by Jim DeFelice
Jake nodded. Howe’s knot remained untied. Had the British general concocted an elaborate charade for them, or was he truly attacking Boston?
Washington had told Jake to use his imagination, to create a solution. It was the sort of thing the general was always expecting, but in this case, Jake’s Muse seemed to have taken herself off to another part of the continent.
Neither Anthony nor any of the other prisoners could be trusted. The same man who had informed on Anthony, — and perhaps it had been Anthony himself — might now be among them.
Such doubt is the currency of a spy, who in constantly fooling others must always fear being fooled himself. Jake stood politely for a few minutes as Culper continued to ask Anthony questions about Clinton and his arrest, then excused himself to get something to eat.
As he might have predicted, he found Claus van Clynne holding court in the great room with several key members of the spy ring, commenting at length upon the quality of the small beer they had liberated from a Tory brewer.
“ The hops are inferior, that is the problem,” explained the squire in an authoritatively scientific voice. “These are ordinary hopes. A true beer hop is a work of art, created over long generations by careful husbandry. It is a specific sort of creature, prepared by a knowledgeable craftsman.”
“ A Dutchman, no doubt,” suggested Jake, who was well used to these arguments. The others were held in too rapt an attention to comment — and besides, they were busily investigating the quality of the liquid for themselves.
“ It is not necessary to be Dutch to nurture a proper hop,” allowed van Clynne. “But it helps.”
“ Dare I ask you how you came to be in New York?”
“ I have already told you: I sensed you would require my assistance. Alas, in providing cover for you journey, I ran into a rather misguided fellow, whom I had to pretend to be beaten by in order to speed my arrival in New York.”
“ Pretend, eh?”
“ You, sir, should be well acquainted with the ways of us secret agents, especially those of the Dutch stripe. We are continually pretending to e beaten, so that we may rise again. It is but one of our many tricks. And while we are on the subject, I wonder if you could assist me in preparing a write for my misplaced notes. The sum is trifling, indeed, as far as Congress will be concerned, but there is a certain, shall we say, nostalgic value for me, especially as I am still bereft of my land.”
“ Exactly how much money did you lose?”
“ It is diffcult to calculate a final sum,” said the Dutchman. “But using British currency as a reference, I believe it would approximate fifty-seven pounds, two shilling, sixpence.”
Jake smiled. “You’re talking the loss rather calmly.”
“ I am a calm man, reasonable to the core. I realize my losses will be made good.”
“ How much of the money was counterfeit?”
Donatello could not have painted a better picture of indignation. “I trade in only genuine currency. Four of my purses were stolen. Fortunately, my metal had been secreted away prior to the confiscation, or I would be beyond revival.”
“ You lost only paper money?”
“ One takes certain precautions in difficult times,” fussed van Clynne. “And money is money, let us not forget.”
“ Come, Claus, you seem to have an unquenchable supply of notes. What about the ones in your shoe? Or the lining of your vest?”
“ Do you think me an alchemist, sire, who can conjure money from thin air?”
“ No,” said Jake. He left off the argument for two reasons: one, experience had shown it was useless to argue with the Dutchman when his mind was set, and two, Culper had dismissed Anthony and was signaling him from across the room. “Excuse me,” he said.
Van Clynne rose so quickly behind him that he nearly upset the table.
“ Claus, go on investigating your beer.”
“ We are an inseparable team,” said the Dutchman, pulling his beard. “A machine that works as a set of wheels turning together. If it were not for me, how would you have escaped from the jail.”
“ I suspect I would have run after the others.”
“ Balderdash, sir, pure balderdash.”
Van Clynne continued to bluster so much that Jake tacitly conceded. Culper, however, had taken a dislike to the squire and demanded to know who precisely he thought he was and what he was doing.
A mistake, surely.
“ Sir, I will have you know that my family’s disdain for the British exceeds that of any other clan on the entire continent. Compared to Claus van Clynne, Patrick Henry is a poodle of flattery, a veritable fawn toward George and his German forbears.”
“ I’ll not have a member of Congress insulted,” thundered Culper.
At length, Jake was able to calm the situation by making van Clynne promise to keep his mouth shut in return for being allowed to stay. Neither the Dutchman nor Culper entirely agreed with this arrangement, but as Jake impressed on them that time was of the essence, they eventually placed their mutual enmity on the shelf with the blankets.
Or perhaps with the pots, as it rattled in Culper’s mouth as he told Jake the prospects for finding Howe’s direction were limited. All the members of the spy ring who had been liberated from prison must undergo a severe vetting before they could be trusted again.
“ The evidence does point toward Boston,” conceded Culper. “Such as it is.”
“ We need much more for the general,” Jake said. “If he marches north, Philadelphia will be without protection. And if Howe were to show up off the Carolinas, the entire South would be lost to him.”
“ I have had the various city suppliers interviewed,” said Culper. “But we have not gained anything.”
“ My friend Mr. Clayton Bauer would know,” said Jake. “I should have gotten the information from him this morning.”
“ Bauer might know,” said Culper, “if he has set up a network for Howe there. But he always has his guard with him. You did well to escape alive.”
“ His sister might help us,” said Jake.
“ How?”
“ If I might offer a suggestion,” started van Clynne.
“ You may not,” snapped Jake before turning to Culper. “She lost her son at Princeton. I doubt she would agree to tell us willingly, but she would do much to get information about him. We might be able to cobble together a deception.”
“ Too risky. Would Bauer be loose-lipped enough to tell his siter the greatest secret of the British army? If he even knows it? And then how would you use her to get to him? It’s too complicated, Jake. There must be another way.”
In any event, the mansion was a well guarded as any British headquarters; even if Jake would welcome a chance at gently persuading Lady Patricia to change her allegiance, there would be a host of men nearby to argue for loyalty. He ought to be able to puzzle out a plan to convince her — yet none would materialize in his brain, and it was much too dangerous to just knock on the door and count on his wits to carry him to an answer.
“ There has to be someone in the city, not under constant guard, who would know where Howe is going,” Culper said. “Someone who has been overlooked.”
“ If I — “
“ Not now, Claus,” said Jake.
With severe effort, the Dutchman clamped his mouth shut. He had given his solemn word not to speak, but this was almost more torture than he could bear.
At least the furrows on his companion’s brow showed that he was working on a solution. With any luck, he would reach the conclusion van Clynne had already drawn without too much more delay. After all, it was only logical, and should be plain to all, even those not blessed with a Dutch intellect.
“ I would think the engineering staff would know,” suggested Jake to Culper.
“ Surely. But they have gone with Howe.”
“ Not the entire staff. I heard them speaking of a memer who is a relative at Bauer’s.”
Culper gave a snort of contempt
. “If you are referring to the dissolute Lord Peter Alain, he wouldn’t know Philadelphia from the local swamp. He was only shipped her to keep him from the London gutter.”
“ He’s not an engineer himself?”
“ He’s barely in his teens. He has some skill at drawing, it is said, but no sense to back it. His father placed him here so he would be near his older brother, who was on Howe’s staff. The brother was another man entirely, but he died of smallpox some months ago. Or so they say.” Culper smiled. “We spent a bit of time trying to convert him. He would have been our best prize.”
“ Nonetheless, there may be papers that will give Howe away. Certainly he’s had maps done.”
“ I don’t know, Jake. Breaking into the engineer’s office won’t be easy.”
“ Much easier than a prison, I daresay. You have a map of the building?”
“ I think we do.”
“ Personally, I think the whole plan is unnecessary,” said van Clynne, no longer able to keep his peace. “I would take another approach entirely.”
Before Jake could stop him, Culper asked, with some heat, what that might be.
“ Well, sire. Now that you request my opinion, I will air it. General Howe is a man given to fine clothes, is he not?”
“ What the hell is your point?” Culper roared.
“ He has a tailor in the north ward, I believe, and undoubtedly consulted him before leaving. He would have the man prepare the latest fashions.”
“ Burning hell.”
Van Clynne ignored Culper’s comment and addressed Jake directly. “All we need to do is ask the tailor what style of suits he made up. And as the tailor happens to be a fellowe countryman with whom I have done some business — “
“ I thought all Dutchmen hated the British.”
“ Alas, the man proves the rule by his exception. I believe he was dropped on the head as a small child, which may have played a mitigating role.”
“ Thank you, but I believe we will proceed according to Jake’s outline,” said Culper gruffly. “Why don’t you have some more beer? You look like you could use it.”
“ My associate always does things in the most strenuous way possible,” tutted van Clynne, oblivious to the sarcastic tone. “It is effective in the long run, but much sweat is involved. Granted, you are dealing with a lord here, so he will be easy to fool. But still, an hour’s stroll to the tailor’s, and I will have the solution.”
“ Go then,” said Culper.
“ I may, sir. I may.”
“ Claus — “
“ First, however, I will accept your suggestion and see to my beer,” declared van Clynne, opening the door.
“ You’ll pay for what you drink!” thundered Culper as he left. “Honestly, Jake, how do you stand him?”
“ He has done me much service in the past,” said Jake. “His methods are unorthodox, but he has a knack for succeeding.”
“ I would think his success only the wildest coincidence.”
Jake shrugged. He had learned long ago that there was no logical way to account for the Dutchman’s ability to wrest victory from the most unlikely circumstances.
While the two men discussed other possibilities for discovering Howe’s destination, van Clynne returned to the table to continue his study of hops. Alas, the men who had been eating there had dispersed, and taken most of the beer with them: the squire had to content himself with a half-filled tankard of the now slightly stale liquid.
No container is ever half-filled to a man such as van Clynne. He began to comment at length about the shallow nature of this pewter vessel, exposing the shortcuts modern craftsmen were taking with their work. His concentration was finally broken by the arrival of Alison, dressed in a fine suit of boys clothes. She ran up the stairs and asked loudly where her father was.
“ Who would your father be?” said van Clynne.
“ The most noble soldier and spy in the entire Continental Army,” she said, her voice puffing up with a pomposity that would put any parliament speaker to shame. “Working under the personal command of George Washington himself. He is worth five legions of troops, and his skills can save an entire army. He is resourceful and brave, and the British drop in fear at the mention of his name.”
“ You describe me perfectly,” said van Clynne. “But I cannot claim to have sired you. Why are you dressed as a boy, when you are clearly girl? Why is your hair fixed that way?”
“ How do you know I am a girl?” she said indignantly.
“ The Dutch can tell such things.”
“ Alison,” said Jake, emerging from the office. “I’d almost forgotten about you. Culper is going to try and find you a job at the coffeehouse. In the meantime, you can spend the night here. Why are you still wearing breeches? I thought Daltoons was going to find you a dress?”
The lieutenant, just emerging at the stairs, shrugged and mumbled words to the effect that she had a mind of her own. Like any well-trained officer of the continental corps, he had long ago learned to choose his battles wisely.
“ I don’t want to work in a coffeehouse,” said Alison. “Not while there is a war to be won.”
“ Listen to me, young lady.” Jake caught her arm and held it tightly. “The first thing you must know about the army is that when a superior gives you an order, you follow it.”
“ I have heard this speech,’ remarked van Clynne into his cup. “A mission has but one chief.”
“ A mission has but one chief,” continued Jake. “And I am it. You are a followers, and a follower follows orders.”
“ But, Father — “
“ I am not a father!”
“ Is that a blanket denial?” asked van Clynne. “Or a specific point?”
“ You stay out of this.”
“ Gladly,” said the squire as he rose. “I make it a habit never to interfere in a family quarrel.”
“ This is not a family quarrel.”
“ As you wish.”
“ This is a deadly serious business, Alison,” Jake warned. “I cannot play governess any longer.”
“ Governess! Is that what you think of me, a child?” Alison said.
“ You’re young. And — “
“ And a woman, is that it?”
“ You’re still a girl.”
“ I am fifteen, and as brave as any man. I want to fight for our freedom.”
“ No boy your age would be allowed to join the army.”
“ Piffle. I know many who have.”
“ Enough,” said Jake. “Working for Culper is the same as working for General Washington. If you want to be treated like a soldier, act like one and follow orders.”
“ But, Father — “
“ And if you call me father one more time, I’ll have you whipped before the entire company.’
“ They should like that, I expect,” said the girl, folding her arms before her.
Chapter Twenty-one
Wherein, Dr. Keen makes his way back into our story.
After leaving the weaver, Major Dr. Harland Keen headed to the river near Tappan in as foul a mood as any man since Hudson found it necessary to concede his craft drew too much draft to pursue the passage to India up these waters. It was by now well past midnight. Any boat Keen spied would be his for the taking, but he feared some random guard or sentry near the docked ferries might cause complications. So he continued south to an area with less settlement, spotting a large, old flatboat as he drove his wagon over a pine-planked bridge spanning a creek that emptied into the river.
While Dr. Keen was a man on the other side of fifty and had spent much of his life in London besides, he was still in reasonable shape. His physique was aided by certain substances of his own concoction which he imbibed from time to time. He took one of these now — a small pill whose major ingredient was distilled from a member of the nightshade family,
Daturastramonium
— before climbing down from his carriage to inspect the craft.
&nbs
p; This was nothing more than a serviceable vessel, of the type commonly used by farmers to carry wagons across the river. Several years had passed since its paint began chipping off, but otherwise the boat appeared sound and relatively solid; ropes were conveniently tied to cleats at the bottom where the wheels of a vehicle could be secured.
A house sat on a small rise a hundred yards away, with a grouping of farm buildings just beyond. Keen briefly considered going there and impressing the inhabitants in the manner of the navy. But free labor was hardly worth the risks or the delay, and besides, the pill was already starting to have its effect. He took off his coat and vest, laying them carefully inside the coach. Rolling up his sleeves, he went to the horses and carefully led them onto the vessel, pulling their heads firmly despite their brief nickers of protest. He sliced the ropes holding the boat to shore, picked up the large pole paddle, and was off.
There was a moment, just before he reached the middle of the river, when the tide slipped back. Another man might have thought the luck that had brought him to the craft had now gone against him. But Keen merely pushed his oar harder, and the boat rewarded him with a swift slide toward the opposite shore. A bright moon gave him plenty of light to steer by, and he soon found a landing on the other side of the water.
He would not have paused at a tollhouse had he seen one, nor did he hesitate as he drove his team onto the south road near the river. The land here was called neutral, meaning that both sides claimed it and neither could control it. The doctor's earlier adventures had made it somewhat familiar, and Keen realized that he had only to go a few miles south to find Dobbs Ferry, which was a Tory haven.
A Loyalist militiaman attached to a British guard unit was posted near the road when Keen arrived two hours before dawn. In actual fact, the man was fulfilling his duty with a surfeit of snores; he was stretched out with his head against a pile of wood and his bayonet idling nearby. Keen kicked the musket into the woods with disdain. When this failed to wake the man, he turned his boot to the laggard's ribs.