National Secret
Prologue: Secrets Stay Secret
He just got up to get a glass of water, but the door at the end of the hallway was taunting the ten year old. It seemed to be telling him to come on down to the basement, find out why his father said to not go in there.
The snores coming from the opposite end of the hallway made up his mind, forcing him to take careful steps towards the door. Once he reached it, he pulled open the door and a slipped through. The steps were old and wooden, making each one creek under his weight.
The door was open just enough to let the light from the hallway spill into the basement. He brushed some of his strawberry blond hair out of his blue eyes and continued to hop down the stairs. Once he got to the bottom, he went to the closest box and began to open it. Just as he was picking up the papers at the top, he heard his name.
"Iggy Griffiths," his grandfather spoke clearly from the middle of the stairs, "What're you doing down here?"
"Nothing, Grandpa," Iggy yelped, dropping the papers back into the box before closing the lid quickly.
A smirk passed the old mans face, "You want to know the secret?"
Iggy nodded.
The man looked around before pulling up a chair and gesturing for the boy to sit somewhere. "It was 1832, on a night much like this." The man stared out the upper window where rain was falling down the pane as he told his story. "Charles Carroll was the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was also a member of a secret society known as The Masons. And he knew he was dying.
"He woke up his stable boy in the middle of the night and ordered him to take him to the white house to see Andrew Jackson, because it was urgent that he speak to the president."
"Did he ever get to?" Iggy asked, eyes wide as he listen to the tale.
"No," His grandfather replied, turning to face his grandson. "He never got the chance. The president wasn't there that night.
"See, Charles Carroll had a secret. So, he took into his confidence the one person he could: My grandfather's grandfather, Thomas Griffiths."
"What was the secret?" Iggy asked, sitting on the edge of the box.
The old man leaned closer to his grandson, looking to the stairs before speaking again. "A treasure. A treasure beyond all imagining. A treasure that had been fought over for centuries. By tyrants, pharos, emperors, warlords, and every time it changed hands it grew larger, and larger. And then, suddenly," He snapped, "It vanished. It didn't reappear for more than a thousand years, when nights from the first crusade discovered secret volts beneath the temple of Solomon. You see, the nights that found the volts believed that the treasure was too great for any one man. Not even the king.
"They brought the treasure back to Europe and took the name 'The Nights Temple'. Over the next century, they smuggled it out of Europe, they formed a new brotherhood call The Free Masons in honor of the builders of the great temple. War followed. By the time of the American revolution the treasure had been hidden again. By then, the Masons included George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Paul Revere. They knew they had to make sure the treasure would never fall into the hands of the British. So they devised a series of clues and maps to which location.
"Over time the clues were lost or forgotten, until only one remained. And that was the secret that Charles Carroll entrusted to young Thomas Griffiths." The old man reached into a box that sat beside the chair and pulled out a small piece of paper. Written in neat calligraphy was 'The secret lies with Charlotte'.
Iggy looked up from the paper, "Who's Charlotte?"
"Oh, not even Mr. Carroll knew that. The Free Masons among our founding fathers left us clues like these," He pulled out a one dollar bill. "The unfinished pyramid, The all seeing eye, symbols of the nights temple. Guardians of the treasure. Their speaking to us through these."
Loud steps sounded coming down the stairs, Iggy's father showing himself with a scowl on his face, "You mean laughing at us. You know what that dollar represents? The entire Griffiths family fortune. Six generations of fools chasing after fools gold."
The old man stood up, "It's not about the money, Charles. It's never been about the money."
"Come on, Son," Iggy's father said, walking up the stairs, "You need to get to bed. You can tell your Grandfather goodbye in the morning before he leaves."
As soon as Iggy was sure his father was out of hearing range, he turned to his grandfather. "Grandpa, are we knights?"
The old man smiled, "You wanna be?" Iggy nodded. "Alright, kneel." Iggy did so, tucking the small piece of paper into his pocket. The old man took off his jacket and laid it across the boy's shoulders, "Iggithanial James Griffiths, you take upon yourself the duty of the Free Masons of the family Griffiths. Do you so swear?"
Iggy smiled, "I so swear."