by Alex Myers
“Creed talks openly around me, he doesn’t include me, but he thinks I’m trustworthy. He used my house to meet with some of the Fire-eaters, Texas Senator Louis Wigfall, Edmund Ruffin, Robert Rhett and a guy named Yancy something? William Yancy? Yeah, that sounds right. He was a Senator from Alabama, big secessionist,” Ken said. “He and Ruffin are bad people. From what I could see, Wigfall was the worst of the bunch. It was his idea to send a message. He said it was bad enough the Yankees had their nigger lovers, but not here. Some of the others worried about tarnishing their reputation with the killing of women and children—Wigfall said dead women and kids would really send their message home.”
“I’m assuming that the fireworks are tonight on the fourth?”
“Yes, at Town Point Park, the fireworks will be on a barge in the harbor. One of the rockets near the end of the display will be aimed at the crowd, and will be detonated right above their heads.”
“Is it going to be well guarded?”
“It’s going to be open to the public, I’m sure they will have some men there. I know the barge will be armed to the teeth.”
“And that is where Creed is going to be?”
“He certainly won’t be in the crowd.”
“Abner and Miles?” Jack asked.
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen in Miles in a week or so until he picked up Abner and Miss Sanger and left for the SAC Plant this morning. There’s enough time for him to make it there and back to the fireworks.”
Jack walked past and surveyed the layout. “This is the same, right down to the color of the brick in the walkway.” He scuffed the brick with his shoe. He pointed to the weapons depot on the far side of the runway. “Are you all stocked up and up to date?”
“You never built any of the weapons on your facility, we didn’t have access to them like we did to other things. You parceled them all out to other companies; Cooper was the best source and he never saw any of it, as far as I understood.“
“Ken, you say this all with such nonchalance, like it was me shortchanging you all.”
Ken interjected, “I don’t need a lecture, I need help. Now I have two repeater rifles, a repeater pistol, and a couple of boxes of bullets. We do have some other ordnance acquired from other sources and some on our own. The guns all had to come from spies at Colt and Winchester and the ammunition from Smith and Wesson and Remington. We paid dearly for those.”
“Not quite the cheap pickings like at my place, huh? Forgive me for being a little upset, but you all out and out stole from me.”
“It’s not a practice of mine I assure you,” Ken said, “but the SAC figured that stealing from you was cheaper than doing the research on their own. That’s what they do. They don’t let me do very much real work here, probably part of the reason I despised you so.”
Jack was about to continue down this bent and thought better of it. “We’ll need those guns and ammunition. Have any rockets or grenades?”
“Rockets no, grenades yes. We do have a nice supply of that smokeless powder of yours. We figured out how to make that on our own—nice supply of detonators, too.”
“Okay, let’s walk.” Jack pointed to the weapons depot in the distance. Turning to Ken, he asked, “Do you have a telegraph line out here?”
“Not yet, but there is one in Virginia Beach and I can send someone over.”
“I need to get a message up to Richmond, I need to tell my man that Kazmer is at the SAC plant.”
“And that writer friend of yours with the crazy hair, Sam—“
“Sam Clemens.”
“Yes, don’t know what good it’ll do, getting a message out. That place is like a fortress—especially the new prisoner side. Plus they are doing some things…” Ken trailed off. Jack looked at him and couldn’t figure out if he was embarrassed or thinking twice about talking to him. “They do some bad things to the people there.”
“What kind of ‘things’?” Jack asked. “I saw some of the prisoners looking out their windows, they looked like zombies.”
“Experiments. Those men are either prisoners that Creed and the SAC got from the government, life sentencers or…” Ken winced and continued, “Or patients from the asylum.”
“Asylum? What the hell, man?”
“From the Eastern Lunatic Asylum there in Williamsburg. Extremely violent people, both the patients and the prisoners.”
“What kind of experiments?” Jack asked.
“Toxins, drugs, weapons, psychological, just about anything you can imagine, and most things you can’t.”
“I’d still like to send that telegram, I’d at least like to let him know what we are up against.”
“I want to assure you I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to your associates—“
“My friends.”
“Your friends. And the stuff going on at the plant, up until recently, it’s been a totally separate entity. I did a few things on the design of the building, but what I’ve heard and what I’ve learned, I don’t want any part of it.” Ken’s words seemed suddenly raw and angry. “I don’t want to be part of this anymore. I started inventing things to help people—that's why I loved my job with McCormick so much. Agriculture seemed like the quickest way to help the most people.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about this place where they are holding Kazmer and Sam?” Jack asked.
“It is fashioned after an insane asylum and guarded like a prison, really guarded. I don't know the exact layout, I was only there twice.” Ken looked like he was thinking it over. “I do know someone who does know more, Senator Stephen Brinkley.”
“That’s who my guy is trying to meet up with in Richmond. I don’t get this, why would Brinkley be so in the know? He's an abolitionist, isn’t he?”
“Damn near that these days, but that's not how it used to be with the good Senator from Virginia. He was one of the founders of the Fire-eaters. Helped build that plant, that’s a big part of why it’s in Williamsburg—it’s Brinkley’s home district, not Richmond, where Creed is from. It was Brinkley’s property where they built the plant. There was some kind of falling out about a year ago… now that I think about it, probably about the time they started building that new wing.”
“Where they do all the sadistic stuff. This is starting to get really layered,” Jack said.
“Brinkley’s the one I'd see. Do you want me to send some men up there?”
“How many spies, informants, whatever you want to call them, did you have in my organization? Three or four?” Jack asked.
“All told, with construction and all… about twenty. Yeah, I would say at least twenty.”
“How many men here that are working for you might be loyal to Creed?”
“I see your point.” Ken had a strained set to his mouth. “That means we can’t look to them for help with the fireworks bombing.”
“I never was counting on them. Let’s go take a look at that weapons depot.”
The weapons bunker was a low concrete block building that was half buried in the ground. The outer walls were painted a camouflage green-black that blended perfectly with the surrounding landscape.
“I’m surprised that you used green-black instead of green-brown like mine.”
“We got what you were trying to do, trying to obscure the building.”
“It’s called ‘camouflage’,” Jack said.
They passed a posted guard and entered the bunker. The only light came from a couple of small skylights, making it hard to see. Looking around at the empty shelves, Jack said, “I wish you had more stuff, some higher caliber stuff here… heck, at this point, just more stuff.”
“There's a whole other room to this place where we store the nitrocellulose bombs.”
They entered the next room and windows covered the entire upper southern wall. Barnett saw Jack looking strangely at the windows. “That’s our design, see how brightly lit this room is? Those windows keep us from having to light a lamp and chancing this stuff e
xploding. These windows are strong too, there are eight panels glued together. It’s practically bulletproof.”
Jack was impressed they stole the idea from him, yet he essentially stole it from someone else. It's one thing to know how something works, yet an even harder thing to put it together with no directions or help. “Where is the astrolite stored?”
“It’s made in Williamsburg, they keep it there too. They have a storage bunker full of it.”
What they were lacking in guns they made up for in explosives. There were bombs of all shapes and sizes. Jack studied them intently.
“What are you looking for?”
“This,” Jack said. It was a black, manhole-cover-size, round bomb. Jack screwed open a saucer-size plate off the top. He smiled to see it was lined with rubber. “It's called a limpet mine, it’s attached to a target by a magnet and delivered by a swimmer or diver. All this,” Jack rapped on the shell with his knuckles, “is hollow to give it negative buoyancy to make it easier to handle in the water.”
“Are you thinking of blowing up the barge?” Barnett lifted the mine to feel the heft.
“You said Creed would be on it, and possibly that goon Miles? If we can blow that bomb before it becomes airborne, keep it from raining down those toxins on those innocent people, then casualties will be minimal—“
“Except for the people on the barge,” Barnett said. “What about the person that places it there?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “That will probably be pretty dangerous. Let’s get some grenades too.”
“Do you think they’ll use one of these to detonate the bomb?” Barnett asked, picking up one of the rectangular detonators.
“This transmitter with the hand crank can generate a signal three or four hundred feet. We’ll try this first.” Jack said. “I’ll try wrapping it a little tighter to get more distance. It won’t work to set off our limpet mine, because it’ll be underwater. Do you have any other kinds of fuses?”
“A bunch of percussion and black match fuses.”
“We need to put this under the waterline so the radio detonator is out, percussion no… how long do we have with those black powder fuses?”
“Airtight, underwater? Three or four minutes at most.”
“That's close. From the time of lighting, attaching, getting away and then detonation, that's cutting it real close,” Jack said. He looked out the window onto Lynnhaven Bay and saw the dredge barge that was keeping the channel clear. Something poked him, but couldn't put his finger on it.
Jack and Barnett walked out of the weapons building and past the armed guard at the front door. The man eyed them warily as each had a repeater rifle slung over their shoulder. Ken Barnett carried the limpet bomb and detonators, and Jack hauled shells, a radio transmitter, and 5 grenades. The guard had a repeater rifle and Ken Barnett asked if he could have it.
The hard-edged man looked at Jack. Jack shrugged. He searched Ken’s face, and then looked like he was trying to get the answer from his rifle.
The man hesitated, and then handed the rifle to Ken. “Need bullets?” The guard asked.
“On second thought,” Ken said, “keep the rifle, you might need it.”
As they walked away, Jack said, “You never thought you needed that rifle, did you?”
“I wanted to find out who he worked for, me or Creed. I figure forty, fifty percent are aligned with him.”
They stood in the middle of the complex. Jack turned towards the giant hangar building that stood at the heart of the complex on the opposite end of the runway. “How far along are you on the airplane?”
A questioning look crossed Ken’s face and Jack pointed toward the hangar.
“Oh that? Not as far along as in other areas.”
“So not many spies fly?” Jack made a joke that Ken missed.
“It just wasn't that big of a priority. Creed never thought it had any practical applications.”
“Really? Flying is the second thing I’ve heard in which Creed completely missed the boat. What about spying for instance?”
“We have dirigibles for that.”
“What about weapons delivery or getting somewhere quickly?”
“Tell you the truth, I think he thought it was a fool’s errand.” He looked away and said quietly, “I did too. The things you come up with are remarkable, but on this one, I think you missed the mark.”
“What, you didn't think it would fly either?” Jack asked.
“Nope, don’t see how it could.”
“Did y'all do anything with it at all?”
“We built the one model, but couldn’t figure out where to put the motor.”
“No means of propulsion? Which one was that?”
“The one made out of bamboo and rubberized sailcloth,” Ken said.
“That was never meant to have an engine. It’s a rogallo wing. Didn't anyone try to test it?”
“It didn’t seem finished, so I didn't allow it.”
“But you finished it?”
“Finished up to your plans.” Barnett opened a small garage door and inside the hanger the air wing sat assembled and even included the harness.
Jack stepped up to it, inspected it and separated the support strut and folded the wing in half. “Let's take this if we have room.”
“It's never been tested, and who would fly it if we did?”
“I will,” Jack said.
CHAPTER 20
Saturday, July 4, 1857
Jack started rewrapping the wire core of the radio transmitter for the detonators at noon and by quarter till two he had tested both detonators. Both detonators triggered at fifty yards and the higher frequency model triggered at seventy-five.
Ken Barnett pulled up with the wagon loaded. "Are you sure you don't want me to bring some men?"
“I’d like to take them, but would they be shooting with us or against us?"
"Can't say."
"Then no, leave them here."
“It's going take over an hour to get there, especially with this," Barnett thumped the covered wing in the back of the wagon. "I'm sure you are going to want to scope things out once we get there. Here I have these…” He threw Jack a hat and kept one for himself.
The only way Jack could describe the hat would be a hillbilly hat.
"I know it'll be hot, but that way we'll blend in with the crowd."
They arrived on the Norfolk waterfront just before three o'clock. Jack squinted to see the barge in the bay. People were arriving early; they stood amid the gathering crowd in Town Point Park. There were red, white, and blue banners, ribbons, and American flags everywhere. People were festive, they had their picnic baskets, their families—they were feeling American.
The barge was about two miles out, almost in the middle of Hampton Roads Harbor. The stiffening wind was blowing directly at them from there.
"What the hell would they have done if the wind was blowing from the opposite direction?" Jack asked.
Barnett pointed at the mouth of the Elizabeth River in Portsmouth. "That was supposed to be their backup launch point.”
"There's no way I could use that glider,” Jack said.
"That wing thing? And this is coming as a surprise to you?" Barnett laughed.
"I actually fly those pretty well."
Barnett rolled his eyes.
"This is too far for the radio transmitter too. We need a boat."
“Jack!” It was Frank Sanger.
So much for the hat being the ideal disguise, Jack thought. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York?”
“I know all about the bomb, poison, all of it. I came here to find you,” Frank said.
“No, I mean what are you doing here in Norfolk?” Jack asked.
“Long story.”
“How did you find out about the bomb?”
“Frances told me.”
“Frances? How does Frances know?”
“Abner Adkins. She stopped by to warn me to stay away,” Frank said.
“And she was with Adkins?”
“She was going to Williamsburg with him about two hours ago. They came by in a little steamboat, fast as lightning. She said you’d be here and that you would probably need my help?”
“Why did she go to Williamsburg with him?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Jack said.
“A little of both.” It was the most uncomfortable that Jack had ever seen Frank Sanger. “When I couldn’t find Frances last night, I stopped by your house and talked to your Negro. He was worried about you. I told him you would probably be out here.”
“Hercules, that’s his name, and he’s kind of a friend of mine.”
Jack turned to Ken, but before he could speak, Ken said, “Hello, I’m Ken Barnett, a friend of Jack’s too, nice to meet you, sir.”
“I’m Frank Sanger, pleased to meet you.” He looked at Jack. “How can I help?”
“I need a boat, I don’t have time to go all the way out to my place to get mine.”
Frank Sanger pointed to a large three-masted schooner. “Would that do?”
“That’s huge.”
“Too big?”
“No, I suppose not,” Jack said. He turned to Ken. “Have you ever—“
“Sailed? Quite a bit, I can help you.”
“Whose boat is it?” Jack asked.
“Mine, as of noon today, and there’s a captain and crew aboard. They were going to sail to New York tonight. What are you going to do?”
“Going to try to stop them from shooting that bomb filled with toxins over these people.”
“How are you going to do that?” Frank Sanger asked.
“By being flexible,” Jack said.
CHAPTER 21
Saturday, July 4, 1857
The Lady Maryland
“Where are the Captain and crew?” Jack asked. The Lady Maryland looked abandoned.
“I’ll check below,” Frank Sanger said as he disappeared down a hatch amidships.
They met up with Hercules on the way to the boat and he gingerly climbed aboard. Ken Barnett boarded with the sure-footedness of a man that had spent some time at sea.