by Thomas Webb
Senator Huffman thanked Senator Cummings and pulled a worn brown file from a stack of documents next to her chair. “As you both know, about three months ago, the noted scientist Dr. Mudrac Telacivic went missing. What you may not know is that at the time of his disappearance, Dr. Telacivic was wanted for questioning in several countries.”
“On what, senator?” Copperhead asked, crossing his legs and finally having a sip of his tea.
“Illegal experimentation. The Alchemists Guilds of England, France, and several other allied nations all filed formal complaints. An extradition order naming Telacivic is currently in effect.”
“The guilds are usually a pretty tolerant group,” Copperhead remarked. “Not too many things a person can do to piss them off badly enough to file a complaint, especially an international one. Only one thing I can think of that’d get their robes up into that much of a bunch.”
There was only one thing Scarlet could think of too. “Dark aether,” she said.
“Very good, Scarlet,” Senator Huffman said, pointing at Scarlet. “Experimenting with dark aether is the one thing the Alchemists Guild considers taboo. Unfortunately, it’s also the one thing we needed Telacivic to do.”
Copperhead set his teacup down. “What do you mean ‘we’, senator? Are you telling me that Telacivic was working for us when he disappeared?”
“That’s exactly what we’re telling you,” McCormick said.
Copperhead swore. “Have you any idea what it would mean if our allies found out we were harboring an international fugitive? And one that was working for us, no less? And mightn’t it have occurred to the committee to mention this little fact earlier? Especially to two agents who may have had to bring Telacivic in?”
McCormick slurped his coffee. “Nathaniel, you and I both know the committee only makes information available to field agents on a need-to-know basis. You and Agent Alayne simply didn’t need to know.”
“‘Didn’t need to know,’ my ass, Rudholfe,” Copperhead shouted. “And since when would you know what it really means to be an agent in the field anyway?”
“Calm down, Agent Faraday,” Senator Cummings said. “He may only be the acting Vice Chairman, but Agent McCormick is still a sitting member of this committee. I expect you to address him with the respect his position demands.”
McCormick’s cheeks reddened as he smiled. “It’s all right, senator,” he said, dismissing the incident with a wave of his plump hand. “I completely understand. It pleases me to know Nathaniel is just as passionate about the department as I am.”
Copperhead suppressed his snarl but just barely. Scarlet watched her minder grip the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Dr. Telacivic was working on a project for us at the time of his disappearance,” Senator Huffman said. “To your point, Nathaniel, it would have been . . . awkward if he’d been apprehended by one of our foreign allies. As it turned out, soon after he disappeared, we received information placing a man fitting Telacivic’s description in close proximity to another person of interest.”
“Horton,” Scarlet said. “Our primary target. Or, rather, the person we thought was our primary target. When you ordered us into North Carolina, you hoped we’d find Horton and the scientist, but it was only Telacivic you wanted all along.”
Senator Huffman sipped her coffee. “You must understand, my dear, we couldn’t divulge that Telacivic was on our payroll. Not even to two of our most trusted agents.”
“Even if not having the information placed the lives of those agents at risk?” Scarlet asked, unconvinced.
Senator Cummings frowned. “You’ve picked up some bad habits from your minder, young lady, especially where respect for this committee is concerned.”
“No, Al,” Senator Huffman said, “we owe them an explanation.” The senator placed her cup on the table. “The guilds’ control over the aether process gives them tremendous power. No government on the face of the earth wants to make an enemy of them. Harboring a fugitive from the alchemists is a dangerous proposition even under the best of circumstances. It’s doubly dangerous if that person is also wanted by the guilds of other nations. The situation becomes even more complicated if those nations are our allies.”
“If it ever came to light that Telacivic was in Union custody and we didn’t turn him over, it would be considered a grievous breach of trust,” Scarlet said.
Senator Huffman nodded. “With the Confederacy below us and the British Canadians threatening us from the north, we need all the allies we can get. I’m sorry, Scarlet. The risk of diplomatic repercussion was simply too great.”
“Even if it might have cost us our lives?” Scarlet asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Senator Huffman said, a note of sadness in her voice.
“We still think Horton is our best shot at finding Telacivic,” Senator Cummings said, “but we’ll need to move fast. One of our contacts at the Treasury Department recently sent us information which may be helpful. Either of you ever heard of the Shining Light Industrial Corporation?”
“One of the largest companies in the Confederacy,” Scarlet said. “I’ve been following its progress in the papers. They’ve been extremely successful since the stalemate began. They earned record profits last year, even with the Southern economy on the brink of collapse.”
“Correct,” Senator Cummings said. “The company’s owned by a man named Silas Worthington.”
“The Worthington family fortune exceeds that of some countries,” Copperhead said.
“Worthington’s name has been on several Union watch lists for some time,” Cummings continued. “Our friends at the Treasury Department have been chomping at the bit to get something on the Worthingtons, even from before the war. Finally, they’ve had a lucky break. One of their agents discovered tremendous sums of money being funneled from Shining Light into several sham businesses.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, senator,” Copperhead said. “What does Worthington’s money have to do with our investigation of Horton?”
“The funds from Shining Light were disbursed to multiple businesses, but those businesses all had one thing in common. They were all owned by the same man, a Mr. Francis Julip, late of Greenville North Carolina.”
“I’ll be damned,” Copperhead said. “Frank Julip is the widow Julip’s late husband.”
“And as you stated in your report, the widow Julip has recently taken up with Horton,” Senator Huffman said. “Whatever the general’s up to, it’s consuming vast sums of greenbacks. Greenbacks which we now know the Worthington financial empire is providing.”
“And if these funds have anything to do with Telacivic’s work?” Scarlet asked. “What then?”
“Then God help us all,” Senator Huffman said.
“Is this everything we know, Pratley?” Copperhead asked.
“That’s all of it,” Senator Huffman replied.
Nathaniel nodded, pulled out his leather-bound notebook, and began to write.
“I’m afraid this brings us to a rather unpleasant bit of business,” McCormick said, a cheerful smile on his face.
Copperhead’s lead pencil, poised above the notebook, froze in place.
McCormick’s smile widened. “Since you were both unable to apprehend Horton or to confirm the presence of Dr. Telacivic, we have no choice but to consider your assignment a failure.”
Scarlet heard the snap as her minder’s pencil broke in half.
“Furthermore, you narrowly avoided capture,” McCormick continued. “Can you imagine what would happen if an agent of the department were to fall into Confederate hands? The damage it would do to Strategic Intelligence?”
“What are you getting at, Rudholfe?” Copperhead demanded. “Spit it out.”
“It was with a heavy heart that duty compelled me to convince the other members of the committee to issue you both formal reprimands.”
Scarlet actually laughed. Nathaniel stood from his seat and swore so violently th
e two clockwerk guards burst into the room, rifles at the ready.
Senator Cummings slammed his cane onto the wooden floor. “That’s quite enough, Nathaniel!” The senator’s blue eyes were rheumy and watery with age, but his voice could still silence a room. “We know what formal reprimands mean to an agent. Believe me when I say we did not reach this decision lightly. Before you storm out of here, Copperhead, I urge you to hear what acting Vice Chairman McCormick has to say.”
Scarlet sat quietly, still numb with disbelief. Copperhead, shaking with rage, fell into his seat next to her. McCormick smiled, satisfied with himself. Senator Huffman, unable to meet Scarlet’s eyes, looked out the window at the Capitol gardens below.
Copperhead put away his notebook and got to his feet. Scarlet followed his lead. “We’ve heard enough for today, I think,” her minder said. “This meeting is over.”
“Agents, please,” Senator Huffman pleaded.
Scarlet followed her minder toward the door.
Suddenly, Copperhead stopped short and turned to face the committee. “What exactly was Telacivic working on for us when he disappeared?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Nathaniel,” Senator Cummings said. “I’m not at liberty to share that with you. That information is classified.”
A look of disgust flashed across Copperhead’s face. “I see.” The old spymaster shook his head. “Formal reprimands and withholding information vital to our investigation? Good to know the committee is still looking out for the agents in the field.”
Copperhead resumed his walk toward the exit and Scarlet followed.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave, Nathaniel,” McCormick said. “Senators, may I have a word with Agents Faraday and Alayne? In private?”
Scarlet’s minder froze in his tracks. Scarlet turned to see Senators Cummings and Huffman file out of the room. Huffman looked pained. Cummings’ face was unreadable.
“You don’t have any children, do you, Nathaniel?” McCormick asked. “You never remarried after Estelle passed?”
“You know we didn’t have any children of our own,” Copperhead said through clenched teeth. Scarlet watched her minder’s hands curl into fists. “And I’ll thank you to keep my wife’s name out of your damn mouth.”
The mention of Estelle Faraday brought back a flood of memories. If she closed her eyes, Scarlet could still taste the sugar cookies, hot from the oven. She could smell the lavender oil Ms. Estelle had favored, could still feel the fresh-laundered bed sheets, warm from drying in the summer sun. Scarlet never forgot the love Ms. Estelle had shown a skinny little street urchin with unruly red hair. She’d loved Scarlet as if she were her own, when there had been absolutely no good reason to do so.
“You’ve no right, Agent McCormick,” Scarlet said.
“Oh, I’ve every right, young lady. I’m your superior. And it’s ‘acting vice chairman,’ if you please. Now, Nathaniel, I know you could care less about your own record, but what about your pretty little protégé? Closest thing you and Estelle ever had to a daughter, isn’t she? We both know a formal reprimand will end her career.”
Copperhead didn’t move or speak. Scarlet watched as a smile crept across McCormick’s face. The fat bastard had them right where he wanted them.
But not if she could help it.
“Whatever it is he’s going to ask you to do,” she whispered. “You don’t have to. Not for my sake.”
Copperhead continued to stare straight ahead.
McCormick laughed. “Never let it be said that I’m not a benevolent man, Nathaniel. With a wave of my hand, I’m going to give you a chance to make all your protégée’s troubles disappear.”
Copperhead turned around.
“That’s what I thought,” McCormick said, a smug grin on his face. “You see? That’s your problem right there, Nathaniel. You’ve always been far too loyal. Loyalty is a poor quality for a spy but an excellent one for a minder. And there’s no denying it. You’re one of the best. You’re so good, in fact, that I’ve convinced the rest of the committee that you should take another agent under your wing.”
“What agent?” Copperhead asked.
“The young man who discovered the link between Horton and Worthington,” McCormick said.
“The Treasury clerk?” Scarlet asked. “Treasury clerks are not DSI agents.”
“I’m afraid you’ve caught me in a bit of a lie, young lady.” McCormick sighed. “He is not an agent, per se, but he does come well-recommended. He should be a great help in analyzing any documents you find. The Assistant Secretary of the Treasury speaks very highly of the boy, says he’s quite skilled, in fact. He’s waiting for you now in the Rotunda. Be sure to collect him on your way out.”
“I see your game,” Copperhead said. “Trying to get me killed, aren’t you, you fat sonofabitch?”
“Well, it would rid me of one of my life's greatest annoyances.” McCormick chuckled. “But who knows? You’ve got until you leave to get him trained up. With your legendary skill, you should have plenty of time to teach him enough to keep you all alive.”
“Until we leave?” Scarlet asked. “Leave for where?”
McCormick laughed. “Why, North Carolina of course. To fix the mess you two made. If you can do that and come back intact, Nathaniel, I’ll withdraw the girl’s formal reprimand.”
“It can’t be as easy as all that,” Copperhead said. “Not with you, McCormick. What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” the acting vice chairman replied. “You’d best get to it, though. You leave in three days.”
14 City of Greenville North Carolina, Near the Tar River, July 1864
“Fair weather for this time a’ year,” the telegraph operator said. Montclair watched, disgusted, as the old man spat a viscous stream of tobacco juice at a brass receptacle in the corner. “Y’all are lucky you came down when you did, Mr. Trotman. Usually hotter’n aether-blue blazes in August.”
Greg smiled. “Yes. Quite lucky.”
Montclair and Gregory stood side by side in the cramped telegraph office. Sweat ran down their faces, each drop landing with a plop on the wood plank floor.
“Christ the Healer,” Greg swore, keeping his voice low. “If this is ‘fair weather’, I’d hate to see a hot day.”
Montclair removed his hat and wiped his face. “Yep, and it’s still early. Church bells haven’t even rung eleven o’ the clock yet.”
After their meeting at the Red Hawke Tavern in Richmond, Montclair telegraphed Washington with everything they’d learned from Congressman Cyrus Wallace. Washington had cross-referenced Wallace’s known associates with the long list of Confederate presidential candidates, and in no time, they had a name.
“Reckon y’all are in town for the congressman’s gala?” the operator asked, gnawing at his plug of tobacco.
“You reckon rightly,” Greg said. “How did you know, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Montclair tensed. Had something given them away? If their cover was blown already, they and the mission would both be done for. Montclair’s hand slipped down toward the Colt hidden in his satchel.
“Welp, y’all ain’t from Greenville.” The telegraph man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he spoke. “And if you ain’t from Greenville, yer stayin’ in some lodgings somewhere, and the only lodgings in the direction y’all rode in from is the Lady of Greenville Tavern & Inn. Man needs to be right rich to afford stayin’ at the Lady. Only new rich folk in town are here for Smythe’s money-raisin’ shindig.”
Montclair was impressed. “That’s a very astute observation, sir,” he said. His shooting hand relaxed.
The telegraph operator spat another stream of thick, black saliva toward the corner. “Jest puttin’ two and two together.” The old man finished typing out the message Greg had given him and handed the pages back. “Right peculiar turn a’ phrase you’re using here in your type,” he grunted, tapping the papers. “Used more words than you needed to say what you wanted. That’ll cost yo
u extra. A lot extra.”
“Land deals are complicated,” Greg said, taking the pages. The coded message they contained was now well on its way to a remote office in Wichita. From there, it would be relayed directly to Washington. “Mind you, send it exactly as it’s written. Be an extra couple of greenbacks in it for you if you do.”
The old man let loose a low whistle. “Two whole greenbacks? I’m takin’ yer money unfairly as it is, and now you’re tellin’ me you want to pay two more greenbacks on top of it?” The telegraph operator shook his head. “I swear I’ll never understand the rich.”
Greg made small talk while they waited for a response from D.C. Within minutes, the telegraph machine was clicking and clacking as a message came through. The slim man behind the desk transcribed the pages quickly. Greg paid him twice the asking price for his services, took the hand-written pages, and shoved them into a leather document case. Their business concluded, Greg and Montclair mounted up and headed back to the inn. One turn of the clock later, they were sitting together in the drawing room of the major’s suite decoding the message.
Montclair frowned as he read it. “I’m not liking what I’m seeing here.”
Greg shook his head. “Not by a long shot. Troops won’t be happy about it, either.”
“This came right from Grant himself.”
“You have a plan yet, at least?”
Montclair scratched his chin and leaned back in his chair. “Just the beginnings of one, maybe.” He yawned and stretched his tall, muscular frame. His clockwerk hand flexed open and closed, open and closed. “Why don’t you send an order down to the kitchens before we get everyone in here? By the time the food arrives, I should have the broad strokes worked out.”
“Good thinking, Julius. The troops will be more apt to accept these sorry-assed orders with their bellies full of supper.”
Greg rang the service bell and put in their order. While he took care of supper, Montclair sent word summoning the undercover soldiers and Marines to Greg’s suite.