprisoned her in the Lock Keep for the night and notified her grandmother, Mbakondja Black, to come and get her in the morning. The next morning, not only did she scold her, but also confined her to Black National Towers for the remainder of the semester, another five months, another sort of jail.
Miriam, who was also taken by the Rat Patrol, endured no such ordeal, since the Rat Patrol recognized her as one of Huey's minions.
Mark broke her reverie and twisted the screw further in. “Remember what Mbakondja implied about Huey and Miriam?” “I wouldn't have gotten caught if you hadn't squealed on me. What's wrong with joining? Everyone's doing it, except maybe you, mamma's boy.”
Mark crouched into his seat, his soft hands covering his face. Abidemi chuckled, adding, “None of Mbakondja's platitudes and dead heroes for me. It didn't work for her and it sure ain't gonna work for me!”
“The Rat Patrol brought you in and they have a lousy reputation. Miriam would sooner see you dead than alive. She'll probably lay the blame on you. I know her game and so should you by now.”
Joseph Chow walked into the Wait Stall area as Mark threw his verbal one-two punch at Abidemi. He glanced from Mark to Abidemi.
“Getting a bit chilly in here?"
They ignored him. Joseph worked for Huey, but no one feared or respected him. Both Abidemi and Mark turned away from Joseph's sudden entrance. He continued speaking, anyway.
“Huey will see you separately. Abi,” She hated his nickname for her. “Abi,” he repeated, “Go in and … ”
Before she left, Joseph moved in closer and detained her. Stretching his hands forward, he unclasped the multi-colored bangles from her throat and arms, and lastly, removed the two tennis bracelets from her ankles.
“You look so much better without all that stuff on you.” He pushed her towards Huey's office. “How come he's seeing us alone?” Mark whined behind the cover of his hands. Joseph stared at his posture and took in his disorderly hair and less than spic-and-span uniform.
“Less you know, the better it is for all concerned.”
“Huey's got a job for us?”
“He's got an assignment for you. An easy one. Do it well and …” Joseph shrugged his shoulders. “Graduation for you and a reprieve for Abi if she follows directions and obeys orders.”
“Does Mbakondja approve?” “Not your business,” Joseph said, nervously rearranging the military and naval magazines on the racks. He leaned against the opposite wall from Mark and studied him.
Inside his office, Huey watched as Abidemi swaggered in. “Close the door and pull up a stool.” She slammed the door shut, pulled up a chair close to his desk, and plopped into it.
“What do you want?” and tried staring him down. “As if you don't know.” “What did Mbakondja have to say?” “The usual, but she doesn't scare me.” “How many demerits do I get this time?” blinking her eyes rapidly. “It depends.” “On what?” “I want you and Mark to pull a job for me. Accomplish it within the defined time limit and you're both home free.”
“Mark Monsanto? You're kidding. That chump?!"
“Better than five weeks solitary with bread and water.” Abidemi leaned forward and gripped the edge of Huey's desk. “I want you and Mark to travel by train to Historic Philadelphia and get a document for me. Generations ago it was called the Declaration of Independence.”
“The Declaration of wh-a-a-t?” “A paper written by some American colonists who desired freedom from an out-of-date government.”
“Totally useless. I know someone who's tied to the past and could use a decree like that.”
“Mbakondja,” Huey said and they both laughed. “Describe it,” Abidemi requested. “The text's written on very old paper, parchment, it's called. On the top, in all caps, it reads: IN CONGRESS JULY 1776. Then underneath, the second line says: The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Underneath, the document starts with these words: When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for a people… and so on and so forth.”
“Just words.” Huey blinked. “On the bottom of the Declaration there are signatures, 56 Delegates' names in all.”
“Where's it stored?” “In the decrepit Carpenter Hall's Museum, which is now considered the war zone between old and new Philadelphia.”
“That tells me squat.”
“Sixth and Walnut. Follow the terminal signs. You'll get there okay. You're in charge.”
“Of whom?”
“I told you, Mark Monsanto. Bring me back that Declaration and you're guaranteed an immediate membership to The Mechanics … and more.” Huey didn't mention Miriam and Abidemi didn't ask. “Don't worry about your grandmother.”
She laughed in his face. “I never do. She takes care of herself!” Huey studied her. Abruptly, he hit the intercom button. “Mark, get your sweet ass in here.” Abidemi twisted in the chair and stared as Mark minced his way into Huey's office.
“Mister, you'd better walk like you mean it. Tough. Aggressive. Arrogant. You're an elite cadet. Shout it to the world. None of those half-ass, sissy steps here.” Abidemi giggled. Mark glared at her, his fists clenched and body rigid.
“Mark, pay attention. You and Abidemi are going to Philadelphia to get me a document.”
Abidemi clapped her hands. “She knows which document I want. Remember. Your duty is to me, the Overkeeper of the Keepers of the Flame.” Huey glanced down at his digital watch. “Time to go. Here's your tickets. I've cleared it with the Rat Patrol so that you can ride the tubes back to the Island after curfew.”
“Sweet,” Abidemi said, but her enthusiasm dimmed when Mark scowled and twisted away from both of them. Huey watched the dual performance; Abidemi's cocky departure and Mark's sullen retreat.