by David Healey
“All right," Percy said. "Let's go get him."
Percy shoved open the door. A thickset man was sitting inside at a table, and he blinked up in surprise at the sudden appearance of the tall officer in his doorway.
"What the hell—”
As the man started to get up, Percy put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.
"Where is he?" Percy asked, keeping the man pinned firmly in his chair. A cunning look came into the man's eyes. "Who?"
It was not the answer Percy wanted. He nodded at the doorway and suddenly the room filled with soldiers. John Cook stayed outside to serve as a lookout. Percy crinkled his nose. The whole place stank of stale liquor, lamp fumes and sweat.
"Shut the door," Percy ordered. "We don't want the provost guard in here causing trouble. That is, if they even bother to patrol this part of the city."
"Who are you?" blustered the man at the table as he struggled to get up. Hudson went over and held the man's other shoulder and a look of genuine fear crossed his face at the powerful grip of the black man's hands. He strained one last time, then gave up.
"Never mind who we are," Percy said. “We just want our friend back."
The proprietor of the flophouse nodded toward a back room. "He's in there, if it's that little scrub of a cavalryman you're lookin' for."
Percy turned to Sergeant Hazlett. "Get him."
Hazlett disappeared into the back room. There was the sound of a woman cursing, and they heard a man moaning in pain.
"Leave me be," he groaned. "I want to die here, in my true love's arms."
"You dumb son of a bitch," Hazlett growled. "Put your damn clothes on."
Hazlett soon emerged, shoving a half-dressed Forbes in front of him. A slattern of a woman followed them out. She looked as drunk as Forbes, her hair greasy and tangled. She had managed to get just one arm into a sleeve of her dress. One breast hung out, a gray, lumpen thing with a nipple the color of old leather.
"Jesus," Percy heard one of the men gasp at the sight of her.
"You can have him," the whore said, plucking at the dress and finally succeeding in covering herself. She slurred her words. "No-good bastard's a drunk. Nothin' but a no-good drunk soldier!"
She swayed, then collapsed into a chair at the same table where the proprietor of the house sat.
"How many in here?" Percy asked.
"She's downstairs. Two upstairs," the man replied.
Forbes was so drunk he could only fumble with his buttons as if his fingers were thick as sausages. Pettibone went over and helped him. Forbes's uniform was in an awful state: muddy, wrinkled, and reeking of whiskey. A dried crust of what appeared to be vomit clung to one sleeve.
"Colonel," Forbes said, and attempted a salute. He reeled and nearly fell over.
"Forbes, you are a sorry excuse for a soldier," Percy said. "And your taste in women leaves something to be desired. Now let's go."
"He owes me ten dollars for the whiskey he drank," the proprietor said, then jerked his head toward the awful-looking woman. "And for her."
Percy shrugged. "Very well. Hud, pay the man."
Hudson drove a massive fist into the fat man's belly. The man's breath rushed out and he collapsed on the floor and lay there gasping like a huge, bloated fish. The whore shrieked. In the tiny room, the noise was like a shell exploding.
"Let's go, boys, just in case that fool has friends in the neighborhood," Percy said. "Frank and Johnny, prop Forbes up in between you there and make him walk. That'll sober him up. Does he have anything left in his pockets?"
"They picked him clean, sir."
"Come on, then."
They went back the way they had come as quickly as they could. It was not a good neighborhood in which to linger because Percy's concerns about the flophouse proprietor's friends were not without good reason. Also, Percy didn't want any trouble with the Richmond provost guard because he knew well enough that many of Richmond's more important citizens who would like nothing better than a good excuse to put him in jail—at least until the general could shoot him.
"I reckon you had yourself a good time, Willie," Hazlett said as he helped half-drag, half-carry Forbes along the muddy street. "We went to a lot of goddamn trouble to find you."
"Good thing you was drunk," Pettibone chipped in. "She was powerful ugly."
Forbes staggered along under the abuse of his comrades. "You can say what you want, boys, but she was a fine woman. Hell, I might just marry her!"
"Ain't you already married?"
"Why, I reckon I am, boys. Promise me you won't tell my wife?"
They were all laughing so hard that they almost didn't notice the officer and two soldiers standing in the street ahead, directly in their path. Percy squinted, trying to see who it was, but he didn’t recognize the man. The group came to a stop and watched the officer expectantly.
"Excuse me," the officer said. His stern voice and immaculate uniform could only mean trouble. Although he was just a captain, only an officer of some importance on one of Richmond's administrative staffs would have such a splendid uniform. Dandy was the word that came to Percy's mind.
"Damn headquarters peacock," Hazlett muttered, loud enough for the officer to hear.
"Can I help you?" Percy asked. He eyed the officer warily. Although they had reached a better part of town where several bands of soldiers roamed the street, the captain appeared to have been waiting just for them. Not a good sign. Percy wondered if he was being arrested.
"Are you Colonel Arthur Percy?"
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"I am Captain Fletcher. You are to come with me. Colonel Norris's orders." Fletcher sniffed, then added, "Sir."
Percy thought quickly. He had never heard of any Colonel Norris. Not that it mattered. As a field officer, Percy knew well enough that he was nearly ignorant of Richmond's military bureaucracy. That was just the way he liked it.
Colonel Norris, whoever he was, must be a man of some importance if he sent well-dressed fools like this arrogant captain to run his errands. At any rate, the summons did not appear to include his men, a fact for which Percy was grateful. He didn't know what this was about, but it couldn't be good.
"All right, Fletcher, lead the way," Percy said. "Hudson, you come with me. I'll see you men later. See that you stay out of trouble."
Captain Fletcher looked Hudson up and down, making no effort to hide his displeasure. "Who is this darkie?"
"He's my servant and he goes where I go," Percy said. "And that reminds me, Fletcher. Isn't it customary for a captain to salute a colonel? Or don't you bother with that sort of thing in Richmond?"
Fletcher's eyes filled with sudden venom. It was obvious the well-groomed captain thought it beneath him to salute a ragged colonel.
"Very well, Colonel." Fletcher managed a half-hearted salute.
Percy smiled. "Lead on, Captain Fletcher."
Chapter 5
Captain Fletcher had a carriage waiting around the corner. Percy and the captain climbed inside while the two soldiers pulled themselves up to share the buckboard with the driver. Hudson clung to the back of the carriage.
Percy wondered if he had made a mistake in bringing Hudson along, considering he didn't know what any of this was about. Although Fletcher hadn't placed him under arrest, the soldiers bore an uncomfortable resemblance to guards.
"Where are we going, Captain?" Percy asked as cheerfully as he could under the circumstances. "And who is this Colonel Norris?"
Fletcher raised an eyebrow, as if amazed that someone had not heard of Norris. "He's chief of the Confederate Signal Bureau," Fletcher said haughtily. "Which is, of course, where we’re going?"
"The Signal Bureau?" Percy couldn't imagine what in the world someone from the Signal Bureau wanted of him. He had never even heard of it.
Fletcher smiled at his confusion. "Let's just say things aren't always as they seem, Colonel."
Percy could see any conversation with Fletcher was going to be
antagonistic, so he gave up and stared out the window. What he saw did not inspire great hope in the future of the Confederacy. The muddy streets were strewn with garbage. Most of the buildings they passed, homes and businesses alike, needed a coat of paint. Knots of ragged soldiers drifted by, looking haggard and dirty, and the civilians he saw, mostly women, children and old men, wore threadbare clothes. Only a few appeared to have done well by the war, and they were the whores, whoremasters, and black market traders who paraded the streets, flaunting their ill-gotten finery in the faces of proper Richmond society.
As the carriage passed, Percy caught the eye of a pretty and garishly dressed young lady. She couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, but the elaborate silk dress she wore made no secret of her trade. The girl smiled and Percy tipped his hat and grinned wolfishly out the carriage window.
"Nobody knew the war would fill the city with whores," Fletcher said, sounding disgusted. The truth was, he was a regular at many of Richmond's whorehouses, but he liked to pretend otherwise.
Percy laughed. "Hell, Captain. Every country girl with a pretty face and some ambition is making her fortune. It's better than being wife to some farmer and spending her days feeding chickens and raising children. Besides," he said, staring after the girl, who in turn stood with a pout, watching the carriage as it rolled away. "That one might just be worth a month's pay."
"I should have known a man of your reputation—" Fletcher began to say, then stopped himself upon noticing Percy's expression.
"What reputation might that be, Captain?" Percy asked, his voice dangerously brittle. The girl was gone from sight and he gave Fletcher his full attention. His eyes appeared to change color from clear blue to the color of mountains before a storm.
"Well ... I misspoke, Colonel," Fletcher sputtered. “Please forgive me.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Percy was unimpressed when they arrived. There was nothing about the building that housed the Confederate Signal Bureau to indicate its real purpose. Fletcher led the way to Norris's office and introduced Percy, then disappeared, shutting the door discreetly behind him.
Colonel Norris did not look sinister, Percy thought. If anything, he resembled a strict school teacher. Norris had a medium build and was of average height, with thick brown hair and a full beard through which small, even teeth flashed in a smile. Although his uniform wasn't tattered like a field officer's, it was plain enough. Unlike many administrative officers, including the obnoxious Captain Fletcher, Norris obviously did not hold gold braid or fancy tailoring in high regard.
"Thank you for coming, Colonel," Norris said.
"Did I really have any choice?"
Norris laughed. "We all have choices. As a matter of fact, Colonel, I'm about to offer you one."
An uneasy feeling took hold in Percy's belly. "What might that be?"
"In due time, Colonel. In due time. Let me explain my position."
Norris paused to offer Percy a cigar. He accepted, and tobacco smoke soon drifted in great clouds toward the high, plaster ceiling.
"You've heard of the Andrews train raid, Colonel?"
"Who hasn't?"
It had been one of the Union's most daring feats of the war. In April 1862, a Yankee spy and contraband trader named James Andrews had slipped South with twenty-two men. They seized a Confederate train outside Atlanta and raced north toward Chattanooga, wrecking tracks as they went, to prevent the Confederates from sending reinforcements to the Tennessee city as the Union army attacked. The raiders were eventually caught and most of them hanged. The incident had been in all the newspapers.
"I propose doing something of the same sort, Colonel Percy. And I need your help."
Percy eyed Norris suspiciously. "What is this place?" he asked. "Who are you?"
Norris waved the cigar in his hand as he spoke. "Officially, this place is the Signal Bureau. In reality, it's headquarters for the Confederate Secret Service. The war is fought in many ways, Colonel Percy. Not just on the battlefield. There are spies, of course. Subtle acts of allowing misleading information to fall into enemy hands."
"And you're the commander of this army of spies?" Percy asked. "I take it that you also arrange train raids?"
"Just this one, so far."
Percy shook his head. "Well, I'm not interested."
He stood, ready to take his leave. Norris did not appear the least bit perturbed. "Thank you for the cigar, sir. But you'll have to steal this train without me." "At least hear me out, Colonel."
"Sorry." Percy stood up and turned to go.
Behind him, he heard Norris sigh. "I had really hoped you might agree to do this great service for our new nation and the Cause for which we all fight. If you walk out, Colonel, I'll have Captain Fletcher arrest you. I'm sure it would give him a certain amount of pleasure."
"Arrest me for what?" Percy glared down at the man behind the desk. Even as he said it, Percy had a nagging suspicion that Norris was capable of many things, hidden away in this old building like a spider in a web.
"Espionage, perhaps? Being a traitor to the Confederacy? Certain letters will be found in your possession ..."
"I don't have any letters!"
"But you will, Colonel." Norris spoke cheerfully. "Don't you see? Unfortunately, I'm afraid the penalty for spying is rather severe. It involves rope and scaffolding."
Norris smiled, and for the first time, Percy realized what a cold and deliberate man sat before him. He also felt uneasy, because he sensed that the threat was within Norris's power to carry out.
"I don't think you'll find much support if you are arrested," Norris went on. "You do have an excellent war record, but I believe your recent affair with the general's wife has won you more enemies than friends here in Richmond."
Defeated, Percy sank back into his chair. He was no coward, but he felt helpless in the face of this kind of threat. He also knew that when a man had you on a leash like a dog, it was best to go along until you found the best time to bite him.
"Maybe I'd rather be hanged than go on some train raid," he said.
"I doubt that, Colonel," Norris said. "Besides, if you agree to help me—to help your country, really—I will fix things up for you with the general. He's a proud man, but he'll listen to reason in the matter of his wife. You will have your military career back."
"If the Yankees don't catch me first and hang me as a spy."
"There's always that possibility. But you're better than that, Colonel. You have a particular talent for quick and daring operations like this. The Buckley Courthouse raid, for instance. You and your men captured eighty Yankees. Eighty! Not to mention ten wagons and sixty horses. And one slumbering general who even today remains at Libby Prison. That's very impressive."
“The fools should have posted a guard.”
“Don’t you see why we need you?”
"I'm still not convinced." Percy took another step toward the door.
"Well, there are always your men to consider. Several of them are here in Richmond, aren't they?"
Percy gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. Norris had his full attention.
"What about them?"
"We can't have deserters running about the capital."
"They're not deserters, damn you!" Percy jumped up, but Norris didn't look concerned.
"They can be anything I want," Norris said.
Percy returned to his chair and slumped into it. "What must I do?" he asked.
Knowing he had won, Norris smiled. The room seemed to grow colder. He stood and walked to a shelf, then took down a map and unrolled it on his desk. Percy joined him in studying it.
"Maryland?"
"It all starts here for you," Norris said, placing his finger on the map beside a crossroads town a few miles miles west of Baltimore and twenty-five miles north of Washington.
"Ellicott Mills, Colonel. Let me tell you about it. You see, you're going there to capture President Abraham Lincoln."
&nb
sp; "What?"
Norris laughed. "Listen, Colonel. Let me explain."
At first, Percy couldn't believe what he was hearing. But as he heard Norris give details of the plan, he began to feel less beaten, mainly because the very idea of kidnapping Lincoln was so outrageous it just might work. By the time Norris finished, Percy was surprised that he was interested in spite of the circumstances. Capture Lincoln? His heart began to race with excitement.
"It's really quite simple," Norris said. "The Yankee president intends to avoid the northern train route from Baltimore, where rumor has it that loyal Maryland Confederates may be plotting an ambush. They plan on bypassing the Northern Central Railroad altogether.
"Instead, Lincoln plans to secretly switch trains in Baltimore. The president's train will continue toward Gettysburg, but Lincoln won't be on it. Instead, he will be aboard a westbound train of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad."
"How do you know this?" Percy asked.
"We have our spies, Colonel," Norris said. "This information comes from more than one source. I would say it's highly reliable."
The train would steam the length of the long, narrow border state of Maryland. At a town called Weverton, shortly before the train reached Harpers Ferry, Lincoln would veer north on the Washington County Railroad, a spur from the B&O line to the city of Hagerstown. From that western Maryland city, train tracks stretched north toward Gettysburg.
It was a more roundabout route from Baltimore to Gettysburg than a traveler would normally take because most would opt for the more direct and thus faster northern route. However, Lincoln would get there all the same via the western route without placing himself in any grave danger. The president had used a similar subterfuge to avoid assassins at least once before, when first arriving by train to take office in Washington. The subterfuge had earned him some ridicule at the time, but it had also kept him safe from harm.
The key to the success of Lincoln's plan was secrecy. Norris's network of spies had already breached that, although the Yankees apparently didn't know yet. Because Lincoln would of necessity be traveling with few guards, it created an opportunity to capture him. Having the Yankee president as a prisoner would change the outcome of the war, Norris believed, and in any case it would be a highly embarrassing situation for the Union. It might even prompt England to finally recognize the Confederate States of America as a sovereign nation.
