Kittie and Dickerson stave off a suspicious park policeman after being approached on a false marijuana complaint. Dickerson’s criminal record is revealed to be spotless, whereas Kittie’s is quite the opposite. As the policeman retreats after giving the couple an envelope, Dickerson notices the officer’s Masonic ring.
“What was that?” Kittie asked.
“Nothing babe, let’s get goin,” I answered smiling.
“Don’t you still have your Mason to meet up with?” she asked.
“He just left.” I responded, holding the envelope between my fingers, flipping it over to reveal the compass square, and bold capital “G” of the Masonic emblem.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” she exclaimed, “No wonder there are so many conspiracy theories about them, who knew they were so damn sneaky!?”
“Come on babe, we got what we came for.” I said, with a bit of a cheesy grin on my face, “And I for one would like to see what’s in this envelope over a good meal.”
I took her by the hand, and started walking over to the Subway on I Street between 14th and 15th Streets, about a block and a half away. Sitting in a corner booth, away from prying eyes, I fished the envelope out of my pocket. Opening it up, I found ten folded one hundred dollar bills wrapped around two elegantly folded sheets of rather expensive-looking stationary. Stuffing the bills in my wallet, I opened the first of the two letters.
‘Dear Mr. Dickerson,
Please accept our sincerest apologies for duping yourself and our courageous sister. Officer Wilson is an excellent example of a Fellow Craft in our brotherhood and was happy to step in and lend a hand. Given the fact that we know you have been under observation by one of our opposite numbers in the Illuminati, we felt that it would be wisest to deliver these particular missive clandestinely.
Delivery via the Park Police seemed the least obvious and therefore the best way to overcome such an obstacle. Once again, please accept our apologies for the deception involved.’
The letter wasn’t signed, but the Masonic square and compass had been stamped where a signature should have gone.
“Well, that explains that.” Kittie chimed in between bites of a turkey club sandwich.
“Rather ingenious, I have to admit.” “I replied before chomping into a meatball marinara sub.
“Yeah, but knowing how much you hate cops,” she went on, “that could have gone down eight shades of wrong.”
“It didn’t though,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. I guess being reminded how my own personality might have seriously screwed this part of our adventure up didn’t sit too well with me.
“Easy there Bill,” she said in a soothing voice, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know Babe.” I replied, “I guess this whole thing’s starting to sink in. Our lives are at risk because some idiot with more money than brains wants to set modern spiritual thinking back two thousand years, when all I wanted to do last week was drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, and get my hair done.”
“That’s my Bill,” Kittie smirked, “always gettin’ his priorities straight.”
“I love you too, babe,” I replied, sticking my tongue out at her. “And this must be what we came for.” I opened the second sheet of paper, and began to read out loud.
‘Across the pond of Atlantis
the young aristocrat sailed
a paladin of Liberty
his sword sworn to her cause
Beloved of the Virgin’s land’s
Worshipful Master, as a father to a son
Entered Apprentice at his hand
and Fought Freedom’s Fight by his side
And when the tyrant’s shackles
Laid broken and shattered
Liberty’s paladin returned home
Where the trumpets of her cause were blowing.’
