Chapter 210: Masonic Legends
Okay, it wasn't Nicolas Cage from "Lord of War." Honestly, Ron was shocked when he saw this face.
But knowing it wasn't that character wasn't enough. The owner of this face had appeared in countless movies and TV shows, so Ron needed to narrow down the possibilities. "Is there any solid intel on this guy?"
"Actually, the Gates family is pretty well-known in our circles. I believe this suspect comes from the same family that's been pushing conspiracy theories about our founding fathers."
The staff member clearly knew way more about the situation than the supervisor, and Ron shifted his attention to this unremarkable-looking guy.
"Conspiracy theory? Interesting. What kind of conspiracy theory are we talking about?" Ron showed interest in the gossip. His years as a federal agent told him this conspiracy theory had to be connected to the suspect's motives.
"It's a really old legend. Most people think it's complete bullshit, but the Gates family has always insisted it's the truth."
"It was back in 1832. Charles Carroll was the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was also a member of the secret society known as the Freemasons. He knew he was dying, so he woke up his stable boy in the middle of the night and had him take him to the White House to see President Andrew Jackson because he had something urgent to tell him."
Ron listened with fascination: "What did he tell the president?"
"He never got the chance because Jackson wasn't at the White House that night. But Carroll had this secret burning inside him, so he could only tell it to one person—his stable boy, who happened to be the ancestor of the Gates family."
"So what kind of secret was it?"
A distant look appeared in the staff member's eyes: "A treasure. A treasure beyond anyone's wildest imagination."
"So I can assume the people who stole the Declaration were treasure hunters, right? Maybe two competing groups of treasure hunters? This is getting more interesting by the minute, but I've got a question: where the hell did this treasure come from?"
Ron immediately identified the most likely suspects from the staff member's story, which actually made him feel somewhat relieved. Even though he wasn't a fan of all the "liberty and equality" propaganda, it was still a priceless historical artifact. It would be a damn shame to see it used as toilet paper by terrorists.
The staff member's story continued:
"For thousands of years, tyrants, pharaohs, emperors, and warlords have fought wars over this treasure. With each change of hands, the treasure grew larger. Until one day, it was discovered in the ruins beneath Solomon's Temple by the Crusaders. Those knights believed this treasure shouldn't belong to any single person, not even an emperor. So they brought it back to Europe and formed the Knights Templar, the predecessors of the Freemasons. Over the next century, they secretly smuggled the treasure to the New World."
Ron's head was spinning when he heard this. Templars? What the hell?
He clearly remembered the last time he'd heard the word "Templar" was while playing Assassin's Creed!
What was this treasure? Please don't tell me it's a Piece of Eden. If that's what we're dealing with, what's next? Am I supposed to fight aliens with just a damn revolver?!
Please, spare me! Not every extraterrestrial is as stupid as they appear in Marvel movies, abandoning their advanced technology for hand-to-hand combat.
Fortunately, the staff member's next explanation eased his concerns.
"Our founding fathers—Freemasons George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Paul Revere—knew they had to keep the treasure away from the British, so they hid it again. The last Mason to know the truth passed the clue to that stable boy, the ancestor of the Gates family. What do you make of this legend?"
What do I make of it? A bunch of thieves hoarding wealth they'd plundered from civilizations throughout history, finally bringing it to America, and you're asking for my opinion?
Under normal circumstances, Ron would have replied, "Sounds like a load of crap!"
But today, facing this unassuming staff member, Ron managed to keep his cool. He'd noticed something strange on the guy's ring—a peculiar symbol.
It was identical to the one on the dollar bill: the All-Seeing Eye.
Ron's pupils contracted. This was the symbol of the Freemasons! This person was a high-ranking Mason!
In all his time hopping between realities, Ron had never encountered such a powerful and secretive organization!
Are you kidding me? These are the Freemasons! The legendary shadow organization that supposedly orchestrated the French Revolution, World War I, and World War II from behind the scenes. There are even rumors that the Masons are the real power brokers in America, and that other groups are just their fall guys and front organizations.
Although Ron hadn't accessed much classified information yet, his personal experience suggested the rumors were probably true.
He even knew that somewhere in an obscure corner of America, a mysterious intelligence agency operated independently of the government, hidden inside a small distillery, with intricate connections to a tailor shop in London.
This had been revealed to him by Eggsy's mentor back in Britain.
In other words, even though this guy was just a "staff member," if he wanted to, that incompetent supervisor would be nothing more than an ant he could crush without breaking a sweat.
"Sounds compelling, but obviously pretty far-fetched," Ron shrugged casually. "Still, this legend gives me a starting point. At least I know where to begin. Who's the FBI liaison here?!"
A distinguished older gentleman raised his hand: "That would be me."
Ron's jaw clenched again because the old man was wearing the same ring as the staff member. He was also a Freemason!
Jesus Christ! Is this some kind of joke? Is it trendy for big shots to play dumb these days?
Ron couldn't help but speak more respectfully. "I need you to send a team to Gates' residence and see what you can dig up. If he's planning to steal the Declaration because of this legendary clue, then I need to know what that clue is so I can predict his next move."
"Absolutely. In fact, I was already planning to do exactly that. Any other directives, Agent Cooper?" the old man agreed cheerfully.
"Don't call me 'Agent,' you're the one calling the shots here! I'm just a glorified pencil-pusher. I don't deserve that kind of respect!" Ron screamed internally, already regretting getting mixed up in this mess.
"No, I don't have any other instructions right now. If I do have one request, it's that I hope everyone can get some rest and take care of themselves. We'll definitely crack this case, but until then, I just want everyone to stay physically and mentally sharp..."
(End of chapter)
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