by Gene P. Abel
They made it to the sidewalk, behind them traffic and the flow of pedestrians resuming their normal course, the incident already forgotten.
“And how did the FBI know about this? I mean, you were already on this street corner when he came by. Somehow you had to have known he was headed this way and were lying in wait. Observers, is that it? Hoping to spot his companions in the crowd? I need something to tell my editor.”
Lieutenant Phelps took one look at the babbling reporter, then glanced to Agent Harris with a quick suggestion. “I could drop her.”
“Naw,” Agent Harris replied. “I think I like her. She just needs to tone it down a bit.”
“Miss Hill,” Agent Hessman said, “if you will permit me, we need your assistance.”
The woman paused long enough for a cough to escape her throat, before continuing in a quieter tone, “What would the FBI need my help for? I’m just a reporter trying to break into the big time.”
Here Agent Hessman glanced over to Ben. Professor Stein took the hint and control of the conversation. “Miss Hill, my name is Ben. We’re here on a very important mission, but the one thing we lack is what you might call local knowledge. As a reporter, you seem to be—”
“I’m hooked into everything that’s happening in this town, and that’s what you need,” she bluntly summed up. “A reporter who knows the gangs by name and what’s happening in every seedy little section, is that it?”
“In essence, yes,” Ben admitted. “If you could just come along and help us out a bit. We won’t be asking you to get into any dangerous situations, just—”
“And why not?” she asked. “That’d be where the story is. Nellie Bly was on the battlefronts getting the news of what our boys were going through. If I’m to make it with some of the big papers, I can’t be afraid of getting into the thick of it.”
Agent Hessman stepped over and whispered a question into Ben’s ear. “Nellie Bly?”
“Famous female reporter from World—the Great War and before,” Ben whispered back.
Claire briefly narrowed her eyes at the almost-slip Professor Stein had made, but immediately got back to the subject. “Okay, I’ll help you out, but under one condition. If the FBI is involved, that means you’re hooked up to some really big news. I’ll come with you if you give me an exclusive to what’s going on. No other reporters, just me alone. Agreed?”
Agent Hessman glanced around at the others, receiving a slight nod from Dr. Weiss and another from Captain Beck. Professor Stein was still looking at Claire, a little intrigued by something about her.
“Agreed,” Agent Hessman told her. “You get an exclusive on everything the FBI finds out about this matter.”
“Perfect.” She grinned. “Now, what’s the caper?”
Agent Hessman glanced once around, then pulled her into a walk down the sidewalk, Ben falling into step at her other side, the rest in their usual positions, with Harris and Phelps keeping a watch on their perimeter.
“We’ll start with some introductions,” Agent Harris began. “I’m Lou, and this is Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Ben. So what’s your bit? You aren’t a regular agent, I can tell that. Consultant of some sort?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“This is Sam,” Agent Hessman continued. “The older gentleman is Robert.”
“And the walking muscle?” Claire asked, glancing over to Lieutenant Phelps.
“Call him David,” Agent Hessman continued. “And finally, the black suffragette here is Sue.”
“I’d love to do a story on you. I’ve never heard of a negro working for the federal government before, and a woman? It’d really help the movement, I’m sure.”
“What would really help,” Agent Harris replied, “is if you stopped using the word ‘Negro.’ I’m a proud black lady.”
“What she means is,” Ben quickly interjected, “we look upon Sue as just another member of our group. An equal.”
“Well,” Claire smiled, “how progressive of the federal government. Definitely a story in there.”
“Miss Hill,” Agent Hessman began.
“Call me Claire, Lou.”
“Claire. Perhaps we can start with if you’ve heard of any unusual or odd out-of-towners.”
While Lou questioned the reporter, Ben drew Agent Harris aside for a few quiet words. “Sue, she did not mean any disrespect using that word. It’s just the way they referred to black people at the time. You’ve got to watch things like that.”
“I’d rather wrestle a lion. Which I did once, by the way.”
“Sue.”
“I get your point. Things were different back then, and we’ve got to blend in. I’ll stay quiet. But I will not be subservient.”
“Good enough. Just try not to kill any historical figures.” Ben then stepped back to where Agent Hessman and Claire were talking.
“I would have heard of anyone that unusual,” Claire was saying. “A few anarchists, rumors that Mussolini is using some of the local Italian gangs to stir up trouble, but beyond that—”
“Ben, what do you know of . . . current events? Could our target be trying to hook up with organized crime?”
“So, crime is organized now?” Claire said. “Not from what I’ve heard. There’s about a dozen major gangs fighting it out.”
Realizing his slip, Agent Hessman let Professor Stein take over the conversation while observing the reporter’s reaction.
“Just an internal designation some people are starting to use in our department,” Ben told her. “Since crime is coming increasingly from these gangs instead of lone individuals—”
“Got it. So you’re asking if your target might be hooking up with one of these gangs like Mussolini’s doing. I suppose it’s possible, but it would help if I knew more about who or what your target is. Do you have a name?”
“Not exactly,” Ben admitted.
“That would be our problem,” Agent Hessman explained. “We aren’t really sure who our target is.”
“That’s a real problem,” she agreed. “So what do you know?”
Agent Hessman hesitated for a moment, thinking how best to put it while not blowing their cover.
“It could be one of two nationalities.”
“Visiting dignitaries. Well, that’s something, I guess. So, you had a report of some foreign diplomat about to be assassinated, is that it? Or maybe one of them’s a spy, waiting here for President Wilson to come into town. That’s it, isn’t it? Some foreign power has it out for Wilson, and you’re not exactly sure which.”
“Miss Hill,” Agent Hessman began, “Claire, you do an awful lot of supposing for a reporter. Aren’t you just supposed to follow the facts?”
“I follow my instincts,” she corrected, “and I’m not afraid to go where they take me. Just like Nellie Bly.”
“A trait I’ll admit I’ve found useful myself in the past,” Agent Hessman said. “Okay, we’ll stick with the original plan and go poking around at the Japanese Society building.”
“Nice place,” Claire remarked. “But were you planning on walking there?”
“It’s only a couple of blocks away,” Ben said, “according to our maps.”
“A couple of blocks.” Claire smiled. “That’s cute. Ben, a New York block can be a whole lot longer than a regular city block. We’ll hop a BRT; that’ll take us there in no time.”
“BRT?” Dr. Weiss asked.
“Boy, you are new to New York, Sam. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She led the way in a brisk walk down the street, everyone following after a nod from Agent Hessman. They seemed to have found their guide.
8
Train Trip
The BRT turned out to be an elevated electric train, sometimes running along at street level, other times crossing a
bove them on elevated tracks from one station to the next. For a coin each, they secured a place in the back of one of the cars. They sat in pairs, Agent Hessman with Claire to further question her, Ben with Sam, Agent Harris with Lieutenant Phelps, and Captain Beck across the aisle from Agent Hessman and the reporter, while the city whisked by beneath them.
Sam leaned in to catch Ben’s ear with a whispered remark as their journey began. “I thought all trains were underground in this city?”
“They’re working on it,” Ben whispered back. “A few are already, but what we’ll know as the modern subway system is still only partially complete. The bulk of ridership is still above ground on things like the BRT here. At least until it goes bankrupt in about . . . hmm, later this year, I think.”
“Then we may be among the last people to ride this thing. Sounds like an honor.”
“The fact that we’re riding this train at all in the year—when we are, is thrill enough for me.”
“I’d rather think that reporter would be enough of a thrill.” Sam grinned. “Quite the spunky type for this day and age.”
“An unusually tenacious woman even for our own age,” Ben admitted. “To find someone like this back now, it’s remarkable.”
Ben glanced over and tried to catch some of what Claire and Agent Hessman were talking about, which was mostly small details of their environment. What he found more interesting was the woman herself. A young woman from a century in the past, living and breathing before him. Everything about her, down to her dress and large hat, spoke of the period, except her personality seemed to stand out more than their team did in this day and age.
“I’ve been around there a time or two,” she was saying. “Small building, one back door, though they manage to pack quite a few things in what space they have.”
“I’m sure that will be of help, Miss Hill. Just remember not to get in our way when we get there. These people might be dangerous.”
“People that you don’t even know specifically who they are. Got it.”
That’s when she looked up and happened to catch Ben’s eye. She flashed a quick grin in his direction, which got Ben immediately glancing away.
“Excuse me for a second, Lou.”
Agent Hessman moved his legs out of the way while Claire carefully got up, steadying herself against the motion of the train as she stepped across the aisle to where Sam and Ben sat.
“Switching seats,” she told them. “Sam, you’re with Lou.”
Ben hesitated a moment, glancing uncertainly from one to the other, and Sam just shrugged.
“Or are you going to refuse a lady?”
To Claire’s remark, Dr. Weiss stood up, and Claire sat down next to Ben while Dr. Weiss joined Agent Hessman.
“So, what’s your story?” she asked.
“My what? I’m sure I don’t—”
“Everyone has a story, and I’m pretty good at sniffing them out. Lou says he’s a government agent, but the way he looks at things, like he’s examining them with a microscope or he read too much Arthur Conan Doyle, he’s definitely more the detective type. David—he’s military if I ever saw one; must have seen a lot of action in the Great War. Your buddy Sam over there, some sort of intellect. He has the look of a scientist, I’d think. Beck . . . he looks like he could have been an officer in the war; too old for anything else. Then Sue . . . she’s a puzzle. If she were a man, I’d say something like for David. I just can’t quite get a line on her.”
“And me? What do you think my story is?”
“You . . . ,” she said, thinking for a moment. “You’re a tricky one. The way I see you looking at everything, like it’s the first time you’ve seen any of it. Even now, as I was talking to Lou, you had half an eye on the scenery passing by outside like you’re some kid seeing the big city for the first time. But it’s just the city, and I don’t think you’re a country boy. For one thing, you don’t talk like one. Too educated.”
“So I’m educated. Lots of people are educated.”
“No, you’re more like . . . a professor. Someone who would be perfectly at home teaching at some stuffy English university. But the rest of it . . . I’m just not sure. But I’ll get it; I always do.”
“You just might at that, if anyone would . . . Claire.”
The train made a stop to exchange passengers, but the team took their lead from Claire and showed no sign of moving.
“Our stop’s the next one,” she stated as they waited.
A moment later the train was starting up again, and now it was Ben’s turn for questions.
“You certainly seem to be a great admirer of Nellie Bly.”
“And what’s not to admire? Reported straight from the warfront, worked undercover to expose those horrible insane asylums, actually made Jules Verne’s fabled trip around the world in less time than the book gave. She’s more of a reporter than most men, and I have no problem admitting that she’s my idol.”
Before Claire could look any more defensive than she already did, Ben quickly interjected, “I see nothing wrong with that, nor with any female reporter. But I have to ask: you don’t look dressed like any reporter I’ve seen. You look more like . . . well, like you’re getting ready for some social event.”
Claire’s defensive stature eased down into a soft smile and slight gleam in her eye as she bent in a little closer to respond. “But that’s the trick. Sure, I can wrap my hair up into a bun and put on my checkered coat if I ever want to look professional, but Nellie herself said that a dress is a great weapon in the hands of a woman if rightly applied. A weapon that men lack. If this dress gets me into places that will keep others out, then why not use it?”
“Then it is a weapon you use quite well, Miss Hill.”
She flashed him a smile. Before anything else might happen, the train once again began to slow. She coughed once and then stood up.
“This is our stop,” she said. “A lot shorter walk from here than you guys were in for before.”
The train came to its stop, the team following Claire out to the station. As they descended the steps to street level, Agent Hessman pulled Ben back for a quick word. “What’d you two talk about?”
“Not much,” Ben replied, “except it appears that Claire is a very perceptive young lady.”
“Then that could make her a possible threat.”
“Nonsense. There’s no way she could really guess. She still puts everything within her worldview of this time.”
“Just be careful.”
Once down on street level, Claire led the way.
“This way, as I remember,” she indicated. “Entrance is shaped like a pagoda. Can’t miss it.”
Agent Hessman marched in front to lead the pack. Agent Harris kept a wary eye on their surroundings as always, while Professor Stein could not stop marveling at the exciting new details of his surroundings, then caught himself as he remembered what Claire had observed about him.
Their walk was a short one, bringing them to an entry whose covering arch was indeed shaped like a pagoda. Agent Hessman immediately took charge.
“Everyone just follow my lead.”
He walked directly to the front and stopped. Beneath the pagoda arch, a trail of red carpeting led inside, to either side a row of waist-high vases holding tall stalks of white flowers. At the end, before the final entrance, stood a pair of stout-looking Japanese gentlemen dressed in samurai robes with swords sheathed at their belts.
“They don’t look too friendly,” Captain Beck remarked quietly. “What’s our cover story?”
“That’s what I’m trying to decide,” Agent Hessman agreed. “Ben, how friendly was—is the Japanese Society on drop-in tourists?”
Claire saw their predicament and let out a sigh as she stepped forward. “Getting into this place is important to your investigation?”
“
Yes,” Agent Hessman replied, a little uncertainly.
“Then you follow my lead, and remember about my exclusive.”
Without another word, Claire adjusted her hat so the press card was facing directly forward, then walked straight up to the two guards.
“Claire Hill, reporter. I’m doing a story on local Japanese culture. Do you mind if I come in for a tour? Oh, and this is my crew.”
All it took was one smile, and one of the two men standing guard stepped inside for a word with his superior. A minute later they were being led inside.
Claire flashed a quick grin back at the group, to which Agent Hessman shrugged and led the way in behind her.
9
The Japanese Society
Their guide was a short Japanese man who appeared to be in his fifties. He wore traditional robes and a pleasant smile for the reporter and her crew as he led them through the velvet-lined anteroom. From the outside the building appeared small, with only three floors, but once inside, the dimensions were deceptive. Between small hallways and walls lined in either velvet drapes or rice-paper murals and partitions, it seemed to weave about for a much longer distance than expected.
The front room had a display of colorful vases and a couple of smaller traditional murals. Their guide seemed only too eager to show them around. “Our purpose here is to spread knowledge of Japanese culture,” the man was saying. “A chance to appear in your local newspapers would be most welcome indeed. Will you be taking some pictures?”
“Not today,” Claire replied. “We’ll bring in the camera equipment on our next visit. This is more in the way of a scouting trip to see what we may want to focus on.” She then lowered her voice for her guide alone as they stepped out into an adjoining hallway. “One of my crew is actually my editor. He gets to decide how much coverage this story gets in the paper, so I really need to impress him.”
The man replied with a smile and a slight bow of his head. “I shall do what I can to please your people. Walk this way.”
