by Bob Young
“That Lieutenant Colonel Rexford is not a man to mess with,” exclaims Patrick.
“I suppose that’s New York justice?” Jacob wonders. “Anyway, Major Allen assures me that his men are ready to hit Roads’ printing press building tonight during the show. I’m going with him to lead him to where it is.”
“I doubt we’re going to catch Roads there, but there’s no doubt we have enough already to make a good case, especially in front of Judge Rexford.”
“Can’t you envision Roads with a placard on his chest?”
“That’s a thought. Maybe it would say, ‘I’m the devil,’” offers Patrick.
They share a laugh.
“Now, that might be giving him too much credit,” replies Jacob. “Major Allen is going to time his raid tonight at nine o’clock. That will give you a good hour from the time the musical starts to look at Roads’ other buildings for Elisabeth and her boy.”
“That should be enough time,” says Patrick. “In fact, I think I already know exactly where she is.”
* * *
The sun has set, its rare pink shade now tucked in beneath the horizon. Patrick is leaving the hotel, fresh in his search to find Elisabeth, when the sound of the fire bell pierces the evening’s crackling stillness. The Masonic Hall pours out its patrons, letting them spill into the street to see what is happening.
A fire has broken out in the Union Bank Building on Broad Street not far down from the hotel. Already audible speculation centers on a negro servant who may have been careless with a candle in an upstairs sleeping room.
“This can’t be happening,” Patrick says aloud to himself. Everyone is supposed to be in the hall right now, watching the performance. How can I possibly snoop around with half the city of Augusta out here on the street? he asks himself.
He looks across the street to the Masonic Hall, and there a surreal sight greets him. It’s Roads, on the sidewalk, chewing on tobacco as he watches the firemen hard at work.
But the fire only gets more intense. Patrick watches the flames shoot upward and spread outward. The brick walls on this block are constructed for ventilation, not for safety from fire, so the flames move through the air holes into Horton’s grocery store. Then through the walls to the Stovall and McLaughlin building.
Following no small amount of effort, the firemen are successful in stopping the flames’ advance just short of the Barrett and Carter Drug Store on the other side of the bank building. Neighboring buildings are also spared, but by now the fire has destroyed the attics and roofs of all three of the buildings through which it spread. The damage to the inside of the buildings is considerable from smoke and water alike.
Amidst the chronic frenzy within his mind, Patrick thinks the firemen have done a great job. Had it not been for the unfortunate design of the walls, the fire would have been contained in the bank building.
He looks at his watch and realizes he’s been standing on the sidewalk observing the spectacle for forty-five minutes now. As for Roads, the man has vanished. It’s now eight forty-five, which means he has only fifteen minutes to find Elisabeth and her son before the military raids the counterfeit printing operation.
His earlier sojourn into Roads’ properties left him with the sense that his best choice in the remaining time would be the doctor’s office, which is used for the storage of furniture and equipment. It’s where Roads had left his secret ledger and the printing plates, so Patrick believes that he must consider it his safest location.
Roads and the swarm of others are filing back into the theatre as Patrick makes his way through the shadows to the doctor’s office just off Broad Street. He looks in the front windows and sees nothing. The upstairs windows also show no signs of light or activity. He circles around to the back of the building. Upstairs, the slight glow of a lamp is leaking from the corner window. Patrick says to himself that someone is definitely inside.
Quietly, he picks his way through the alley and up to the rear door, giving it a slight nudge. It clicks open. Patrick draws his pistol and very gradually steps within. He’s back in the room he visited earlier, the one with the cabinet and the drawer that held the plates. He sees that nothing has been changed since his last entry. The stack of desks is just near the cabinet. Boxes and some medical equipment are visible through a doorway into the front room. Patrick steps quietly through that doorway, looking ever so closely for any other sign of humanity.
He is careful not to touch or jar anything, not to make even the slightest noise. He cannot even afford to be mistaken for a mouse on this night. At the bottom of the stairs, inside the front door, Patrick can see the glow of the lamp up above. Someone has put black sheets over the front windows, which is why he couldn’t detect any activity from the street.
And he listens for voices. He wants to know who is upstairs, and more importantly, how many people there are. He has no way of knowing whether or not Elisabeth is among them. He’s guessing she is, though. Patrick turns to face the stairs and takes the first step. Silence. He takes one more. Silence. Right then, he begins to hear voices. One of a young man, maybe late teens. The other of an older man with a raspy ring to his voice. Then a woman—yes, it’s Elisabeth. She must be all right…for now. He’s certain the boy is with her.
One more step. Silence. And another. Silence. The voices are getting louder now as he gets closer. They are coming from the room to the right at the top of the stairs. Patrick determines that one voice is near the door and the other is by the far wall. Another step. Silence. He’s five steps from the top now. Patrick measures his every movement, every shift of his body. His palms begin to sweat, and the moisture beads up on his forehead. Yes, Patrick admits to himself, he is panicked. His left foot goes down. Silence. Then the right. A slight, nearly inaudible, creaking sound. But by the seeming grace of God, it comes as the man with the raspy voice lets out a loud cough.
Patrick can hear Elisabeth asking the man if he is feeling all right.
Three more steps, and he is there. Left foot down. Silence. Patrick pauses to listen again. It is critical that he know the location of both men, and whether any others are upstairs. His right foot rises above the next step and touches down ever so gently, pulling Patrick’s body up in the process. And with it, quite suddenly, comes a blaring creak sound, followed by a spine-straightening crack.
The step is giving way.
Patrick reacts instinctively: He sprints up the final step, onto the landing, and spins through the doorway, straight into the barrel of a shotgun being held by the young man. Patrick’s forward movement pushes his pistol into the young man’s gut, and Patrick squeezes the trigger. The boy falls back, screaming, and fires his shotgun into the ceiling. The blast sends plaster chips down like hurried snowflakes.
The older man is raising his Sharps to take aim at Patrick as Patrick swings his pistol around with deadly accuracy and fires a shot right between his eyes. The henchman drops the Sharps and collapses to the floor.
Elisabeth and Jimmy are tied up on a bed in a corner. She is screaming, and he is crying. Patrick immediately rushes over to them and lays his pistol on the bed so he can untie first Elisabeth and then the boy.
“I knew you would come for us,” Elisabeth tells Patrick, sobbing and throwing her arms around him as he sits with them on the bed. She can see the darkened doorway behind Patrick, where the young man is sprawled out on the floor. As Jimmy sits sobbing, he instinctively reaches across the bed to Patrick for comfort. Even in the midst of his charging adrenaline, Patrick enjoys the feeling that Jimmy has now accepted him. Naturally, this is not the way that Patrick would have chosen to put his family together, but it wasn’t his choice to make.
Elisabeth wipes the tears from her eyes, then sees a shadowy figure moving through the doorway. As the figure steps into the light, she can see that it is Adolphus Roads himself, looking twice as tall as his natural height. Without speaking, Roads reaches down and picks up the shotgun from the dead lad’s hand. Roads springs it upward in t
he direction of Patrick’s back.
“Mr. Graham, cotton salesman, or whoever you are, I hereby introduce you to your retirement.”
Patrick freezes, then hears Roads cock the shotgun. He knows it will fire because it’s a double barrel and has one round left. For the moment, Patrick continues to hold Elisabeth, using his body to block any shot that might be intended for her.
Roads goes on, “I’ve spent a lifetime building an organization that has made me fabulously wealthy and allowed me to help a lot of people. And now you have come here, for whatever purpose, to destroy all of that.”
Roads takes a step forward, toward the bed.
“The problem for you is, I have done everything in my power to make myself a successful businessman, and now I am about to control the entire economy of this region. You, my friend, are powerless to stop me.”
Patrick and Elisabeth exchange tense looks. Each instinctively knows what the other is about to do. Elisabeth looks down at the pistol lying on the bed beside Patrick. Patrick follows her eyes, gives an almost imperceptive nod. Meanwhile, Roads takes another step forward, his boot bottom landing hard upon the floor.
Then–
In one swift motion, Patrick releases Elisabeth from his arms, and she reaches down and grabs the pistol. Instinctively she fires the four remaining rounds into Roads’ chest. Roads reactively blows the round from the shotgun as he tumbles to the side. The blast manages to graze Patrick’s left arm, reopening his old war wound. That’s of no concern, however. With Roads down, Patrick stands up and walks over to him. The man’s still got some life in him yet.
“It isn’t finished, Mr. Graham. It isn’t finished,” Roads gasps, haltingly, blood curling outward from the corners of his lips.
“I believe you’re right,” Patrick responds, his overwhelming adrenaline allowing him to ignore the brutal bite within his arm. “But you won’t be a part of it any longer.”
Roads’ head rolls to the side, his eyes closed. He takes one final, shallow gulp of air.
And all at once, the very moment Roads passes, Patrick feels something that he hasn’t felt in a very long time: lightness. It’s as though his actions on this night have relieved him of the burdens he’s been carrying about his brother, Joey, and the fallen cadets. Finally, at long last, he has acted in a timely manner and swept in to the rescue right when it actually counted.
With the room now settled, Elisabeth and Jimmy jump off the bed and wrap their arms around Patrick once again, careful not to touch his reddening wound.
Patrick tells them, “Come on. We’re going home.”
He picks up the lamp and leads them down the stairs, at which point they step out into the quiet of the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Great streams of golden sunlight begin peering in through the gaps in the curtains, stirring Patrick and Elisabeth from their sleep. They are slow to awake and move closer to each other on the small bed. Elisabeth’s head rests on Patrick’s chest. Last night, she bandaged his left shoulder before they succumbed to the forceful tug of sleep. Surely the wound looks a lot worse than it really is, though they’ll let a doctor attend to it later on.
Jimmy is still asleep on his small bed.
“Honey,” Patrick whispers, “this is the kind of life I’ve dreamed of living.”
“What do you mean?” Elisabeth smiles. “Having your family kidnapped? Getting shot up?”
“No,” Patrick giggles. “Waking in the arms of the woman I love. The quiet, the peace, the contentment of being at home when dawn breaks.”
Elisabeth smiles, and Patrick tells her, “You know, last night was the best night of sleep I’ve had in quite some time.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Elisabeth purrs, nuzzling up against him.
“I’m used to having nightmares, or at least some restlessness.”
“Nightmares? What kinds?” Her eyes are alert.
Patrick shakes his head and says, “They’re gone now, I think. Or at least I now trust that they can leave.” He turns to make eye contact with her. “In time, you’ll come to learn what they were all about. But for now, you should know that they’ve left because of you. Because of what you’ve allowed me to do for you, and who you’ve allowed me to be within your life.”
Elisabeth’s eyes start to glimmer with subtle tears. “Patrick, I am so touched. Any good that I can bring to you is good brought to me, as well.”
“You’ve brought me more than good,” he says. “Through you, I have discovered redemption…”
Patrick is interrupted by a loud knock on the door:
“Patrick! Patrick!” a voice calls in.
“Now there’s a voice I’d recognize anywhere,” Patrick says, slipping out of bed and putting on his pants. Elisabeth rises, too, and hastily puts on her robe.
Opening the door, Patrick greets their morning visitor. “Now Jacob, why am I not surprised to see you are here at this hour? Have a thorough report about the local government, do you?”
The two men smile, then Jacob brushes right by him and heads for the chair by the table. “Sit down. Have I got some news for you!” Then, suddenly aware of the bandage on Patrick’s shoulder, Jacob interrupts himself, “What happened to you?”
Knowing the morning will be long, Elisabeth starts the fire in the stove to put on a pot of coffee.
“Well, my good man, as you can see, I got Elisabeth and Jimmy back, but not before Roads got off a lucky shot. Unfortunately for him, his shots were not as lucky as Elisabeth’s. Don’t mess with her—she dropped the man like a passing virus.”
Elisabeth lets out a chuckle.
“I’m so glad you are all safe,” offers Jacob, exchanging looks with Elisabeth.
“Patrick,” he turns his attention to his friend, “Major Allen rousted me out this morning to tell me what his men found in the doctor’s office. He said it was quite a sight. Three bodies, including that of Roads!”
“You should have been there,” says Patrick with a broad smile, while sharing a brief glance with Elisabeth.
Jacob continues, “Well, our men cleaned up the mess you left. We got the press, plates, and counterfeits late last night. Hardly anyone there to guard it. Guess most of the crew was at the musical. Major Allen spent the rest of the night rounding up Roads’ men, and that’s when, looking at it on a hunch, they discovered the scene in the doctor’s office.”
“I’m just glad it’s over,” Patrick says, shaking his head as he relives the gunshots and spurts of blood.
Curled up on the sofa, Jimmy begins to stir, but he quickly retreats back into the grip of sleep.
“Patrick, you’ve done a great service to your government and the people of this city. You should be most proud of your work. I know I am.”
“Jacob, if you had asked me to write a story like this, I could never have dreamed it. But now it’s time for me to get on with the rest of my life. I’ll be spending it with these two,” Patrick says. “In fact, Jacob, I think you better brush up on the order of service for marriage.” A wide smile comes across Patrick’s face, as Elisabeth reacts quite physically to his words. She runs from the stove to embrace him.
“Ouch! My shoulder! Not so hard,” Patrick reacts. “They’ll be time enough later for that, darling.”
“Sorry, dear,” she says. “Just got caught up in the moment.”
All three share a laugh. Patrick points back at the stove and says, “Don’t burn the house down, now.”
Waving Patrick away with her hand, Elisabeth says, “Talking like a husband already.”
Another hard and confident knock greets the door. This time it’s Major Allen, whom Patrick invites in and offers a chair.
“That was some fine work last night, Patrick. General Molineux sends his compliments.”
“Thank you, sir,” replies Patrick. “I’m glad the mission ended successfully.”
Allen notices the bandage on Patrick. “Did it? How’d you get that?”
“When I ran into Roads last
night.”
“So, you are responsible for the mess at the doctor’s office?” Allen asks. “I was a little bit murky on the details. They just told me you were the one who cracked the case!”
“I admit I did have a hand in the altercation,” says Patrick. “I’ll come by your office later today and give you a statement.”
“That’ll be fine. But I know the provost judge will be disappointed that he won’t have Mr. Roads standing before him. I presume Jacob has already told you that we spent the night rounding up Roads’ men?”
“He has.”
“Looks like we have shut his operation down for good,” reports the major. “We’re going to burn the counterfeit notes this morning.”
“Good work, sir,” says Jacob.
Major Allen continues, “And Roads’ men are singing like a flock of mockingbirds, fessing up to killing your mother and hanging the clerk in the Waltons’ barn. And there are arsons, too—lots of them—including Dr. Eve’s barns and the factories. Even admitted setting the fire at the bank last night to settle a debt. So all is tidy now. But we do still have some business remaining.”
“How’s that?” asks Jacob.
“Got a wire overnight from Washington. Those agents from the Freedmen’s Bureau have gone crazy. I wish I were up there with a company to put a stop to it myself.”
“Again?” asks Jacob, his tone and pitch identical to the last time.
“They went up to investigate the murder of an old colored woman, and they’ve done everything but that. First thing Reverend French did was insist that the coloreds must have valid Christian marriages, and he offered to perform them—for a fee, of course. He then directed—directed, mind you—the ministers in Washington to also perform these services. Reverend Tupper was the only one who refused to go along with the scheme.”
