by Alex Myers
“Do you want me to go over it now?” Jack asked.
“No, let me get through these. Color and black-and-white film photography, refrigeration, incandescent lamps, ballpoint pens, steel, Plexiglas, fiberglass, plastics, synthetic polymers, threshers and harvesters, bailer, detonators and rocketry. Wow,” Frances said.
“Wow, what? Is that too much?” Jack asked.
“No, that’s not it. It’s just that my brain is trying to find a pattern to these things I know or think I know.”
“There isn’t a pattern to any of this, at least not that I’m aware of.”
She already had over twenty pieces of paper with topics written across the top. She shuffled through the rest of the sheets. “Is there this much on every one of them?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. Then the next two are both medical stuff, recognizing and treating disease and trauma. Then iElements, the Organic Chemistry Quizilator and SIPAA, which is Surviving in Post-Apocalyptic America.”
“OK, Jack. We’ll have water, some fruit, and we’ll both need to use the restroom before we start, because we can’t afford to take a break.”
“I’m glad you get that, because turning that phone on and off will use up too much of its energy.”
They spent the rest of the day discussing the items Jack wanted to get off the phone; they ate an early dinner and decided to meet the next morning at ten. Frances’s house held the least chance for interruptions or distractions, so they met there. Jack pressed the on button on top of the iPhone repeatedly and was about to panic when the little white Apple logo finally appeared. They started with the medical information first, figuring it was the most vital. Jack read quickly and clearly and Frances did an excellent job of keeping pace.
Starting at 78%, the battery level indicator went down one percent every four minutes, which gave them a little over five hours to work. At noon, two hours into the transcribing, the battery was losing a percent every three minutes; they were at 47% and they weren’t half done. Jack figured there was a little over an hour of battery left.
“I’m starting to get nervous. We’ve got to settle on things that are going to save lives or make a boatload of money,” Jack said.
“My head is swimming. I’m totally confused, so you’re on your own.”
In twenty minutes, they got the 20% power warning and fifteen minutes after that, the 10% warning popped up. They were in the middle of copying down the electron configuration of Radium when the phone went dark.
“That’s it?” Frances asked.
Jack was still staring at the powerless phone. “For now, but doing this today made me realize what a crucial asset this is to us. We only got to half of what I wanted to get to and I saw so much more that I wanted to get. Do you all have a safe here in the house?”
“Of course, in the office.”
“Can I keep this stuff here? At least until I get a safe myself. I’ll be glad not to have to watch over that phone every minute of every day, worrying that someone will see it.”
“You can keep it here as long as you need to. I’ll even give you the combination so you can get to it even if I’m not here.” She picked up the phone and looked at it. “What’s it going to take to get that running again?” Frances asked, stretching her arms above her head.
“A generator, a little step-down transformer, and removing the back panel. I did see one thing that I forgot I had and that we could really use—the three volume The Civil War: A Narrative by Shelby Foote. That would probably tell us all we need to know.”
“You better get yourself a new girlfriend, because I’m not going to be transcribing over a million words,” Frances said laughing.
Girlfriend? Jack thought to himself and smiled.
Jack and Frances organized and piled the papers right-side up on the desk. Frances put her copy of the song ‘Come What May’ proudly right on top of the stack.
CHAPTER 28
May 1856
She Just Up and Leaves
Jack was packing his trunk for his trip when there was a knock on his front door. He peeked his head out of the bedroom and saw Kaz with Robbie Turner.
“Hey, what’s up, buddy? Come on in,” Jack said.
From the looks on Kaz’s and Robbie’s faces Jack could see their mood was serious. No one spoke. Jack looked from Kaz to Robbie. He could see the boy had been crying.
“What is it, guys?” Jack asked.
“Mattie’s gone,” Kaz said.
“Gone? Gone where?”
“I don’t know.”
Jack looked down at Robbie and then back to Kaz. “How did you get him?”
“He just showed up here this morning. He says he walked here.”
“Walked? That’s got to be ten miles.”
“Come on, let’s go find Mattie.”
“He says his mother is not there.”
“I don’t have to leave till this afternoon. Let’s go see for ourselves.”
They took a wagon and one horse; Jack drove and Robbie sat in the middle. Instead of riding all the way over to Norfolk and up, they cut straight across and saved a couple of miles.
As they neared Mattie’s home, scattered newspapers blew around in little dirt devils. There was an overturned, broken rocking chair on the front porch; the door to the barn was open and off its hinge.
Jack knocked on the front door.
“Ain’t no use, Mr. Jack. Mama left two days ago.”
“Two days ago! Why did you wait until this morning to come over?”
“Because I waited here yesterday thinking my mama would come back for me. I sat on my bed.”
“What did you eat?”
He showed Jack a small, wrinkled paper sack containing two pieces of hardtack.
Jack turned the knob and pushed hard on the door. It swung open and dust bunnies stirred in the sunlight streaming into the kitchen. The house’s interior looked as abandoned as the yard and grounds. On closer inspection, Jack could see that everything of any value or worth had been removed, and quickly and randomly.
Kaz looked around the empty house, his eyes still wet and swollen. When they got to Robbie’s sleeping mat in the corner of the one small bedroom, Kaz leaned over, put a hand against the wall to brace himself, and hung his head.
Robbie was standing, devoid of emotion, watching the two men go through his former home.
“Where did your mom go?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know, Mr. Jack.”
“I mean, did she just leave? Or did someone help her move her things?”
“Yes, sir there was a man.”
“Was it Abner?” Kaz asked.
“No, it was a man I never seen before. He helped Mama put her stuff on a boat.”
“What did your mother say to you?”
“She said that she was going to get a job in the big city. That I had to go live with Mr. Kaz and that she would send for me when she made us some money.”
Jack couldn’t believe this woman. His heart was breaking for the little boy.
“Come on, let’s go take a look in the barn. There’s nothing worth a second look in here,” Jack said.
As they approached the barn Jack asked, “What happened to your slave Hercules?”
Kaz bent over and put his hands on Robbie’s shoulders. “Did he go with your mother?”
“Hercules? He done run away last week after he got himself a real good beating from Mr. Abbey.”
“Do you mean Abner Adkins?” Jack asked.
“Yes, that’s Mr. Abbey. He been beating Hercules so regular, Hercules said he was sorry, but if he didn’t leave, he thought he would die. He felt really bad, I could tell.”
“So, Abner was here as recently as last week…. Robbie, do you think Abbey knew this man that your mother left with?” Jack asked.
Robbie put his index finger to his lip and looked off and up to the left as if deep in thought. “I don’t know, but I think so.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I d
on’t know, Mr. Jack.”
Kaz returned after taking a quick look around the barn. “Equipment is all gone.”
“Didn’t they have some animals too? Like a couple of cows, a horse, chickens?”
“They put them on the boat. Mama said they were going to sell them.”
Jack remembered the strange locked room and turned to look at it.
“It’s empty. I already looked,“ Kaz said.
“And you never knew what was in there?”
“Never. I wonder many times, but never did I see.”
“Did you ever see what your mom kept in this room?” Jack asked Robbie.
“Guns. Lots and lots of guns.”
Jack walked into the windowless room. “I think he’s right. It smells like gunpowder in here.”
As they walked out of the barn, Jack looked around a final time.
Kaz said, “I searched for clothes for the boy and could not find any.”
“He didn’t bring clothes with him?”
“Only what he has on.”
“These are my clothes,” Robbie said, as if surprised anyone would think he had others.
“All I find is one blanket with many holes. I put it in wagon.”
“There he is! He’s here!” Robbie screamed.
Jack and Kaz desperately looked around. There was no one.
“Buddy!” Robbie said as he took off running toward the water.
“Who is it?” Kaz asked.
Jack and Kaz took off after Robbie.
A small puppy was trying to scramble up the steep slippery bank. He was soaked and covered with mud and started to yelp when he saw Robbie approach. Robbie dove to the ground, snatched up the animal, and rolled with it in his arms.
“Oh, Buddy, you’re alive! They didn’t drown you.”
The little brown dog was as happy as the boy. He wiggled and wagged and licked the boy’s face. Robbie set the dog on the grass and it started barking and running in circles around him.
Robbie laughed as he ran after the puppy. “The man who took mama said he was going to tie a rock around his neck, but he didn’t, Mr. Kaz, he didn’t.”
“Or somehow the dog got away,” Jack said quietly to Kaz.
“Can we keep him, Mr. Kaz? Can we, please?”
“Sure,” Kaz said. “Put him in the back of the wagon.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Jack said. “This is depressing, and I’m despising Mattie and this mystery man more and more.”
Robbie curled up in the back of the wagon with his blanket and Buddy and both were soon fast asleep. The emotional strain of the last couple of days must have worn both of them completely out.
“What happened here is totally unacceptable. There’s no coming back after this.”
“But maybe she needed more money,” Kaz said.
“More money? Have you been giving her money?”
“I give her some—now and then.”
Driving a one-horse wagon was not like driving a car. Jack completely turned in the driver’s seat and looked at Kaz. “Dude, what’s wrong with you? You are really a smart guy, except when it comes to this woman. What’s up with that?”
Kaz didn’t answer. He turned away from Jack and looked at the side of the road.
“Come on, Kaz. I’m your friend. You’re a good-looking guy, maybe a little shy; you’re as nice as all get out. You’re clean, you don’t stink—hell, that’s more than I can say for most guys in this town. She’s good-looking and all—great looking, as a matter of fact—but she’s not the only fish in the sea.”
“I don’t want no fish—I want Mattie,” Kaz said loudly.
Jack turned to check that Robbie was still sleeping. Buddy raised his head for a second and sleepily put it back down on the boy’s shoulder.
In a quieter voice Jack said, “That’s what I’m talking about. From everything I could see, you two were never more than friends, and when I say friends, I’m saying you did things for her and she treated you like dirt.”
Kaz’s face got tight and he pursed his lips so hard the wrinkles in the corners turned white. “That’s not the way that it was.”
“There’s a word in English called platonic, it means that you two had a nonsexual relationship and it never was going to be anything but that. I know women and I saw it written all over her.”
“No,” Kaz screamed. “We had the relations.”
The little dog startled awake, barked once, looked around and not seeing any danger, went back to sleep. Robbie barely stirred.
“You mean to tell me that you and Mattie had sex? No way. When?”
“On the eve of Christmas,” Kaz said, clearly embarrassed.
“Christmas Eve? That was over six months ago. How many times?”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to ask.”
“Was it just once?” Jack asked.
“Well . . . yes.”
“Was she drinking? A lot?”
“Yes, but it was still very special,” Kaz said.
“Special? Are you kidding? She either did you out of mercy or she got so drunk she didn’t know who you were.”
Kaz’s bottom lip quivered and he put his hand over his eyes. Jack, for the first time, realized how deeply Kaz cared. He could always take women or leave them and one was never any more special than another. Then he thought of Frances and knew she already had a special place in his heart.
Another thought crossed Jack’s mind. “Kaz, were you a virgin?”
Kaz nodded and his breathing became ragged. Jack put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry, man, I am so sorry. This woman is not worth the pain you’re going through. If it was any different or if there was the most remote chance of you two making something out of this, I would shut the hell up. If you trust me at all, believe me. You need to forget this woman.”
“How can I?” Kaz said. “I’m about to raise her son.”
“I think we need to get you laid.”
CHAPTER 29
June 1856
The Patent Pirates
They were ‘patent pirates,’ people who would willfully steal someone else’s intellectual property and sell it as their own. Samuel Morse, inventor of the telegraph, complained to a friend in a letter in 1848, I have been so constantly under the necessity of watching the movements of the most unprincipled set of pirates I have ever known, that all my time has been occupied in defense, in putting evidence into something like legal shape that I am the inventor of the Electro-Magnetic Telegraph! Would you have believed it ten years ago that a question could be raised on that subject?
And this came from a man who many thought had stolen the idea of the telegraph from Joseph Henry. The patent pirates willfully infringed patents with impunity, taking advantage of the fact that small inventors rarely had the financial resources required to enforce their rights.
If you wanted to make money, you needed to invent something that great numbers of people wanted; you needed to be able to manufacture and distribute the item; and you needed to do it all cheaply. Thomas Edison would later say, “There’s a way to do it better—find it!” Only about half the patents submitted are accepted and, even then, most of their claimed coverages are worthless. About ten percent of those that make it through the patent process are ever manufactured and, of those, only about three percent ever cover their costs.
The SAC was perhaps the worst of the pirates. A well-financed group of southern landowners, they stole every technological, industrial, agricultural and military idea that came along. But there was a difference in the way they manufactured their stolen products. It appeared that they weren’t stealing the items with the sole intent to make money by making inferior copies; stolen patents manufactured by the SAC were as integrally sound or more so than the originals. They took without guilt from all but the biggest of companies, defending their so-called patents with undue aggression, with nothing more than groundless threats to sue.
Legitimate companies spent fortunes keeping the pirates away,
but they barely tried with the SAC; it was big enough to scare them away. And then they had the Washington connection and the ear of the President, which let them operate with near impunity.
“I need what this Jack Riggs knows or seems to know,” Winston Creed said. He was looking out on the James River from the SAC Manufacturing Plant in Williamsburg.
“His knowledge seems real enough” Abner Adkins said. “He’s done everything he’s talked about doing and then some.” Adkins was sitting in the guest chair at Creed’s desk. Creed’s bony, contorted figure stood silhouetted in the floor-to-ceiling window. The office had been built as close to the river as possible, giving the impression it was floating over the water. He pounded his cane into his crippled hand. The man wasn’t as old as Abbey had first thought. Creed had been in an industrial accident that prematurely aged him as well as gave him his limp. Abbey had seen a portrait hung in the Virginia Statehouse that showed him to be a rather dashing, aristocratic plantation owner.
“Get him out of Norfolk and get him working for us,” Creed said. “If these agricultural machines that I’ve heard about are real and if they make their way to market, the southern slave economy will collapse. Bob Cooper says one picker and bailer can do the work of fifty slaves. If slaves lose even a quarter of their value, it’ll bankrupt half the plantations.” Creed looked to be on the verge of speaking several times, but eventually he just stared at the river.
“He might be moving to New York,” Abner said.
“That’s right, he’s working for your wife’s company.”
“She’s not my wife, and it’s her family’s company, and he’s just doing business with them.”
“Doing business to her from what I hear.” Creed stood silhouetted against the window. A tall-masted steam-powered sailing ship passed what looked like twenty feet outside the window behind him. “What about McCord?”
“Not worth messing with. Everyone thinks he’s crazy. But the Polish guy, I might have some leverage to use against him.”