The Americans

by John Jakes

  Just like her mother.

  For several days afterward Eleanor had denied the accusations vehemently in her own mind, especially the idea that she was imitating Margaret. But then doubt had begun to creep in. Doubt and a slow, shameful realization that her father was right. At a time of tragedy, after the horror of the flood and her inadvertent revelation to Martin, reality had been too much for her. She had begun locking real doors, just as she’d locked an imaginary one for years. And had turned her back on the one solid chance she had to resume her life, by going back on the stage.

  It was frightening to realize that her flirtation with madness had gone so far. Yet now, aware of it at last, she felt a sense of redemption: rescue. She had her father to thank for that, and this evening, she had been gathering her nerve to go downstairs and tell him.

  But first there was another decision. If she was strong enough to make it.

  She stopped in the center of the room, turned toward the desk and gazed at Louisa’s letter. Showing that determination that had made her so successful as a manager, Louisa had refused to accept Eleanor’s initial, negative answer to the offer of a place in her company. This latest letter renewed the offer of employment for the entire season. But, Louisa had noted, a prompt reply was necessary.

  Finally, after perhaps a minute, Eleanor’s expression grew more determined. She picked up her skirts.

  But before she moved toward the desk, her eye fell on the closed door of the bedroom. She stared at it, frowning. If she were going to take the step she contemplated—take it because it was essential for her survival—then it was time to stop the outward imitations of her mother as well.

  She walked to the door, twisted the key, and flung the door open, pushing it all the way back against the papered wall. A stir of air from the corridor touched her cheek.

  She turned around and crossed the room. The bedroom had three windows. One by one she flung back the draperies concealing them, raised them, and pushed the shutters outward.

  Rain splashed her face; the storm was heavy now. But the air felt deliciously cool, and the rain had a sweet taste when she ran her tongue over her lip. At the final window, she stood for a moment, head back and eyes closed, savoring the freshness of the swirling air and the dampness it bore.

  Then, swiftly, she returned to the desk, inked a pen, and began to write:

  My dearest Louisa,

  Thank you for yrs. of the most recent date. I hasten to answer immediately, in order to tell you that I have reconsidered my original decision—

  In the dark beyond the windows, the storm intensified over the Common. The gusts rattled the writing paper until she had to hold it down with her left hand as she wrote.

  A small smile on her face, she bent over the letter, feeling a joyous freedom as she wrote in the wind that rushed through the room, cleansing it of its staleness and its ghosts.

  CHAPTER X

  ULTIMATUM

  i

  A STREAM OF PATIENTS kept the Bayard Court office busy on Thursday morning. To judge from the number of coughs, sneezes, and runny noses the doctors saw, an epidemic of summer influenza was sweeping the neighborhood.

  Will had been up before dawn, thinking of Jo, and Laura, and the Bend. All that he’d heard in the past day or so— from Drew, Jake Riis, even the brutal Banks—had started him moving in a different direction. He wasn’t sure where he’d wind up. But the next step was clear. He must speak to Marcus, and perhaps Thurman Pennel, as soon as possible.

  He yawned as he brought Vlandingham a bottle of cough mixture from one of the cabinets. The doctor gave him a stern stare.

  “You should go to bed at night, instead of chasing Banks and his flying squad.”

  Drew turned from the patient whose throat he was about to examine. At the moment there were two middle-aged Italians in the surgery. Drew was taking care of one, Vlandingham the other. Neither patient could speak English; both had made their symptoms known by sign language.

  “You know about the raid?” Drew asked his partner. Neither he nor Will had mentioned it; Jo had only been told that it had been successful.

  Vlandingham snorted. “Don’t act so blasted surprised. Everyone in the neighborhood knows. While I was walking over here this morning, four people informed me that you two had gone with the police to close that dive.”

  Jo looked at Will, as if for confirmation. An abrupt silence had descended over the surgery. Will saw the expression of Vlandingham’s patient change from anxiety to outright terror. The man was staring past the doctor to the doorway.

  Drew glanced in that direction and frowned. His patient, too, had a fearful look. Will turned and discovered the cause. A man had entered unannounced, evidently opening the door so as to make no noise.

  The man was about sixty-five, slender, and slightly stoop-shouldered. He had merry brown eyes, a Vandyke which had been neatly trimmed and combed, and magnificent white hair that covered the tops of his ears and brushed his collar.

  Jo was the first to react. “You can’t come in here!”

  Vlandingham’s gray eyes remained on the visitor. “The gentleman is accustomed to doing whatever he pleases.” He glanced past the stranger to the outer room. Five minutes earlier, eight or nine people had been waiting. Now the room was empty.

  The stranger’s clothing was neat, though heavy for summer, and considerably out of date as well. The black trousers and matching sack coat were tailored in a style popular in the 1850s. His shawl was a reminder of a masculine fashion that had disappeared soon after Lincoln’s death. A black silk cravat, gray gloves, and a cane with a silver knob completed his outfit. Every item contributed to his air of quaint gentility. But despite his age and his attire, he appeared alert and vigorous. He continued to smile in an avuncular way as Vlandingham walked toward him.

  “I see you’ve frightened away all our patients,” Vlandingham growled.

  “Have I, Doctor? It wasn’t intentional.”

  The stranger spoke English with a heavy accent. Still smiling, he glanced at the man Vlandingham had been examining. “Per piacere andatevene.” His eyes darted to Drew’s patient. “Anche tu. Immediatamente.”

  The second man knocked his stool over in his haste to beat the first to the door. The visitor stepped aside to permit them to flee. Drew righted the stool, a scowl on his face.

  “Who is this man?” Jo demanded.

  Drew shook his head. “Never saw him before. But I suspect—”

  “You know him by name,” Vlandingham cut in. “I know him personally. We were introduced several years ago at a ristorante just around the corner on Mulberry.”

  “An occasion I recall with immense pleasure,” said the visitor.

  “You may, but I don’t.” Vlandingham turned to Drew. “The gentleman no longer lives in the Bend. He merely continues to exploit it.”

  Will’s stomach flip-flopped. He knew the stranger’s identity now.

  “That was one of your operations they raided last night, wasn’t it?” Vlandingham asked.

  “Alas, yes.” The visitor’s smile lost some of its warmth. He gave Will a swift glance that was frightening because of its total lack of emotion. The man treated Drew to the same quick scrutiny, then said, “Permit me to introduce myself to the young signori. I am Don Andreas Belsario.”

  ii

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re the sainted ghost of Billy Tweed,” Vlandingham exclaimed. “Get out of my surgery.”

  Don Andreas’ manner grew soothing. “Please—there is no need for voices to be raised. What I have to say can be said politely. And you needn’t become involved, Dr. Vlandingham. Neither you nor the young lady bear any responsibility in this matter. I have come to speak with the two young signori. Dr. Hastings and his new acquaintance—”

  Will quickly supplied his name. He was damned if he’d let some elderly grafter buffalo him.

  The padrone fixed him with another chilling stare. “Are you by chance related to the New York family which publi
shes the Union?”

  Will felt as if he’d been struck. For the padrone to make that connection by guesswork alone was too improbable to be believed. The man knew who he was because he’d made it his business to know.

  He returned the padrone’s stare. “That’s right.”

  “A fine newspaper,” Don Andreas said. “We read it regularly in my household.”

  Vlandingham grabbed the padrone’s arm. “What the hell do you want?”

  Quickly, the man stepped back. Vlandingham let go. Don Andreas glanced down at the wrinkles left on his sleeve by Vlandingham’s fingers. Using his right glove, he flicked away invisible dirt, then murmured, “I told you, Doctor. It is for the ears of the two young—”

  “Say it and get out,” Vlandingham broke in. “I’ll have to disinfect the whole place to get rid of your stink.”

  The sally infuriated the padrone. But he maintained his control, even smiled again. “Very well. As you said, Doctor—it was one of my two-penny restaurants which the police invaded and padlocked last night. There were those in the raiding party not officially attached to Elizabeth Street—”

  Again the brown eyes slid to Drew, then Will. “My employee, il signor McCauley, knew the two of you were not policemen. But he knew nothing else. Not your names, or where you might be found. Early today we circulated your descriptions in the neighborhood. My apologies, Dr. Hastings, but the mention of your girth led to a quick identification. I have come here to protest your interference in my affairs.”

  Drew’s face reddened. His voice took on that high, rasping sound. “You’ve got it mixed up. I didn’t close your place. The police did. Not to say I wouldn’t shut all such establishments if I had the chance. They’re pest holes. Even tramps don’t deserve to be poisoned.”

  “Your moralizing is extremely tedious,” Don Andreas said with a smile. “Of course I know you didn’t instigate the raid. But by your interference, you and your friend almost deprived me of an able lieutenant. Il signor McCauley isn’t the brightest man in my employ, but he is one of the most useful. I will not brook a similar interference again.”

  He glanced at Drew’s bandaged hand. “I notice you earned a small reward for your meddling. How sad it would be if some mishap crippled you permanently. Never again able to perform surgery—you would hardly deserve the title doctor then.”

  Jo was white. Drew shook with anger. “Your effrontery is unbelievable—”

  “No, Doctor. Yours!” the padrone shouted. “You, all of you, are permitted to practice here by my sufferance alone. Sergeant Banks has harassed me before. My patience with him has worn thin. Last night he again closed a valuable commercial enterprise—”

  “How can you call a dive like that valuable?” Will demanded.

  Don Andreas controlled his anger, shrugged, and lowered his voice as he said, “Oh, I am not speaking of monetary value. The profits of a two-cent restaurant are of course insignificant. But the friendships made through operation of such places—the votes that can be harvested one or two at a time, then brokered—those are extremely significant. Those votes enhance my authority in this district, and my worth at City Hall. When you rob me of even one restaurant, as the two of you helped Banks do last night, the loss is not inconsiderable. When you compound the injury by nearly sending a valuable man to Blackwell’s Island for six months or more—that is not easily borne, signori.”

  His brief burst of temper might never have occurred; he sounded almost genial again. “Put yourselves in my position. Imagine what would happen if I allowed this affront to go unpunished. I would quickly become a laughingstock. A toothless old grandfather devoid of power and prestige. Regrettably, I am unable to have Banks removed or held in check by his superiors. So I must find other means to demonstrate my displeasure. You”—he pointed a gloved finger at Drew; like a gun barrel, the finger swung toward Will—“and you. Both of you will leave the district by noon Saturday. If you are seen in the Bend after that, the consequences will be unpleasant. You, Dr. Vlandingham—you may stay. Also the young lady who assists you. The voters must be kept in good health! But if either of you is found abetting the police, your dispensation will likewise be withdrawn.”

  No one moved or spoke. Will and the others were stunned. Like an accomplished actor holding the stage, Don Andreas was in control and knew it. “You may, of course, think of scurrying to Banks or some other police functionary to report what I have just said. No action will be possible against me, however. Several reliable witnesses will be prepared to swear in court that I was never anywhere near these rooms today—that I was, in fact, entertaining some of my seventeen grandchildren in Central Park. I bid you all good day.”

  With a little nod, he strolled out, gently pulling the door shut behind him.

  iii

  Drew sank down on a stool. Almost unconsciously, he brought his bandaged right hand into the palm of his left and cradled it there as he shook his head.

  “My God. I can’t believe it. People don’t say such things in the civilized world.”

  Vlandingham tried to smile. It was only a jerk of the corners of his mouth. “I’m afraid that’s your error, Drew. Thinking you’re still in the civilized world.”

  “He’s an ignorant man!” Jo exclaimed, as if trying to shake off the spell of the visitor. “Only stupid people threaten violence.”

  “Stupid people or very confident ones,” Vlandingham said. “Don Andreas has tremendous influence in the district. I suppose he feels he must demonstrate that occasionally. We had the misfortune to provide him with a convenient opportunity.”

  “Not we,” Will said. “Just Drew and I.”

  Jo’s anxious eyes sought his. “What happened during the raid? With that man he talked about, I mean.”

  Drew told her, concluding, “Will tried to stop him, but he got away.”

  Musing aloud, Vlandingham said, “Wonder what he’s got up his sleeve for Banks. In the past he’s tried bribing him, but Banks can’t be bought.”

  Carefully closing his left hand around the bandaged one, Drew looked monumentally annoyed. “I still don’t know how the devil a doctor gets involved in this kind of mess.”

  “By deciding to practice in this kind of neighborhood!” Vlandingham snapped. He strode to one of the equipment cabinets and pulled a small key from his vest pocket. He bent to insert the key in the keyhole of a bottom drawer as Drew went on.

  “Well, I can’t let some crook run me off. But you didn’t bargain for this, Will. There’s no reason for you to stay and run the risk of getting hurt.”

  “You know I wasn’t planning to leave until Sunday,” Will said. “I see no reason to change my plans. Tomorrow I have to do an errand on Wall Street, but I’ll be back by evening.”

  Slowly, his gaze traveled from Drew’s face to Jo’s. What he thought he saw there—admiration mixed with anxiety— warmed him and somehow made his decision seem less foolhardy. How did old Philip feel, staring into the muzzles of British guns at Concord bridge a hundred and fourteen years ago? As frightened as I feel right now?

  “Ever fired something like this, Drew?”

  Vlandingham’s voice made them turn. From the cabinet drawer he’d taken an old maroon cloth and unfolded it to reveal the oiled metal of a revolver with a long barrel.

  “No,” Drew said. “But I had a squirrel gun when I was younger.”

  “Then you should be able to get the hang of this without much trouble. It certainly isn’t the sort of instrument I planned to give my partner any time during our association—”

  He polished the already spotless barrel with the sleeve of his smock, then started to hand the gun to Drew. He blinked.

  “Good God. You can’t fire it. You couldn’t fire it if your life depended on it.”

  An unfortunate turn of phrase, Will thought gloomily. Drew laughed and held up his bandaged hand.

  “No, not very well. I wondered when you’d realize that.”

  “I can fire it,” Will said. “I know how
to handle a revolver. That looks like a fine one.”

  “It is. Forty-four caliber Adams. Five shot, double action. The Union Army bought five hundred of them during the war. This one came from a Reb prisoner—one of D. H. Hill’s men who was killed running away from the Bloody Lane at Antietam. I think one of his own must have shot him in the back. He was dead by the time he was brought to our hospital tent. And since he’d obviously stolen the revolver off a Federal, I—” He cleared his throat. “I thought it all right to take it from him. It shoots well. I did some target practice with it over on the Weehawken Heights a year after the armistice. I have some ammunition I bought at the time. I’ve kept it dry. Perhaps it’s still good—”

  Fiercely, Jo shook her head. “Must we go through this? Do you really think that awful man will do what he said?”

  “It all depends on how badly he feels his prestige has been injured,” Vlandingham told her. “I’d hate to gamble that he was bluffing. I think it’s safer to assume he isn’t.”

  She walked to the door. The reception room was still empty. She turned back suddenly. “Why couldn’t Banks provide a police guard?”

  “On what grounds?” Vlandingham replied. “A threat? If the police gave special protection to every person in the Bend who was threatened by someone, they’d need a thousand patrolmen just for this precinct.”

  Will licked his lips; they were dry all at once. “If the padrone’s threat was serious, we’ll know by Saturday night or Sunday. Till then all we can do is look out for ourselves.”

  Drew nodded. Jo’s silence signaled reluctant agreement.

  “May I see the gun, Doctor?”

  Every eye shifted to the bright weapon as Vlandingham laid it carefully in Will’s open hand.