Mary jolted awake. For an instant she thought she might have dreamed the whole thing. Maybe he’d never gone to kill Coffin. Maybe he’d been here all along, holding her hand in the dark. But that was only for an instant.
“Tommy! You came back!” she croaked through dry lips. Though her voice was gravelly, the wonder and the relief were clear. It was a sweet reward to Tom, who knew then how right his choice had been.
“Where else would I go?” he replied softly.
“Don’t play with me, you bastard,” she said with an anger she didn’t feel. “What happened? You didn’t … ?”
Tom shook his head slowly in answer. “Coffin is safe in bed. He won’t be doing any dying just yet.” Tom’s voice had an edge that didn’t sound like kidding.
“What do you mean, ‘just yet?’” she asked with a confused frown.
“Funny thing …” Tom said, seemingly half in thought. “I’d be dead or in jail by now if it wasn’t for you. I left here with nothing in my thick skull but killing that bastard. A roaring fire in the furnace and a full head of steam … Coffin has you to thank he’s still alive. Kind of ironic, actually,” Tom said with a twist to his mouth.
Mary still frowned. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m telling you I love you. As if I ever had a doubt.”
“I’m not getting this … . You’re killing Coffin, you’re not killing him yet. You love me. What are you … ?” She stumbled, putting a hand to her eyes. “I’m confused. I mean … I love you too, you idiot, but I’m not following you at all.”
He gave her a patient smile, knowing he wasn’t being as clear as he’d like. “It was you that stopped me,” he said. “I was gonna kill him. When I left, that was the only thing I could think to do. You stopped me, though.”
Mary shook her head again. “You keep saying that. How?”
“Mary … it was for the love of you I held off killing Coffin. You were right. I was throwing away everything. I was just too … fired up to see it. What we have together is too precious,” he whispered. “Worth so much more to me … .”
“Oh, Tommy!” She hugged him till her ribs sent jolting icicles of pain through her side and her tears soaked through his shirt. “God, I’m so happy, I can’t believe it. I’ve been thinking all sorts of terrible things tonight.”
They sat in silence, her hand in his.
At last he said quietly, “I’m not really all that good. I’m gonna make him pay, you know. He can’t do what he did and get away with it.” His voice held a quiet intensity. “It’s kind of funny actually. I asked him to loan me some money to help you out, fix up the place and things.”
Mary looked at him in shock. “I don’t need his money. Why would I …”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “I know. Besides, I’ll never have to repay it. I know that much.”
Mary heard the hard edge in his voice but she asked anyway. “You sure about this? This is dangerous. You’re talking about … you’re talking murder?” Mary didn’t even like to use the word. She didn’t like to think of Tom doing it either, not even to Coffin.
“Yeah, I guess that’s what it’s called,” Tom said evenly. “Not sure that’s what’s in the cards for the captain, though I gotta admit I’d enjoy it.” He smiled grimly. The sight sent a chill through Mary to see it. “Murder or not, Coffin’s not gonna like it one little bit.”
Later that morning, as he climbed the steps to the Marble Palace, Tom thought about what he had told Mary. Maybe it would have been better if she didn’t know. If anything went wrong the cops would be sure to question her. He could have just said he was going to do it and leave it at that. But he felt the need to be honest with her, to tell her everything. His risk was hers and hers his. One boat, two captains.
“Mornin’, boys.” Tom dragged himself over to a chair. Pat, Charlie, and Eli said nothing until he collapsed into it.
“You’re late. Not like you,” Pat said.
“And you look like shit, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Charlie added. “You see a bed at all last night?”
Tom shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh … had a little excitement, is all. Don’t make me tell you … rather not. Just lost a little sleep.”
They took his words at face value. They trusted Tom enough to know that he’d tell them if it was something that was going to affect the case. Anything else wasn’t worth worrying about.
They decided on what was to be done first, mainly which bridge and contractor record books they wanted to take a look at. It would be tedious work, like looking for a screw in a bucket of bolts. Pat and Charlie would go over to the bridge office first and get the process going. The first thing they’d do would be to find some record of what areas of the bridge Bucklin and Watkins had worked on. Tom reasoned that maybe he could tie them to some part of the train construction process: tracks, steam engines, terminals … anything could be significant. It seemed a likely place to start, and it would narrow the search down to a smaller group of contractors.
They all knew this could be a huge waste of time. It could lead nowhere and, worse, it could lead them even further from the real conspiracy if it turned out they’d guessed wrong. But they had to make choices. They had to narrow their options and bring the case into focus. Without anything else to go on, all they could do was look for connections. Requesting service records was one route to that end. There was a definite connection there, tying Watkins to Lebeau and Emmons. Whether that would pay off or not, Tom didn’t know. It all looked like wasted effort and always did in investigations like this, until they turned up those one or two kernels that broke it open. Those kernels were out there. They just needed to do some scratching in the chicken yard to find them. Besides, they needed to show Byrnes they were doing something.
Thinking of Byrnes, Tom said, “I’ll catch up with you boys later. Got to report our … progress.” The way Tom said “progress” there was little doubt of how much he thought there had been. He wasn’t looking forward to the briefing.
Good morning, Chief, Tom said as he entered Byrnes’s office a few minutes later. Byrnes’s cigar smoke already hung still as morning mist. It swirled around Tom as he entered the room.
“Morning, Tom. How are you?” Tom could tell from his tone that it wasn’t just a pleasantry.
“Fine, sir. Lost a little sleep, is all,” Tom said, hoping Byrnes didn’t already know what had gone on last night. That hope was dashed a second later.
“I got the morning reports from the precincts. How’s Mary?”
Tom took a deep breath and gave it to him straight. “She’s pretty badly hurt, sir. Arm’s broken … maybe some ribs too. Her eye and face on one side are all swollen. She’s tough, though, she’ll be looking to get out of the hospital soon.”
Byrnes sighed, puffing his cigar as if it held the answer to his troubles. He looked at Tom in that very direct way of his, the waxed mustache bristling. “I want you to know, Tom, that I don’t approve of such tactics. Sent a telegram to Parker expressing my … disapproval.” Byrnes seemed about to say something else, so Tom waited. “I’ve asked that any charges against Mary be dropped. She’s had it quite hard enough, I think.”
Tom was shocked. “Thank you, sir. Mary will be very grateful.” It was rare to see Byrnes interfere with the precinct captains. “And … you have my thanks too. I appreciate it.”
Byrnes made a disparaging gesture with his cigar and a walruslike “Harumph.” “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Don’t think Mary will have any more trouble, though.” Coming from Byrnes, that was like a guarantee.
Tom thanked him again and went on to give his report. It wasn’t much as reports went but Byrnes seemed happy with the direction they were headed. Tom showed him the clippings from Bucklin’s box. Byrnes examined them closely, flipping the sheets over more than once, looking at everything on both sides. At last he murmured, “Something to do with the trains, eh?”
Tom agreed. “That
was my best guess. It’s the only way this points.”
“Don’t like the feeling I get from this,” Byrnes said. “Caisson fire was ruled an accident, as I recall.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “This seems to be implying something else. Got nothing concrete on any of the others. Fucking picture of some smiling workers don’t mean a damn thing. The devil’s in the details, Tom … Looks like you’ll have to do some digging on this one.” Byrnes handed the papers back to Tom.
“Yes, sir. Starting to look like a paper case for now.”
“Start with the trains, Tom. Sure as hell something going on. I want to know what.” He pointed his cigar stub at Tom. “And, Tom, take a half day, go see Mary. You should do that. Send flowers too,” he said with a smile. “Flowers lift the female spirit.” Tom was amazed for the second time. The chief wasn’t one to dispense time off, nor advice on flowers.
“Thanks, sir, I’ll do that.”
“And, Tom …” Byrnes said, turning to shuffle papers on his desk. “Get some sleep. You look like hell.”
Tom grinned. “Happy to follow that order, Chief.”
Byrnes looked up, fixing a serious eye on Braddock. “One more thing … Get things straight with Coffin. Got to be resolved—no more dawdling on it, okay?”
“Already done,” Tom said in as positive a tone as he could muster.
“Good.” Byrnes slapped a fist into his palm. “Good, glad to hear it. Now … out of here and get that case solved. Got my own work to do.”
Tom was closing Byrnes’s door behind him when the chief called after him, “Say, Tom, do you know a cop named Zimmer?” Braddock stopped for an instant, wondering about the cop he left in a heap on Thirty-sixth Street.
“Zimmer? No, don’t think so. Why?”
Byrnes let the ghost of a smile pass across his face. Tom didn’t catch it. “Oh, nothing. Not important.”
Matt and Earl didn’t know a damn thing about electricity. They didn’t really need to. Workers from the U.S. Illuminating Company did the actual wiring. Matt and Earl had been assigned to mount the pipe that the wires would run through. They knew enough about pipe fitting to pass muster and watched the other pipe fitters for the stuff they didn’t know. On the first day they spent a lot of time looking for ways to run their wire without the foremen or electricians seeing it. They realized quickly that simply having jobs on the lighting crew didn’t help much. The plan, at least in principle, was simple. The wiring for the lamps on the bridge ran back to the dynamo room under the Brooklyn approach. If they could figure a way to run their wire along with the wire for the lights, they could set up in the big vaulted room under the roadway in Brooklyn. The bridge could be blown safely from there. They would be completely concealed, secure from prying eyes or curious cops. As part of the wiring crew, Matt and Earl had complete access to the power station, which was next to the approach and the engine room itself. Nobody would question their presence, and they’d have access to the keys, so they could come and go as they pleased. The trains wouldn’t run until September. The only thing the power plant was needed for at this time of year was the lighting. In late May, it stayed light until at least seven even on a cloudy day, so the men who worked in the power plant didn’t come in until five. They would fire up the boilers and, after they had a head of steam, they’d engage the dynamos. The captain’s plan was to blow the bridge at no later than four.
But running the wire was going to be tricky. Electricians from the contractor were overseeing the work. They watched everything, every joint in the conduit, every connection and fitting. Where the main lines split off to the individual lamps, they paid special attention to the wire connections, which they made themselves. Matt and Earl were just doing the grunt work. They had been prepared for that. Once they knew they’d be assigned to the work, they spent a lot of time planning how best to run their wire, but planning was one thing and doing was another.
Earl had told the captain his worries after their first day. “It just can’t be done, Cap’n. We make one wrong move an’ they’ll be down on us like fleas on a hound’s back.”
Thaddeus had turned to Matt for his opinion, and he’d echoed Earl. “He’s right, Captain. Earl and I’ve been studying the plans Bart copied for us. Havin’ a hard time figuring how we can run detonator wire under their noses without someone seeing.”
“Yeah. I think they might get a little curious, they see us stringin’ some extra wire,” Earl drawled sarcastically.
Thaddeus didn’t want to hear it. “All right, all right. I know all that. It’s got to be done, though. Running our wire this way will save hours. You want to be exposed out on the bridge for any longer than absolutely necessary?”
Earl shook his head, already dreading the time they’d have to spend setting charges. “No, but this way’s right in front of ‘em. Ye talk about bein’ exposed. Hell, that’s as exposed as it gets.” The captain wouldn’t accept that there was no way this would work. He stooped over the plans, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, frowning down at the drawings intensely.
“Let’s go over it again. There’s something here we’re not seeing, some detail we’ve overlooked,” Thaddeus said, almost as if he was talking to himself.
“I don’t know, Cap’n,” Earl said, scratching his head. “Might sound crazy, but the thing comes to mind is when I used to go ‘tween the lines, huntin’ Yankee skirmishers.”
The captain looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“How’s that help?” he asked with a skeptical twist to his mouth.
“Ah don’ know exactly,” Earl said. The words for things didn’t always come easy for him. “It’s just that sometimes it was best to hide in plain sight. Like they see ya, but they don’ see ya. If we could maybe think about not tryin’ to hide what we’re doin’ so much, maybe we’d come onto somethin’.”
It was another hour or more before they decided on it. It was Sullivan who finally came up with the plan.
“We’ll need to talk to the electrical foreman first, but what if they were going to add more lights a couple of years from now? They’d have to run more wire, right? Well, suppose we suggest that they run two more wires in the conduit? Makes sense. Suggest they can be used for some future project without having to run more pipe. We gotta put it to them like it would save them thousands of dollars, which I guess it would if we didn’t blow up their damn bridge,” Pat said with a shrug.
“Are you suggesting that we tell them about our wire?” Thad asked. He was having trouble with the concept.
“But it doesn’t have to be our wire. It’s their wire. Let them run it for us,” Pat said, clearly convinced this was the way to go. “Hell, we just came up with an idea that’ll save thousands in the long run. Ought to thank us.”
Lincoln was the one to voice what they all feared. “Suppose they don’t like the idea?”
Sullivan threw up his hands. “No worse shape than we are now, Jus. Besides, I’ve got another idea in case this one don’t work.”
The captain smiled slowly. Sullivan never disappointed. The sergeant had been like a rock for all of them down the years. He always came through in a pinch. Steady, smart, resourceful, daring, Sullivan was in a lot of ways the best of them.
“And your contingency plan …?” Thaddeus asked.
“Well, if they don’t want to run extra wire, we leave a snake in the conduit. When we set charges, we just open the nearest junction and pull our wire through from the dynamo room,” Pat explained. “It’ll take more time, but not more than say fifteen, twenty minutes when the time comes.” They all liked the sound of that, though there was more of a problem of secrecy if they had to do it that way. Jacobs had his doubts. He didn’t see how Matt and Earl would be able to leave a thin wire snake in the conduit without a foreman catching it.
“Suppose neither idea works, what then?” he posited, looking over his glasses at the rest.
“I’ll let you boys come up with that. I’m fresh out for tonight,” said Sullivan.
“Guess we could always just string wire the night we set the charges, but that don’t have much goin’ for it,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re gonna have cops just for the bridge and right now we’ve got no way of knowing what their patrol schedule wilt be. Hell, they might not patrol at all after midnight. I just don’t want to be running wire out there and have some cop tappin’ me on the shoulder.”
Nobody disagreed with that. For now they basically just needed to plant the seed with the lighting company, probably with a foreman. They’d just have to hope the idea took off.
“If they don’t get the idea, maybe nudge a bit,” Matt said. They didn’t want to appear to be pushing too hard, though, fearing to raise suspicions.
“I like it, Matt,” Thaddeus said. “If it works, they’ll be doing the work for us, making our jobs a whole lot safer in the bargain. Approved, gentlemen. Matt, you take the lead on this with the contractor. Look for an opportunity to engage the foreman tomorrow, and let’s get it moving before too much wiring gets done.”
“Right,” Matt said, smiling.
Thaddeus moved on.
“I’ve got some news on the explosives,” he said brightly.
Earl grunted. “Can’t use a couple of sticks like we did at Prospect. Gonna need a wagonload, right?”
Thaddeus nodded. “You’re right, but it’s not as bad as we thought it might be. Richmond sent an estimate of both the individual charges we’ll need to blow components and for the total. So … for example, the places where the main cables meet the roadway support beams, we’ll need to pack eight sticks around each. Here’s how it should be laid out, three on either side of the cable on top of the beam and one on either end.”
“We’re gonna make some noise!” Earl observed sarcastically.
The captain’s eyes glowed. A smile flitted across his face, touching the edges of the mouth and setting the eyes alight. He sat like that, lost in some private world of retribution for some seconds. The rest could only imagine the things he saw. Snapping back, he looked around the room, blinking like an owl, almost as if he were surprised to see them.
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