The Thackery Journal

by John Holt

  “And the only way that I can be helpful to you, is to speed you to your grave,” Booth snarled.

  Jarvis suddenly started to laugh. He looked at each of the other three men, slowly shaking his head. He then returned his attention to Booth. “Of that, sir, I have no doubt,” he said. “No doubt whatsoever.”

  Booth moved forward. “In fact I’m perfectly willing to start right now,” he said as he withdrew his derringer and pointed it directly at Jarvis’ head.

  “Now now, Mr. Booth,” Jarvis replied holding his hands up. “Just a moment, hear me out at least, then you can shoot me if you must, in the meantime please put the gun away.” He paused as Booth returned the gun to his pocket. “That’s better. Mr. Booth I believe that you dislike our President. Is that correct?” Booth said nothing. “In fact I understand that you had planned to kidnap him, and hold him to ransom.”

  So that was it, Booth thought. That’s why he had been brought in. he was going to be arrested, and charged. “That’s a lie,” he shouted.

  “No Mr. Booth, it’s no lie,” said Jarvis. “It’s a fact, and we also know the names of every one of your fellow conspirators. We have a full list – names, addresses, everything.”

  Booth was stunned. Could they really know? If so why had they not arrested him and the others? Because they had no proof, that’s why. “You just prove it.” He taunted. “You can’t. You can’t prove a thing.”

  The general smiled once again. “Mr. Booth, we have all the proof we need. In fact we have enough proof to send you to the gallows right now, if we so chose.”

  “You know nothing,” Booth retorted angrily.

  The general shook his head. “Mr. Booth I assure you we know a great deal about you and your plan.” He paused and removed a sheet of paper from his inside pocket. “We know, for example, that you were born on May 10th, 1838. You were the ninth of ten children born to the famous, eccentric, and hard-drinking actor, from England I believe, Junius Booth.”

  Booth said nothing, but slowly sat down.

  “We know that The Booth family, along with your slaves, lived on a farm near Bel Air, in Maryland.” The general looked at Booth, waiting for a reaction. None came. “We know that you are an actor. You made your stage debut at the age of seventeen in Baltimore, appearing in Richard III. You had a highly successful acting career with a Shakespearian company based in Richmond, and have played all over the United States.” The general paused once again.

  “So all of this doesn’t mean anything,” Booth said. “It’s nothing but history.”

  Jarvis nodded. “Correct but there is more to come. We also know that you are a racist. You became politically active in the 1850s, joining the Know-Nothing Party, an organization devoted to reducing the stream of immigrants into the United States. You ardently supported the institution of slavery and in 1859 joined a Virginia company that aided in the capture of John Brown after his raid at Harper’s Ferry. You were actually an eyewitness to Brown’s execution. You are also a Southern sympathizer.”

  “That’s right,” Booth yelled. “I am a Southern sympathizer, so what about it? I hate the north. I hate Abraham Lincoln, and all that he stands for.”

  “I am glad to hear that Mr. Booth,” Jarvis replied. “You see we hate Abraham Lincoln as well.”

  Booth was stunned. He looked at each of the men in turn.

  “Now let us turn to your plan to kidnap the President,” Jarvis continued. “A little, shall we say, amateurish wouldn’t you say. It would never have worked you know.”

  Booth glared at the General, and started to protest.

  “Oh do please sit down Mr. Booth,” Jarvis interrupted. “Don’t be so sensitive. The plan itself was reasonable I suppose, but it really had little chance of success, did it, as you yourself found out. Let me see now the plan went something like this if I remember correctly. Lincoln was scheduled to attend a play at a hospital located on the outskirts of Washington. You and your band were going to kidnap him and take him to Richmond, and hold him in exchange for a number of Confederate prisoners of war. However, things did not go accordingly to plan did they?”

  “The President changed plans at the last minute, and remained in the capital. Thus, your kidnap plot failed. Even if the plan had been successful it would have had little effect. I mean even if prisoners had been released, how many would there have been. Another week or two they could have all been recaptured, or killed, and Lincoln would still be President.”

  Jarvis folded the paper and returned it to his pocket. “As I said a very amateurish plan,” he continued. “What we have in mind is far more meaningful, far more worthwhile, and far more conclusive.” He looked at the others seated at the desk. “We intend to kill Lincoln, and replace him with Ulysses S Grant as President. More than that Mr. Booth, we also intend to assassinate Vice President Andrew Johnson and Secretary of State William Seward.”

  Booth could not believe what he was hearing. “A plan like that would be incredibly expensive,” he said.

  Jarvis smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “We have the finances.” He looked over at Thackery and smiled. “Don’t we, Jacob?” Thackery said nothing but merely nodded his head. The General then looked back at Booth. “We would like you to get a group together, perhaps you could use the people who were involved with you on the failed kidnap plan.”

  He opened the top drawer of the desk and took out a leather pouch. He opened the pouch. Inside were a number of papers. He picked up the top sheet and started to read. “People like Samuel Arnold, born in Washington D. C. on September 6th, 1834, later moved to Baltimore. He attended St. Timothy's Military Academy, where he was one of your classmates.”

  Booth said nothing.

  The General reached down and picked up another sheet of paper. “Michael O'Laughlen one of your earliest friends, he lived across the street from your house. He learned the trade of manufacturing ornamental plaster work, and then he took up engraving. At the outbreak of the war he joined the Confederate Army. He was discharged in June 1862, and returned to Baltimore and joined his brother in the feed and produce business.” Jarvis laid the paper down. “Do you know why he was discharged Mr. Booth?”

  Booth shook his head. “Ill health I think.”

  Jarvis shook his head. “He assaulted an officer, almost killed him. He was fortunate not to be executed.” Jarvis picked up another piece of paper. “John Surratt, a member of the Confederate Secret Service,” he continued. “In other words a spy carrying dispatches about Union troop movements across the Potomac river. He was introduced to you by a certain Doctor Samuel Mudd.”

  He placed the paper back on the desktop, and took another sheet from the pouch. “Now we have Lewis Powell, also known as Lewis Payne. He was born in Randolph County, Alabama on April 22nd, 1844 to a Baptist minister, George Cader, and his young wife Patience Caroline Powell.” Jarvis paused for a moment and looked at Booth. “We actually know quite a lot about Mr. Powell. All very interesting, but the main point is that in July 1863 he met with John Surratt, and became involved in the Confederate Secret Service.”

  “This is very interesting I’m sure,” said Booth beginning to get uneasy. “I imagine you have a point to make.”

  Jarvis picked up another sheet of paper. “George Atzerodt,” he continued ignoring Booth’s comment. “Born in Germany he immigrated to the United States with his family in 1843, at the age of eight. The family settled in Maryland. During the Civil War, he helped Confederate agents, including John Surratt.”

  “And lastly we have David E. Herold. Born in Maryland he was the sixth of eleven children. He became acquainted with John Surratt while attending classes at Charlotte Hall Military Academy in the late 1850s. A few years later, in December 1864, Surratt introduced him to you.”

  Jarvis gathered up the papers and returned them to the leather pouch. “Now Mr. Booth what do you say, are you interested in our little plan?”

  “Go on I’m listening,” replied Boot
h

  “Lincoln is due to attend the Ford Theatre on the 14th April,” Jarvis explained. “He will be attending the evening performance of Our American Cousin, I believe.”

  Booth thought for a moment, and nodded. “I have heard the same.”

  “Mr. Booth, as a well known actor you have played that theatre numerous times, correct?”

  “Correct,” Booth replied simply.

  “You could easily make your way into and around the theatre without question I imagine,” Jarvis continued.

  “That is also correct,” Booth responded.

  “At the right moment I believe it would be possible for you to make your way into the Presidential box, shoot the President, and then make your escape amid the confusion.”

  “What about his armed guards?” Booth asked.

  “He never has an armed escort,” said Butler.

  “That’s right,” confirmed Jarvis. “There will be one police officer stationed outside the box, and the rest of his personal bodyguards will be in the audience.”

  Booth remained silent for a moment. “So how do I get past the policeman?” he asked.

  “You simply tell him that the President has requested to meet you.”

  Booth wasn’t sure it would be that simple. “He might recognize me.”

  “So much the better,” said Jarvis. “You are a famous actor, and the President wishing to meet you, what could be more natural than that?”

  Booth still wasn’t sure. “If I’m recognized then they would know that it was I who shot the President,” he replied. “I could never get away.”

  Jarvis smiled, and shook his head. “Once you have shot the President then certainly some people in the audience would know, but once across the stage and into the wings you would merely be recognized as the actor that you are.”

  “Then all you need do is keep pointing behind you, and dramatically announce that someone has shot the President,” suggested Walker.

  “A simple matter for an actor of you ability,” said Jarvis.

  Booth was still uncertain.

  “What about General Grant?” asked Thackery. “I believe he will also be there, with Lincoln.”

  Jarvis shook his head. “No, he won’t be there. At the last moment he will cancel the appointment. He will claim to be unwell, and seek Lincoln’s permission to be excused. Lincoln will naturally be disappointed, and try to talk him round, but eventually he will agree. He will have no choice.”

  “Alright so I’ve shot the President, and I’ve made my way out of the theatre,” Booth said. “Then what do I do?”

  “That’s a good question Mr. Booth,” replied Jarvis. “And one that I have given a lot of thought to. I have already spoken to several of your associates, and made certain arrangements for which they have been well paid.”

  Walker looked up and remembered the conversation about safe houses that he had with Jarvis all of those weeks before. Our man will be waiting.

  Jarvis could see Walker out of the corner of his eye. For a moment or two he thought that Walker might say something, something very foolish.

  Walker said nothing.

  “We have set up a series of safe houses,” Jarvis continued. Places where you can safely hide for a day or two.”

  Jarvis shuffled through some papers until he found the one he wanted. “Here we are,” he announced as he held up a sheet of paper. “Here is a map which shows where the safe houses are to be found. These people have agreed to help, and you can trust them implicitly.”

  He looked over at Walker, and nodded imperceptibly. “They have been well paid for their services.” He handed the paper to Booth. “I think you will recognize some of the names; Surratt, the good Doctor Samuel Mudd and Samuel Cox.”

  Booth looked at the sheet of paper. He then looked up at Jarvis and shook his head. “So I’m safe for a few days, according to you, then what?”

  “You make your way to The Garrett Farm. It’s, there at the bottom of the map,” explained Jarvis. “It’s the third on that list I believe. They will help you escape, perhaps into Mexico, or to a ship for South America.”

  Walker shivered involuntarily as he looked towards Booth, and thought of what awaited him. Jarvis was lying. There would be no ship, and no escape. He shivered again and wondered if perhaps Jarvis had a similar plan that involved himself?

  “Incidentally, I should introduce our friend Captain Thackery here. Late of the Confederate Army,” Jarvis continued as he pointed towards Jacob. “He will be our Liaison Officer, our go between shall we say. But he is much more than that.”

  Booth looked puzzled.

  “Mr. Booth you are to keep Captain Thackery fully informed of your progress,” Jarvis explained. “He is to be fully aware of your plans, including names, dates, addresses, everything.”

  Booth continued to look puzzled. “Can I trust him?” he asked

  Jarvis smiled. “Should anything happen to you he will replace you. So what do you think?” He looked at Thackery. “Captain Thackery will be at the theatre, back stage to cover your escape,” he continued.

  Jacob looked up surprised but said nothing. “You will be Booth’s back up, his protector if you will. Should anyone follow Booth out of the theatre it will be your task to prevent them from following.” He paused. “In any way possible, or necessary, do you understand?”

  Thackery looked at the others. He nodded. Yes he understood.

  “You are to shadow Mr. Booth. Everywhere he goes, you go. We want you to protect our investment. We want you to watch him, and to watch anyone who follows him. If he is followed you are to take any necessary measures to ensure that no harm comes to Mr. Booth. Should any harm come to Mr. Booth you will be required to carry out the task in his place.”

  So that was it. Thackery was to be the backup plan. Not only was he to shadow Booth to make sure that no one followed him. He was to be Booth’s protection, to ensure that nothing happened to him. But if anything did happen to Booth then Thackery was to carry out the shooting.

  “So Mr. Booth, what do you say?” Jarvis asked.

  Booth looked at Jarvis for a moment. “What’s in it for me?” he asked simply.

  Jarvis laughed out loud. “Oh Mr. Booth,” he said. “I like that. What’s in it for you? Money Mr. Booth, lots of money.”

  * * *

  As the meeting broke up Thackery noticed Jarvis walk to the door with Lieutenant Chambers. Jarvis had his right hand on the Lieutenant’s back. He was leaning close to the Lieutenant, whispering into his ear. When he had finished speaking the two men stopped. Jarvis then took out an envelope from his inside pocket, and passed it to the Lieutenant.

  “You understand what you have to do?” Jarvis said.

  The Lieutenant nodded and saluted. Jarvis then held out his hand. The Lieutenant took hold and shook it.

  Thackery continued to watch as the Lieutenant went out of the room. Jarvis closed the door and walked back to where the others were still seated. Thackery moved over to the window and watched Chambers go down the stairs, and into the alleyway. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked back up towards the room. He saw Thackery staring out of the window. He then hurried to the corner, and out of sight. A few moments later a buckboard came out from the side and headed down the main street.

  * * *

  That night, Thackery lay on his hotel bed, in the darkness. He could not sleep. He stood up and went to the window. He looked out. The town was quiet. He turned around and looked back into the room. There in the corner was a small table. On the top was his journal. He walked over to the table and lit the candle. He sat down, picked up his pen and started to write.

  “January 5th 1865 – so the wheels have been set in motion. The plans have been made, and the date fixed. There is no turning back. It is too late. I could not back out now, I know too much and my life would be forfeit. I have chosen my road and must now travel its way to see where it leads.”

  When he had finished he placed the pen on the table. W
hat was he letting himself in for? What did the future hold in store? Where would this pathway end?

  * * *

  Two days later the body of General Jonathon Randall was discovered in a secluded country lane about five miles outside of the town. He had been murdered. A single shot in the back. It was determined that the bullet had come from a Union Army issue revolver. There was no sign of his horse, but close by the wheel tracks of a wagon, or a buckboard could be clearly seen. There was no sign of the General’s hat. And oddly enough there were no signs of any blood stains.

  The hat was discovered the following day in the alleyway behind the back room. On the ground next to it was a large red stain. Randall had found his way out.

  Thackery knew then that he had no other choice but to continue on the path that he had chosen.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  April 1865 - The Ford Theatre

  Captain Miles Drew finished reading the last of the dispatches that had been received that morning. With the end of the war they mainly contained details of troops being sent home, or regarding prisoners. He pushed the document to one side and sat back in his desk.

  “There’s still nothing, Sergeant,” he announced. “There’s not a word about Booth being arrested.”

  “Anything from that General Jarvis?” asked the Sergeant.

  Miles shook his head. “Nothing. There’s not a word.”

  It had been the same every day since Jarvis had visited almost three months previously. “You know Sergeant, I had a feeling that we wouldn’t hear anything.”

  “Perhaps we should make our own enquiries, sir,” suggested the Sergeant.

  “Maybe so, Sergeant,” replied Miles. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was a few minutes to eleven. He stood up and started towards the door. “I have to see the Colonel, so we’ll see what we can do when I get back.”

  * * *

  A short time later Miles was knocking on the Colonel’s door. “Come in,” a voice called out. Miles entered and saluted. “You sent for me, sir?” he said.