“During the war, it became a southern thing and helped finance the Confederacy.
“It is rumored the Knights of the Golden Circle removed the gold and silver from the Confederate treasury in Richmond prior to burning and evacuating Richmond.
“How much and where it was put remain secrets. They are a powerful and secret organization. And a dangerous enemy. Dangerous both physically and legislatively.
“They absolutely would have the wherewithal to kill a president or change a government.
“We need to talk with Ben together before you go any further. My initial impulse is for you to go to Dallas, maybe with the attorney general and tell them why you are there and ask them straight out if they are involved. I can, however, be swayed by your and Brewster’s thoughts on the approach.”
Lincoln went to the office’s telephone and called the Attorney General’s office. They waited several minutes until Ben Brewster answered.
“Ben. Robert and John here. Do you have a few minutes for us? Yes, it could be very important. Alright. Thank you. See you in five or ten minutes. Bye.”
“He has a meeting scheduled but will cancel it. Let’s go over now,” Lincoln said.
They walked the short distance, then went up the stairs to the Attorney General’s office and presented themselves. His secretary ushered them in immediately.
“John, you must have found something important,” Brewster began.
“I believe it’s more counsel on what to do about what Sarah found,” Pope said.
“John and Sarah’s research has suggested the Knights of the Golden Circle as a possible group behind the threat against Arthur. Especially since the chairman of their funding source is none other than our old enemy, General Shelby,” Lincoln said.
“The Golden Circle was an expansionist movement. One which may have millions if not more in gold secreted around the South and West, right?” Brewster asked.
“Yes. And a number of powerful industrialists and senators and congressmen have been associated with it, by fact or suggestion. Their money may be the Confederate stock of bullion and coins. However, the leadership has never been totally Southern.
My initial thought is you and John go to Dallas and confront them with it. What do you think?” Lincoln said.
“Well, let’s think through it. If we go as attorney general and investigator, it will add an official aspect to the questioning. However, we will spill the proverbial beans on the table about the threat against the president. What if we couched it in terms of an ‘operation’ in the Virginia-Washington area? We could refuse to comment on the nature, leaving a criminal enterprise open as a possibility perhaps,” Brewster suggested.
“And refuse to give details? Perhaps suggest we have heard GC was behind funding it?” Pope asked.
“Yes. My fear is by me being there, it ratchets up the curiosity factor.”
“Ben, what about a subpoena from a federal court to see their records?” Lincoln asked.
“They have been a secret organization for twenty or thirty years. We have no idea who they are, what they want or how much money they have. They have not maintained such a level of security and anonymity by being stupid or without good counsel. They could tie the subpoena up in courts for years without our willingness to admit why we want the information. Years!” Brewster said.
“Perhaps I should just go down alone and push them hard. Could you get me a treasury agent badge? Or some non-military credentials?” Pope asked.
“I agree with John, Ben. He needs to go in without a military angle,” Lincoln said.
“If I tried to ‘borrow’ a treasury badge, it would raise too many questions at the treasury. I am still not sure I trust them to not be part of this mess.
John, I can swear you in as a deputy US marshal. Or, have business cards prepared naming you a member of the Assistant Attorney General for Criminal Prosecution’s office,” Brewster said.
“How about both, sir? I could give the card as my introduction but have the badge in case I need it.”
“Your idea seems reasonable,” Brewster said.
“Be sure to keep your badges straight. A provost marshal with a deputy US marshal badge would raise a lot of questions,” Lincoln said.
“I will, sir. Not a problem. Even if caught on it, I could say I was on loan to the Attorney General’s office from the War office. I can finesse it alright.”
“Go ahead and get a ticket to and from Dallas. How can you keep us apprised?” Brewster asked.
“Wells Fargo uses a coded telegram system. I can send telegrams to Sarah. She can decode and deliver to you.”
Pope left and, since he was returning to the West, picked up his boots, Stetson and Colt .44. He swung by the train depot and picked up roundtrip tickets for Dallas.
He and Sarah walked down to the Old Ebbitt’s Grill near the hotel and the President’s House. They recognized several diners from the cocktail party, but names and titles eluded them. They had originally thought social mixing was going to be the way the investigation would run, but quickly found it not to be the case. Both admitted they were glad of it.
Sarah had pork chops and Pope had a steak. They still chatted at dinner like new lovers instead of old marrieds. The dinner was a delight and they walked back to the Willard anxious to arrive at the privacy of their room.
3
Pope left for the train depot at dawn and boarded the train south, then connecting west.
He arrived in Dallas the next morning. This train trip had been brutal with storms buffeting the train and rocking the cars like a boat in rough water. He was beat as he climbed down from the train. His return ticket was open, so he found a hotel. Pope took a nap and cleaned up before going to the GC Financial offices.
Looking like the native Westerner he was, he arrived at the offices at ten o’clock.
There was a man at a desk. Nothing identified him as to name or title.
Pope asked to see Mr. Joe Shelby, Jr.
“What is your business with Mr. Shelby?”
Pope presented the new engraved Attorney General’s Office business card.
The man read the card, taking an inordinately long time to do so.
“Let me repeat myself. What is your business with Mr. Shelby?”
“I am here on behalf of the US Attorney General. My business with Mr. Shelby is not your affair unless you happen to be him.”
The man glared at him.
“Are you, in fact, Mr. Shelby?”
The man continued to glare. Then, he threw his coat back and reached for a gun in a shoulder holster.
Before the gun cleared leather, he felt a Colt Frontier Model pressed against his mustache, just below his nose. Looking cross-eyed up the barrel, he could see the Colt was cocked and ready to fire.
“This could have been so easy. But you had to be stupid. Now, before I decorate this office with your brains, where in hell is Mr. Shelby?” Pope asked.
“I am Joe Shelby. Is this a robbery?” a portly man in his forties said from a doorway behind where the covered man sat.
“Of course not. I work for the attorney general. I asked to see you and this man tried to draw on me. He’s the first one who did and lived to tell about it.”
“You are with the Texas Attorney General? I may have to have a talk with him,” Shelby said.
“I am with the Attorney General of the United States. You are most welcome to have a talk with him. In fact, it’s beginning to look like he will be wanting to have a talk with you.”
“Perhaps we should come into my office.”
Pope removed the gun from the man’s mustache and slipped the gun out of the shoulder holster and stuck it in his own waist.
He nodded for the man to precede him into his boss’ office. The man hesitated but was sped up by a hard barrel prod in the middle of his back.
“Does my secretary need to sit in with us?” Shelby asked.
“It was not my plan. But I will not have him bushwhack me wh
ile we are talking, or run and get some accomplices,” Pope said.
“Talbot, sit at your desk and do not move. Do not take any action or go anywhere. This gentleman and I need to speak in private.”
“I want my gun back.”
“You may get it when I leave. Or you may not. You came real close to dying just now. Why don’t you sit at your desk and contemplate on it?” Pope suggested.
Shelby sat at his desk. Pope moved the chair around to the side so he could control the door and sat.
“Do you have any identification?”
“I gave the man who drew on me my card. Here is another,” Pope said, handing it to Shelby.
“Assistant US Attorney for Criminal Prosecutions. Ominous sounding for a visitor,” Shelby noted.
“Maybe, maybe not. I am here to ask your cooperation and maybe help on a major criminal investigation.”
“What type and how can GC Financial assist? Also, should I have my attorney present?”
“I don’t think you need him, but you are most welcome to have him present if you wish,” Pope said.
“Ask me a few questions and I’ll decide.”
“Fair enough. I am out of Washington. I am heading up an investigation for the Assistant Attorney General. I cannot tell you about the crime we are investigating because it has not happened yet.
“We have a fair number of facts about an event which will occur in Washington. We have received information from a good source saying your institution will be involved in the funding of the operation. I was sent here in good faith to ask you about it. It’s entirely possible someone is soliciting your financial support under false pretenses. If such is the case, it would certainly behoove you if we work together to nip this in the bud.”
“How should I address you?”
“Provost Marshal Pope.”
“Isn’t provost marshal a military position?” Shelby asked.
“Yes. I am a head investigator for the War Office. I am on loan to the Attorney General and deputized as a marshal during my deployment.”
“What is the nature of this crime?”
“It is an operation against the government of the United States of America, Mr. Shelby. I am not at liberty to say more. I need to ask you some questions to take back to the attorney general. He will decide what further information we can give you based on your responses. We are attempting to do this informally without taking you to Washington, deposing you and making it an interrogation. I will tell you the crime is a serious one, probably with capital punishment.”
Pope saw Shelby fidgeting and beginning to perspire. Instead of waiting for permission, he pushed ahead.
“What sort of institution is this? A bank? A trust?”
“It’s a private bank and trust. Our assets are related to a blind trust. Most recently, we have evolved into a philanthropy organization.”
“You mean you give money to deserving charities?” Pope asked.
“Precisely. Orphanages, church missions and the like.”
“Most admirable, Mr. Shelby. Was charity always your mission?”
“No. We were an expansionist movement originally. The expansionist movement ended during the war. Our assets were devoted to the Confederacy’s efforts. I am afraid it did not work out well for us or the effort. So, we evolved into a charitable organization,” Shelby said.
“Mr. Shelby, what did you say was the source of your assets?”
“I didn’t actually. The source is a blind trust. It and its trustees are protected under very tight trust law from being identified. The trustor wrote it into the trust document.”
“So, if the attorney general subpoenaed you for the information, he could not get it?” Pope asked.
“It would be tied up in court for years. Well past his term as attorney general. I suspect it would go to the Supreme Court in four or five years. We could tie it up until then.”
“The secrecy sounds like illegality, Mr. Shelby.”
“I am sorry you think so, Marshal. Nothing we do does anything except help people who need help. I am required as a trustee to exercise due diligence to protect the tenets of the trust document. Hence my reluctance to speak further.”
“Would you be willing to tell me under oath your organization is not involved in any operation against the United States?”
“I can tell you with all honesty I am unaware of any operation against the United States. I have been here for six months. Before then, I was a Dallas bank president. I cannot swear to anything my predecessor may have concocted before he left.”
“How might I contact him?” Pope asked.
“Very conveniently. He is near you. He has a small estate east of Charlottesville, Virginia. It’s called Topping. His name is Michael Kane. You might be careful approaching him.”
“Why should I be careful?” Pope asked.
“He is quick to shoot.”
“A banker?” Pope was confused.
“He ran the organization from more of an operational standpoint. I run it as a financial professional.”
“Is your father still chairman of the board of trustees?”
“I am not at liberty to say under the constraints of the trust,” Shelby said.
“Thank you, Mr. Shelby. If we have more questions, someone from the office will be in touch. May I give you a bit of advice?”
Shelby said “yes” with great hesitation.
“The man out front could get you and him killed. He’s not very good with a gun.”
“Kane met him on a rare visit after resigning and laughed. I guess I should have taken my predecessor’s reaction seriously.”
Pope unloaded the man’s gun, a Smith & Wesson Schofield, and laid it and the six cartridges on his desk. He said, “Only a fool has a loaded round under the hammer in this type of gun,” and left.
The man stood menacingly as Pope walked out. Pope walked past him aware, but not showing his disgust with the man’s incompetence.
On the street, he turned and walked back to his hotel. He believed Shelby. He also thought Shelby had told him much more than either his father or this Kane person would. Regardless, Pope knew Kane would be his next visit once he got back to Washington. He avoided the Wells Fargo office and opted for the Western Union Telegraph. He sent a coded telegram to Sarah for the two secretaries. It outlined his findings and plans to call on Michael Kane at Topping in Charlottesville when he arrived back in Washington.
The weather and ride were smoother on the return trip. He sat thinking the whole time. The talk with Shelby had been an interesting conversation. Depending on the board of trustees, the Knights of the Golden Circle probably did have the power and money to pull off a coup against the government. Certainly, an assassination.
No matter where the case took them, Pope knew he would not dismiss the group readily. They would be on the suspect list until the very end of the case.
He got off the train in Richmond and found a westbound train to Charlottesville.
The conductor was walking through forty minutes outside of the former capital of the Confederacy. He stopped and looked at his pocket watch and announced to the passenger in the car, “We will be having a big bump in the tracks soon. Nothing to worry about.”
A few minutes later, there was a bump and the whole train rattled as each car went over it.
“We used to stop at a watering station there. Newer equipment makes it all the way to Charlottesville without a coal or water stop. The pronunciation of the place is ‘bumpas’. It was a bit of humor by the railroad. The official name of the station and little community is Bumpass. You can see why!”
Pope grinned. He had seen some pretty crazy place names traveling around the country for Wells Fargo. So far, Bumpass was on the top of his list.
He got off at Charlottesville and went to the post office, again avoiding Wells Fargo during this secret investigation.
“I am looking for a nearby estate. It’s called Topping,” he said to the postmaster.
“Actually, it’s Topping Castle. Take Richmond Road east for five miles. You will see a sign for it on the left. It’s owned by the Kane family. Has been for over a hundred years. The old man is dead, but his son lives there now. Rumor has it he’s married to a beautiful actress.”
“Thank you. One last question. Where can I get a horse to ride out there?” Pope asked.
“Two blocks to the left of the post office and one block over to the right. There’s a good livery stable. Tell the man Honus sent you. He’ll take care of you.”
Pope stopped at a café along the route and got a ham sandwich and cup of coffee.
The livery owner set him up with a handsome Morgan gelding. Unfortunately, the saddle was the British style popular in the east.
No damn place to wrap a lariat or hang a canteen and no latigos to lash on a rifle scabbard or saddlebags, he thought to himself.
He swung up on the horse with the ease and grace of a cowboy, his first job.
Following the postmaster’s directions, he found Richmond Road and headed away from Charlottesville.
Knowing his day on the horse was not going to accrue much mileage, he rode at a fast trot and saw the sign for Topping Castle quickly.
He turned into a long, one lane entry. It was lined with trees on both sides.
If I was going to live back East, this would be it, he thought. And was rich, he added.
He was totally convinced when he rounded a curve in the lane and saw the house. It was brick with white columns. As he got closer, he could see well performed repairs almost hiding bullet pock marks and at least one cannon hit. As a Californian, he had never given much thought about the war. Only the fact it had eliminated slavery. At least black slavery. Certainly not helped the way Indians were treated. Or immigrant workers.
It hit him hard to imagine what it might be like to have an invading army attack you at home where your wife and children and animals were. To bombard your house and stables. And, for this to happen when you were not around to help protect them or fight the fires or bury the dead. He decided it was the most horrible war imaginable.
Shooting For Justice Page 6