"What do you mean?" inquired Major Arnett, lighting a cigar while he and Russell discussed the means of securing Aaron's assistance.
"The only chance to secure Sumner's cooperation is by endangering his friend. Oh, he'll agree to help us with the right amount of financial persuasion, and because we can promise to hang him for piracy and those other warrants on him in England, but he'd slip away from us the minute our backs were turned, unless he had a personal stake, such as an obligation to Jennings. We can promise to hang Jennings, unless Sumner agrees to and successfully impersonates Marshall Hudson."
"And what do you intend to do with Marshall Hudson?" countered the major.
"We'll keep him under wraps for as long as necessary."
The major rose to leave. ''You've my okay. Just let me know when you want us to arrest this Sumner."
"I want him now. We ought to begin right away. The man may take some convincing, as well as training. Hudson and Sumner may be brothers, but one was born in the house, the other in the stable."
"We'll bring them in immediately. You'll hear from me soon. Sumner and I have at least a few mutual acquaintances and I imagine it will be only a little while before I can lay a snug trap for him."
Chapter Thirty-three
ON the whole, Aaron and Jennings were more occupied with legitimate trade than they were in piracy, but on occasion the temptation was sufficiently great, the risk just dangerous enough, especially for Aaron, to lure them into criminal activity. Sometimes even a lark would send them into action, such as when Lilly's rum supply got precariously low. "We'll get you some―cheap," offered Mason in an expansive mood which found the Marbella stalking the Caspian Sea Witch one night soon after. "Anything to keep the whores happy," muttered Aaron in the darkness. He was growing bored with his existence. It didn't lack for vigor, nor did he want for anything material, but, except for certain rare occasions, monotony was pervasive, and, with it, an unquenchable emptiness. In his boredom, he filled himself with hard labor, alcohol, and companions of the meanest sort. For him, life had no particular goal, no measurable worth, no perceptible reason. Only danger seemed to gratify him, and it came only fleetingly.
That night the Marbella stalked the Witch with ease. The night was made for stealthy maneuvers, the moon gone dark, the water churning to the will of the wind. There was no light aboard and the crew was dressed in gray, silent, almost unmoving, except in response to the Marbella's demands as she crept patiently after her prey. The pursuit seemed remarkably easy, everything in the Marbella's favor as both vessels skimmed along the coast toward a treacherous stretch of road before safe entry into the channel leading inland. Jennings hung safely back, waiting for the right moment. When it came, the Marbella flew swiftly and precisely, striking and cornering her equally fast victim where she was vulnerable. Light flashed suddenly on the Marbella, unmistakable challenge given, the shots startling the seemingly complacent Witch. Her choices were few in the narrow bed between the shoals, and total effort was required to save her. She could either stop dead in the water or slither out of reach in precious little space. There was no other way to avoid the arms of sand stretching from the depths, eager to impede if not cripple.
Orders were cursed from both ships, the Marbella's opponent taking the one tack she had with breathtaking effort, Jennings' counter maneuver meant to drive her back again. Suddenly Aaron's blood stirred as it hadn't for an interminable time. He began to think the chase might be worth his while, the Witch as wily as any craft he'd seen in a long time. She backed off, but, as Jennings pursued, she abruptly changed her tack putting the Marbella instantly in danger of being hammered and probably run aground. "Starboard tack … ease off!"
The Marbella parried, seizing the moment, surprising her victim with her dexterity. "It's going to take more than wit on this one," cried Jennings, unmistakable excitement in his voice. At the same time, he was sorry the prize would be no more than cases of rum. "Draw your weapons!" he bellowed.
Soon acrid smoke filled the darkness. The first explosions brought quick counter response from out of the darkness. But the wind shifted suddenly, and the play of weapons was dropped in frantic attempt to keep both ships from off the sand bars. The Witch miscalculated and broached, slamming onto the shoals, stopping with fierce suddenness. Chaos prevailed and the Marbella's crew, adept at this work, quickly controlled the scene, taking her share of the cargo and a surprisingly good bonus from the captain's sea chest. "Not a bad way to spend the evening," commented Jennings as he stashed the bundle of crisp notes for safekeeping. "She'll have a devil of a time extracting herself," he motioned as they retreated. "Looks like a storm's coming up. She'll be lost in a good blow. Too bad, she had a lot of spirit,"
But his words could have been for his own ship, for she soon found herself being overtaken by a larger brig, armed and signaling him to halt for boarding. "Looks to be a federal," commented Jennings, deciding to try to make a run for it. "We've got a good chance." But Aaron was instinctively uneasy. There was no one to observe their encounter with the Witch and, therefore, no reason for Marbella to be halted in the open water. But he had little chance to speculate as fire rained from her pursuer's guns. "I'd say they're serious!" Mason shouted. "Haul her in!" he commanded, and the race was on. Mason figured he'd make his way to one of the slender inlets on the coast, to slip to safety in the dark, out of reach of the larger ship. But the federal followed relentlessly, closing the distance with unmistakable determination. The ships did an undulating seductive dance along the water with the tempo to the music altered from time to time, but always the little Marbella's steps were picked up by her partner, until she found herself edging into an untenable position, the beach looming dangerously before her in the black of night. She tried again to slip from the arms of her pursuer, but as she stared at guns that peppered the water much too closely now, she signaled defeat to her aggressor, reluctantly accepting her fate.
"God damn!" was Mason's only response as he stared down the barrel of cannon that would have easily blasted Marbella and her crew to oblivion. "To be caught on an errand of mercy!"
"For some reason, we were set up, Jennings," was Aaron's instant appraisal. "And I'm not sticking around to learn what they've in mind," he said eying the shore.
"Are you crazy?" was all he heard as he discarded most of his clothing and dove over the side into the cold but invigorating water. But it was as if his every move had been observed, for he was instantly seized in the water by swimmers who overpowered him and bound his wrists, not without a furious struggle. He was dragged into a dinghy, soon to be accompanied by Jennings and the crew and dragged aboard the federal ship.
"I should have known never to trust a woman I had to pay for―but why? What for?" grumbled Jennings.
It was an answer that took several days to get.
Aaron proved a truculent prisoner, all of his anger and hatred seeming to surface in total disregard for his safety. Yet he found he was treated benignly and even his most outrageous behavior and insults were ignored, It was as if it had been ordained that no blows would fall on him. Finally he pushed too hard and the butt of the sergeant's rifle was aimed and driven precisely into Aaron's still tender shoulder. Amid his agony, Aaron heard the warning as it boomed out at him. "Shut your mouth, or I'll personally open that wound for you again." It was obvious the arrest was more than the capture of coastal pirates, but he could not fathom the reasons.
"Take the prisoner Aaron Sumner to Major Arnett," and Aaron was singled out, and carefully transported to headquarters.
"Justin," scowled Aaron. "Justin." But he didn't quite believe his encounter with the man would have provoked such a careful plot to arrest him. Or is the man more deranged than I thought, and this simple revenge for turning him down? he wondered.
At New Orleans Federal Army headquarters, Aaron was placed in a remarkably comfortable, but heavily guarded locked room. He was kept uninformed, and even his simplest inquiry was not responded to by stone-faced guard
s, a fact which infuriated, then bored him.
"Let them play their goddamned games," he finally muttered, but the oddness of the situation, and the growing suspense nearly drove him wild as he waited with no word, day after day.
Then, finally, he was roused from sleep one night and escorted through town to the cellar of a home he recognized even in the dark. The man who soon faced him was also well known to him. Jason Russell confronted Aaron in a small cell which was simply furnished damp and dimly lit. At first, the men stared at each other, unspeaking.
"It's been a long time, Andrew."
Aaron made no response, unable to guess what the man had in mind. He was curious, but also bored, even by the prospect that Russell knew his full history.
"I spotted you when you came into the area, though you evidently did not want to be recognized. Lucky for us, you kept hidden."
"Lucky for you? How could my showing up here be important to you? Surely a man who jumps ship is of little interest to anyone?"
"But a man with your face is of great interest to us."
"Who the hell is 'us'?"
"The Federal Government."
"My face is of interest to the United States of America?" Aaron chuckled. "That's an amazing fact, if I ever heard one. You've obviously a lot of explaining to do."
"Before you take what I say in too light a vein," he said, seating himself across a small table from Aaron, "let me tell you what I know about you and what choices you have."
Aaron shrugged his shoulders, alert and no longer bored.
"You're a wanted man on several counts―for jumping ship―a minor offense; for piracy, for two murders―those being capital offenses."
Aaron scowled. "The most serious of those crimes being committed in a foreign country. I'm an American citizen returned home."
"It could easily be arranged to send you and your friends back to England. We're very anxious to respect British law since we hope to discourage our foreign friends from supporting the South if she secedes from the Union. And in your case, I'll guarantee you see British soil again, if you choose not to help us."
Aaron started to interrupt, but Russell halted him with a raised hand. "If you cooperate, there will be substantial monetary reward, and you'll be exonerated for your crimes of record by diplomatic agreement. In addition, you'll be settling some very old scores with Simon Hudson and men like him." He halted, waiting for Aaron to respond.
"Go on. What do you want from me?"
At least, I've piqued his curiosity, Russell thought. "What we want," he continued aloud, "is for you to impersonate Marshall Hudson. Just when you will begin the charade is uncertain at this time, as is precisely what your stance will be. But those are details that will be worked out as we go along. What you have to do now is learn as much about Marshall Hudson as is possible: we have substantial information regarding his whereabouts over the years, his tastes and inclinations. You'll have some fine points of etiquette, handwriting, speech habits―many other things to absorb."
"And what am I to do with this information and training?"
"You will involve yourself in the midst of a political intrigue and obtain information to be passed on to me. Simon Hudson and two other partners intend to take over political and economic power in California, eventually to establish a separate Pacific States Republic. They have a great deal invested in property and commerce there, and they expect war between North and South to increase their wealth greatly. Southern ports will surely be closed in a war, and the South will need other sources of income and supplies. She also needs places to market her cotton and other goods in order to survive separation from the Union. If Simon and his friends can succeed in uniting a political force in California and other Western territories in favor of the South, the South will be in a very favorable position for success. She can then easily establish foreign trade and obtain recognition for the new government. The West's supply of gold, silver, and other minerals, its ability to supply grain and cattle are enormous. A transcontinental rail line is already being planned to make the Southern states a formidable power. These and other things Simon has foreseen." He paused, waiting for some response from Aaron. Getting none, he went on. "As I said, it appears the plan is to make California a separate republic. We're not sure yet just what the plans are, and that's where you fit in. You're a natural―or, that is, Marshall is a natural to get the information we need. He could represent Simon's interests in California and get all the inside information we need to make arrests and put down the movement. California is populated with a good many Southern immigrants. Southern sentiment is strong and the populace only too ready for action."
Aaron was slowly digesting it all, liking especially the opportunity to interfere with Simon and his friends, perhaps to bring them to ruin. "The intrigue interests me, but don't you think intimates of Simon and Marshall would recognize me?"
"I have a very keen eye, and you're a dead ringer. Otherwise, there's the matter of a few rough edges to smooth down, but with your cooperation, you soon should pass even close inspection."
Both men were silent for several minutes. Aaron took a deep breath and leaned the wooden chair back on two legs. He stared hard at Russell's face, contemplating his alternatives, and his desire to crush Simon Hudson. He couldn't believe he might actually have the power to see Simon and Justin and their partners ruined. It seemed too good to be true in spite of the risks, which only made the plot more savory to Aaron.
"You'll hang if you turn us down," Russell interjected matter-of-factly.
Aaron grinned. "You drive a hard bargain." He sat up straight. "But there's one thing in addition to the other offers you made that you must agree to."
"What is it?"
"In addition, you must agree to protect and exonerate Jennings and my crew, all or none of us." His eyes glinted with unquestionable firmness.
Russell smiled at Aaron's final bargain. "It will be arranged, they will be held until your work is complete. Then, like you, they will be free to go as they please."
"Then I give you my word to help you."
"One other thing," he paused, wondering if Aaron would be able to conceal his interest in his next remark. "There is a woman involved. You remember, Louisa Boyd?"
Aaron was visibly startled. "Yes, I remember her," he said, suddenly tense, which surprised him. He thought he was finished with longing for her.
"What has she to do with this?"
"She will be going to California shortly, and will be living in San Diego, in the southern part of the state near the Mexican border, where Simon has interests. Simon is her guardian since Justin's recent death."
"Justin's dead? When? How?"
"A few weeks ago. In a fire at the old house which was never really finished. It burned down again."
"God! Fire seems to follow her around," he muttered. "Not that Justin didn't deserve to die that way," he added with conviction.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing," he countered.
"There's something you know?" pursued Russell.
"Why? What would I know?"
"Well, her departure is something I didn't anticipate. To my eyes, Marshall is obviously very much in love with her, and she with him. I expected them to marry, perhaps soon. But his engagement to the Carson girl, Janna Carson, has already been announced, in spite of the fact that Marshall and Louisa have been lovers for some time. Their affair began in Europe and its intensity hasn't seemed to diminish at home."
"What do you know of Louisa?" Aaron was very intent.
"All there is to know," he answered simply.
"All?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Do you know, then, that Justin interfered with her sexually over the years? Did your spies see that, too?" he inquired hotly.
"No, we didn't see." Russell was stunned. "How do you come by that?"
"The bastard told me himself. He also asked me to impersonate Marshall, to help him get Louisa back for him to use again."
"I'll make a point of seeing her. I don't think I could pass up the chance to confront her with my impersonation."
Russell smiled broadly at Aaron, then stood to leave. "That's sufficient reason, I suppose. But you'll want to be careful not to put your disguise under too close scrutiny."
"I'll be careful, but this escapade is not without its risks," he countered.
"And its danger only heightens your appetite, I know. It's the code you live by. Good luck, Andrew Sutton. Good luck to us all."
Chapter Thirty-four
KATHLEEN Russell was small and slender with dark hair, now liberally streaked with gray. She was a woman Aaron had known as a child and now she was his tutor. She taught him about the finer points of life that had never been of concern to him. She taught him which fork to use, what wine to choose. She taught him how to dance, even to enjoy it. "When you have a beautiful young woman in your arms, this will come more naturally," she said, and she was right.
Ford, Jessie Page 16
