The Women Spies Series 1-3

by Sergeant, Kit

  Belle refolded the note, wondering if it was a trick, but the following evening she did as C.H. had instructed, offering several oranges to her guard, who gave her a small rubber ball and a sewing kit in exchange. She split the ball into halves, inserting a note into one half and then resewing it. When she heard someone walk by underneath her window whistling an Irish tune, Belle threw the ball as far as she could into the square. Another flag soon flew through the window, this time accompanied by a note informing her of Confederate movements in the western theater.

  A guard, one of the more detestable ones, appeared in the doorway of her cell. “What do you have there, Miss Boyd?” Belle tossed the note under the bed. She inserted the Confederate flag into her bodice and walked over to him. Predictably, the guard reached a hand through the bars to seize her flag, but Belle pulled her revolver from her skirts and took aim. The guard stared down the barrel of the gun, his eyes wide and mouth open. Belle cleared her throat as loudly as she could, causing her prison mates to go to their doors and take in the scene. “These are the kind of men General Lee hangs by their thumbs,” Belle said in her loudest voice before dropping the arm with the gun by her side.

  Chapter 63

  Hattie

  July 1863

  That summer in Washington City felt even hotter than the summer Hattie had spent in the Richmond prison. Hugh had been sent South on another mission and when Secretary Stanton asked if Hattie was ready to take on a mission of her own, she readily agreed. She reported to the War Department where she was shown to Colonel Baker’s office.

  The door was opened, but the man she took to be Lafayette Baker was occupied, his head bent over a paper. She stood in the doorway and waited, noting that his desk was just about as disheveled as his hair. Pinkerton would have never approved of such defilement in a detective agency.

  “Mrs. Lawton?” Colonel Baker’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Sir?”

  He waved at her to sit down. “I received your name from Secretary Stanton. I’m hoping to send you North to follow a suspicious person.” He pushed a blank sheet of paper toward her. “Technically, I’ve hired her to work for the secret service.”

  Hattie pulled a pen out of a nearby inkwell and began to take notes as Baker continued, “She mentioned a possible plot to rescue imprisoned Confederate prisoners.”

  Hattie set her pen down. “Another one?” For weeks the papers had contained information about such goings-on, but none of them had come to fruition.

  “Yes, but that’s not necessarily what concerns me. This woman mentioned she would pose as a Confederate double-agent, and something is telling me it might not be a farce.” Baker went on to describe the woman as small-boned, of Spanish descent, and who seemed uncommonly sure of herself. “I’ll arrange for you to follow her to Ohio on tomorrow’s train. Make note of who she contacts there. If she is indeed a Confederate spy, I’d like to know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The woman of Baker’s description was easy to recognize. Hattie sat on the train in the seat directly behind her and listened to her converse with a young lieutenant, speculating about the dire situation in the South in regard to inflation and the consequent deprivation of its poorer citizens.

  It was midnight when they finally arrived in Sandusky, Ohio. The lieutenant with whom Ms. Williams had acquainted herself hired a coach for the two of them. Another coachman motioned to Hattie, and pointed three fingers downward. Recognizing the signal, Hattie climbed into the coach and was driven to the hotel by another Baker operative.

  Chapter 64

  Loreta

  July 1863

  The first thing Loreta did when she woke the next morning was draw the curtains open to gaze across Lake Erie. She had to squint her eyes to find the little island that focused so largely in her plans. Plans that, if carried out successfully, would do more to promote the cause—not to mention bring her more glory and distinction—than all of the fighting she’d done. She pictured the thousands of brave Confederates imprisoned there, ready to do their bidding and transfer the seat of war from the disadvantaged South to the prosperous Midwest.

  After Loreta had dressed, she rang for the chambermaid to take her card to the lieutenant she’d met on the train and let him know she was ready for breakfast.

  The chambermaid had a more exquisite air about her than Loreta would have supposed. She had a dark complexion, and large brown eyes that hinted at past tragedies.

  “Is that Johnson’s Island?” Loreta asked, indicating the small dot in the middle of the lake.

  “It is indeed,” the chambermaid replied, joining Loreta at the window. “It houses Confederate prisoners.” She paused before adding, “I wish they would all just go away.”

  “Why?”

  She turned away from the window. “I am afraid they will break loose sometime and burn the town.”

  Loreta hid a smile, thinking that was exactly her hope. “There must be enough Union soldiers to guard them.”

  “I’m not sure on that point,” the woman replied before bowing so low that something fell from her apron. “I will see to delivering your card,” she said, leaving the room. Loreta was about to call out to her that she had dropped something, but thought better of it when she realized that it was her master key. Loreta pocketed it, thinking she could find a use for it later.

  After breakfast, Loreta went to the telegraph office to send coded dispatches to Confederate agents in Baltimore and Detroit, letting them know she had arrived. She then boarded a ferry out to the island. On the way there, her heart began to hammer in her chest. She was no more afraid for her own safety than she had been when bullets whizzed past her on the battlefield, but at the same time, she knew the fate of this magnificent campaign was on her thin shoulders. She mused that her trepidation was not that different from what a general might feel when making the first advance in a great battle upon which the future of his country depended.

  After she’d arrived on the island, she displayed her letter from Baker to the commanding office, explaining that she was searching for Rebel spies. The officer nodded and showed her to the gate outside. Loreta watched as the prisoners milled around, recognizing one she had known when she was acting as Harry Buford.

  “You there!” she called.

  The haggard soldier obliged her by coming to the gate.

  She introduced herself as Ann Williams and then motioned for him to follow her out of the guard’s earshot. “Are you ready to regain your freedom?”

  The man looked around and then said in a low voice, “What would you know of it?”

  “On the night of August 21, a group of rebels will capture the steamship Michigan and then train its guns on this island. You and your fellow prisoners will use that opportunity to overpower your guards and then escape to the city, capturing all the steamboats you can lay your hands on, before heading on to Canada. The resulting border skirmishes will incite Britain into joining the war on our side.”

  The man threw his head back and laughed.

  Loreta tightened her hands on the wire fence. “If you will not act as a leader, find me someone who will.”

  “Your plan sounds extremely fantastic. I suppose the end result will be the Confederacy winning the war.”

  “That’s right,” Loreta said. “And, although you think it too far-fetched, the cogs have been spinning for months. My instructions came from General Winder by way of President Davis.”

  The man’s smile disappeared. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Loreta said pointedly. “Now are you ready to serve your country again or not?”

  Although she’d had to repeat the plan a few times to the young man, Loreta left, satisfied he was prepared. Upon returning to the hotel, she inquired after the young lieutenant, but was informed that he was out. “What room number is he again?” Loreta asked. “I need to leave him a note.”

  “Four,” was the clerk’s reply.

  Loreta accordingly went to Room 4
, furtively checking each side of the hallway before using the chambermaid’s key to open his door. She headed straight for the desk and riffled through the papers there. It seemed the lieutenant was on his way to New York to try to quell the race riots that had been occurring there. It was interesting information, but not exactly pertinent to Loreta’s mission and she replaced the papers as best she could remember.

  As soon as she finished locking the door behind her, she heard a bell boy coming down the hall. She affected her most perplexed look. “Which is the servants’ staircase? I must have gone down the wrong stairs.”

  The boy pointed, and Loreta hurried down the hall. She met the chambermaid outside her room. “Oh, I was just bringing you a cup of tea,” the woman said.

  Loreta nodded her thanks. “I’ll just have time to enjoy it before I need to run more errands. I need to telegraph my husband my whereabouts.”

  The woman smiled. “Good luck.”

  Chapter 65

  Mary Jane

  July 1863

  After hearing of the possibility of a prison breakout, Miss Lizzie encouraged Mary Jane to find out all she could. Consequently, Mary Jane snuck into Mr. Davis’s office to rifle through his files. There she’d memorized all of the details, including where the money was coming from to finance the operations, and the exact date of the Michigan seizing. She relayed all of this to McNiven, who promised to send it up North.

  The next time she met with Miss Lizzie, she informed her mistress that it was time to begin organizing her escape from the Confederate White House. “After what happened at Gettysburg, Mr. Davis suspects there’s a spy in his household. The deterring of the prison coup will be the final blow. Even if he doesn’t figure out who the informer is, he will be much more careful in the future.”

  Miss Lizzie nodded. “Winder’s sent several of his plug-uglies to search the Church Street mansion. So far they haven’t found anything. I even heard they interviewed my sister-in-law, but for now they’ve taken no action. But I did receive a threatening note from someone.” She got to her feet, breathing heavily. “I will make arrangements for your departure. When you are ready to leave, hang a black petticoat on the line.”

  Chapter 66

  Belle

  July 1863

  That summer, Belle suffered from a bout of typhoid fever. When she was on the mend, a sympathetic guard informed her that her mother had pleaded with Stanton for her freedom, but the secretary had responded, “She’s a damn Rebel. Let her die there!”

  Finally Belle received word that her release had been scheduled for early August. As word had gotten out that she would be escorted to Richmond, the same friendly guard delivered her gifts and contraband from Washington City to bring South with her.

  One day the guard came in and pulled a flat package out of his pocket breast. “This is from your friend, C.H.”

  “What is it?” Belle asked. It felt very heavy in her hands, and, as she turned to examine it, she heard coins jingle.

  “It’s Union gold and some greenbacks. It is imperative that it gets to Judah Benjamin in order to aid in a Confederate plot up North.” He handed a pair of black and brown field glasses. “For your troubles. I’m told they were General Jackson’s.”

  Belle blinked back tears as she accepted them, picturing her hero using them to scout enemy forces.

  “And the last thing,” the guard said, holding up another envelope. “This is a letter of introduction to vice-president Alexander Stephens, affirming your devotion to the Confederate cause. As if anyone would be in doubt.”

  “Thank you.” She slid the letter underneath her mattress. “Who are you?” she turned to ask the guard, but he had already disappeared.

  The morning of her release, Belle packed the glasses carefully along with her clothes into a trunk, but hid the money by tying the bills to her hoops and sliding the gold and letter into her underwear.

  Her escort introduced himself as Captain James Minx, a burly man who claimed he used to be Lincoln’s bodyguard.

  “And now, here you are guarding little old me.” Belle couldn’t help but feel important. “Where is my father? I thought he was to accompany me back to Virginia.”

  “I’m told he was too ill to travel,” Minx growled.

  Belle put her arm on his sleeve. “Please sir, you must take me to him.”

  “My orders are to deliver you to General Butler in Norfolk, only. And I always follow orders.”

  Belle’s disappointment at not being allowed to see her father was quickly replaced by trepidation at being under the care of “the Beast” Butler, the scourge of New Orleans women. Jefferson Davis had even gone so far as to declare Butler a felon deserving of capital punishment.

  She thought the man’s dastardly appearance perfectly in line with his reputation. He had a large head that sat upon an equally large neck, his stomach unable to fit beneath his desk. As he turned his droopy-eyed gaze to her, Belle couldn’t help but think his eyes crossed each other like the stars on the Confederate flag.

  “I take it I am in the presence of Miss Boyd, the famous Rebel spy?”

  Belle nodded.

  “Please take a seat.”

  Belle locked her shaking arms by her side. “Thank you, General Butler, but I prefer to stand.”

  “Pray, girl, why do you tremble so? Are you frightened?”

  “No,” Belle replied, intending to tell him she shook out of anger, not fear, but then changed her mind. “Actually, yes, General Butler. I do feel frightened to be in the presence of a man of such infamy as yourself.”

  Butler rubbed his hands together and shot her an evil grin. “What do you mean when you speak of infamy?”

  Belle stepped forward. “I mean General Butler, that you are a man whose atrocious conduct and brutality, especially to Southern ladies, is so known that even Jefferson Davis has declared that he would have you executed if he ever captured you. Naturally I feel alarm to be around you.”

  Rage seemed to fill his sagging face and he ordered her to leave. Already halfway out, Belle cursed herself for letting her anger get the best of her when there was so much at stake.

  Minx brought her to a nearby hotel, telling her to remain put until she was called for.

  The following evening she was taken to the Norfolk provost marshal’s office. Her trunk and bonnet box were on the floor and Belle watched as a detective searched her baggage.

  “Is this really necessary?” she asked as the detective pulled out a clean pair of undergarments. “I have just come from prison.”

  The detective did not reply. He held the field glasses in the air as if he’d just seized a fine prize. Which indeed he had. “I’m sure General Butler would appreciate a new pair,” he sneered.

  Belle had to refrain herself from snatching them back, thinking Butler didn’t deserve any possession of Stonewall’s. She reminded herself not to antagonize them into searching her person.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts, the detective asked, “Do you have any money on you?”

  “No, sir. Well, just a few dollars in Confederate currency.”

  “You can keep that stuff. We have no need for it in this country. What else are you carrying?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Would you swear on that?”

  The gold in Belle’s drawers caused her to squirm. “Just some letters, sir.”

  The detective eyed Belle up and down but, in the end, decided not to search her.

  When Belle reached Richmond, she sent word to the Confederate authorities about the gold she’d managed to sneak past Butler before checking into the Spotswood Hotel. Almost immediately, a clerk from the State Department came to retrieve it.

  Belle had unceremoniously dumped the coins on the nightstand. As the clerk scooped them into a carpetbag, he tried to make conversation. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure his health will improve now that he knows I’m a free woman again.”

  The clerk pause
d, his hands frozen in their activity. He flexed his fingers before looking up. “Miss Boyd, do you mean to tell me that you didn’t know that your father has passed?”

  Belle felt everything grow cold as tears formed behind her eyes. “No.” She sank into the nearest chair. “No, I didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” the clerk said. He didn’t seem to know what else to do but go back to his task. Belle sat numb as he finished. He apologized again, placing a conciliatory hand on her shoulder, before he left.

  Chapter 67

  Hattie

  August 1863

  Hattie had Mrs. Williams followed to the telegraph office by one of Baker’s operatives. After the man reported back, Hattie changed out of her chambermaid disguise in order to send a telegraph of her own. She’d acquired enough information to know that Baker had been right—the woman was indeed a double-agent. Luckily the competence of Loreta Janeta Velazquez De Caulp was inferior to her ego.

  A few hours later, Hattie received an encrypted message from Baker, which she quickly decoded. He’d received complete details of the plot via the Richmond Underground and the Union now knew everything. Hattie breathed out as she read that he’d sent Hugh to infiltrate the men intending to attack the Michigan—Baker was going to do everything he could to make certain the infamous plan would never go through. He ended by authorizing Hattie to arrange for Mrs. Willams’ arrest as soon as possible.

  Chapter 68

  Loreta

  August 1863