“Oh, yes,” Jebediah replied, giving his mouth a tender dab with his napkin. “That's an entirely pertinent question... How uncharacteristic of you.”
“Ha,” Cassidy said.
“As I'm sure you've well figured by now, the State Department does a great deal more than just foreign relations. It also operates as an intelligence gathering agency vis-a-vis international affairs. And I may as well tell you this, seeing as I don't have much to keep from you since we know so little. This started as an international issue. Whoever these people are, they are... all over.” Jebediah paused and pursed his lips. “It is disquieting,” he said, looking up directly at her. “But regardless, that is why we are taking point on this issue. The Marshals are all wrapped up with run-of-the-mill criminals and the like. A well-organized, international group is beyond their capabilities, or even, I'd imagine, their comprehension.”
“Good lord,” Cassidy said. “Well, how all over?”
“Here, obviously. Also the Caribbean, Europe, Russia, Africa, India.”
“And what are we doing out there?”
“We have to be,” replied Jebediah. “If these people are there, we are there. Our official position may be one of isolation, but... well, let's just say that what we say and what we do are not always in harmony.”
“That's an understatement,” said Cassidy.
Jebediah smiled. “Oh yes, it certainly is. In fairness to those who say things, they are frequently unaware of what those who do things are actually doing. It's a classic case of the left hand being unaware of what the right hand is doing.”
“Oh, you give them too much credit. Or maybe not enough. The left hand has some inkling, I'm sure.”
“An inkling, perhaps, but nothing more. What's more, I don't think the left hand would want to know.”
“That's a rather presumptuous thing, and a convenient thing, for someone from the right hand to say,” Cassidy said as she slowly chewed some toast.
Jebediah nodded while he chewed. “Perhaps.”
“Well, they may be omnipresent, but here's hoping we've given them the slip, regardless,” Cassidy added.
“I doubt that we have.”
“What? Why?”
“The only opportunity that we had was when we left San Francisco. I think we had done so then. But I also think they knew where I would go. They waited for us in Los Angeles. I can easily imagine a bomber, coming into the restaurant every day, waiting for my inevitable arrival. And when I do arrive, they are ready and waiting to set off the bomb. My presence in Los Angeles put them back on our trail.” Jebediah gritted his teeth and breathed a frustrated grunt. “I should have known better.”
“Do you think they'll attack the train?”
Jebediah smiled. “No. I doubt that. And I mainly have you to thank for that. Your reputation would give them pause to enter a gunfight. It would likely expose them much more than they want, and more than they already have.”
Cassidy burped loudly. “Ugh. It tastes like burnt ham.”
Jebediah couldn't hide the disgust on his face. “Do you mind?”
“Right. Sorry.”
“You should very much try to curb your ruder tendencies. You are a woman of wealth and breeding. You should be communicating that.”
“Perhaps I would if I had anyone about whom I cared enough and was open to that communication.”
“Miss Flynn seems to fulfill both of those requirements.”
Cassidy thinned her eyes at Jebediah. “You sly devil... Yes, Margie does fulfill those requirements, which is why I try to be on my best behavior when she's around. But she also recognizes that, that... mask... is not me.”
“Then let us disregard Miss Flynn for a moment. As a woman of breeding you have access to certain elements of society that lesser people do not. The way that you act can either open those elements more, or close them off. It would serve you well to work within those systems, if for nothing else than your own ends.”
“That's a good point, but again, it would require me to care... which I don't.”
“Bah. Fine, fine. I'm not here to criticize your chosen life too much. Let us keep our conversation on the matter at hand.”
“Yes! Sausage!” Cassidy said, proudly holding up a sausage on her fork.
Jebediah ignored her and continued talking. “It's hard for me to effectively describe my feelings about this, when I say that it is disquieting. It's hard for me to put it into words that might make sense to others because few others live this life. Few others understand the system.”
“Well, Gideon would certainly understand, no?”
“No. Atwater is a very specific sort of agent. He does what he does — and does it well, make no mistake — and that's all he does. He does not have... he does not... these other areas are simply not of his concern. Even if he did know of them, he wouldn't be able to do anything with that information.”
“Well who are we talking about here, the president?”
Jebediah sighed.
“Well Jesus Christ, Jeb. What are you doing out here alone?”
“I wasn't alone... until now.”
Cassidy's expression flattened. “Yeah, but even then. I'm thinking that you should have brought the marines.”
“Well... again, we like to—”
“Yes, yes. You like to travel light.”
“Indeed. It's unfortunate that the reason for my visit to Los Angeles was made all the more pressing by my visit.” Jebediah pushed around some eggs on his plate. “This event... these events... I feel as though things have changed,” Jebediah said.
“Changed?”
“The bombing was something new, something very new. Most of these people weren't soldiers. They were paper-pushers... bureaucrats... they never did anything that should have put them in danger, and yet they're all dead. That shouldn't have happened.”
“Deaths rarely should.”
“No. You don't understand. There are... rules. This was a violation of these rules. And, now that it's done, I worry there will be no going back.”
Cassidy slowly moved her food around with her fork. “I'm glad that you've come from a place where killing must follow rules, but out here, in the real world, it doesn't. People die, good people. And they die by no rules but those of God and the Devil.”
“That may certainly apply to the common thug, but not here. This is action on a grander scale. The rules must elevate along with it,” Jebediah said.
“Just because a thug wears a suit and wields an army instead of a club, doesn't mean he isn't still a thug,” Cassidy replied.
Cassidy and Jebediah looked at each as Cassidy slowly chewed. “Perhaps,” Jebediah finally responded. “But there is a fundamental difference between a cannon and a club. The uses, the implementation. Those behind it must also be different.”
“You seem to be assuming that one must be more intelligent and of some higher order to wield a cannon. I can speak from experience when I say that isn't the case. In war, the idiot behind the gun is always the same. The only difference is the number of bodies in front of the gun.”
“An odd perspective for a woman who's made her living building those guns,” said Jebediah.
“It is indeed,” Cassidy replied, gazing back at Jebediah coldly. “It is indeed.”
---
Gideon stepped out of the wash room, his hair dry but messy, wearing his slacks, shirt, and suspenders. Cassidy relaxed on a chair while Jebediah stood by the couch, raising his now un-slung arm up over his head repeatedly. Gideon looked at him quizzically.
“I was told to perform this exercise to help alleviate a pain in my shoulder,” said Jebediah before Gideon had a chance to ask.
“Ah, yes,” replied Gideon.
A large field of cows slowly traveled past the window. A number of houses and buildings could be seen in the distance. Gideon walked over to the window to look out.
“This place is nice and built up. Where are we?” asked Gideon.
“El Paso
, I think,” replied Cassidy. “This is going to be a long stop, so we'll have a chance to stretch our legs.”
“Ugh. El Paso? Isn't that a war zone of a town?” asked Gideon.
“It was up until quiet recently,” interjected Jebediah. “It has made great strides in a short time.”
“Well, we are about to see,” said Cassidy as the train passed warehouses, small factories, and finally into the station.
---
The trio stood on the station platform as steam wafted around them. Sun beamed in from high in the sky as crowds of passengers moved in and out. The weathered, wooden platform creaked under their feet, yellowed and pale, just like everything in the town.
“This is quite the boom town,” Gideon said as they three walked toward the exit passageway.
“Yeah. It really is,” said Cassidy.
As the three exited the building and down a ramp, a thicket of stands, tables, carriages, and carts were cluttered in an impromptu market directly abutting the train station.
“Wow,” said Gideon, obviously overwhelmed by the market.
“Oooh,” said Cassidy, holding up a vibrantly-colored knitted scarf. “These are pretty.”
“If you two wouldn't mind entertaining yourselves for a time, I need to go into the train station and send a telegram,” said Jebediah.
“Have fun,” said Cassidy, not looking at him. She then looked to the woman selling the scarves. “How much is this?” The woman showed her another scarf. “No. How much? Money? How do you ask how much in Spanish,” Cassidy asked to Gideon. Gideon shrugged and looked scared. “Damnit. Dinero? How... how... how much dinero?... I feel lost.”
Inside the train station, the telegraph station had a window near the exit to the loading platform. Jebediah walked up the elderly man working the counter. “Good afternoon,” he said.
“Howdy sir,” replied the jocular old man. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you have a message for Harold Hitchcock?”
“I believe so, let me check.” The man flipped through some papers. “What was the name again?”
“Hitchcock. Harold, or Harry, Hitchcock.”
“Yep. I found it. Here you go.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Jebediah said, leaving a coin on the counter. He turned and walked square into Cassidy.
“So, Harold,”
“GAH!” Jebediah's face and fist curled in on themselves as he tried to hold back assaulting Cassidy. “Grrrrrr!” is all he managed to produce. Cassidy just smiled back.
“So, Harry, what did you get? Harry.”
Jebediah breathed in and out deeply. “I received... a message.”
Cassidy nodded with a bright look and open smile on her face. “Obviously. About what?”
“It's... private.”
“Look, the last time that you tried to keep something private, you nearly got blown up. If I hadn't been nosy, you would be dead. So I think it's best to keep... us...” Cassidy looked around. “Where the hell is Gideon?”
Gideon stood outside in the market, being flirted with, strongly, by two young Mexican women. He had a look of awkward fear on his face.
“It doesn't matter,” said Cassidy. “Keep us in the loop. You don't know what's going on, meaning that you could use help.”
Jebediah dropped his gaze as he thought. After a short sigh, he looked back up to Cassidy. “Alright. Remember. Most of this has nothing to do with our agreement. These are my affairs and if I choose to do something as regards them, you either go along with my judgment or remove yourself.”
Cassidy nodded. “... Alright. Agreed.”
Jebediah stared at Cassidy for a moment longer before lifting his hand and opening the message.
“It says, Harold, The family is ready, they are all home, please pick them up whenever convenient.”
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Cassidy.
Jebediah let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you lord,” he said quietly.
“Jeb, what the hell does that mean?”
“It's a coded message. It means they successfully assembled a large team of agents in Houston and are ready to go. I was afraid that they wouldn't be able to do it.”
“What does that mean for us?”
“It means we have the cavalry at our disposal,” Jebediah said with a smile.
Gideon walked up to them with a confused, almost shell-shocked look on his face. “I think I was just propositioned by two women,” he said.
“My god,” said Cassidy. “You are irresistible, aren't you.”
---
The three waited in the train car. Cassidy read her book, Jebediah rested his eyes, and Gideon was cleaning one of his sleeve guns.
“It seems as though our stay is longer than it should be,” said Jebediah, not opening his eyes.
“I was just thinking something similar,” said Cassidy, looking up from her book.
Gideon got up and stuck his head out the open window, looking forward toward the engine. “I don't... see anything,” he said. Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter!” yelled Cassidy.
The door opened and in walked the conductor. “Good afternoon, miss. I'm sorry to report that the engine is having some significant troubles. We initially hoped to have everything up and running soon, but it doesn't appear that this is going to happen. To make things easier, we are going to simply move the train onto a side track and work on repairs through the night.”
“Can't we just get another engine? Or at least our car?” asked Cassidy.
“Not on such short notice, miss. If this were a larger station, perhaps, but not in little, ol' El Paso. You have two options. Service will continue on the train as normal, but you will not be able to use the toilets. You could instead choose to room at one of the local hotels. The company will gladly help cover some of the cost to make up for the inconvenience.”
Cassidy, Gideon, and Jebediah all glanced at each other before Cassidy returned to the conductor. “I think that we will opt for the hotel.”
“Excellent. For you, miss, the Grand Central Hotel will undoubtedly be the hotel you prefer. If you would like, I can arrange three rooms straight away.”
“Yes. Please.”
“Your rooms will be waiting,” said the conductor as he turned and left.
“Well, this is an annoyance,” said Cassidy. “The world itself is conspiring to slow us down.”
“It does seem that way,” said Jebediah.
“Perhaps we can just buy a ticket on a passing train?” proposed Gideon.
“I wouldn't want to leave all of the supplies in this train,” replied Cassidy. “This is our hospital and armory all in one. And it's becoming increasingly apparent that we need that.”
“I'm of the same mind,” said Jebediah. “Again, until we reach Houston, all we have is this car, and each other.”
“May as well go poking around.” said Cassidy, looking to her two compatriots. “Let's see if we... I... can drink the night away.”
---
The long hallway was dark save for the islands of light produced by dim, overhead lamps every thirty feet. Anna walked quickly down the hall with a hulking guard in front of her and another behind, their footsteps clunking on the hard metal flooring and echoing down the corridor. She clutched at her leather work bag as the lights and shadows passed over her.
The hallway emptied out onto a metal walkway halfway up the wall of a large, cubic room, two-hundred feet wide. Five, bright, glaring lights above five, twenty-five foot platforms, filled the room with harsh light while the warmer lights from various vehicles and machines cast beams about the floor. Directly under them was a large doorway, from which rumbling motorcarts rolled in and out with crates and supplies. The trio turned right and went back and forth down a stairwell to the floor, the clanking of their feet overwhelmed by the din of men and machinery. The first guard went left off the stairs to a door abutting the large primary door.
“Nope!�
� yelled the rear guard. “That's broken. We're taking the freight elevator down.” The front guard nodded and turned back around. The three then walked into the center of the room and onto one of the five twenty-five foot platforms in the room. They reached the platform which had a small control station in one corner with a man standing by it.
“Special delivery. We're going straight down. No delay,” said the front guard to the controller.
The controller nodded. “Alright. Get on.”
The trio stepped onto the elevator, staying near the controller. The controller flicked two switches, illuminating two small red lights, then turned to the group. “Brace yourselves,” he said, holding onto the rail of the control station. With a crash and clank, the platform began slowly descending into the floor. As they traveled beneath the floorboards, Anna saw that the entire building was atop a giant, metal framework, with heavily reinforced frames supporting the freight elevators. Dim squares of light above revealed where the other elevators were, and the bright spot lights from directly above their platform provided the only significant light.
They descended slowly for five minutes, the bright spotlights above becoming ever dimmer. The clatter of people working above echoed throughout the chamber.
“Where does this go?” asked Anna. No one looked at her or responded.
A distant hum and vibration grew louder as the elevator descended. Anna started being able to discern faint light coming up from beneath the elevator, revealing that the wall closest to them was actually a sheer rock face.
The descent continued with the light getting brighter and the hum getting louder. Eventually, the elevator cleared the long column in which it was traveling and emerged at the back of another large chamber, similar to the last but longer and missing a wall on the far end, filled with lights and a crowd of people loading crates from carts onto rail cars sitting on a large, circular rail path that curved around the middle of the room and went back out the saw way it came in. The rails extended out the back of the chamber and into a dimly lit area of which Anna could make out little.
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 34
