by David Liss
He did his best to appear untroubled. “Well, we shall see. I will wait a hour or so after the launch before deciding what to do, and then, based on what I have learned, I will come back and see if you have, perhaps, been withholding important information from me.”
Here Reynolds took a step forward. “If I may, Mr. Pearson,” he said, “it is my experience that it is always a poor decision to leave an enemy alive—particularly a sly one like Saunders here. Now, I don’t have nothing against him. He lives or he dies, it don’t signify one way or the other to me. If I’m paid to hurt him or kill him, that’s what I do. But leaving him here? It’s just foolishness. If he escapes, he’s going to make your life very difficult. Mine too, likely.”
“Likely,” I agreed. “I hate to agree with him in a matter so detrimental to my well-being, but Reynolds is right. It’s bad policy to leave me alive.”
Pearson spat upon the earth. “I’ll not be goaded into giving him what he wants.”
“You’re mad if you think what Saunders wants is death,” Reynolds pointed out. “He is playing a game with you. He is attempting to convince you to leave him be. Don’t give him what he wants.”
“What he wants is to keep something from me, and if he believes it will aid my wife, I have no doubt he is foolish enough to prefer to die than speak the truth. All these soldiers with their romantic notions, they all want death. But he shan’t get it without telling me everything first.” He turned to me. “This little jail makes for an excellent means of revealing the truth. My friend, the British colonel, told me of its operation. This door, as you shall see, is far too heavy for any one man to open and close, though we shall lock it all the same. You will be bound within, unable to move your arms or legs. You will be cold and hungry and thirsty, and, when the tide comes in, you will suffer tremendously. The water will not drown you, but come up to your waist perhaps. Very unpleasant in January, I should think. You will have no means to relieve yourself but in your breeches. When I return in a day, or perhaps two, I will find you desperate, demoralized, and pliable.”
“Don’t leave me here,” I said. “Kill me now, or you will regret it.”
“Listen to him,” Reynolds said.
“I do listen to him,” Pearson said. “He tells me he knows something he wishes for me never to learn. I will find out what it is. I will let the cold and the river and his own misery extract it from him. Finish with the rope.”
With my ankles tied together and my wrists bound behind my back, I was already in a poor state, but now Reynolds placed a small ball of cloth—fortunately not too dirty—in my mouth and held it in place with a strip of the same cloth, tied around my head. I have never loved being gagged, for it is a most dreadful feeling, and the idea that I would remain that way for a day or two was unbearable.
I watched as Pearson and Reynolds left the little cage and, together, pushed hard against the door. It did, indeed, seem to take all their energy to get the heavy door to move. They leaned into it, their backs bent, and, pushing from their legs, managed finally to put the door into place. Breathing heavily from his exertions, Reynolds now took a metal chain and wrapped it through cage and door, securing it with a lock. It seemed a needless precaution, but I supposed they wished to make certain that, even should I be discovered, I could not be easily rescued.
Pearson gazed at me from the other side of the cage. “Your easy manner suggests you think yourself in possession of some secret, but you will not escape this prison. No one ever has, not one. Do you believe you can accomplish what all who came before you could not? You have no secret advantage, and you shall no more escape than did the others.”
I shrugged to show that I did not much mind or, perhaps, that I conceded his point without truly believing it. The two men stepped into the night, and though I thought it would be Pearson who turned around to gaze at me, he did not. Instead, it was Reynolds who briefly stopped and stared. In the dark, I could understand neither his expression nor his meaning, if he meant to convey one, only that he looked for a moment and then walked on, leaving me alone and cold and bound.
What a terrible situation. If only there were a clock visible so I could time myself to see how quickly I managed to extricate myself, how much better would I be able to recount the story later. Yes, I faced my challenges with a certain confidence, but then I had many advantages, which perhaps Mr. Pearson did not trouble himself to consider. First: I had been captured many times during the war and had, each time, escaped when I chose. Second: He had never before, most likely, captured a prisoner, let alone one with my record for escape. Third: I did not believe the universe was ordered such that he could triumph over me so entirely.
Thus, once I was certain they had left me alone and my actions would go unobserved, I began. The first step was to place my hands before me, and this was easily accomplished, though by no means as easily as it had been ten or fifteen years ago, when I was younger and more flexible. I sat upon the earth and slowly, with some discomfort, put the loop of my arms under my bottom. I then folded my legs and, straining considerably at the shoulders, pushed my arms up. I felt an unpleasant popping, and for a moment feared I had dislocated something, which would have answered my arrogance nicely, but it was merely the straining of underused joints. I gave one last push and my hands were now in front.
When taking a prisoner, if you wish to be certain he does not escape, I highly recommend tying the thumbs, for they are invaluable in freeing oneself from ropes. In addition, when binding the ropes, be certain that the wrists are as close together as can be managed. If the prisoner is clever, he will keep his wrists as separated as he can contrive without drawing attention to this fact. This I had done, so when I began to work at the ropes, they were already quite loose and pliable. It would have been far easier had I not been gagged, for I might have used my teeth, but I had slack enough to angle my right wrist toward my body and use my thumb and index finger upon the left wrist. My task was not to untie the rope, for the knot was well constructed, and I could not easily do so. Rather, I pulled at it, expanding the slack as much as I might. I then gripped it hard and pulled upward with my right wrist, backward with my left. The rope burned into my flesh, but soon it was just below the knuckles, the widest portion of the hand. Experience had taught me that even the tightest of ropes might then be moved piecemeal, if not all at once, but in this case one great shove answered the business and the rope came free.
Using my free hands, I now immediately untied the gag about my mouth and then slid the remaining rope off my wrist. The ankles were no more difficult, and only required that I remove my boots to be free of that burden. Now, before I replaced the boots, I removed from within them my useful little picks and began to work at the lock upon the iron door. This was no challenge and the darkness no impediment, since the picking of locks is done by feel and sound. In a moment I heard a click, and the lock fell away.
I was pleased with myself, and with good reason, but I still had one great object before me: the door. I placed the lock picks back in my boot and attempted to push the door open. It did not move. I thrust my shoulder into it, and the door reverberated wildly but did not move. I lay down upon my back and attempted to push it with my feet, but again nothing. Pearson had said it required two men at a minimum to move it, and that appeared to be the case.
I took a moment to consider my circumstances. All, of course, was not lost. In the morning, I would have a better sense of my surroundings. I might hear others walking nearby and call to them. I might, if necessary, replace the lock and pretend to be bound when Pearson and Reynolds returned. Provided I could convince them to open the door, I would then have the advantage of surprise.
These were options, but they were not agreeable options because, more than simply wishing for freedom, I wished for immediate freedom. I had work to do, and if I were not free, Duer might well succeed in taking for his own the Million Bank. Should he do that, he would at worst take possession of the Bank of the United States, at best p
roduce a financial panic. I needed to get out of this cage, and yet I could think of no means of doing it without the help of at least one other person. Gone were the days when I might hope for the sudden and fortuitous arrival of Leonidas.
I sat upon the earth, thinking I should enjoy sitting before the cage began to flood. I considered everything, certain I had not neglected some path to freedom, but forcing myself to turn everything over again and again. It was all I thought of, and it was what I was thinking of when I saw three figures emerging from the dark. One was tall and broad, one quite small—a woman, I thought—and it was not until they were only feet away did I recognize them as Reynolds, the Irishman from the Statehouse, and Mrs. Joan Maycott.
Joan Maycott
January 1792
It was early evening. Having already eaten my dinner, I was in my room alone, reading quietly and sipping at a glass of watered wine, when my landlady knocked at the door. I had a visitor below, but he was of the sort she could not admit to her house, lest she receive complaints from the other tenants. I immediately apologized that she should be troubled by such a person and descended the stairs. I remained calm in my demeanor, though in truth I was very anxious, for I feared my visitor might be one of the whiskey boys, having encountered some trouble dire enough to risk visiting me in my home.
I knew not if I should be relieved or dismayed to find Mr. Reynolds on my stoop, leaning against the stone rail and spitting tobacco juice into the street. He looked at me, grinned, and took off his hat. “A moment of your time, Mrs. Maycott.”
“I cannot imagine it would be anything but a moment wasted.”
“No need to be so harsh to a man come maybe to help you,” he said. “Maybe, I don’t know, but I got a feeling I might. You’ve seen enough of me, I think, to know I’m loyal to no one and nothing. If it pays, that’s all I care for, so here’s a chance for me to make some money, if I know you right.”
“Know me right about what?”
“About Captain Saunders. He stands against Mr. Duer and so do you.”
“You misunderstand me if you think I’m not Mr. Duer’s friend.”
“And you misunderstand me if you think I trouble myself one way or t’other. I work for Duer, true, but he ain’t no friend of mine. And you forget what I know already, so do you want to help Saunders, or do you want to leave him where he is?”
“Where is he?”
“Where he can’t get out,” Reynolds said, “and at Pearson’s mercy, which ain’t a great place for him.”
“Are you telling me he’s somehow been abducted?”
“Not somehow. I helped capture him, and now I’m willing to help you set him free, if you want to pay for what I know.”
“You were paid by Pearson to abduct him, and now you wish to be paid to free him?”
“Clever, ain’t it?”
I would not comment on that point. “Where is he?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
I had, perhaps, erred in making Saunders so vital to my plans, for things with him were coming undone rapidly. I had only just received word from his slave that he had been forced to break with Saunders. It appeared that Saunders had freed Leonidas without bothering to tell him, and Leonidas believed that he could no longer stay by Saunders’s side. His logic was that if he did not respond with appropriate resentment, Saunders would begin to grow suspicious. It was perhaps true, but hardly convenient.
Leonidas had assured me their rupture would in no way interfere with Saunders’s ability to thwart Duer. His capture by Pearson, however, was another matter. If Saunders was tucked away in some basement or garret somewhere, he would not be able to act against Duer in the morning, and nothing right now was more important than keeping Duer from taking control of the Million Bank. If he had the bank’s credit at his disposal, he could conceivably be too powerful to be stopped, and we would not only have failed, we would have aided our enemy in achieving a wealth and power never before conceived of. It would not stand.
“How much?” I asked.
“Twenty dollars.”
“Agreed.”
“Too quickly agreed, in my opinion. Fifty dollars.”
“I don’t like you very much, Mr. Reynolds.”
He shrugged. “Nobody seems to. But in the end, they pay me.”
Reynolds informed me that I would need the help of another man in retrieving Saunders, so we stopped by Dalton’s boardinghouse and he joined our little party. Next, Reynolds led us north to a deserted pier, one abused and abandoned by the British during the war. Underneath it we found a diabolical little cage, and therein was Captain Saunders, sitting against the far wall, his arms folded. A chain and picked lock lay at the door, a scattering of abandoned ropes lay strewn in the sand.
“I told Pearson it was a mistake to leave Saunders unattended. Look at him.”
“I’m still imprisoned,” he observed, his tone dry.
“Not for long, eh?” Reynolds said. “I’ve brung these folks to offer up their services in freeing you.”
Saunders looked at us but did not move. “Freeing me? And not, let us say, killing me, which I should very much object to?”
I could hardly be surprised at his suspicion, and had he known to what extent I hoped to manipulate him, I could not doubt his anger; even so, it pained me—surprisingly—that he should be so suspicious. “Hardly, Captain. I have told you before that I believe we both stand for the same things.”
“What about him?” He gestured with his chin toward Dalton. “He abused me and threatened me outside the Statehouse. He told me a sharpshooter would murder me if I did not act as he wished.”
“There’s no point in holding a grudge, lad,” Dalton said. “Perhaps this rescue will even things for us.”
“Mr. Dalton did not yet know you to be an honorable man.” I had anticipated certain concerns on Captain Saunders’s part, and I’d troubled myself to construct some plausible stories during the journey here. “We believed you one of Duer’s men at the time. Only later did we understand our error. Come, let’s get you out of there, and I shall tell you everything on the way back to your room.”
Mr. Dalton and Reynolds both planted their feet firmly in the earth and grabbed hold of the bars of the door. Captain Saunders bent over, gripped hold of two bars slightly beneath their positions, and pushed. The door moved slowly but steadily, and in a few seconds was open wide enough for the captain to slip out with relative ease. As we walked to the carriage, he maintained a silent if agreeable demeanor, as though there were nothing unusual in our little outing, but I watched his eyes. Even in the dark he it was plain that he scanned each of us slowly and carefully, taking full measure of our moves, weighing our intents. I don’t know that I would have made an effort to manipulate him had I understood him to be quite so vigilant, quite so clever.
When we reached our transport, I asked him, if he would not object, to ride alone with me in the carriage, and when he assented I sent Reynolds and Dalton up to ride with the coachman. Dalton would understand, and Reynolds was being well paid for his discomfort.
Once we were seated, he turned to me. “Reynolds works for Duer, for Pearson, and for you?”
“Reynolds will work for who will pay him. He took money from Pearson to imprison you, and then came immediately to me because he believed I would pay for your release.”
“Perhaps it is time you told me why you cared to pay for my release.”
“I thought we were friends,” I said. “It is no more than I would do for any friend.”
“Please, Mrs. Maycott, do not attempt to manipulate me. How do you know the big Irishman? Dalton, you called him.”
“I know him from the West, and I am proud to call him my friend as well. He and I are patriots, Captain. Just as I believe you do, we stand against Duer, who is a vile man whose ambitions will undo the country if he is not checked. He has already stolen from the nation. Is he now to be allowed to bankrupt it?”
“Stolen? What do you mean?”
I had held on to this little bit of knowledge, but now seemed a good time to use it. Save something too long, and it becomes worthless. If, despite all that had happened to him, Saunders was still to attempt to thwart Duer tomorrow, I would need to use everything I could muster. “Before the ratification of the Constitution, Duer served as director on what was then called the Board of Treasury. It was a powerful position and he was a trusted man, yet he abused that trust. He procured for himself $236,000, which he has never returned.”
Saunders said nothing for a moment. “You have proof?”
“It can be proved,” I said, “though I can offer you no documentary evidence. I doubt not that Hamilton could prove it, had he the will, but of course he is Duer’s lapdog.”
I knew that Saunders disagreed and my accusation irritated him, but he was careful not to let himself be distracted. “Why did Dalton—and I presume you—wish to keep me from searching for Pearson?”
“Because of Mrs. Pearson,” I answered. “Duer’s men were threatening her to keep her quiet. Duer wanted Pearson’s money invested in his schemes, and he feared that if Pearson was apprehended by Treasury men, he would be forced to repay his loan rather than lose more money in Duer’s projects. I could not risk harm to Mrs. Pearson.” These were more lies, but I could not tell him the truth: that we had all along manipulated him, hooked him like a fish and pulled him where we liked.
“Many ladies care for their friends,” he said, “but few employ giant Irishmen and secret sharpshooters to aid them in their efforts.”
“Then they have never lived on the border,” I answered. I don’t know that my answer satisfied him, but it silenced him long enough that I was made to explain no more before arriving at Fraunces Tavern.
