by Bill Doyle
I had missed my friend more than I realized. We hugged tightly. Then questions flew from my mouth. “Are you all right? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
She laughed at my excitement “You’re here, so I guess William Henry gave you my message.”
“You’re an amazing detective, Judge. That dollar bill you gave him led us here.” I then took a good look at her She was very pale, but her lips had lost their frightening bright red color.
Before I could ask any more questions, she said, “Not to worry, Fitz. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train, but I’ll be okay. When I woke up, Dr. Freud was in a chair by my bed and Teddy was at my feet–both snoring. So I crept out of the compartment.”
“You…” William Henry spoke for the first time since Judge’s arrival. I prepared myself for his long list of reasons why Judge should return to the safety of her Pullman.
Judge didn’t rant or rave as she once might have. She simply looked into his eyes and said quietly. “William Henry, I have to be here. This is my case, too.”
“You…” he repeated, but something about her manner seemed to have changed his tone. “You’re right on time. You have no idea how much I admire that,” William Henry said, using almost the same words as when they had first met.
Judge’s grin widened. “Well, now that that’s settled, we have a mystery to solve.”
I nodded, and the three of turned back to the baggage car door. Using the deafening sound of the brakes as cover, I opened the door a crack and peered inside.
I had only seen Agent Howard in a semiconscious state and later in a coma, so it was strange to see him standing in the center of the luggage- and crate-filled room. Like Judge, he looked tired. His clothes were rumpled and his handlebar mustache drooped slightly, but otherwise, he appeared fit. Even odder was the group of five people who surrounded him.
Each of them wore black hoods that covered their heads and faces. They held bills and they were looking at them through one of the three lenses that were attached to their hoods.
I took in all this in half a second. I was about to cry out and warn Agent Howard that he was in danger. People do not wear hoods unless they are trying to hide something. But just as I was about to shout, “Stay away from him,” the agent spoke, and his words shocked me into silence.
THIS THING REALLY SPOOKS ME!
A hood like this is used by secret societies. There are tree different kinds of lenses on the hood. They slide over on the hood. They slide over the eye sockets to reveal or block out secret information. The hood’s function led to the term “hoodwinked”—still used today to describe when truth is kept from someone.
“Remember to keep your gloves on at all times while handling the bills. The ink should be dry now, but it’s better not to take chances–I speak from experience.”
No! A voice cried in my head. Agent Howard was working against the law!
He tapped his foot impatiently and shouted above the shrieking brakes of the train, “Well, what do you think? We have to move along quickly. This car will be flooded with porters retrieving luggage for passengers in no time!”
The hooded figures began nodding their heads, and I could hear them saying “Excellent work” and “Genius.”
“How do we know you won’t fail us again?” a female voice said from within one of the hoods. “We don’t want another incident like the MAINE.”
“Right,” another of the hooded figures chimed in. “Howard, you assured us the explosives from that ship would be used to destroy the central bank in Cuba–and that the counterfeit money would easily replace real money in the confusion.”
“We’ve gone through this already!” Agent Howard said. “It’s not my fault the explosives meant to carry out our plan destroyed MAINE. It was an accident. Things will be different when you destroy the bank here in San Francisco.” He looked at his pocket watch anxiously. “All that’s left is for you to pay me for forging millions of dollars for you.”
As I watched through the crack in the door, a hooded figure stepped forward. A few long, black hairs had escaped from under the hood. Handing Agent Howard a suitcase, she said, “Your payment is inside this case.”
Agent Howard’s face broke into a triumphant grin. “At last!” he said. His hand touched the handle of the suitcase–and suddenly the baggage car was a blur of activity! One of the hooded figures tore off his mask. I gasped. It was my brother, Killian! No! Is he one of the bad guys, too?
As if to answer that question, Killian rushed forward and slapped handcuffs on Agent Howard, shouting, “You are all under arrest!”
In a flash, the long outside doors of the baggage car were rolled open. A spooky, yellow glow from the electric light over the large station clock cast long shadows of the people approaching on the platform.
“Federal agents! Don’t move!” A swarm of men jumped on board the train, holding up badges and guns.
Without thinking, I opened the door all the way. William Henry, Judge, and I took a few steps into the baggage car, drawn to the action like moths to a flame. Men were pushing and shoving, agents were tearing the hoods off the figures.
“Mr. Spike?” William Henry said as the bald head of his boss emerged from one of the hoods. Mr. Spike! I thought. That’s why he didn’t want to launch a real investigation. He’s one of the criminals!
Agents were leading two handcuffed men out the large side door and off the train. But wait! Where was the hooded woman?
My eyes scanned the back of the room. I spotted her moving among the shadows, making her way to a position behind my brother. From the way she was slinking, I knew she was preparing to attack him.
I took a step forward. William Henry grabbed me, trying to hold me back. I yelled, “Killian! Watch out!”
For a moment time seemed to stand still. Killian’s head swiveled, and he stared at me in utter surprise… The hooded woman behind him froze… The other agents stopped… Outside there was a kerdunk! as the station clock clicked over to 5:13 AM.…
And then I began to shake. No! I thought. No! I can’t faint again… not now! But I realized it wasn’t just my body that was shaking. The entire baggage car was rocking. Outside the open doors, people on the platform were thrown around as if they were rag dolls.
It was an earthquake!
Even though the earth beneath us rolled and heaved like a stormy ocean, the woman kept her feet. She ran swiftly toward the baggage car door. My brother spun to stop her but lost his balance and fell.
The woman zigzagged, passing within feet of us as she sprinted to the door. Judge darted forward and caught the back of the woman’s hood, ripping it off her head. The woman shoved her, and Judge was thrown back against the wall. William Henry rushed to her side.
I gaped at the person Judge had unveiled. It was Rabella Notabe.
She dashed to the wide doorway and paused there for a moment. She screamed above the chaos, “You’ll be sorry for this! Each and every one of you!” But she was looking only at Judge and me. Then she jumped out the wide door and disappeared into the darkness.
Not as steady on his feet, Agent Howard started to follow her out the door.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I said.
My next act might not reflect my training as an expert detective, but it was quite effective.
I stuck out my foot.
Agent Howard tripped. Once again, I managed to keep him from leaving the train. He tumbled, hit his head, and collapsed unconscious into a corner.
The earthquake raged on.
Awful tearing sounds exploded around us. The track buckled and sent the baggage car tilting to the side. Outside, the wooden structures of the station simply collapsed into themselves like houses made of toothpicks. Two agents huddled by their prisoners, and a third stumbled over to Agent Howard to handcuff him.
Wham!
A telegraph pole snapped and tumbled on top of the train with so much force that it crushed part of the baggage car. The roof over K
illian caved in, and he disappeared from view.
“Killian!” I screamed. William Henry rushed over and tried to hold me back, but I ran into the dust-filled darkness. To find my brother and lose him again in one day was more than I could stand!
“Elizabeth,” I heard Killian answer, calling me by my real name.
I followed his voice and found him buried among the scattered bags and wreckage. His legs were trapped under a massive trunk and heavy, jagged pieces of the roof. Even at this awkward angle, we managed to hug.
“What a sight you are, Elizabeth…” His voice trailed off in a hoarse whisper. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“You’re alive!” I hugged him again.
Suddenly, finally, as if someone had turned off a switch, there was silence.
The earthquake was over. For now. I knew there could be aftershocks just as deadly as the quake itself.
The intense quiet quickly filled with the moaning of injured men and women and the groaning of structures that were in danger of collapsing. William Henry and Judge made their way over to us, and we began working to free my brother from the debris.
“But, Killian, what are you doing here?” I asked, hoping to distract him from the pain of his injured legs.
“Yes, Elizabeth,” he said. “I owe you an explanation, even though it is against the rules.
“I work for the United States Secret Service,” he continued. “Our main mission is to crack this counterfeit ring. We called it the Calamity Crew. The Crew created disasters–like explosions. Then, while authorities were busy dealing with the disaster, the Crew switched real money with counterfeit bills.”
I couldn’t keep the “you’re crazy” tone out of my voice. “Are you telling me the Calamity Crew planned this earthquake?”
Killian choked back a little sob. Then he continued. “No, this earthquake wasn’t part of their plan. But the Crew would have used the confusion that follows to switch the money.”
To keep his mind off the pain, I said, “And what about Nathan Howard? Was he a real Secret Service agent?”
At the mention of the name, Killian’s face darkened. “Sort of Howard and I both worked on this case all these years. We were stationed together on the USS MAINE. But ‘agent’ was just his cover. Howard was actually part of the Calamity Crew.” He sighed heavily. “Eight years ago, he smuggled explosives on board the MAINE. He was going to blow up Cuba’s national bank. In the confusion, it would have been easy for the Crew to slip counterfeit money into use. Unfortunately for everyone, Agent
USS MAINE SIKNS!
At 9:40 PM on February 15, 1898. this great ship blew up and sank in Cuba’s Havana harbor.
Howard did not know much about explosives. The MAINE exploded and sank.”
William Henry rubbed sweat from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Then why didn’t you arrest him sooner?”
“I couldn’t prove it until now,” my brother answered. “I had to catch him in the act.”
I thought of all the pain my family had gone through. “Killian, why didn’t you just tell Father and me that you were alive?”
“I wanted to, more than you can know. I’m sorry,” he said, and I saw tears in his eyes. “President Roosevelt himself instructed me not to tell anyone that I was investigating the USS MAINE. Eight years. It’s a long time to be undercover, but these are dangerous criminals. The sinking of the MAINE led to a war. The president urged me to see the mission through. Once this case was solved, I was going to contact you and father. And that day came sooner than I planned, thanks to you–”
Killian winced as William Henry lifted a large piece of the roof off his leg. “So you were on the train this whole time.” I needed to keep him distracted.
“You’re a good detective, Elizabeth, but I recognized you through your disguise the first night on the train,” my brother said. “I was walking through the coach car to stash the ‘cat’ in a safe place–and spotted you.”
“That was your cat?” Judge asked between grunts as she attempted to heave the trunk to the side.
“Yes,” Killian answered. “I kept evidence that I didn’t want Agent Howard to find in that container. It makes a good hiding place. After I saw you, Elizabeth, I knew I had to hide or you might blow my cover!”
The pieces started coming together. “So those were your fingerprints on the teacup?”
Killian nodded. “I was in the government Pullman while you were saving Agent Howard. I didn’t realize he was in danger. I heard shouts coming from the platform. In my rush to help, I dropped the teacup. But by the time I ran outside, you’d already rescued him. After you and the Pinkerton girl dragged him into the living area, I made my way quietly through the Pinkertons’ hallway. I’ve been hiding on the train ever since.”
So it was Killian who broke the threads, the alarm devices, in Judge’s hallway!
“Then you stayed in hiding except…” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from him.
He finished my sentence. “Except when I delivered that note.” He must have seen something flash in my eyes. “I know the message I left you about not getting involved must have terrified you, but that was the point. I wanted you to be too scared to keep snooping. I wanted to keep you out of danger.”
We lifted another jagged bit of debris off his lower body, and my brother was nearly free. “But why did you put the note in that journal entry?” I asked.
“I picked the lock to your compartment, Elizabeth, and planned to leave you the warning note. Then I remembered what a wonderful detective you were. Another set of eyes–especially keen ones–could really help my case, I thought. So I read your journal. I had just started reading the entry about the baggage car when
you stirred in your sleep. Thinking you were about to wake up, I slid the message into the journal and ran.”
Killian’s face broke into a grin. “So, I’m sorry I read your journal, but I’m also glad! What you wrote about the baggage car made me think. I realized that’s where the fake money must be hidden. If I waited here in the baggage car long enough, the Calamity Crew would show up to get the counterfeit cash. Then I could nab them. Thanks to that entry–thanks to you.” Killian gave my shoulder a squeeze, “we cracked this case.”
His eyes locked with mine. “I wanted you to be safe and not get involved in this case. I didn’t think it was proper for a girl. But you did, and I’m very grateful. You helped solve an eight-year-old mystery!”
My cheeks flushed from the praise. Judge smiled at my embarrassment. “Bully for you!”
“You deserve as much of the credit as I do,” I said to her.
“It’s true,” Killian said. “From what I saw in Elizabeth’s journal, you played a vital part in the case.”
Now it was Judge’s turn to blush.
One nagging question remained. “But why did you cut the telegraph line when I was trying to send out that message?”
“I didn’t! After I saw you jump off the train, I followed you to protect you. I didn’t cut the line. It must have snapped on its own. After you fainted, I carried you back onto the train and left you in the Pinkerton Pullman.”
Finally, we freed my brother’s legs. He was in pain, but nothing was broken.
William Henry and I supported him on either side. We helped him climb down out of the baggage car and onto the platform. Killian spoke briefly to agents. He instructed them to take Mr. Spike, Agent Howard, and the other captured members of the Calamity Crew to a safe spot on the platform. When things calmed down, they would be hauled off to jail.
Above us, the sky was a frightening orange. San Francisco was on fire.
For a moment, William Henry, Judge, my brother, and I stood next to the train. Killian and I grinned at each other in the middle of all the madness and chaos. I didn’t know what to say. My brother was alive! I couldn’t wait to telegraph Father!
Then William Henry urged us forward. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do to help.”
&
nbsp; The four of us walked back toward the passenger cars. Everyone’s hair and clothes were sweaty and smudged with dirt. People were running about. Panic seemed to be growing around us.
About a hundred yards ahead, I could see Dr. Freud near the side of the tracks. Carrying his medical bag, he moved among groups of passengers and train crew, checking on their condition.
Dr. Freud happened to look our way. Even from this distance, I could see the relief on his face when he spotted Judge. I waved to him and mouthed the words, “We did it!” I don’t know if he understood exactly what I meant, but he smiled broadly and turned back to the passengers.
“There’s Teddy!” Judge said, pointing to a spot near where Dr. Freud worked. My heart leapt when I saw my dear dog. A little boy and an older woman were sitting with Teddy on the edge of the platform. The boy’s arms were wrapped around Teddy’s neck.
Teddy sat with the boy patiently, comforting him. Suddenly, my dog’s nose pointed up in the air. His big head swiveled and he looked at me, his tail wagging furiously as he made a little hop.
Before he could come bounding toward me, I quickly made three flicks with my index finger and put my palm to my heart, telling him in Teddyspeak, STAY and GOOD BOY.
It was best for him to stay out of danger and comfort the little boy. We would be reunited soon enough.
As the four of us walked, my brother took my hand. I held his with all my might. “Killian, do you know what it’s like to meet someone that you know you will be friends with forever?”
Killian said he did. Judge put a hand on my shoulder, knowing I was talking about her.
I continued, “Well, imagine my surprise. I’ve met two people like that on board this train–even if one of them is full of balloon juice.”
Despite the dim light, I saw William Henry blush and look away with a smile. His perfectly clean uniform was a thing of the past. After our adventure in the baggage car, his hair and clothes were smudged with dirt and sweat. But he looked good, even like that.
