City of Lies

by Victoria Thompson

  “Indeed I do, and while I know the suffrage movement is important, I can’t let you subject yourselves to that kind of danger again.”

  So Gideon was right, as Elizabeth was sure he’d remind her when next they spoke privately. Except they’d probably never speak privately again. The thought made her want to weep.

  “What if every husband felt as you do, David?” Anna argued. “What would become of the movement?”

  “I’m sure the unmarried ladies would continue,” David said.

  “But I’m an unmarried lady.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And I have the time and energy to devote to the effort,” Anna continued relentlessly. “I should be on the front lines of the struggle.”

  “But—”

  “She has you there, David,” Gideon said. “We should send her straight to President Wilson. I’m sure he’d be no match for her.”

  “But Anna is just a girl,” her mother said.

  “I don’t think so,” Gideon said, turning to Anna. “She’s changed since she came back from Washington. Haven’t you noticed?”

  Anna beamed at him. “I’m glad someone has.”

  “But we can’t allow her to go gallivanting off to protests and getting herself arrested,” Mrs. Vanderslice said. “What young man would be interested in a girl who does things like that?”

  “None of them, I hope,” Anna said. “I’ve been thinking I might not marry at all.”

  Elizabeth only cringed a little bit. Anna’s timing could have been better.

  “Anna!” her mother cried. “What a terrible thing to say.”

  “It’s not terrible at all. I could become a teacher or a social worker or—”

  “Why would you want to do something like that?” David asked.

  “To feel useful.”

  “Being a wife and mother is a very useful vocation for a woman,” her mother said.

  “Maybe we should go back to discussing business,” Gideon said with a grin.

  Elizabeth snatched up her napkin to cover her answering grin. Why did he have to be so appealing?

  Mrs. Vanderslice knew how to control her brood, however. “David, what did you think of the sermon this morning?”

  And David knew his role as well. He replied at length, successfully boring everyone until the meal was over.

  Gideon took his leave shortly after they retired to the parlor. Elizabeth would have liked to acknowledge that he’d been right about David, but he probably would have been disgustingly smug about it, so it was just as well she never had the opportunity. Anna accompanied Elizabeth back to the Bates home for what was supposed to be their last night without Mrs. Bates, but at breakfast the next morning, the maid brought them a telegram. Mrs. Bates was going to remain in Washington for a few more days. As a result of the outstanding show of public support at yesterday’s meeting, the Judiciary Committee of the House was going to consider the suffrage amendment immediately, and they needed everyone to call upon their representatives to encourage the House to bring it to a vote.

  “What does she mean about public support of the meeting?” Anna asked when they’d both read it several times.

  “I don’t know. Let’s see if the newspapers are here.”

  They were in the parlor, and Elizabeth and Anna read the account of the mass meeting held Sunday afternoon at the Belasco Theater, which had been packed to the rafters with four thousand people. The crowds were so thick on Madison Place that the president couldn’t get out of his front gate to go for a Sunday drive.

  “It says they presented every woman who had been jailed with a special pin,” Anna said. “Do you suppose we are to receive one?”

  Now Elizabeth felt terrible that she and Anna hadn’t gone. “If we are, I’m sure Mrs. Bates will bring them to us.”

  But if Mrs. Bates stayed in Washington for a few more days, Elizabeth would most likely not be here any longer to receive hers. In fact, she might never see Mrs. Bates again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Oscar Thornton looked positively jubilant. Gideon didn’t think he had ever seen the man really smile until today. The meeting with General Sterling at David’s office this afternoon had gone smoothly, with Thornton reporting he now owned over ten thousand rifles and expected to purchase several thousand more the next morning.

  The general wanted to know the locations of all of these rifles so he could verify their existence. When Thornton worried about how long that would take, the general reminded him he would delegate that task to military officers stationed near the locations, rather than go himself. He wasn’t interested in wasting time, either.

  The two dickered a bit over the selling price for the rifles, but Gideon’s assessment had been correct: the general was more than willing to pay whatever Thornton asked.

  “It’s the government’s money, not mine,” he pointed out, “and the government needs your rifles, Mr. Thornton.” He glanced over to where Gideon sat at the end of the meeting table, taking notes. “Are you the one who does the figures, Mr. Bates? How much will the United States owe Mr. Thornton?”

  Gideon was still marveling that the general gave no indication he knew anything about Gideon’s reluctance to participate in the scheme. As far as Gideon could tell, he might never have spoken to Elizabeth at all. Perhaps he hadn’t.

  But David was the one who was doing the calculations, and he answered the question. “It looks like a little over three-quarters of a million dollars,” he said, turning the paper around so the other two men could see his exact total.

  Gideon suspected more than half that amount would be profit for Thornton, even after David’s commission.

  Sterling didn’t even blink. Nodding, he said, “Not bad, and you can come back to me later, Thornton, if you obtain more rifles.”

  Thornton frowned. “It’s getting harder to find them, General, and the war is driving up the price.”

  “Which just means I’ll have to pay you more, doesn’t it?” the general said. “There’s no help for it, though. The need will go on as long as the fighting does.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t go on much longer,” Gideon said. “Isn’t that why the United States got involved? Because we want to put an end to it?”

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Bates,” the general said. “Too many good men have been lost already trying to put the Kaiser in his place. But it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow someone some good, eh, Thornton?”

  The general slapped Thornton on the back and, amazingly, Thornton smiled again. “That’s right, General. It’s our patriotic duty to support our soldiers.”

  Thornton’s brand of patriotism made Gideon want to gag, but he reminded himself that the general had no intention of buying Thornton’s rifles. Or at least that’s what Gideon had decided would happen. The general had tricked Thornton into sinking his entire fortune into buying rifles, and if he didn’t sell them, he’d be ruined. Gideon hadn’t figured out how the general would profit from this or how he could stop Thornton from selling his rifles to someone else instead, but Gideon kept reminding himself that wasn’t his concern. The less he knew about it, the happier he would be.

  “Calculate your commission,” the general was telling David, “and I’ll bring two bank drafts with me. Or three, if I need one for Bates, too.”

  “I’ll pay Gideon out of my share,” David said. “He is only charging for drawing up the documents.”

  “You’ll never get rich that way, Bates,” Thornton said with a malicious grin. Plainly, he thought Gideon a fool for not cashing in on this deal.

  “I’m not interested in being rich.”

  “I’ll never understand you people,” Thornton sneered.

  “What people is that?” the general asked, his startlingly blue gaze darting between Gideon and Thornton.

  “The old New York families,” Tho
rnton explained, not bothering to hide his contempt. “The ones who call themselves Knickerbockers. They think they run the city, even though most of them don’t have two nickels to rub together anymore.”

  “I’m sure the Astors and the Vanderbilts will be surprised to learn that,” the general said with a laugh. “And how would you know about them? Are you a Knickerbocker yourself, Thornton?”

  “Only by marriage. My late wife was a cousin to Bates, here, and one of society’s four hundred, as she often reminded me.”

  The words set Gideon’s teeth on edge. How dare he bring Marjorie into this? “I doubt she ever even spoke of it.”

  Thornton’s sneer turned ugly. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Of course he isn’t,” David said quickly, shooting Gideon a warning look. “And the general isn’t interested in family squabbles, I’m sure. General, I can’t thank you enough for coming today so we can get this all settled. I think the transaction will go very smoothly now. When can you be ready to close the deal?”

  “The day after tomorrow, if that’s not too soon for Thornton,” the general said.

  Thornton grinned with satisfaction. “Just tell me what time.”

  They settled on one o’clock, and Thornton left after shaking hands all around. Gideon ignored his triumphant smirk. Then it was the general’s turn to shake their hands. As he clasped Gideon’s palm in a bone-crushing grip, he said, “There’s no shame in making money in business, son.”

  What did he mean by that? “I like to make my money from honest labor.”

  If the general was insulted, he gave no indication. In fact he seemed amused. “A very refreshing attitude in this day and age, Mr. Bates. You are a rarity, I’m afraid.”

  He turned to David before Gideon could think of a suitable reply, and then he was gone. The man was such a presence, his sudden absence seemed to rob the room of oxygen for a moment.

  “I can’t believe it’s really going to happen,” David said, almost giddy with his success. “Do you know how much I’ll earn from this? I might take Elizabeth around the whole world instead of just to Europe! Do you think she’d like to see the Orient, too?”

  “I’m sure she would,” Gideon couldn’t resist saying.

  • • •

  Oscar Thornton could hardly believe his luck. That little chippie Betty Perkins or Elizabeth Miles or whatever her real name was had turned out to be his lucky charm in spite of everything. He wasn’t going to forgive her for the fifty thousand she and that son of a bitch brother or whoever he was had taken from him, of course, but he might not let Lester and Fletcher have her when he was finished with her. She’d be grateful, he was sure.

  “We’ll go straight to the bank when we leave Vanderslice’s office,” he told Fletcher. The two of them were in a cab on their way to the final meeting with the general. “I want to deposit the bank draft right away.”

  “Whatever you say, boss. I’ll get a cab and have it waiting. You don’t want to be standing around on the street with so much money in your pocket.”

  Finally, Fletcher was showing some intelligence. He’d sent Lester, the smarter one, to watch the girl today. He only needed muscle to guard himself, but she might try to slip away now that the deal was going through. He couldn’t allow that. Victory wouldn’t be nearly so sweet without a little revenge.

  As the cab chugged through the crowded city streets, Thornton mentally went through all his calculations. He knew to the penny how much he’d receive after Vanderslice took his cut. Out of that he’d only have to pay off the mortgage on Marjorie’s house and a ten-thousand-dollar loan he’d taken out to cover the cost of the last lot of rifles he’d bought just yesterday. The general had given him good advice, and he’d spent nearly every penny he had. At first he’d wondered why he’d been able to buy up so many rifles. Couldn’t the owners just sell directly to the army like he was doing? But no. Some of the rifles, as it happened, hadn’t been obtained legally. The current owners hadn’t had proper documentation, but they were happy to provide some for the sale to Thornton. If it wasn’t exactly legal, who cared? The papers he handed over to the general would all be in order as far as he was concerned.

  And now that he thought about it, he’d sell Marjorie’s house. What did he need with that crumbling pile? He could build himself a mansion on Fifth Avenue. He’d rub shoulders with the people who mattered in the city. They’d put him on to more deals like this one. Before he knew it, he’d be a millionaire. Too bad Marjorie wasn’t here to see it. But since she wasn’t, he was free to marry another society girl, the daughter of one of those old families who sold their girls to the highest bidder because they were down to their last penny. This time he knew how to make the most of his opportunities. They’d invite him to their parties and he’d join their clubs. They might turn up their noses in private, but in public, they’d acknowledge him and nod to him in his box at the opera and shake his hand at church.

  The cab swerved to the curb and stopped with a lurch in front of Vanderslice’s office. Fletcher paid the driver, then jumped out and held the door for him. Thornton frowned at the building with its ancient bricks and wavy glass windows. The place had probably been there since the Revolution. From now on, he would only do business in offices located in tall, new buildings with elevators.

  Inside, he looked askance at the fading wallpaper and age-darkened wainscoting. Even the clerk sitting at the lobby desk looked old.

  “Welcome, Mr. Thornton. The others are already inside. Allow me to escort you.”

  Thornton left Fletcher to wait in the lobby. He didn’t need protection from the general, and certainly not from Bates and Vanderslice.

  Vanderslice greeted him. The poor fellow was practically giddy with excitement. The general, as he had expected, seemed merely pleased that this day had finally come. Bates, however, was grim. He’d probably realized how stupid he’d been not to demand a higher fee for his work.

  When they were settled, Bates led them through the process of transferring ownership of the many, many rifles from him to the United States Army, making sure they had the addresses of the various warehouses where they were being stored so the army could collect them. Bates had contracts and bills of sale and other papers. Thornton signed and the general signed and occasionally Vanderslice signed as a witness. The final paper was a list of all the lots of rifles and the price the general was paying him for each, with a lovely total at the bottom. Vanderslice would get ten percent, but what was left would be more than triple what his fortune had been even before he’d met Betty and Jake Perkins.

  He had to clench his hands on the tabletop to keep from rubbing them with glee.

  “And here,” the general said, pulling an envelope from the pocket inside his jacket, “are the bank drafts.” He handed it to Bates. “If you’ll make sure everything is in order, we can celebrate with a cigar.” From another pocket, he produced a gold case engraved with a heavily stylized monogram. He flipped it open and offered one to Thornton.

  He took it happily, running it beneath his nose to savor the rich aroma as he’d seen the general do. A fine cigar. He would have expected nothing less from the general.

  “Maybe we should open a window before we indulge,” the general said, getting up after handing the case to Vanderslice. While he opened one of the windows a bit, Bates and Vanderslice each selected a cigar. Vanderslice produced a knife and matches, and soon they were all puffing away.

  Bates, he noticed, had peered into the envelope and seemed satisfied with what he found there. Then he turned to Thornton. “What are your plans now, Thornton?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, instantly wary. Bates would never ask him a question unless he had an ulterior motive.

  “Just what I said. Are you going to stay in the city or go back to Albany or maybe travel or . . . ?” He shrugged as if the answer meant nothing to him.

  “
Perhaps Thornton is going to keep finding more ordnance to sell to the army,” the general said with a smug smile.

  “Perhaps I will,” he said.

  Everyone looked up in surprise at the sound of a disturbance in the front office. Nothing untoward ever happened to challenge the dignity of this building, so the echo of raised voices was doubly disconcerting.

  “What on earth . . . ?” Vanderslice muttered, starting to rise, but he was hardly on his feet before the door to their meeting room flew open and slammed into the wall.

  “Ah, there you are, General Sterling,” the intruder said. He was some kind of army officer, his uniform fairly glittering with gold braid and brass buttons. Behind him came half a dozen enlisted men in their bright blue uniforms with equally shiny buttons, carrying rifles and wearing sidearms.

  A tremor of alarm flickered over him, but Thornton reminded himself that the army didn’t rob people. They couldn’t possibly be in any danger.

  “What is the meaning of this, Colonel?” the general demanded. He’d also risen from his chair, and Thornton and Bates had, too.

  “I think you know why we’re here, Sterling.” The colonel’s gaze skimmed the other three men, sizing them up. Thornton instinctively straightened and lifted his chin. “Which one of you is Vanderslice?”

  “I am,” Vanderslice said. “Who are you and why are you here?”

  “Colonel Inchwood, at your service. Am I correct in assuming that you gentlemen are here because you believe you are selling something to the United States Government?”

  “That’s right,” Thornton said. “I am.”

  The colonel looked him over again, this time with what might have been pity. “I’m sorry to inform you that General Sterling has no authority to purchase anything on behalf of the United States or anyone else.” He nodded to one of the soldiers, who moved to the table and began gathering all the papers lying there.

  “What are you doing?” Vanderslice cried. “You can’t take those.”

  “Yes, I can,” the colonel said. “That’s evidence. I’m here to arrest General Sterling for war profiteering, among other crimes.”