"That's how I met her. She walked into my office last week and asked if I knew where she could get records of old crimes in the city--back in the eighteen hundreds. I let her look through a few of the old books I have but it's almost impossible to find trial court records going back that far. I couldn't help her." The skinny man raised an eyebrow. "She wanted to pay me for my time. Most of my clients don't even do that."
With another look around the town house, Goades seemed satisfied that the situation was what it seemed to be. "Are you close to catching this guy?"
"We have some leads," Rhyme said noncommittally.
"Well, tell her I came by, would you? And if there's anything she needs, anytime, have her call me." He nodded at his card and then left.
Mel Cooper chuckled. "A hundred bucks he's represented a spotted owl at one point or another in his career."
"No takers on that one," Rhyme muttered. "And what'd we do to deserve all these distractions? Back to work. Let's move!"
Twenty minutes later Bell and Geneva arrived with a box of documents and other material from her great-aunt's apartment, which a patrolman had delivered to them at the precinct house.
Rhyme told her that Wesley Goades had come by.
"To check on me, right? I told you he was good. If I ever sue anybody I'm going to hire him."
Lawyer of Mass Destruction . . .
Amelia Sachs walked inside with the evidence from the scene, nodding a greeting to Geneva and the others.
"Let's see what we've got," Rhyme said eagerly.
The cigarette that Unsub 109 had used as a fuse for the distracting "gunshot" was a Merit brand, common and untraceable. The cigarette had been lit but not smoked--or at least they could detect no teeth marks or saliva on the filter. This meant he was not a habitual smoker, most likely. No fingerprints on the cigarette, of course. Nor was there anything distinctive about the rubber band he'd affixed the cigarette to the bullet with. They found no manufacturer's markers in the cyanide. The acid could be purchased in many locations. The contraption that would mix the acid and poison in Bell's car was made of household objects: a glass jar, foil and a glass candleholder. Nothing had any markings or indications that could be traced to a particular location.
In the abandoned building where the killer had done his surveillance Sachs had found additional traces of the mysterious liquid she'd recovered from the Elizabeth Street safe house (and whose FBI analysis Rhyme was still impatiently awaiting). In addition she'd recovered a few tiny flakes of orange paint the shade of roadside signs or construction or demolition site warnings. Sachs was sure these were from the unsub because she'd located flakes in two different locations, right next to his footprints, and nowhere else in the abandoned store. Rhyme speculated that the unsub might have masqueraded as a highway, construction or utility worker. Or maybe this was his real job.
Meanwhile Sachs and Geneva had been searching through the box of family memorabilia from her aunt's house. It contained dozens of old books and magazines, papers, scraps, notes, recipes, souvenirs and postcards.
And, it turned out, a yellowed letter filled with Charles Singleton's distinctive handwriting. The lettering on this page was, however, far less elegant than in his other correspondence.
Understandable, given the circumstances.
Sachs read it out loud:
" 'July fifteenth, 1868.' "
"The day after the theft at the Freedmen's Trust," Rhyme noted. "Go on."
" 'Violet--What madness this is! As near as I have been able to discern, these events are a plan to discredit me, to shame me in the eyes of my colleagues and of the honorable soldiers in the war for freedom.
" 'Today I learned where I might find justice, and this evening, I went to Potters' Field, armed with my Navy Colt. But my efforts ended in disaster, and the one hope for salvation now lies forever hidden beneath clay and soil.
" 'I will spend the night in hiding from the constables--who now search everywhere for me,--and in the morning, I will steal to New Jersey. You and our son must flee too; I fear they will try to visit their vengeance upon you, as well. Tomorrow at noontime meet me at the John Stevens Pier in New Jersey. Together, we will repair to Pennsylvania, if your sister and her husband will agree to harbor us.
" 'There is a man who lives in the building above the stable where I am now hiding, who seems not unsympathetic to my plight. He has assured me he will get you this message.' "
Sachs looked up. "Something's crossed out here. I can't make it out. Then he goes on: 'It is dark now. I am hungry and tired, as tested as Job. And yet the source of my tears--the stains you see on this paper, my darling,--are not from pain but from regret for the misery I have visited upon us. All because of my d----ed secret! Had I shouted the truth from the top of City Hall, perhaps these sorrowful events would not have transpired. Now it is too late for the truth. Please forgive my selfishness, and the destruction wrought by my deceit.' "
Sachs looked up. "He signs it only 'Charles.' "
The next morning, Rhyme recalled, came the pursuit and arrest described in the magazine Geneva had been reading when she was attacked.
"His one hope? 'Hidden beneath clay and soil.' " Rhyme looked over the letter again, Sachs holding it up for him. "Nothing specific about the secret . . . And what happened in Potters' Field? That's the pauper's graveyard, isn't it?"
Cooper went online and browsed for a few moments. He reported that the city cemetery for indigents was located on Hart's Island, near the Bronx. The island had been a military base, and the graveyard had just opened on it shortly before Charles went there on his mysterious mission, armed with his Colt pistol.
"Military?" Rhyme asked, frowning. Something had clicked in his memory. "Show me the other letters."
Cooper produced them.
"Look, Charles's division was mustered there. Wonder if that's the connection. Anything else about the graveyard?"
Cooper read. "No. There were only two or three hits."
Rhyme scanned the white board. "What the hell was Charles up to? Gallows Heights, Potters' Field, Frederick Douglass, civil rights leaders, congressmen, politicians, the Fourteenth Amendment . . . What ties them all together?" After a lengthy silence the criminalist said, "Let's call in an expert."
"Who's more expert that you, Lincoln?"
"I don't mean forensic science, Mel," Rhyme said. "I'm speaking of history. There are a few subjects I'm not proficient in."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Professor Richard Taub Mathers was lean and tall, with skin dark as mahogany, sharp eyes and an intellect that suggested several post-graduate degrees were tucked into his resume. He sported a throwback short Afro hairstyle and a self-effacing manner. He was dressed, well, professorially: tweed jacket and bow tie (missing only the de rigueur suede elbow patches).
He nodded to Rhyme, with a brief double-take at the wheelchair, and shook hands with the rest of those present.
Rhyme occasionally lectured at local colleges on forensic science, mostly at John Jay and Fordham; he rarely appeared at such lofty venues as Columbia, but a professor he knew at George Washington down in D.C. had put him in touch with Mathers, who was, it seemed, an institution unto himself in Morningside Heights. He was a professor in the law school--teaching criminal, constitutional and civil rights law as well as various esoteric graduate courses--and lectured in African-American studies in the undergrad program.
Mathers listened attentively as Rhyme related what they knew about Charles Singleton and the civil rights movement, his secret, how it was possible that he'd been framed for robbery. Then he told the professor what had happened to Geneva over the past two days.
The professor blinked in shock at this news. "Tried to kill you?" he whispered.
Geneva said nothing. Holding his eye, she gave a faint nod.
Rhyme said to Sachs, "Show him what we have so far. The letters."
Mathers unbuttoned his jacket and pulled on thin, stylish glasses. He read Charles Singleton's correspondence care
fully, unhurried. He nodded once or twice, gave one faint smile. When he was finished he looked over them again. "Fascinating man. A freedman, farmer, served in the Thirty-first U.S. Colored Troops--and was at Appomattox."
He read the letters yet again as Rhyme stifled the urge to tell him to hurry. Finally the man removed his glasses, polished the lenses carefully with a tissue and mused, "So he was involved in the enactment of the Fourteenth Amendment?" The professor gave another smile. He was clearly intrigued. "Well, this could be interesting. This could be something."
Struggling to remain patient, Rhyme asked, "Yes, and what would that be exactly? The 'interesting something'?"
"I'm speaking of the controversy, of course."
Had he been able to, Rhyme might've grabbed the man's lapels and shouted for him to speed up. But he offered a casual frown. "And what's the controversy?"
"A bit of history?" he asked.
Rhyme sighed. Sachs gave him a dark look and the criminalist said, "Go right ahead."
"The United States Constitution's the document that set up the American government--the presidency, Congress and the Supreme Court. It still controls how we operate and supersedes every other law and regulation in the land.
"Now, in this country we've always wanted a balance: a government strong enough to protect us from foreign powers and to regulate our lives, but not so strong it becomes oppressive. When the nation's founders read over the Constitution after it was signed they were worried that it was too powerful--that it could lead to a repressive central government. So they revised it--they passed ten amendments, the Bill of Rights. The first eight are really the crucial ones. They list basic rights that protect citizens against abuse from the federal government. For instance: the FBI can't arrest you without probable cause. Congress can't take your house away from you to build an interstate highway without compensation. You get a fair trial with an impartial jury. You can't be subject to cruel and unusual punishments, and so on. But, did you note the key word?"
Rhyme thought he was actually testing them. But Mathers continued before anyone could speak. "Federal. We're ruled by two different governments in America: the federal government in Washington and the government of the state we live in. The Bill of Rights only limits what the federal government can do to us: Congress and federal agencies, like the FBI or the DEA. The Bill of Rights gives us virtually no protection against human and civil rights violations by state governments. And state laws are the ones that affect our lives much more directly than the federal government--most criminal police matters, public works, real estate, cars, domestic relations, wills, civil lawsuits are all state issues.
"Got that so far? The Constitution and Bill of Rights protect us from Washington only, not from abuse by New York or Oklahoma."
Rhyme nodded.
The man eased his lanky frame onto a lab stool, glancing uncertainly at a petri dish containing green mold, and continued, "Let's go back to the eighteen sixties. The pro-slavery South lost the Civil War so we enact the Thirteenth Amendment, which prohibits slavery. The country was reunified, involuntary servitude was outlawed . . . freedom and harmony would reign. Right?"
A cynical laugh. "Wrong. Banning slavery wasn't enough. There was even more bad feeling toward blacks than before the war--even in the North--because so many young men had died on behalf of freeing them. State legislatures enacted hundreds of laws discriminating against blacks. They were barred from voting, from holding office, owning property, using public facilities, testifying in court . . . . Life for most of them was nearly as bad as under slavery.
"But these were state laws, remember; the Bill of Rights couldn't stop them. So Congress decided the citizens needed protection from the state governments. They proposed the Fourteenth Amendment to remedy that." Mathers glanced at a computer. "You mind if I go on-line?"
"No, not at all," Rhyme told him.
The professor typed in an Alta Vista search and a moment later had downloaded some text. He cut and pasted a passage into a separate window, which everyone in the room could see on the flat-screen monitors around the room.
No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.
"This is part of section one of the Fourteenth," he explained. "It drastically limits what states can do to their citizens. Another part, which I didn't print out, gave states incentives to give blacks--well, black men--the right to vote. So, we're clear so far?" asked the educator.
"We're with you," Sachs said.
"Now, the way an amendment to the Constitution works is that it has to be approved by Congress in Washington and then by three-fourths of the states themselves. Congress approved the Fourteenth in the spring of 1866, and it went to the states for ratification. Two years later it was finally ratified by the required number of states." He shook his head. "But ever since then there've been rumors that it was never properly enacted and ratified. That's the controversy I was referring to. A lot of people think it's invalid."
Rhyme frowned. "Really? What do they say is wrong with the enactment?"
"There were a number of arguments. Several states withdrew approval after they'd voted to ratify but Congress ignored the withdrawals. Some people say it wasn't properly presented or approved in Washington. There were also claims of vote fraud in the state legislatures, bribery and even threats."
"Threats?" Sachs nodded at the letters. "Like Charles said."
Mathers explained: "Political life was different then. That was an era when J. P. Morgan got together a private army to shoot it out with troops hired by his competitors Jay Gould and Jim Fisk in a railroad takeover. And the police and the government just sat back and watched it happen.
"And you must understand too that people were utterly passionate about the Fourteenth Amendment: Our country had nearly been destroyed, a half million people died--about as many as we've lost in all other wars combined. Without the Fourteenth Amendment, Congress could've ended up controlled by the South, and we might see the country split up again. Maybe even a second civil war."
He waved his hand at the material in front of him. "Your Mr. Singleton was apparently one of the men who went out to the states to lobby in favor of the amendment. What if he found proof that the amendment was invalid? That certainly could be the sort of secret that would torment him."
"So maybe," Rhyme speculated, "a pro-amendment group set up the fake theft to discredit him. So if he did tell what he knew nobody'd believe him."
"Not the great leaders back then, of course, not Frederick Douglass or Stevens or Sumner. But, yes, there were certainly plenty of politicians who'd want the amendment passed, and they'd do anything to make sure that happened." The professor turned toward Geneva. "And that would explain why this young lady's in danger."
"Why?" Rhyme asked. He'd followed the history just fine but the broader implications were a bit elusive.
It was Thom who said, "All you have to do is open a newspaper."
"And what does that mean?" Rhyme snapped.
Mathers replied, "He means that every day there're stories about how the Fourteenth Amendment affects our lives. You may not hear it mentioned specifically but it's still one of the most powerful weapons in our human rights arsenal. The language is very vague--what does 'due process' mean? Or 'equal protection'? 'Privileges and immunities'? The vagueness was intentional, of course, so Congress and the Supreme Court could create new protections to meet the circumstances of every generation.
"Out of those few words have come hundreds of laws about everything imaginable, much more than just racial discrimination. It's been used to invalidate discriminatory tax laws, to protect homeless people and underage laborers, to guarantee basic medical services for the poor. It's the basis for gay rights and for thousands of prisoners' rights cases every year. Ma
ybe the most controversial was using the amendment to protect the right to abortions.
"Without it, states could decide that abortion doctors are capital murderers. And now, after September eleventh, in our Homeland Security frame of mind, it's the Fourteenth Amendment that stops the states from rounding up innocent Muslims and keeping them detained for as long as the police want." His face was a mask of ill ease. "If it's invalid, because of something your Charles Singleton learned, it could be the end of liberty as we know it."
"But," Sachs said, "let's say he did find that out, and it was invalid. The amendment could simply be reratified, couldn't it?"
This time the professor's laugh was clearly cynical. "Wouldn't happen. The one thing that all scholars agree on is that the Fourteenth was approved at the only window of time in our history when it could have been passed. No, if the Supreme Court invalidated the amendment, oh, we might reenact a few of the laws, but the main weapon for civil rights and civil liberties would be gone forever."
"If that's the motive," Rhyme asked, "who'd be behind the attack on Geneva? Who should we be looking for?"
Mathers shook his head. "Oh, the list's endless. Tens of thousands of people want to make sure the amendment stays in force. They'd be politically liberal or radical, a member of a minority group--racially or in sexual orientation--or in favor of social programs, medical services to the poor, abortion rights, gay rights, prisoners' rights, workers' rights . . . . We think of extremists being the religious right--mothers who have their children lie down in abortion clinic driveways--or people who bomb federal buildings. But they don't have a monopoly on killing for their principles. Most European terrorism has been carried out by left-wing radicals." He shook his head. "I couldn't even begin to guess who was behind it."
"We need to narrow it down somehow," Sachs said.
Rhyme nodded slowly, thinking: The main focus of their case had to be catching Unsub 109 and hoping he'd tell them who'd hired him, or finding evidence that would lead to that person. But he instinctively sensed this was an important lead too. If there were no answers in the present as to who was behind the attempts on Geneva Settle's life, they'd have to look to the past. "Whoever it is obviously knows something more about what happened in 1868 than we do. If we can find that out--about what Charles learned, what he was up to, his secret, about the robbery--it might point us somewhere. I want more information on that time period in New York, Gallows Heights, Potters' Field, everything we can find." He frowned as a memory returned. He said to Cooper, "When you looked up Gallows Heights the first time you found an article about that place near here, the Sanford Foundation."
The Twelfth Card Page 24