City of Lies

by Victoria Thompson

  Rage swelled inside him. “What did she look like?”

  “I don’t know. Auburn hair, I guess.”

  “Blue eyes?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  Thornton gestured to Fletcher, who slapped the girl so hard, she fell to her knees.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Why’d you go and do that?” she cried, clutching her face and cringing in terror.

  “Blue eyes?” Thornton said.

  “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t pay much attention!” She yelped when Fletcher raised his hand again.

  “It was her,” Lester said. “She told Sally here to claim she was Betty. Who else could it be?”

  Who else indeed? She’d tricked him again.

  “Wasn’t no need to hit me,” she said. “I think you broke my jaw.” She felt it gingerly.

  For one blissful moment, Thornton considered breaking far more than her jaw, but then common sense prevailed. A hotel was too public a place for that. “Get her out of here,” Thornton said.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “They said you’d pay me. I came here and told you what happened, didn’t I?”

  “Get rid of her,” Thornton said.

  • • •

  Nearly three full days had passed since O’Brien had sent Gideon back to Washington with the ladies and still no word. Somehow Gideon had expected the case would be heard today, Monday, but if it had been, O’Brien hadn’t seen fit to let them know. Gideon was pacing around the front room of the Woman’s Party headquarters, earning black looks from the handful of women who hadn’t yet left for the day, when Mrs. Young came in.

  Gideon rushed to meet her, alarmed at how pale she was. “Are you all right?”

  “What? Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. Bates. I . . . I’m just confused.”

  Gideon asked one of the women to fetch Mrs. Stevens. “Sit down,” he said to Mrs. Young, pulling over one of the desk chairs for her. “Wouldn’t Mr. Tumulty see you?”

  “Oh, he saw me.” She shook her head as if trying to dispel some unpleasant memory.

  Mrs. Stevens came hurrying into the room. “Mrs. Young, were you able to—” She stopped when she got a good look at Mrs. Young’s face. “What happened?”

  “I was just telling Mr. Bates, Mr. Tumulty met with me. I don’t know how he could have refused. I’ve known him almost my entire life, after all, but it was the strangest thing. He knew all about the writ that Mr. O’Brien had obtained. He even knew the judge’s name. How could he have known that?”

  “Someone at the courthouse probably told Warden Whittaker,” Gideon said. “I’m sure Whittaker is keeping his superiors informed. What did he say about it?”

  “He told me it was silly for us to go to all that trouble. He said if we would just wait a week, the prisoners would be released.”

  Mrs. Stevens huffed derisively. “If they’re going to release them, why do they have to wait a week?”

  “That’s what I asked him, but he just started telling me how foolish the women were to start a hunger strike.”

  Gideon felt a chill of apprehension. “A hunger strike? Did he mean Miss Paul’s hunger strike at the district jail?”

  “No, he was talking about the women in Virginia.”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Stevens. “Lucy Burns is probably leading it. After the way the women were treated that first night, what else could she do?”

  She could have thought about the safety of the other women, Gideon thought, imagining his mother wasting away in a prison cell. But that wasn’t fair. His mother was just as likely to be the leader. “What in God’s name is O’Brien doing? He should have gotten the women released by now.”

  The telephone rang, startling them all. Gideon ran a hand over his face as one of the women answered it. “Mrs. Stevens, it’s Mr. O’Brien.”

  She hurried over and picked up the candlestick phone. “Mr. O’Brien? What’s the situation?”

  Gideon and Mrs. Young had followed and stood hovering, straining to make out O’Brien’s words.

  “Good heavens, are you sure?” she asked after a few moments.

  “What is it?” Gideon asked, somehow resisting the urge to snatch the telephone from her hands.

  “Yes, he’s right here. Just a moment.” She handed the telephone to him. “He wants to speak with you. He said he hasn’t been able to find a deputy to serve the warrant.”

  “What?” Gideon lifted the earpiece. “You can’t find a deputy?”

  “No, they’ve all disappeared,” the tinny voice said.

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “I mean I’ve got a list of them, and none of them are at home or any other place where they can be found.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “Yes, it is, which means that someone has instructed them to hide from me.”

  This was worse than they’d feared. “Mrs. Young just returned from seeing Wilson’s secretary, Tumulty, and he told her if we just wait a week, the women will be released.”

  “A week? What will happen in a week?”

  “I have no idea, but we can’t wait a week. They’ve started a hunger strike.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Mr. Tumulty told Mrs. Young.”

  “How did he know that?”

  “Probably the same way he knew you’d gotten the writ.”

  O’Brien swore eloquently. “It makes sense now. I’ve been followed all day. At first I thought I was imagining it, but now . . . They’ve obviously got some detectives watching me.”

  “I’m coming back down there. Maybe between the two of us, we can find a deputy to serve the warrant.”

  “Take the early train tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the station.”

  • • •

  The first day had been the hardest. elizabeth’s stomach growled and cramped in protest, but she looked at the pinched faces of the other women and thought better of complaining. Usually, the hunger pangs lasted three days, they’d told her, but she’d eaten so little since arriving at the workhouse last Wednesday that they’d stopped after only two. Strangely, she felt suddenly energetic, as if she’d like to go for a walk in the woods. Except for those cursed bloodhounds, of course.

  The women were gathered in the gymnasium for their recreation hour before bedtime. Those who had experience with hunger strikes moved among them, sharing information.

  “You won’t feel hungry now for a while,” one of them told her.

  “How long?” Elizabeth asked.

  “A few days, maybe even a few weeks. When you start to feel hungry again, that’s when you have to worry.”

  “Why?” Anna asked.

  “Because your body is starving then and starting to die.”

  “But they’ll let us go before that happens,” someone said. “That’s why we’re doing this, after all.”

  Anna slipped her hand into Elizabeth’s. “I couldn’t do this if you weren’t doing it, too. I’d be too frightened.”

  “They won’t let us die,” Mrs. Bates said. “Now that they know we’re serious, they’ll force-feed us. We need to be prepared for that.”

  Elizabeth remembered all too well the description of force-feeding she’d heard in the police van that day last week when they’d first been arrested.

  The guards signaled to them that their hour of “recreation” was over and it was time for bed. The women rose and moved toward the door. When she stood up, Elizabeth had to stop for a minute and wait for her head to clear. The room swam before her, so she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. A collective gasp startled her, and she opened her eyes to see Anna slumped on the floor. A dozen other women had already rushed to help her, but her face was chalk white and her eyes didn’t even flutter when they tried to haul her to her feet.

  “Leave her,” a guard said. “We’l
l take her to the infirmary.”

  The other women backed away uncertainly, but Elizabeth squeezed in and dropped to her knees beside the unconscious girl. “Anna, wake up!” She grabbed her wrists and tried chafing them.

  Mrs. Bates laid a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “It’s for the best. They’ll feed her there.”

  “Force-feed her,” Elizabeth said, outraged at Mrs. Bates’s complacency. “And she’ll be terrified if she wakes up all alone.”

  Mrs. Bates squeezed her shoulder. “She won’t be alone for long. Look around.”

  Elizabeth looked up at the circle of faces and for the first time really saw the changes: the hollow cheeks, the shadowed eyes, the pasty complexions. Even the spark of fanaticism Elizabeth had noticed before was gone from their eyes, replaced by a dull determination.

  “Get moving!” the guard shouted, prodding the women into motion. “Don’t worry about your little friend there. We’ll take care of her.” She grinned viciously.

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet, ready to scratch her eyes out, but Mrs. Bates grabbed her arm. “You won’t do Anna any good,” she whispered fiercely, stopping Elizabeth in her tracks.

  As weak as she was, she probably couldn’t do the guard much damage in any case. With the frustrated fury still boiling in her, she stepped away from where Anna lay and followed the others as they filed out of the room. When she reached the door, she glanced back. A guard stood over Anna, nudging her with her foot.

  Damn them. Damn them every one.

  • • •

  Gideon paced the platform as the New York train pulled into Union Station. He’d asked David not to come to Washington, but he really couldn’t blame him for ignoring that request. David must have been terrified for Anna and feeling helpless after Gideon told him about their failure to find a deputy to serve the writ on Warden Whittaker. Gideon had returned to Washington just that morning himself. He only wished that being in Washington could actually help.

  Finally, he saw David’s familiar figure step down from a car farther down the track. He hurried toward him.

  “Gideon!” David called, waving.

  Gideon shook his hand, then noticed the men who had emerged behind him, two plug-uglies and one well-dressed fellow who was probably the last person Gideon wanted to see right now.

  “Gideon, you remember Oscar Thornton.”

  “Of course,” Gideon said. David must have encountered Thornton on the train and hadn’t been able to shake him.

  “Good to see you, Bates,” Thornton said, shaking his hand. “Vanderslice has told me about your mother and the other suffragettes.”

  Gideon felt the heat rising in his face as he glared at David. What was he thinking to confide in Thornton? Mother would be furious. Since her cousin Marjorie’s tragic death, she’d had absolutely no use for the man.

  “Thornton came to see me at my office yesterday about . . . about some business,” David said quickly, seeing Gideon’s reaction, “and I had to tell him I couldn’t even think about business until Anna was safe. Gideon, he believes he can help. Or at least his men here can.” He nodded at the plug-uglies, and they grinned at Gideon, making him even angrier.

  “Exactly how can they help?” Gideon asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

  “Vanderslice told me your man in Virginia hasn’t been able to locate any deputies to serve the writ,” Thornton said. “I’d like to let my boys here have a try.”

  Gideon studied the two men with their bowler hats pulled low over faces marked by fights past. Were they the kind of men to beat the administration at their own game? Now, that was an interesting idea. David had no business dragging Thornton into this, but Gideon couldn’t let his offended pride stand in the way if Thornton really could help.

  “Let’s find a more comfortable place to discuss this, shall we?” Gideon said.

  Thornton left his “boys” to collect the luggage. The three men climbed into a cab and headed for the Willard Hotel.

  “Have you heard anything at all about how the women are doing?” David asked when they were on their way.

  “We finally got a firsthand report. They released Mrs. Nolan today.”

  David remembered. “The elderly lady.”

  “Yes. She’d only been sentenced to six days, so her sentence was up.”

  “What did she say? Had she seen Anna?”

  “She didn’t know very much about the other women. They’d kept her in the infirmary the entire time. Probably afraid she’d die on them. Anyway, she only saw Miss Burns and Mrs. Lewis. They were in the infirmary, too, because they’re on a hunger strike.”

  “I thought all the women were.”

  “Apparently, those two started the hunger strike. They’re quite ill, according to Mrs. Nolan. She’s not well herself. Even though she wasn’t on the hunger strike, the food was so bad, she could barely eat.”

  Thornton had been following the conversation closely. Now he said, “What else have you been doing to get the women released?”

  Gideon studied him for a moment. “Why are you so interested in this, Thornton? Are you a supporter of women’s suffrage?”

  Thornton cleared his throat. “As I explained to Vanderslice, any gentleman would be outraged at the way those women are being treated.”

  “Not really,” Gideon said. “A lot of men think they’re getting just what they deserve for daring to challenge the right of men to rule them. Even David here doesn’t completely approve of their tactics.”

  “Why, I never—” David began, but Gideon silenced him with a gesture.

  “Don’t bother to deny it. It’s no disgrace to want your sister to stay at home where she’s safe. But before we take Thornton up on his offer of help, I’d like to know why he made it.”

  Thornton studied Gideon in return. “I see you suspect my motives.”

  “Let’s just say I wonder what they are.”

  Thornton gave him a crafty little grin. “You are wise to do so, because I must confess, they are entirely selfish.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  At first, refusing to work was a protest. Political prisoners were not required to work, or so Mrs. Bates had explained to Elizabeth. After a few days, however, Elizabeth simply could not have worked. Her limbs felt heavy and walking made her gasp for breath. Lying on her bed was about all she could manage. She and the others spent their time using what little strength they had to talk.

  “. . . and Miss Anthony was arrested for voting in the presidential election of 1872,” Mrs. Bates told her as they lay curled up on their cots in the twilight of the winter evening. Mrs. Bates had moved to Anna’s bed so they could talk more easily.

  “Arrested? Is it actually illegal to vote?”

  “It is if you’re a woman.”

  “Why did she try it, then?”

  Mrs. Bates smiled. “She had decided that the Fourteenth Amendment gave everyone in America the right to vote.”

  Elizabeth had never thought the garbage they’d taught her in school was all that important, and she couldn’t remember what the Fourteenth Amendment was for. “Why did she think that?”

  “Because it does, you see. It was passed to give Negro men the right to vote after the Civil War, of course, but the wording doesn’t say that exactly. Instead, it specifically gives all the rights of citizenship to ‘All persons born or naturalized in the United States.’”

  “All persons? I see; that should include women, too.”

  “But that wasn’t what Congress had intended, of course, no matter what the law actually said. So when Susan Anthony voted, they arrested her.”

  Elizabeth smiled at her across the two feet of space separating their cots. “Did they charge her with obstructing traffic?”

  “Oh, Elizabeth! Anna’s right. You are very funny. No, I’m not sure what they charged her with, but her trial was much l
ike ours. The judge refused to allow her to testify, and he instructed the jury to return a guilty verdict. When they did, he read an opinion that he’d written before the trial even started.”

  “Just like they got things ready for us here before we were even arrested.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did she go to jail?”

  “No, they just gave her a fine, but she never paid it.”

  “Good for her.” Elizabeth sighed. “That was so long ago, and nothing’s changed a bit since then.”

  “Oh, women have been working for suffrage even longer than that. They held the first Women’s Rights Convention in 1848.”

  Elizabeth did the math in her head. “Sixty-nine years.”

  “Yes. Can you imagine a group of men fighting for something for so long?”

  “Now you’re being funny, Mrs. Bates.”

  The older woman grinned at her, making Elizabeth’s chest go tight. When had Elizabeth begun to care so very much what Mrs. Bates thought of her? At first she’d been nervous, afraid she’d make some mistake and Mrs. Bates would know she wasn’t really a lady like the rest of them. But if she had, Mrs. Bates either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared. She’d just accepted Elizabeth the same way she accepted Anna. The thought made her want to cry.

  Before she could think why, the guard called, “Suppertime!”

  The women groaned their protest at having to move, but the guards strode through the room, prodding them up to their feet. Even though they refused to eat, they still had to walk to the dining hall three times a day. Each time, Elizabeth got up more slowly and wondered how many more times she’d have the strength to do it. Each time they went, one or two of the women would collapse, and the guards would carry them away to the infirmary.

  Mrs. Bates had been right. Anna hadn’t been alone for long.

  As she filed out of the ward with the others and shuffled to the dining hall that evening for a dinner they would not eat, Elizabeth realized how much she hated the enforced silence they had to endure during mealtimes. She got to spend the rest of the time with Mrs. Bates and the other women, talking about the movement and the women who had come before them and the things they had done. Elizabeth found the stories fascinating.