Nate Boyer stood across the desk from Simeon. He returned to his argument that Johnny had lost their trust and posed a risk to the counterfeiting enterprise. “Who knows what he’s told this girl he meets?”
“Go easy, Nate. You know I’m sending word to Toronto to dispose of him in case he is some sort of spy for the police.”
“We need a back-up plan, Simeon. Suppose he gets away from the people up there?”
“What are you proposing?”
“I have an idea what the girl he meets with looks like, and about where she lives. We could grab her as a hostage, use her as bait, in case we need to dispose of him ourselves. That’ll smoke him out, but only in case we need to.”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“We’ve got to find out what she knows and need bait to trap this Johnny kid, if he makes it back from Canada. I’ll do some snoopin’ around her neighborhood. Your granddaughter says she lives on Mulberry Street. I have a good idea what she looks like. I’ll find her.”
Simeon started to object: “I don’t know, Nate …”
“If the police had all they need, they’d’ve rounded us up by now. When that kid is gone we’ll shift the machinery to another location. If we need to, we can arrange it so no one’ll ever find his body, if he comes back.”
“Let’s wait and see. If he disappears in Canada, our worries are over.”
“I’m gonna track her down just in case …”
Simeon fidgeted in his chair. “We don’t need any more violence, Nate. Things like that could go horribly wrong.”
“Would you rather end up in a rat hole of a Federal prison?” Nate asked with a vicious snarl in his voice.
Simeon dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Find Letitia for me, and tell her I want to see her.”
Letitia received the railroad tickets and the cash needed for incidentals on her journey from her grandfather. Simeon recited the instructions: “This satchel contains the cash you are to deliver. Here’s the address of the hotel in Toronto and the name of the man to whom you are to report. It’s on Queens Street, not far from the Lake Ontario waterfront, and it has a reputation of being a first-class accommodation. They’ll be ready for your visit. I hope their arrangements are suitable for you. When you have completed your purpose, tell the man in charge that Johnny is a threat to our organization. We don’t want him making the return trip.”
She acknowledged her grandfather’s instructions and told him she had already arranged for Johnny to present himself at the warehouse packed for the trip and prepared to spend the night.
When he arrived, she told him to leave his belongings and get something to eat. “You’ll sleep here,” she said, pointing to a corner with a rough cot. “We have to make the early train, don’t want you wandering away.”
Deirdre set out on an early morning shopping trip with her friend Maureen to the markets on the east side of the train terminal on Bowery and Centre Street. She carried the list of items to buy from the greengrocer her mother had given her. Deirdre placed the list and the carefully folded money in the pocket of her cloth overcoat and the two girls negotiated a path through the throngs of people headed for the station. The passengers to board the train north mingled with the crowd making their way to market for their day’s supply of groceries. The locomotive, coupled to its line of passenger cars, waited to begin the journey to the New York State border and beyond to Canada. The girls had just crossed the tracks at the Bowery near City Hall Park when Deirdre stopped to look along the crowded platform. Conductors helped passengers aboard with their luggage, while well-wishers lined the siding bidding their farewells.
“It was right here that I said goodbye to Johnny so many months ago,” Deirdre said to her friend. “That was the saddest thing I ever did.”
“I would really be heartbroken if I had to say goodbye to someone going off to war, Maureen said. “Have you seen him since he left?”
Deirdre hesitated, still looking wistfully along the train platform. She caught herself before saying too much. “Once a few months ago, he came home for a short while–but not since.”
“Do you hear from him?” Maureen asked.
Deirdre had to stop and consider her answer once again. “I get a letter from him occasionally. At least I know he’s still alive.”
Deirdre’s gaze followed a horse and carriage that clattered over the cobblestoned street and drew up at the station. A sudden glint of recognition sparked in her eyes. A gasp caught in her throat.
Maureen startled: “What’s wrong?”
Deirdre had to strain her sight to be sure, then remembered once again that she could not confide in her friend. Johnny alighted from the carriage with his travel bag and helped a young woman with honey-blond hair down from the seat and took her piece of luggage. Disbelief flashed across Deirdre’s face.
Her friend tried to follow her line of sight. “Did you see someone, Deedee?” she asked using the familiar nickname she had given her friend.
Deirdre brought her hand up to her mouth, pressed her lips to keep from crying out, and said: “It’s nothing, Maureen. Just thought I saw someone I knew. It’s nobody.”
Maureen studied her friend’s face, turned to look back down the platform, but saw nothing that would have given Deirdre pause.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Deirdre said, grasping her friend’s hand. “There’ll be a line at the grocer’s.”
Maureen held her quizzical expression for a few moments, shrugged and started toward the market with the stricken Deirdre. Nate Boyer, driving the carriage, spied the girls looking in his direction. From his seat elevated above the crowd of pedestrians he had a clear view to the end of the platform and beyond. He bid a safe journey to Letitia, ignored Johnny and concentrated his attention on the two girls walking toward the market stalls. Certainty dawned in his mind that he had seen the girl with the red hair with Johnny. Nate could make out the look of consternation on her face. Smiling inwardly, he recognized the signs of jealousy and disappointment. He pulled the horse and carriage around to face the market and watch the girls. Now would be a good time to find out where she lives.
Johnny and Letitia found their seats and settled in for the long, tedious train ride. Johnny stowed Letitia’s valise on the baggage rack and threw his own travel bag up next to it. Letitia sat erect and prim, her eyes focused on the platform. She held the voluminous hand bag securely on her lap. Johnny eased into the seat next to her, half expecting her to order him to move to another seat. Letitia said nothing. The train began to move as the conductor walked along the aisle calling for tickets.
“What’s the purpose of our trip, Letty?” Johnny asked, feigning casual curiosity.
Without turning her head, she patted the purse. “My grandfather has asked me to deliver a sum of money to certain people in Canada. You’re along to escort me.”
“A great deal of money?”
Letitia regarded him finally with her icy stare. “There’s sufficient here that he would be concerned to lose it. A woman alone might be vulnerable to theft.”
Johnny nodded in understanding, rested his head back, slipped his cap over his eyes and tried to take a nap. When the train pulled away from the station, Letitia turned back to the window to watch the scenery fly by.
Nate kept observation on the market from a distance while Deirdre and Maureen went about their shopping, selecting and paying for fresh produce. When they started back across the railroad tracks Nate paused, then urged his horse forward with a tap of the reins. The girls headed east on Canal while Nate maintained a discreet distance behind them until they turned into Mulberry Street. He slowed the horse’s pace into the teeming side street, waited to see where they went and sped past when both girls entered a tenement in the middle of the block. Sure now he knew where the red-haired girl lived, and with a better idea of what she looked like, he headed back to the warehouse.
He handed the rig over to a stableman and admitted himself to Simeon’s office. He noticed immediately that Simeon’s countenance had blanched, his distress evident. Two men confronted him.
Nate asked: “Simeon, what’s the trouble here?”
One of the grim-faced strangers looked around, pushed his coat back exposing a revolver holstered on his hip. He growled: “And who are you?”
“I happen to be the foreman here, so I’ll ask you, who are you and what are you doing here?”
“It’s all right, Nate,” Simeon made a conciliatory gesture hoping to defuse a potential confrontation.
“What’s going on, Simeon?” Nate repeated.
“We’re here looking for that boy who wrote the coded note,” the second stranger said.
“We’re representatives of the Society in Baltimore. Kensington Overstreet sent us to find that kid. He’s a police spy,” the first man added.
Simeon interjected himself into the conversation once again. “Gentlemen, please, no need for hostility. As it happens I just sent my granddaughter to Toronto with proceeds from my business to help support our cause in that city. I engaged that young man to accompany her. She has instructions to inform our people there of the danger the youngster poses to our organization. I don’t expect he will be making the return trip.”
Nate and the two strangers glowered at each other.
“Perhaps introductions might be in order” Simeon offered. “Nate, this is Mr Gage and Mr Rhodes. As they said, they are sent from Baltimore to see after Johnny. Gentlemen, this is my foreman, Nate Boyer.”
No one made an attempt at handshakes. The man called Gage regarded Nate with his pale blue eyes from under a wide-brimmed hat, his pointed goatee and waxed mustache gave him a curiously malevolent appearance. The revolver on his hip remained visible as he held his coat behind it.
“There’s no need for anyone else,” Nate said, the atmosphere of antagonism growing. “We can take care of whatever has to be done. If that kid comes back from Canada, we’ll see to him ourselves.”
Rhodes, his facial hair graying and unkempt, stepped forward. “What you’ll do, Nate, is what you’re told. You obey orders like everyone else. Seems to me you folks have allowed a Yankee infiltrator into your midst and endangered your whole operation.”
Nate clenched his jaw and glared from one man to the other. Simeon came out from behind his desk. “Gentlemen please, all this can be worked out to everyone’s satisfaction. Johnny Sullivan will not return from Toronto and we will relocate our equipment in the dead of night before the police conduct a search. I suspect if they had enough to go on they would have been here by now. Arrangements will be made quickly.”
“When the extent of the negligence that took place here is known in Richmond, there will be consequences,” Rhodes said with an air of menace. “Did you ever determine where this boy stays, just in case we need to find him?”
Simeon paled once again. “No I never did ask Letitia. I’m sure she knows, though.”
“Don’t you dare threaten anyone,” Nate said, with a raised voice.
“Please, Nate,” Simeon pleaded, “go see to the crews. Tell them we may have a task for them tonight. The engraver and printer will be here to disassemble the machinery for transport.”
Nate uttered an angry growl and backed toward the door.
“Thank you, Nate.” Simeon managed a faint smile to usher him out. He turned to his visitors, “Gentlemen, may I offer you some liquid refreshment in the way of strong spirits?”
Simeon busied himself pouring the drinks, barely able to keep his hand from shaking. Rhodes remained facing the door through which Nate had exited, the heel of his hand still resting on his pistol butt.