“What?” asked Cassidy.
“Over the past year, he had been losing weight.” Claire's composure broke again as tears started to come out. “He was trying to make himself more handsome.”
The two looked out over the river together. “He was such a kind man. A good man. He hid some pain, and you could see it. Not just in his size, but in his words, his face. I felt as though he deserved more out of life. He would have been quite handsome had he been thinner. And even that big, his face was handsome. It was always handsome. I felt... something. Something that, sometimes, made me want to comfort him him, and that was one way I could.”
Cassidy nodded. “Well, whatever comfort you gave him in this life was obviously significant. He showered you with secret gifts. Gifts that he could never bring himself to give you.”
“Now you see why I hate myself for never looking... I... I think I would have said yes.”
Cassidy smiled a comforting smile. “Don't hate yourself. Don't be upset. I would imagine that, for a man who trusted no one, having someone faultlessly follow his wishes, even when he didn't really wish them, would have done little more than make him love you all the fiercer. He was losing weight. He had bought you gifts. He died happy.”
Claire breathed deeply, shivering slightly. “But now I'm alone... I'm alone. Maybe that's a selfish thing to say. It is selfish. But as time went on, I felt at home with him. He almost never went out, so he was always there. He was always happy to see me...” Claire again was forced to hold back tears. “It felt like home... It felt like home.” Claire paused as she looked out over the water. “I'm sure you think me a boring person.”
“Boring? No. What makes you think that?”
“Listen to me go on about my tiny little life as though its so important to a woman who has adventured all around the world. You must find it all so dull.”
“Not in the slightest!” replied Cassidy. “I'm still a person! I'm not some weird creature.”
“I'm a simple woman, miss St. Claire, and I suppose that I... I just... I don't know.”
“I don't agree with that at all,” replied Cassidy.
“Why?”
“You blazed your own trail down here. I was born rich. You didn't have that. And look at you now. You are now the owner of your own business. If you had truly been a simple woman, you would have done what every other simple woman in this blasted society does: produce a clutch of children and then die in obscurity.
Claire looked away for a moment. “I don't think that wanting something more is the mark of an overly complex person.”
“Perhaps,” said Cassidy. “But attaining it is.” Claire and Cassidy's eyes met. “You have nothing to apologize for,” said Cassidy. “Nothing.” Claire smiled as they both turned back to gaze upon the water.
---
Cassidy and Claire walked back into the office, Gideon was sitting on a chair, his face puffy, blowing his nose into a handkerchief.
“Wow. You alright?” asked Cassidy.
“Yes. I'm fine,” replied Gideon. “The dust in the basement has done quite a number on my nose. The other three are down there still, but I had to come up for air.”
“Yes,” added Claire. “I haven't cleaned that place in years. I'd imagine that it would be a hellish thing for someone not accustomed to New Orleans dust.”
The clomping of feet signaled Jebediah coming up the stairs. “Ah, Cassidy, Miss Day. I'm glad to see you have returned safe and sound.”
“So, we've been gone for over an hour. What have you found?” asked Cassidy.
Jebediah shook his head and sighed. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Nothing?” Cassidy gasped out. “Nothing? How the hell have you found nothing?”
“Miss Day was being honest. We've done a cursory examination on over half of the cabinets. The files to appear to be little more than employment information. He is a legitimate operation. Maybe some of them have things hidden, but we'll need to go through every single folder to find out. And once that's done, we're still left with more information than we could ever manage in an acceptable time frame. Unless we can conjure up a miracle, there is no way we will be able to take the information stored here and apply it to some sort of significant investigation. There's just too much information, and most of it doesn't direct us anywhere. It just tells us something about a person when Mister Hitchcock met him or her.”
“Claire?” Cassidy asked, turning to Claire. “That man who was always taken privately. Do you remember anything else? Maybe something about him specifically that might help us identify him.”
“No,” replied Claire. “A few files were created, but they were standard files placed in standard places. Nothing special. I couldn't find them now if my life depended on it. And all I remember about the man is his cane. It was... black and white... It almost sparkled. That's it, though. That's all I remember.”
Cassidy sighed. “Not much.” Cassidy's eyes darted around as she thought before turning back to Claire. “Claire, just relax, think, wander into your memory. Grab onto anything, anything at all.
Claire breathed in and out and sat, her eyes off into the distance. After a moment, she shut her eyes and thought... and thought... and thought. “I'm so sorry,” she said, opening her eyes and shaking her head. “We would handle fifty, maybe a hundred people per day. And we did that every day for ten years. If Bill were alive, but, no, even then, he never did anything wrong knowingly. He probably just thought he was sending men out for mining work.”
Cassidy sighed through her nose and looked to Jebediah expectantly. “Oh no, this isn't the end,” said Jebediah. “This guy turned up in too many investigations for this place to be nothing. We just can't do anything here. I've already cabled to have men sent down from Washington. There are puzzle pieces here, and we will put them together.”
“I'm sure we will,” replied Cassidy, upset. “But in the meantime, what I set out to do is sitting unaddressed.”
“There are many things sitting unaddressed right now,” replied Jebediah, sitting on a chair. “But this, right now, is our only clue. Unless another clue literally runs in, we're stuck.”
At that moment, a young man, breathless and dirty, ran into the office carrying a package. He stopped in the middle of the room and composed himself before bowing. “Mister Ames?” the young man asked.
“Yes?” replied Jebediah.
“My name is Cullen O'Davies, sir. I'm from Houston,” he said with a slight Irish accent.
“Houston!?” Jebediah said, standing up. “We thought everyone dead!”
“No sir,” replied Cullen. “I came late from up north. I arrived just after you had gone. I found the bodies and left quickly, running into our boys at the train station. We returned to the house and met the young Newman lad who explained what had happened. A quick telegram to St. Louis and I learned where you were headed.”
“Fantastic work” replied Jebediah. “Here, sit.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Cullen as he sat. Jebediah returned to his seat across from Cullen.
“What news do you bring?” asked Jebediah.
“I heard that our enemy ransacked the house in search of something. I suspect that I know what it is.”
Everyone rose in attention as the young man opened his satchel and produced a small, leather bound book.
“They were looking for this,” said Cullen.
“What is it?” asked Jebediah.
“The hand-written journal of Professor Stephen Capshaw.”
“You're kidding,” said Cassidy.
“No ma'am, why?” asked Cullen.
“Professor Capshaw of New York University?”
“Yes ma'am, I believe so.”
“You knew him?” asked Gideon.
“Yes,” replied Cassidy. “He was a sometimes professor at Vassar when I went there back in the day. He specialized in, uh, North American archaeology and sociological history. A good man. Good sense of humor. We got along like family. I thi
nk he was a little bit sweet on me.”
“He's also one of the professors who has gone missing,” added Jebediah. Cassidy turned to him with concern. “In fact, he was one of the first. He's been gone for over five years.” Jebediah then turned to Cullen. “When the hell had that been found? Why wasn't I told?”
“It only happened a week ago, sir,” replied Cullen. “I don't have all of the reports, but a flurry of activity has happened in the past week. It's been... confusing. We were going to inform you until we heard of Harker's betrayal then decided to keep it out of open channels.”
“Little good it did,” said Gideon.
“Sounds like you have more problems than just Harker,” said Cassidy. Jebediah snorted and his eyes drifted off into infinity.
“No time to worry about that,” said Jebediah. “Excellent work, son, Excellent work. You saw the book here, right where it needed to be and at exactly the right time. I'm proud of you. You will be rewarded well for this achievement.” Gideon glanced at Jebediah. “Now give it here, give it here!” Cullen obeyed and handed the journal over. “What's so important about it?”
“We don't know, sir. It's been of no use,” said Cullen.
“What? What do you mean no use?” asked Jebediah as he opened the journal.
“It's written in some sort of code or shorthand. No one can make heads or tails of it. It's complete gibberish.”
Jebediah opened up the journal to find page after page of shorthand code. Some pages had diagrams scribbled on them, but the labels were in code. “You can't tell me there was no luck at all? We've got goddamned code breakers.”
“Yes sir. I know sir. But they were stumped. The entire journal was copied before it was brought down here to you. They're still working on it now.”
Jebediah looked away, frustrated. “They are among us,” he mumbled. “Why not just make another copy? Why come and try to take this one?” Jebediah flipped through the pages. “Are you sure they were looking for this?” he asked, turning to Cullen.
“Not entirely,” replied Cullen. “But it was something of a race to get it. It seems likely. Even though we've only had it for a week, some of the men in Washington are positing that it may truly be gibberish. Nonsense. A dead end.”
Jebediah continued to flip through the book. “I find that impossible to believe. Whoever our enemy is, their knowledge has been... comprehensive. If they want this, it is of value. If they were willing to do what they did in Houston to get it, it must be of significant value. I am having to temper my elation that we have it and they do not. Considering our past many months of blindness and failure, this is a victory much appreciated.”
Cullen nodded. “Indeed, sir.”
“Well, Cassidy, we have a clue,” said Jebediah as he flipped through the book. “Now all we have to do is figure out how to read it.”
Cassidy was looking over Jebediah's shoulder at the book. “That's Navajo,” she said.
Everyone looked at her. “What?” Jebediah asked.
“Those words. They're Navajo. He spelled them out phonetically, but they're definitely Navajo.”
Jebediah looked at Cassidy disbelievingly. “Why do you know how to speak Navajo?”
“Why do you not know how to speak Navajo?”
“Because I'm not Navajo.”
“That's a terrible excuse. And besides, I only know a little.”
“Well shut up and read! See if you can make anything out,” Jebediah said, handing the book to Cassidy who walked over to the window to let sun onto it. Cassidy thumbed through the pages while everyone stood around, waiting with bated breath. After a few minutes, she turned around.
“It's gibberish,” she said.
“It can't be!” protested Jebediah.
“It is. Maybe the words mean something, some kind of code, but as they are, it's just random. Tree, mountain... it's just words. No structure. Some pages I know every word that he's using, but it still makes no sense. It's like he just picked them out of a hat.”
“What the hell is he saying?” asked Jebediah, his eyes flying around as he searched for answers.
“Look, Jebediah, I'm sorry to keep tossing our problems your way, but I'm looking to you here. I very much hope that you've got something, somewhere.”
Jebediah nodded. “Yes. Yes. I do. Cullen!”
“Yessir!”
“Run across the street to the safe house. Tell them to cable Washington and New York. Tell them that the words in the journal are written in the Navajo language. Find someone who can read it. Then, tell them to get every boy they can find on a train down here. The sons of bitches may have spies, so we will simply overwhelm them with men.”
Cassidy sighed. “Well, getting lots of men down here is a start, but what are they going to do?”
Jebediah put his hands in his pockets. “We start interrogating Hitchcock's associates. One of them may have some information. We then go from them to their associates. With enough men, we simply expand out like branches on a tree.”
“That's going to take time,” said Cassidy.
“Yes it will,” replied Jebediah, nodding. “Which is why I want this to go quickly. We'll have a hundred men down within two days. A hundred more within a week. Every thread seemed to lead back here, to this simple man. From this point forward, New Orleans is our base of operations.”
Cassidy sighed and tossed the book on a chair.
“Be careful with that,” said Jebediah.
“Why?” asked Cassidy. “It's useless. They probably just don't know that it's useless, so they wanted it as much as you did.”
“It can't be useless. The professor wouldn't simply have kept a book of gibberish,” said Jebediah.
“It may have just been a trick. It can't be of much worth to them. They already have the professor himself. They have everything they need.”
“Exactly, and they still wanted this journal,” said Jebediah. “Just because we cannot discern its nature immediately doesn't mean we won't in the future. We must have patience.”
“And all the while, my friends remain lost,” said Cassidy.
Jebediah didn't respond at first. He just looked at Cassidy. “We have the best minds in the nation working on it up north,” he eventually said. “If there's something there, they'll find it.”
Cassidy breathed in deeply. “I'm going to go for a walk. I'm going to go crazy otherwise. Gideon, you want to join me?”
Gideon shook his head. “No. I'll be of more use going through the cabinets.”
Cassidy nodded. “Good idea. Thank you.”
“Can I be of any help?” asked Claire.
“I was just about to ask you,” said Jebediah.
“Of course,” said Claire. “I'll stay as late as you like.”
Cassidy nodded at everyone. “I'm sorry that I have to be the petulant child in the room, but I need to walk. I just need to... I need to go do something.”
“Would you like to go level a neighborhood, later?” asked Gideon.
“Oh god, I would... “ Cassidy grunted and a frustrated frisson went through her body. She then turned and walked out of the building.
---
Cassidy walked down the street. The late afternoon sun was providing a perfect light for the color of New Orleans — not too bright, not too dim. The horses clopped around her as people walked up and down the streets, flowing around Cassidy as she walked slowly and glumly. A driver with a cart full of beer kegs clopped by. A group of children covered in dirt and grime ran past, giggling. She looked from face to face as the people milled around her. No one was staring at her. “Amazing,” she said quietly to herself.
Cassidy walked out of the busy street into a large overgrown park. After a short walk in, the din of the city had mostly faded into the background, replaced with the calming sounds of boats in the distance, bullfrogs, and the chatter of scattered park visitors. Weeping willows drooped down over brick walkways as Cassidy strolled through, being greeted by almost every person she walked
past. She eventually came to a simple, wooden, bench, and sat, sighing heavily as she let herself relax.
“This place isn't too bad,” she said to herself, looking around and focusing on a group of Great Herons wading through the shallows of a nearby pond. “I could live here.”
“No you couldn't.” said a gruff, male voice.
“What?” asked Cassidy, looking around quickly.
“You couldn't live here. No one can live here. Everyone's sick. The damned place floods five times a year and shit fills the streets. It's a giant toilet. An actual, giant, toilet.”
Cassidy continued to look around. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Nearby,” said the voice.
“Yeah, but... where?” asked Cassidy again, getting up to look around more. “Are you under the damn bench?”
“Follow the white rabbit,” the voice said.
“Thank you for not answering my question,” said Cassidy. “What rabbit? Or is he invisible, too?” Suddenly a group of well-bred, super-white people walked around a bend in the path, dressed in fine clothes, pushing a baby carriage made up to look like a large, white rabbit. Cassidy watched, wide-eyed as they walked by. She looked around, nervous and unsure, before slowly beginning to follow them out of the park. They lead her through the busy streets of New Orleans and into a nice neighborhood, Cassidy looking about nervously the entire time. Just as she was about to pass the last commercial building before entering the neighborhood with them the voice returned.
“Now. Turn,” the voice said.
Cassidy stopped and looked down the long, cluttered, lonesome alleyway. “Oh yeah. People have never been murdered down here,” she said sarcastically, but nonetheless started walking slowly into the alley. She moved past boxes, past garbage, past leaves and gunk. The sounds of the city echoed delicately down the alley. Cassidy's eyes darted around, checking the few doors that went into the two buildings. A clatter. She stopped, turning slowly around.
“Alright. I'm in the alley. Where the hell are you?” Cassidy asked to nobody.
ROWR!
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 55